Page 42 of Cat and Mouse

Her eyes don't leave mine. She's trying to find a crack, some hole in my logic. "You could have them jailed."

"That's not justice."

She scoffs. "And killing them is?"

"It is to me."

She watches me, jaw clenched, fists tight at her sides. Her heart's racing—I can almost hear it. She's trying to decide what to do next, and for a second, I wonder if she's gonna try and throw a punch. God, I hope she does.

"Why did you really kill them?"

"Because they crossed me. And because I don't like when people lie to me or disobey me."

Her eyes are locked on mine. I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to piece it all together.

"And now, Lizzie," I say, taking a step closer, "I'm asking nicely—stay out of my business. Can you do that for me?"

She doesn't answer right away. She's stubborn as hell. I like that about her. Finally, she squares her shoulders, that sassy attitude back in full force. "I'm a detective. It's my job to get involved in people's business."

"I know."

We're both silent for a moment, staring at each other. The tension is thick and not just because of the gun I've still got tucked in my waistband. It's her. It's the way she looks at me, the way she challenges me, even when she knows she's outmatched.

"Do you even feel bad for killing them?" she asks suddenly.

I tilt my head, pretending to think about it. "No."

It's the truth. And she knows it.

"Are you serious about stopping?" Her voice has an edge to it, challenging. She's sassy, yeah, but there's fear, too, hidden in how tight her jaw is.

"I'm busy now." I shove the gun back into its holster, more for her peace of mind than mine. "But I promise—no one dies unless they deserve it. Do we have an understanding?" I say, my voice low, pushing the tension between us, waiting to see if she'll agree to my terms.

She nods. "Yeah." Her voice is soft, and I see the way her shoulders relax just a bit.

"Good." I straighten up, looking her over one last time. "I'm leaving now."

But before I can take a step, she blurts out, "I heard about your dad."

The words hit me harder than any bullet ever could. Suddenly, I'm on edge, feeling exposed, raw. How the fuck does she know that?

I take a breath, but it comes out more like a growl. "We're done talking."

"I know what it's like to lose someone. A parent."

I scoff, stepping closer. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Leonardo," she whispers my name, soft but firm, and it cracks something open inside me, something I don't want broken.

One second, I'm standing there staring at her, and the next, I'm in front of her, my hand around her neck. Not tight, just enough to remind her who's in control here.

"You're getting real comfortable saying my name." My voice comes out like a warning, but there's a part of me that doesn't want her to stop.

Her eyes—there's sadness there. Fuck.

"I don't need your pity," I snap, the anger flaring up, but before I can pull back, she does something I don't expect.

She touches my cheek. Softly, tenderly.

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