Chapter Sixteen

Something was wrong. He squeezed his eyes tight, squinting at the photo, tilting it back and forth, holding it close, then at arm’s length.

A smug, satisfied look settled on his face.

He walked over to the wall and pinned the photograph next to the others already there. He liked Angela’s hair long. Why she’d ever gone and cut it short was a mystery.

She knew how he felt about it. All that beautiful hair cascading through his fingers when he made love to her. Twisting it in his fist, holding her down while she squirmed under him.

Then she’d gone and cut it short.

He lay back against the bed’s headboard and stared at the rows of pictures on the wall. She’d posed real pretty for most of them. And even if she didn’t, he’d had a right to take them. She’d put him through hell with all her other men.

He could picture her in the jewelry. All the sparkling colors on her nude body. Rainbows against her creamy skin.

The last job had been the best. That ruby had to be worth a fortune. Angela would look great in his bed wearing nothing but that big ruby in her belly button.

So he’d had a few problems this time. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Quigley tried to blackmail him. Imagine! The little weasel thought he could push him around. Well, he found out that nobody, nobody took what was his.

He laughed aloud and reached for the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand.

Soon it would be over. He rested his arms behind his head and scanned the pictures again, down the row to the last one. She was just lucky she’d let it grow long again. He liked it long.