Suspicious Ways Read Online Free PDF Page B

decadent, depraved life, walking away scot-free when she was found dead aboard his motorboat.
    Worse still, Jack knew if he hadn’t run from the guilt of sleeping with Ali, if he hadn’t left for Fremantle only three days later, leaving Trudi to live in his house alone, she’d still be alive today. Of that he had no doubt. The police investigation had revealed no connection to Peterson and Trudi’s death however. None. Jack knew otherwise—his heart and gut told him so. But the man was like Teflon—nothing stuck to him. No matter how much depravity Peterson submerged himself in, no matter how strong and persistent the rumors that surrounded him like a foul fog were, by the time the ink on the check was dry, the billionaire appeared as clean as virgin snow.
    Jack despised him. With every fiber of his body and soul. Despised him and longed for hard justice. He didn’t think his hatred for the man could boil hotter, but the thought of Ali in Peterson’s arms pushed Jack’s fury to a dangerous level he’d never experienced before. At the thought of the bastard’s lying mouth on Ali’s soft lips, at the very notion of the man’s pudgy hands on her slim body, touching her, feeling her…
    A strangling pressure wrapped Jack’s chest. He’d failed in his responsibilities to look after Trudi, and Peterson had devoured her. He was damn certain Ali wasn’t going to suffer the same fate.
    A sharp buzzing noise punched through the deadly blackness engulfing Jack and he blinked, shooting his watch a quick frown. Who in the hell would be calling at this time of night?
    Pushing away from the rail, he walked back into the living room, drawing deep breaths as he forced his muscles to relax. It was probably William. Knowing his kid brother, Bill had left something behind—most likely his condom supply.
    The buzz sounded again. Shorter this time. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, crossing the expansive room and into the vaulted-ceiling foyer, “I’m coming.” He hit the intercom button beside the front door, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “Yes?”
    “Jackson McKenzie?”
    A sharp breath burst from Jack at the soft American accent. An accent he knew so very well, spoken by a female voice he knew even better. Instantly, his body tensed. His muscles sprung tighter than a steel coil, his groin growing just as tight.
    Ali Graham was outside his home.
    He stared at the intercom panel, thinking fast. He knew she was here about her business. It wasn’t in her to concede, especially to him, but he wasn’t ready to talk to her. What was he going to say? That he was protecting her from human scum? That he wanted to take her to his bedroom and bury himself up to the hilt in her sublime body once more?
    The pit of his stomach clenched. Damn it, things were spiraling out of control and he’d only been back in Australia for twelve hours.
    Letting out a sharp breath, he jabbed at the intercom button again, forcing his words to sound calm. Indifferent. “Yes, Ali?”
    “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
    He clenched his jaw, the steel in her voice jarring. He’d never heard her use such a tone before—it was the tone of a hardened business professional, not a twenty-four-year-old woman who should be seeing little but the joy in life.
    He was responsible for that tone. Responsible for it when what he really wanted was to be responsible for her joy.
    He bit back a low growl. Damn, he was loathsome. He’d completely devastated this woman today, her parting words a stinging reminder it hadn’t been the first time. But now, while he was still trying to get his head together over what he’d done to her, here she was on his doorstep. She’d come to confront him, and all the primitive, male part of him wanted to do was drag her into his home and lose himself in her body, make love to her until she was senseless and breathless and begging for more.
    “May I come in?” There was a slight pause.