East Bound Nana Malone (best ereader for students .TXT) 📖

food, laptops open, scanning and searching. "Are you looking in the archives of the school?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm looking. And there is a Henry Warlow, but there are no photos, no nothing. It's like he was a ghost."

"If you can get me a class roster from one of his classes, I can run through it and ask around to see if anyone has any recollection of him."

East raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to say about why you're questioning them?"

I chuckled. "I'm going to tell them I'm an Interpol agent."

He laughed. "You're going to lie?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Wow. I see you have fully lost your relationship with the truth."

"Yeah, you know, once you start to sin, all your morals go out the window. That's survival."

His gaze stayed on mine for a long stretch. It made my skin hot and tight, making me pulse and ache in places I would rather not think about. When he spoke, his voice was gravel laced with silk. "You haven't been sleeping well. I can tell."

Yeah well, whose fault is that?

"I sleep just fine. Let's get back to work."

His gaze narrowed and he continued to study me as if waiting for something. But suddenly he sat back, blinking as if a spell had been broken. And just like that, the sliver of warmth between us vanished. "Right. Yeah, back to work."

I hated shutting him down, but it was too tempting. Too easy to let him in. And after what he'd done, the way he'd shut me out without talking to me, I couldn't do that again. It was better to be on my own, alone, than to have people I couldn't count on.

"All right, I found a class he was in with a list of attendees."

"Okay, I'm on it."

"It's late in Milan."

"It may be late, but I do still have a friend at Interpol, and she can at least get me updated phone numbers for all of these people."

I stood to make my call, meandering over to the table every now and again to come back and take a bite. And with every bite of the savory food, I moaned. And with every moan, East's gaze flickered to me quickly and then backed away again.

I wasn't doing it on purpose, but God, I was hungry. I made a mental note to eat more.

East screamed, "Eureka!"

I whipped around. "What? What do you have?"

He clapped then stood up and did this butt-wiggling dance, showcasing his spectacular arse. "I found a fucking picture."

"Stop lying."

He shook his head. “Come look for yourself.” I crowded around his laptop, and he laughed before grabbing a small remote and clicking two buttons, and then a projector came down. A photo appeared on the projector screen showing Henry Warlow’s class photo. “Unfortunately, it doesn't identify them by name. But I could probably run some facial recognition software. People look different though, and we would have to age them thirty years."

"You can do that?"

"Doesn’t Interpol have fancy facial recognition programs that you can do that with?"

"Well, I guess. But why do you, a civilian, have such things?"

He arched a brow, the move accompanied by the dark stubble on his jaw, making his beautifully handsome face into something more rakish with a dirty-bad-boy vibe. "Are you really going to ask me that kind of question?"

I handbagd my lips. "Never trust a hacker."

He nodded. "Never trust a hacker."

He was quick. Watching his long skilled fingers as they flew at the keyboard, I was more and more aware of my body, the throbbing ache between my thighs, how much I missed his fingertips over my skin. His voice in my ear telling me that everything was going to be okay. We'd only been together for a couple of weeks, but in those couple of weeks, I had been myself. Entirely, wholly myself, and I missed that. Because I had no idea who I was now. Without my job. Without him. And I didn't even want to think about the fight with Amelia.

He sat back. "Well, facial recognition is running, but it’s going to take a while. Do you have anything?"

"Well, I spoke to my contact at Interpol. She's going to give me updated phone numbers of classmates, so I can call them in the morning."

He nodded slowly, and I couldn't meet his gaze. I had to look away. And the only thing to look at was the photo on the projector, since everything in the penthouse reminded me of the last time I’d been there and all the places he’d had me. And then I frowned, stepping closer. "East?"

I was shocked to hear his voice directly behind me. Low, and mellow, and fuck, so sexy. "Yeah, Nyla?"

He might have said yes, and my name, but it sounded like he was saying, 'Bend over, so I can fuck you.' Which, of course, he wasn't saying. I pointed at the projector. "Who does that look like to you?"

He squinted. "It's a faded photo. I don't know. Maybe he looks familiar?"

"Yeah, that looks like Garreth Jameson."

He frowned, leaned forward, squinted, then stepped back a little. "I mean, a little. Around the eyes, maybe the forehead. But Jameson is my age. He's thirty. He couldn't be in that photo."

"No, but it could definitely be his relative."

"Maybe. Maybe his father."

"Is there a list of names with that photo?"

He shook his head. "It only names a few of the students, but it doesn’t identify what name goes with which face. One thing of note. One of the blokes in the photo is Marcus Van Linsted. That's all I’ve got."

"I'm telling you, that's the elder Jameson. If he knew Warlow, he could lead us to him. Obviously Van Linsted won’t help us."

"Well, we'll do some more digging, and then we’ll see if you're right."

I crossed my arms, because I knew I was right. I knew it. That man in the photo was the elder Jameson. Which meant that Jameson knew Warlow. And maybe all we needed to do to get answers was to ask.