“He grabbed it out of Dancer’s hands, straightened up from the desk where he was overseeing Philip Faraday as the man accessed the galleries’ private inventory records. Front page and center was a picture of him and Josephine taken at last night’s murder scene, and alongside that, was a picture of him here with Lynn Richards. For fuck’s sake. He groaned. Hadn’t figured anyone would care enough to focus a lens on him. Then he read the byline—Nelson Landry. The little shit. Rubbing the bridge of h...is nose, he squeezed his eyes shut at the big, bold headline. SUPERCOP ON THE JOB. He was going to catch hell from his boss. The chances of this not getting to the director’s ears were less than zero. Good thing that financially he didn’t need to work. Philip Faraday craned his neck to see. “Looks like you had a busy night, Agent Hayes.” Turning back to the computer monitor, the man’s fingers tapped rapidly over the keyboard, calling up data. “That the woman you brought to the opening last night?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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