Chapter 45
Seven years later.
The phone buzzed for the third time. A news reporter on the wall screen in front of the bed was still elaborating on the death of Detective Adamson.
Madeline stared at the phone. ‘No Caller ID’ appeared on its small screen. “How do you know it’s Stefan? It could be Jo.”
On the other side of the bed, Ciaran tossed his clothes on. Madeline winced. The two bullet wounds and the five gashes on his body hadn’t had a chance to heal. Not that she was one to complain about the explosive s*x they’d just had—that certainly hadn’t helped his recovery—but she wished they had more time to let him rest.
“If it’s Jo, she’ll leave a message,” Ciaran said.
“Jo said she was going to your London headquarters. We don’t know if she was with Adamson when Stefan killed him.” S
