Read Online A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite) by Natalie Damschroder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natalie Damschroder
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photographer had used time-lapse photography and spun the camera overhead. Part of the shot was clear and looked familiar. Her eyes widened and she turned back to the bin of prints in front of her. If she hadn’t been thinking of Alpine Nirvana , she never would have recognized the guardhouse, and the little spot beside it as D-the-Rottweiler.
“I’ll purchase this, then.” He removed a checkbook from his pocket and began scrawling. “And the negative, as well, if the photographer uses film.”
The woman looked puzzled. “My husband destroys them. Each photo is one of a kind and can never be duplicated. That’s why they’re priced so high.”
The man ripped off the check and handed it to her. He practically vibrated as he waited for her to take the framed photo down and hand it to him, then took off toward the parking area.
What was in that photo he didn’t want anyone to see?
She sighed as if she couldn’t find something she liked in the bin, then followed the man across the grass at a casual stroll. He held the framed photo almost carelessly, dangling by his side, and looked as if he was on the phone again. There were fewer people around so getting closer was risky, but she had to try to hear him again. She quickened her pace and closed the gap.
“—Said there were no negatives, but we should flag the photographer’s name to make sure another photo doesn’t surface… Yes, Skav, you did good work, alerting us to its existence… It doesn’t matter that it’s not incriminating. Our employer values his privacy… I don’t think you should expect more than a simple ‘Thank you’ for doing your job.” He tapped the Bluetooth again and removed a set of keys from his pocket.
His tone had been dismissive, so Skav must be a subordinate and this guy probably fancied himself their “employer’s” right-hand man. She should follow him. He climbed into a Mercedes half a dozen cars away. She couldn’t see the license plate from here, and would have to get too close to get a look. Then she wouldn’t have time to follow him. She tried to pinpoint where her car was parked in relation to here, then suddenly remembered she was no longer alone.
She cursed eight ways and dashed back around the outside of the booths, trying to remember where she’d left Griff. He was going to kill her when he found out what she’d just done.
She skidded to a stop near the point where she’d first seen the suit. Griff stood between two booths a couple dozen feet away, stone-faced as he studied the crowd. His gaze landed on her but instead of looking relieved, he managed a complicated combination of an inquiring eyebrow and chastising frown.
“Where were you?” he asked when she got close enough.
“I found something.” She nudged him to walk toward the parking lot while she caught her breath. Once they were out of the worst of the crowd, she told him what she’d overheard and seen. “I couldn’t get a license plate number, but it’s something, right? One step closer.”
“If you say so.”
She bit her tongue. Arguing would only take them down a road she didn’t want to travel. Breaking into that house was still her best option, and he would try to talk her out of it. She spotted her car parked on the grass and waved a hand. “Where are you parked?”
“Out there.” He indicated the street outside the park and reached into his back pocket. “But hang on a sec.” He pulled out a small pink paper bag.
She knew what it was. Her heart pounded at the implications. “Griff, no.”
“Yes. Close your eyes.”
She did, reluctantly, unsure how to graciously decline. She felt his arms circle her shoulders, then a moment later a light weight against her chest. A stupid tear leaked out of her left eye. He’d bought her the butterfly and the branch.
“Why—”
“Because it’s…you.” His hands closed over her shoulders, warmth seeping immediately through her cotton shirt. She kept her gaze down and stroked a
“I’ll purchase this, then.” He removed a checkbook from his pocket and began scrawling. “And the negative, as well, if the photographer uses film.”
The woman looked puzzled. “My husband destroys them. Each photo is one of a kind and can never be duplicated. That’s why they’re priced so high.”
The man ripped off the check and handed it to her. He practically vibrated as he waited for her to take the framed photo down and hand it to him, then took off toward the parking area.
What was in that photo he didn’t want anyone to see?
She sighed as if she couldn’t find something she liked in the bin, then followed the man across the grass at a casual stroll. He held the framed photo almost carelessly, dangling by his side, and looked as if he was on the phone again. There were fewer people around so getting closer was risky, but she had to try to hear him again. She quickened her pace and closed the gap.
“—Said there were no negatives, but we should flag the photographer’s name to make sure another photo doesn’t surface… Yes, Skav, you did good work, alerting us to its existence… It doesn’t matter that it’s not incriminating. Our employer values his privacy… I don’t think you should expect more than a simple ‘Thank you’ for doing your job.” He tapped the Bluetooth again and removed a set of keys from his pocket.
His tone had been dismissive, so Skav must be a subordinate and this guy probably fancied himself their “employer’s” right-hand man. She should follow him. He climbed into a Mercedes half a dozen cars away. She couldn’t see the license plate from here, and would have to get too close to get a look. Then she wouldn’t have time to follow him. She tried to pinpoint where her car was parked in relation to here, then suddenly remembered she was no longer alone.
She cursed eight ways and dashed back around the outside of the booths, trying to remember where she’d left Griff. He was going to kill her when he found out what she’d just done.
She skidded to a stop near the point where she’d first seen the suit. Griff stood between two booths a couple dozen feet away, stone-faced as he studied the crowd. His gaze landed on her but instead of looking relieved, he managed a complicated combination of an inquiring eyebrow and chastising frown.
“Where were you?” he asked when she got close enough.
“I found something.” She nudged him to walk toward the parking lot while she caught her breath. Once they were out of the worst of the crowd, she told him what she’d overheard and seen. “I couldn’t get a license plate number, but it’s something, right? One step closer.”
“If you say so.”
She bit her tongue. Arguing would only take them down a road she didn’t want to travel. Breaking into that house was still her best option, and he would try to talk her out of it. She spotted her car parked on the grass and waved a hand. “Where are you parked?”
“Out there.” He indicated the street outside the park and reached into his back pocket. “But hang on a sec.” He pulled out a small pink paper bag.
She knew what it was. Her heart pounded at the implications. “Griff, no.”
“Yes. Close your eyes.”
She did, reluctantly, unsure how to graciously decline. She felt his arms circle her shoulders, then a moment later a light weight against her chest. A stupid tear leaked out of her left eye. He’d bought her the butterfly and the branch.
“Why—”
“Because it’s…you.” His hands closed over her shoulders, warmth seeping immediately through her cotton shirt. She kept her gaze down and stroked a
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