Page 36 of Obsession

“You’ll see I’m surprisingly skilled at comic relief during the absoluteworsttimes. It’s one of my skills I should’ve mentioned during our interview.”

The door to the room shuts fast behind us, hiding our team and the body they’ll dispose of.

Our boots stomp heavily on the concrete toward my truck.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

She releases a shuddering breath. I look at her sharply. Good God, she’s not going to start…crying.Is she?

But no. When she catches me looking at her, her eyes are dry and her lips are in a thin, firm line. “I pulled up everything I could on our little friend.”

“The one we left with our other friends?”

“The very same.”

“Tell me in the truck. Someone helped him, and I’m not sure who, but we aren’t safe here.”

She steps up the pace, and I move closer to her. When we reach the truck, I don’t wait for her to fight her way up and bang the hell out of her shins again. She thinks I didn’t see that. I remember the feel of her against me when I pinned her to the ground, and the feel of her body pressed to mine while we crouched in wait. I want to feel her again.

Before she has a chance to react, I reach for her and lift her up as easily as if she were a child. Her feet scissor and she gives a little squeak, but I don’t wait around for the inevitable lecture or eye roll. I plop her down safely and walk to my side.

As soon as I open my door, she starts in.

“Excuse me,” she says sternly, before I get the door to the truck closed shut.

“I know, don’t touch you, don’t help you, let you bruise the shit out of your shins. No.” I crank the engine and look through my rearview mirrors, not an easy feat considering they fucked my mirrors up.

“Why? How? Seriously, how do you justify being such a control freak?”

“Me? Control freak?” I laugh quietly to myself, and mutter, “You have no idea.” I would enjoy the ever-living hell out of having some modicum of control over her.

Dusk has settled on the city, the bluish haze of late summer making everything look mysterious and ethereal. I drive toward the road that takes me home, glancing in the rearview mirror so many times I’m barely watching where I’m going on the main road.

She’s typing away on her phone, muttering to herself, taking notes, when she looks out the window and stares.

“Thinking?”

She doesn’t reply for long minutes, just picks at a cuticle on one hand. “What do they do with the body?”

This would be a shitty time for her to start crying about all this.

“Better if you don’t know, but it won’t be a problem.” A beat passes.

“Take me home now, please. I’ve never needed a shower more in my life.”

I don’t want to take her home. I want to keep her with me until we find Skylar. But I know we have research to do, and my team is on it. We have to find the person who hit us today and follow up on the contacts on Skylar’s phone, along with whoever else at the bar’s connected to the disappearances. And I’ll be worth shit if I don’t get some sleep.

“I’ll take you home, and you do all the research you can. Tomorrow, we meet with my team to compare what we’ve found and hopefully make moves. Remember what I said about packing a bag.”

“Right.”

Tugging down her top, she moves her bra to the side and pulls out the sprig of delicate white flowers. I swivel my eyes back to the road so I don’t confirm how the little sprig of flowers left an imprint on her bare breasts. I shift uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, trying to rein in my focus. She has small, perfect breasts that would fit?—

Christ.

“We need to keep this in mind. Whoever’s taking them leaves flowers for them before he goes. One of those signature moves? There were flowers on the walkway to your sister’s house, and your sister was looking for the meaning of them. I found it in the search history of her phone.”

Shit.

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