Read Online Kane (BBW Billionaire Romance) by Christa Wick - Free Book Online
Authors: Christa Wick
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looked up, certain she had heard him incorrectly.
“It’s true. Reed just called me. The fire department was able to stop it before it spread to the neighbors, but there’s nothing left.”
He thumbed at one of the tears running down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Dani. I’ll have a recovery team sift through the ashes. Sometimes photo albums last longer and if you have any lock boxes.”
She shook her head. “The Marquardts weren’t one for taking pictures. And I have photos of Lynn on her Facebook and my phone, same for Christine.”
Her lips began to quiver. Trent cupped the sides of her face and lightly pressed his mouth to Daniella’s until her shaking subsided.
“Reed will have a clone for you tomorrow, all the pictures will still be there.”
She nodded. When Trent had her surrender her phone a second time at his office, she had thought he was being overly cautious. If he would have suggested then that Merl’s associates would burn down her house, she would have called him paranoid.
Now she was homeless.
“Here,” he said, guiding her down the hall toward his office. “You still need to eat. Rest in here and I’ll make breakfast.”
Numb, she settled into the visitor chair he had placed behind his desk now that his big leather chair was in the guest room. He gave her another kiss, tilting her chin up as his lips captured an errant tear on her cheek.
“You and Christine are safe here,” he promised.
Nodding, her brain unable to process Trent’s words, she watched him leave. Almost immediately, she wanted to call him back. He had said no one was hurt, but he didn’t say anything about arrests or witnesses or anything like that. Mr. Cobb had cameras on his property. That was how he had sent her the picture of the man she had shown Trent.
Pondering if she should go into the kitchen and ask him, her gaze landed on Trent’s laptop.
The screen was black.
She ran a fingertip across the touchpad.
A single icon appeared, the rest of the screen remaining black. Fortunately, the icon was for an internet browser. She clicked, then Googled her address. Zillow was the first result, a local news channel was the second.
She clicked the news link and started reading. The total annihilation of the house she had grown up in warranted four short paragraphs detailing when the fire was reported, what fire team showed up, how long the blaze lasted and that arson was suspected.
Ready to click back to Google, her finger froze as her gaze landed on one of those click bait type articles that populated the right menu on pretty much all commercial sites.
Kinky Billionaire Sex Ring Exposed
A few days ago, she would have rolled her eyes and continued on to real news. Hell, she would rather do her taxes than follow a click bait link. So, when she stabbed at the touchpad, it wasn’t the headline that made her do it.
It was the picture.
More accurately, it was the man in the picture—the same man who had cradled her in his arms the night before and was cooking her crepes at that very moment.
* * *
D aniella stared at the silver tray with its silver bowl of fresh fruit, the crystal glasses of orange juice, and the fine china plates with the fancy, dessert like breakfast. The man could cook and he could, and would, change diapers. His body, even with the scars, was carved perfection and he was smart, no doubt about that.
She didn’t want to think about how he was in bed. After reading the article on the anonymous sex club the press had nicknamed “Raleigh Rollers,” thinking about Kane in bed turned her stomach oily, the nauseating slickness quickly infecting her intestines.
Most of the article had been about a certain Marine Corps’ general who liked to make the trip inland while his wife stayed on the coast. But the write-up was quite clear on what all the males there did.
They paid for sex, usually sex that involved some sort of domination by one partner of the other.
Lynn’s battered face at the mortuary
“It’s true. Reed just called me. The fire department was able to stop it before it spread to the neighbors, but there’s nothing left.”
He thumbed at one of the tears running down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Dani. I’ll have a recovery team sift through the ashes. Sometimes photo albums last longer and if you have any lock boxes.”
She shook her head. “The Marquardts weren’t one for taking pictures. And I have photos of Lynn on her Facebook and my phone, same for Christine.”
Her lips began to quiver. Trent cupped the sides of her face and lightly pressed his mouth to Daniella’s until her shaking subsided.
“Reed will have a clone for you tomorrow, all the pictures will still be there.”
She nodded. When Trent had her surrender her phone a second time at his office, she had thought he was being overly cautious. If he would have suggested then that Merl’s associates would burn down her house, she would have called him paranoid.
Now she was homeless.
“Here,” he said, guiding her down the hall toward his office. “You still need to eat. Rest in here and I’ll make breakfast.”
Numb, she settled into the visitor chair he had placed behind his desk now that his big leather chair was in the guest room. He gave her another kiss, tilting her chin up as his lips captured an errant tear on her cheek.
“You and Christine are safe here,” he promised.
Nodding, her brain unable to process Trent’s words, she watched him leave. Almost immediately, she wanted to call him back. He had said no one was hurt, but he didn’t say anything about arrests or witnesses or anything like that. Mr. Cobb had cameras on his property. That was how he had sent her the picture of the man she had shown Trent.
Pondering if she should go into the kitchen and ask him, her gaze landed on Trent’s laptop.
The screen was black.
She ran a fingertip across the touchpad.
A single icon appeared, the rest of the screen remaining black. Fortunately, the icon was for an internet browser. She clicked, then Googled her address. Zillow was the first result, a local news channel was the second.
She clicked the news link and started reading. The total annihilation of the house she had grown up in warranted four short paragraphs detailing when the fire was reported, what fire team showed up, how long the blaze lasted and that arson was suspected.
Ready to click back to Google, her finger froze as her gaze landed on one of those click bait type articles that populated the right menu on pretty much all commercial sites.
Kinky Billionaire Sex Ring Exposed
A few days ago, she would have rolled her eyes and continued on to real news. Hell, she would rather do her taxes than follow a click bait link. So, when she stabbed at the touchpad, it wasn’t the headline that made her do it.
It was the picture.
More accurately, it was the man in the picture—the same man who had cradled her in his arms the night before and was cooking her crepes at that very moment.
* * *
D aniella stared at the silver tray with its silver bowl of fresh fruit, the crystal glasses of orange juice, and the fine china plates with the fancy, dessert like breakfast. The man could cook and he could, and would, change diapers. His body, even with the scars, was carved perfection and he was smart, no doubt about that.
She didn’t want to think about how he was in bed. After reading the article on the anonymous sex club the press had nicknamed “Raleigh Rollers,” thinking about Kane in bed turned her stomach oily, the nauseating slickness quickly infecting her intestines.
Most of the article had been about a certain Marine Corps’ general who liked to make the trip inland while his wife stayed on the coast. But the write-up was quite clear on what all the males there did.
They paid for sex, usually sex that involved some sort of domination by one partner of the other.
Lynn’s battered face at the mortuary
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