I dug my nails into his ass, pulled him harder against me. He groaned against my mouth. Gave me a hard, brutal stroke that made me cry his name.
“Sloane,” he said, setting a rhythm I loved, needed, craved.
“Ye-yes, yes?” I panted.
“When we get home, our real home,” he said, voice on edge. “I want to come to where you are. Or you can come to Philadelphia. I don’t care as long as we’re together.” His cock between my legs was a steady, driving thrust, and it felt so goddamn good I couldn’t handle it. I kissed him, clung to him, chanted his name.
“Abe, Abe, yes.”
“Yes, as in ‘don’t stop?’ Or yes to what I said?” He held my palms down, entwined our fingers. Rocked into me over and over and over. He was going to make me come before I could tell him ‘yes, please, I’ll go anywhere.’ Which I managed to pant out through a sloppy, fevered kiss.
“Can I come to you?”
“To Philadelphia?” he asked, smile starting to form. Sweat beaded on his brow. My toes were curling, back arching, nipples hard, sensitive.
“Please, I want…” God, this man. Only Abe knew I wouldn’t be able to ask for this, that I needed it to be fucked right out of me. “I want you. I want to be with you. Home isn’t… my home isn’t…”
His thumb swiped away a tear. He didn’t slow his movements but drove his cock into me harder, deeper, more intently. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Abe held my face tenderly. Which allowed me to say, “My home isn’t a home.”
“Mine either,” he whispered. He brought our mouths together. “You would make it one, though.”
I couldn’t speak coherently after that—I was so overcome with euphoria. We orgasmed together in a panting, sweating, nail-scratching mess. He swiped another tear, then another. But it just wasn’t possible for me to leave this man.
His chaos was too beautiful.
Our destinies were too fated.
49
Sloane
Three hours later and I was back in front of Louisa Davies, in her office at the library where Bernard Allerton would officially not be working at any longer. Especially once his trial started.
Louisa, to her credit, couldn’t contain her surprise or excitement as I unveiled the entire story to her. “He was living in a bookstore in London?”
I grinned, crossed my legs. “Adler’s. Behind a secret bookshelf. We’ll learn more soon, but it appears as though the Sherlock Society used that space all of the time for secret meetings or to store things like stolen books.”
She closed her eyes. “All this bloody time.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” I said. “Although, it wasn’t a bad spot. With the exception of Peter, who would ever know he was there? A lot more information will shake out in the coming days and weeks, and I’ll keep you informed of all of it.” I swallowed, lifted a shoulder. “Louisa, I need to be totally honest with you. I can’t claim sole responsibility for this contract.” I nodded at the sheet of paper. Nodded again, grimly, at the sizable check she’d had cut for me already. Money I’d earned and needed. It just didn’t sit right with me not to admit that I’d actually worked with a team.
“About a week ago, I partnered with Abe Royal and Codex, who flew out here to search for Bernard on their own. At that point, my leads were drying up and our deadline was looming. We helped each other. We were together when we captured Bernard,” I said.
She looked utterly surprised. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
There was a knock at the door. And then Abe and Henry stepped inside. Both looking extra dashing in their suits, both looking extra relaxed, given the one thing they’d wanted had finally been achieved.
“Henry,” Louisa said. She stood up, clutched at her neck. “I so hope Abraham conveyed to you how thankful I was at the recovery of the Tamerlane.”
“He did,” Henry said. “Honestly, we were happy to do it. And Abe, Sloane, and I are just happy to see Bernard in the hands of the proper authorities. You know it’s been a long and emotional journey for us all.”
My heart did a strange, fluttery thing when Henry had included me. Abe caught my eye. Winked.
Louisa pressed a hand to her forehead. “I owe you an extraordinary apology. If I had believed you that night, we wouldn’t be in this atrocious mess. I can’t say I’m sorry enough, honestly.”
Henry touched her arm, which was a nice gesture. Because Henry Finch was a genuinely nice person. “I appreciate it. But he had us all fooled.”
“Still,” she said. “It’s the principal of the thing.”
She looked at Abe. “And I feel like I should have kept Codex instead of letting the authorities slow everything down for the past year.”
Abe gave a polite nod. “If you hadn’t waited and hired Sloane, we never would have met.” His smile grew. “It was fate.”
I had to look away to stop the heat that threatened to overtake my body. This fucking man.
“Abe and I were going to wander the campus for a bit,” Henry said to me. “Unless there’s anything else? We promise we’ll provide all the pertinent details regarding Bernard’s case and whatever happens next.”
Louisa was contrite. “You wouldn’t reconsider becoming a librarian again, would you?”
“No,” he said—immediately. “I’m a private detective for life now. Thank you for the offer. And one never ceases to be a librarian. I’m just more on the justice end of things.”
Louisa watched them leave, still clutching her neck, looking distraught. I tapped my finger on the payment, thought about those photos of Bernard and Henry at various awards ceremonies. “Didn’t Bernard have a foundation here? A scholarship program, for new librarians?”
“He did,” she said. “I’m not sure what we’ll do with it now.”
I tapped my check again. “If I gave half of this to the foundation, would you let me give it a new name?”
50
Abe
It had been almost one year—exactly—since I’d found Henry standing at the back of this library, staring out at the beautiful gardens of Oxford University.
He’d had his entire world turned upside down just forty-eight hours earlier. And I’d gone ahead and trusted my gut instinct that, deep down, he’d make one hell of a private detective. And he had.
I slipped my hands into my pockets, surveyed the students strolling across the green. “How do you feel now?” I asked.
“Relieved,” he said, an echo of our former conversation. “I’m not lying this time. I am relieved. I know why you were obsessed with finding him for so long. Bernard represents the worst attributes of humanity. The longer he stayed hidden, the more he would have stolen from the world. All of us finding him, together, is exactly what needed to happen.”
“I agree,” I said, letting out a long sigh. “I’m anxious to know more. Anxious to know how he stayed hidden this past year. But that restlessness is gone. I feel much more settled.”