Page 9 of Marked

This lady wasn’t one he could easily shake. Killing her would be the best option, but Christ, it wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

And he wasn’t going to examine why.

She didn’t seem to scare easily. He’d have to take things up a notch. He’d give her one more chance to back the fuck off before he pulled the goddamn trigger.

And if she didn’t... God help him.

***

Sophia let her head fall forward in the shower. What a day.

Despite the fact that she’d gotten good intel—make that damn good intel—regarding Cole, a major criminal, her boss had given her shit for not bringing in Tara Williams for questioning. Every second counted in a murder case. They now had to move in on Cole quickly, before he got wind that she’d been asking about him. And at this point, they might not have enough evidence to stick him with Arson’s murder.

Chief Kenneth was right. She’d screwed up.

And if her misstep cost them Cole’s conviction, she’d hand over her badge.

Shutting off the water, she stepped out of the shower and then wrapped a soft blue towel around her body. It was late, almost 11:00 p.m. Bart hadn’t made arrangements to pickup Bella, so they’d have to chat tomorrow. On top of that, Bella had been unusually restless at bedtime, which meant she might wake up. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to confronting Bart.

Why not? Her Monday had already gone to shit. She had only four more days of the workweek to power through. And she’d need all the reserves she had. The case she’d been working on for the last several months had sat untouched the last two days and finally, finally, last week she’d caught a break and secured a new informant in the organization whose roots ran like poisonous weeds beneath a dense forest floor. She had to get back on track and somehow still pursue Cole Holmes before he disappeared for good.

Tomorrow, she’d skip her workout. Getting up at 5:30 a.m. wasn’t going to happen, and she needed to put as many hours as she could behind her desk. She moved to the vanity, grabbed her hairbrush, and ran the points over her strands until they were smooth. Her phone dinged, and she glanced down at the message.

Don’t beat yourself up. You did good.

The text from her boss eased the tension in her shoulders. Maybe now she’d get some sleep. She had done well.

If it weren’t for her quick legwork, they’d still be miles behind Cole Holmes. The guy was as elusive as a snake. As vicious as a badger. Geez, he was a step away from a serial killer. Sure, he committed murder for money rather than fun, but a person didn’t get to that caliber without enjoying his career.

Thanks. See you in the morning.

She hit send and pulled her toothbrush from the cup on the counter. After brushing her teeth, she smeared moisturizer on her face.

Her muscles ached with the need to crawl into bed. It’d been a long, hellish two days. First, she’d had to show her face to the force after letting Arson’s murderer slip through her fingers Saturday night. And then she’d made a poor judgment call with Tara.

Letting out an annoyed growl, she put the cap back on her moisturizer and dropped the bottle on the counter. Screw it. She wasn’t going to waste another damn second worrying about the things she’d done wrong. At least they finally had a starting point, a solid foundation on which to build their case against Cole and lock him up for good.

For that, she was grateful.

She popped open the bathroom door and stepped into the master bedroom.

Energy crackled in the room. She froze, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Tension seized her chest.

Something’s not right.

She’d turned on her lamp before going into the bathroom, but the only glow that filled her bedroom now was from the bathroom light. Movement from the chair in the corner of the room stirred the shadows.

A gasp ripped from her throat, and she fumbled for the gun she’d tucked away in the nightstand.

“Don’t bother.” A cold, hard voice separated the air waves, shattering the hope that she was seeing things.

The scrape of jean-clad legs crossing the room made her grip the knotted towel between her breasts. Her gaze dropped to the nightstand. Seeing the little blue light on the corner of the baby monitor sent a shockwave of terror through her veins.

Oh, God. Bella.

“Tsk. Tsk. You left your gun in the drawer? Kind of a rookie move, don’t you think?”

“What the hell do you want from me?” The demand came out on a primitive growl, a mother bear in protective mode.

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