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Kira went through the photos one at a time, breathing in the scent of leather mixed with Owen’s cologne. They seemed to feature a variety of locations—some that appeared to be upscale hotel rooms. Others featured locations such as kitchens, or the backseat of a car. Each photo featured a different woman.
Kira stroked one of the glossy photos with her thumb. The quality of the print stock was high, and they had clearly been taken with a professional camera, probably with a telephoto lens. There was no mistaking Owen’s identity. No one in the pictures seemed to be aware they were being photographed.
Trevor leaned over Kira’s shoulder and let out a low whistle. “Is that Theresa Wilcox? And Bethany Taylor…? Oh, and Jessica Dayton!”
“You can see why my wife must not find out about this,”
