Explosive by Beth Kery Page B

fingertips caused a wave of heaviness and exhaustion to sweep through him. He dropped his forehead to hers. His world was spinning out of control, but Sophie’s touch steadied him. Maybe that’s why he’d entered her office earlier with such a single-minded purpose.
    “I am, though,” he mumbled. “Sorry I mean. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
    “You don’t have to apologize. You’re in pain. I wanted you just as much.” She glanced down between their bodies. “What’s happening between us has been a long time in coming. Thomas?”
    He lifted his head slowly, surprised by her words. What’s happening between us has been a long time in coming .
    She started to say something, and then seemed to edit herself at the last moment. “Are you all right?”
    He nodded.
    “I’ve been worried about you,” she whispered. “Those men—were they cops or federal agents?”
    Irritation pierced his feeling of languorous comfort. He should have known it felt too good to last long.
    “Yeah. FBI.”
    “What . . . what did they want?” she asked shakily.
    He inhaled through his nostrils, trying to calm his anger, which was never far from the surface these days. “You’ve probably heard on the news? About the FBI investigating my father . . . the allegations that ...” He swallowed in order to get the bitter words out of his throat. “ . . . he’s involved in organized crime?”
    She nodded.
    “They were here asking me questions about a Nicasio Investment client.”
    He felt her go still next to him.
    “Were they accusing you of being involved in organized crime as well, Thomas?”
    “No. But they were trying to link my father to a huge gambling operation, and using one of my clients to do it. They’ve already arrested my client for supposedly using his vending machine plant and distribution business to launder mob money. They were trying to use me to get a link between my client—Doug Mannero—and my father.” He glanced away from Sophie’s luminous face and inhaled slowly. “Tax evasion and money laundering are the least of the crimes the FBI would love to pin on my dad. Agent Fisk claimed they have someone on the inside providing them with information, but the only thing they’re being fed is lies,” he finished grimly.
    “You believe entirely in your father’s innocence?”
    He turned abruptly, causing pain to slice through his head.
    “Thomas?”
    He shook his head briefly, trying to bring her into focus as well as shake off a momentary vertigo. He peered at her closely. Why was he telling her this stuff—a virtual stranger?
    “Of course I believe he’s innocent. The FBI must be getting desperate these days. They were trying to get me to say my dad had referred Doug Mannero to me, but I refused to give them any fuel. I went over Mannero’s accounts myself when I first took him on. They were clean.”
    She swallowed convulsively and spread her hand on the side of his head. “What are you planning to do?”
    He glanced around her private office dazedly, feeling like he was just seeing it for the first time—which maybe he was, as consumed as he’d been by a fever to fuck earlier. Her office was about a sixth of the size of his, but the cinnamon-colored walls, tasteful paintings, and candles on the end tables next to the ivory couch gave the room a warm intimacy that his workspace had never known.
    “I should go over to Mannero, Inc., and look at the books. I was actually on my way over there when I came here ...” He faded off, once again focusing on her somber face. Regret lanced through him. “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking of me.”
    Her brow crinkled. “I think you’re not yourself, Thomas. You loved your brother and nephew. You’re drowning in grief. The FBI’s investigation of your father must feel like another blow when you were already spinning. I can only imagine what it’s doing to your family.”
    He watched himself as he ran his fingertip over the soft