Page 10 of Cat and Mouse

Chapter 3 - Elizabeth

The balcony is silent now, the distant hum of the city filtering through the air. I work to get the cuffs off, feeling the metal bite into my wrists.

I glance around, desperate for anything useful. My eyes catch sight of the keys he tossed earlier, lying just a few feet away. Perfect. I shift closer, maneuvering my body to reach them. It's slow and painful, but determination fuels me.

I finally grasp the keys and work them into the lock, my hands shaking slightly. After what feels like an eternity, the cuffs click open. I rub my sore wrists, replaying the encounter in my mind. He got away, but this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

That bastard. The audacity to one-up me. I'm embarrassed, angry, and something else I don't want to think about.

His expensive suit, his scent—like cedar and something darker—and those fucking blue eyes. If he's the Phantom, why not run? Why not kill me? I can't tell Captain Harris that this man bested me again. More than that, I'm pissed because all my research on Moretti must have been a waste of time. What the hell is his actual name?

I pick up my gun, tuck it in, and then hear footsteps. A couple of seconds later, Mike and Matteo show up. How did they not notice I was gone? I must have been up here with that man for close to seven minutes. I don't blame them, though. They're new to NYPD.

"Everything alright?" Mike asks, his eyes scanning the balcony.

"Yes," I say, trying to steady my voice. "I thought I heard someone up here."

He nods. "I've got a list of all the patrons in the club tonight and the other dancers. Maybe we can go to the station and go through them."

"Good idea," I say. I'm rattled, but I don't want them to see that. I never react well to men, especially after that day, and having a potential killer stroke that scar has made me completely uneasy. I need to solve this once and for all.

As we head back inside, I can't shake the feeling of his touch, the way he traced the cut on my eyebrow. "What happened here?" he'd asked. I flinch just thinking about it. And then he called me occhi verdi, gorgeous eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Matteo falls into step beside me, his green eyes full of concern. "You sure you're okay, Kane?"

"I'm fine," I snap. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't push it. He's practically a rookie, and I don't need him worrying about me right now.

Back at the station, we spread out the list of names. I focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to that balcony. I can't believe he had the nerve to mess with me like that. And his parting words, so damn cocky: "Next time, detective, bring a warrant, and make sure the right name is on it!"

Mike leans over my shoulder, his sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes. "You seem distracted."

"I'm not," I lie. "Let's get to work."

Hours pass as we go through the names. Nothing stands out. No connections, no leads. Frustration gnaws at me. I'm not getting anywhere.

Matteo hands me a coffee, his scruffy beard making him look even younger. "You look like you need this."

"Thanks," I mutter, taking a sip. It's bitter, but it keeps me awake. "We need to find something. Anything."

"We will," Mike says, his voice steady. "We just need to keep at it."

But I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. I glance at my reflection in the window. My hair's a mess, my eyes tired. And that scar, a constant reminder. I touch it lightly, remembering his touch.

God, what is wrong with me?

The room is quiet except for the rustling of papers. I force myself to focus. There's no way I'm letting him win. Not again. Not ever. I stare at the list of names, willing something to jump out at me.

"Hey, Kane," Matteo says, breaking the silence. "What's our next move?"

I take a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of him aside. "We interview the patrons, the dancers. Someone has to know something."

Mike nods, jotting down notes. "We'll get him."

I look at them both, determination setting in. "Yes, we will. And when we do, he's going to regret ever crossing paths with us."

As the night drags on, I keep replaying our encounter. His confidence, his arrogance. The way he made me feel—angry, embarrassed, intrigued.

No. I can't think like that. He's the enemy. And I'll do whatever it takes to bring him down.

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