Chapter 92

“Baklava, Vince,” I corrected, pained.

“Yeah. I see you’re making out your guest list.”

“You’re on it.”

“Good. Mind if I bring a guest?”

“Bring whoever you want. You’re not gonna tell me how you found out about Connor, are you?”

He just grinned and turned to Wills. “I’ll see you in the morning, Matheson.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And plan on working next weekend. I can’t keep giving you time off.” Vince glanced at the tape.

“I know what to do with this, Mr. Vincent.”

“I want it gone. Please, Wills.” I didn’t care that my voice cracked, that I was on the verge of falling apart. “I don’t want any reminders of that time.”

“We’ll get rid of it however you say, babe.” In spite of the fact that his boss was standing only a couple of feet away, Wills put his arms around me, ran a palm up and down my back, and whispered in my ear, “We’ll light a fire in the fireplace and burn the goddamned thing, if that’s what you want.”

“Not to interrupt, but I’ve got things to do, and I’m sure you do too.”