Read Online Jack & Coke (The Uncertain Saints Book 2) by Lani Lynn Vale - Free Book Online
Authors: Lani Lynn Vale
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I’d been hurt.
Yet again, the moment blood started to really work through my body, and my heart rate started to rise, a headache would be soon to follow.
But, it turns out, watching Mig’s ass in his tight jeans made my blood pressure rise…and wouldn’t you know it, a headache started to thud dully behind my eyes.
Well, that sucked!
I slowed down even more, allowing a large distance to separate the two of us, hoping that if I slowed down my head wouldn’t get into the full blown kill-me-now range.
And surprisingly, it worked.
Mig’s scowl as he held the door open for me had me rethinking the decision, though.
“What’s wrong?” He asked once I reached his side.
I gently shook my head from side to side.
“Headache. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, slowly passing between him and the doorframe he so kindly held open for me.
He grunted as I passed by him, and my eyes nearly crossed as my front brushed against his.
The first person I saw when I entered the room was Griffin and his bright blue, knowing eyes.
I waved, and he winked, returning to his phone conversation without even a hello.
Mig brushed past me and said, “Over here.”
I followed him to the desk and stopped just to the side of his chair.
He set the box down on the desk, and I took the time to look around the room.
It was pretty bare.
There were two desks with mounds of paperwork on each.
Two chairs behind each desk.
A bulletin board on the far wall, a water dispenser in the corner near the front door, and a dartboard splitting the two halves of the room in the very front.
“What do you have that you want me to look at?” Mig rumbled.
I blinked, returning my gaze to him.
My mouth watered as I took in his face.
The longer than usual dark hair that was covering his head.
His gray eyes studied my face, first going to my right side where the piece of wood had connected with my head.
Then to my eyes, which still showed a large amount of bruising, then down to take in my body.
I’d lost some weight, which he was obviously noticing.
I couldn’t say I was bothered by it, though.
The one good thing that came out of all of this was being able to fit into my skinny jeans once again.
“Well?” He asked a little loudly, causing me to jump.
“Oh,” I said, reaching to the box and opening the flaps. “I just saw these today and, at first, I couldn’t figure out just what was bothering me, but the more I studied them, the easier it became to see.”
I laid out each of my purses along the top of his desk until all six of them were in plain view.
My belly was a mass of fluttering butterflies as I looked at him.
“So you have a purse collection,” he muttered.
I nodded.
“I used to, yes,” I conceded.
His eyes narrowed on my words.
“Talk,” he ordered.
I held up my actual purse, then showed him the symbols.
“They’re fakes,” I told him, indicating the purses I’d laid on the desk.
He looked at me with raised brows.
“So?” He asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I didn’t purchase fakes. I’m not sure when they were replaced with these, but I most certainly had real ones that I purchased at actual Coach Stores,” I told him.
I could tell he still didn’t get it.
“I think my ex-husband switched my purses with these so he could have the real ones,” I explained.
A light dawned.
“You think he stole your purses, then started selling drugs in them?” He continued.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think he did.”
He studied the purses.
“I think the night he came in, he was actually looking to switch out my purse,” I indicated the one I was using. “With a fake one.”
He nodded.
“I remember he had another bag in the large backpack he was carrying on him, but we deemed it not yours since yours was in his hands,” Mig observed.
“I’m not really sure where my other purses are, but I think I can find that out through Ross,” I said.
Mig nodded.
“You’re not going to be in
Yet again, the moment blood started to really work through my body, and my heart rate started to rise, a headache would be soon to follow.
But, it turns out, watching Mig’s ass in his tight jeans made my blood pressure rise…and wouldn’t you know it, a headache started to thud dully behind my eyes.
Well, that sucked!
I slowed down even more, allowing a large distance to separate the two of us, hoping that if I slowed down my head wouldn’t get into the full blown kill-me-now range.
And surprisingly, it worked.
Mig’s scowl as he held the door open for me had me rethinking the decision, though.
“What’s wrong?” He asked once I reached his side.
I gently shook my head from side to side.
“Headache. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, slowly passing between him and the doorframe he so kindly held open for me.
He grunted as I passed by him, and my eyes nearly crossed as my front brushed against his.
The first person I saw when I entered the room was Griffin and his bright blue, knowing eyes.
I waved, and he winked, returning to his phone conversation without even a hello.
Mig brushed past me and said, “Over here.”
I followed him to the desk and stopped just to the side of his chair.
He set the box down on the desk, and I took the time to look around the room.
It was pretty bare.
There were two desks with mounds of paperwork on each.
Two chairs behind each desk.
A bulletin board on the far wall, a water dispenser in the corner near the front door, and a dartboard splitting the two halves of the room in the very front.
“What do you have that you want me to look at?” Mig rumbled.
I blinked, returning my gaze to him.
My mouth watered as I took in his face.
The longer than usual dark hair that was covering his head.
His gray eyes studied my face, first going to my right side where the piece of wood had connected with my head.
Then to my eyes, which still showed a large amount of bruising, then down to take in my body.
I’d lost some weight, which he was obviously noticing.
I couldn’t say I was bothered by it, though.
The one good thing that came out of all of this was being able to fit into my skinny jeans once again.
“Well?” He asked a little loudly, causing me to jump.
“Oh,” I said, reaching to the box and opening the flaps. “I just saw these today and, at first, I couldn’t figure out just what was bothering me, but the more I studied them, the easier it became to see.”
I laid out each of my purses along the top of his desk until all six of them were in plain view.
My belly was a mass of fluttering butterflies as I looked at him.
“So you have a purse collection,” he muttered.
I nodded.
“I used to, yes,” I conceded.
His eyes narrowed on my words.
“Talk,” he ordered.
I held up my actual purse, then showed him the symbols.
“They’re fakes,” I told him, indicating the purses I’d laid on the desk.
He looked at me with raised brows.
“So?” He asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I didn’t purchase fakes. I’m not sure when they were replaced with these, but I most certainly had real ones that I purchased at actual Coach Stores,” I told him.
I could tell he still didn’t get it.
“I think my ex-husband switched my purses with these so he could have the real ones,” I explained.
A light dawned.
“You think he stole your purses, then started selling drugs in them?” He continued.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think he did.”
He studied the purses.
“I think the night he came in, he was actually looking to switch out my purse,” I indicated the one I was using. “With a fake one.”
He nodded.
“I remember he had another bag in the large backpack he was carrying on him, but we deemed it not yours since yours was in his hands,” Mig observed.
“I’m not really sure where my other purses are, but I think I can find that out through Ross,” I said.
Mig nodded.
“You’re not going to be in
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