Page 58 of Silent Prey

"But won't this make it worse?"

His eyes twinkled. "There's only one way to find out."

Staring at him, she tried to think of other reasons why this was a terrible idea…but the look on his face—the excitement, the attentiveness, like he was ready for anything so long as she was there with him—blew all her misgivings away.

Why not give this a try? After all, she wasn't the only one grieving, the only one in pain. Maybe Finn needed this, too.

She reached out and touched Finn's grizzled cheek, her thumb lightly tracing over the lines etched there. "You really are like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"That's one of the least romantic analogies I can imagine, but yes. I'm stubborn."

He captured her hand with his own and pressed it against his face. His eyes met hers as he whispered, "Promise me you won’t leave me like that again.”

“You know I can’t promise that. You know this job is dangerous.”

Finn nodded, looking disappointed. “I just can’t stomach the thought…”

Sheila turned his chin toward her, and without thinking she kissed him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed a man, and certainly not one as rough or as charming as Finn. The feel of his stubble against her lips was grounding after the long, nightmarish hours. He responded with an intensity that took her breath away, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer and deepening the kiss.

They broke apart after a moment, both breathing hard. Their eyes met and held for a long moment, caught in a silence that was more profound than any words they could have spoken.

“About damn time,” Finn said.

Sheila smiled and kissed him again, her movements eager, hungry. She didn't fight the swell of emotions pouring into her. This was Finn, someone she knew, someone she trusted. She felt safe in his arms, despite the horror they’d just been through.

And for the first time, she didn't give a damn about all the reservations that had previously held her back. Life was too short for her to live in fear.

Finn responded with equal passion, his hands cradling her head as he kissed back.

Sheila broke away first, gasping for air. Those hazel eyes were staring down at her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. She glanced away, sensing she might get lost in his eyes if she stared any longer.

"So," she said quietly, clearing her throat. “What does this mean?”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I thought you called yourself a detective.”

Sheila snorted lightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I was being serious, smartass,” she said, punching him lightly on the arm.

Finn's expression softened as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "It means," he began, "that maybe it’s time to turn over a new leaf—for both of us, I mean. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as free as I feel with you, Sheila Stone.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, the worry and tension of the past few hours seeming to fade into insignificance. "Free..." she murmured, mulling over the word. It wasn't a feeling she was used to associating with herself. The pressure and expectations she had grown up with, the relentless pursuit of perfection— these were things she equated with her identity. But here, with Finn, she realized there was another side to her, one that craved connection and intimacy.

She looked at him, drank in his rugged features softened by vulnerability. Here was a man who had been dealt a hard hand by life, and yet he had chosen to stand by her side, through thick and thin. Her heart ached at the thought of the trials they had come through together and the battles that were yet to be fought.

"I think I'd like that," she finally said, her voice barely louder than the gentle rustle of the wind outside. "Whatever it means, whatever it looks like…I want to find out."

Finn's smile widened, his eyes lighting up. "It's a deal then," he said, extending his pinky toward her. Sheila laughed at the childish gesture, but looped her own pinky around his nonetheless.

Just as she was about to lean in for another kiss, they were interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open. Dawson stood on the threshold, his mustache twitching with amusement.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, not sounding sorry at all. His voice boomed through the room, breaking the intimate bubble that had surrounded Sheila and Finn. Finn leaned back, his arm slipping from Sheila's waist as he turned to face Hank.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Sheila said, hoping her boss couldn’t see the heat rising to her face.

"If you say so." Was that a wink or just a blink? Hank cleared his throat. "I'm just relieved to see you both in one piece, considering the day you had. Needless to say, everyone in the community—not to mention the flocks of tourists scheduled to visit Antelope Island over the next few months—is grateful for your work in taking down the murderer."

He paused as if troubled by something. “Was he really wearing a coyote skin when he attacked his victims?”

Sheila nodded. “Saw it myself.”

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