Page 16 of Skeletons in the Closet

“Trust me. I’ve given you a part where those stunning characteristics will come in handy. Honestly, though, does that work for you when picking up guys?”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog.” And now I was shouting, exactly what I’d been trying not to do.

Tallus shushed me and patted my chest, resting his palm against my sternum. I tensed at the sudden contact. It was an instinct I couldn’t quell. I didn’t like to be touched, at least not without warning. I steeled myself so I wouldn’t step back or smack his hand away. Tallus must have sensed my rising anxiety and withdrew, putting an extra foot of space between us.

“Sorry.”

I worked my jaw, wishing I could tell him it was fine, but it wasn’t fine. Nothing about me was fine. My blood boiled, and my skin prickled. I retreated and searched for the pack of gum I’d bought Friday night. When I found it, I popped two pieces and spent an inordinate amount of time picking the stray foil from the blister pack and making an anthill pile on the counter in the makeshift kitchen I’d created. I needed to keep my hands busy.

Tallus, astute in a way I couldn’t explain, gave me a minute before approaching. My random quirks and aggressive edge never fazed him.

He stayed a few feet back. “Look, if you’d prefer doing it your way, we can. I was concerned there might be cameras on the other exits. Security might be watching those doors with suchan important event going on. They’ll want to be sure no one is coming in uninvited.”

I couldn’t argue with his reasoning. He was right. It wasn’t the first time Tallus had proven himself adept at clandestine investigative work. He had an instinct most people didn’t. He thought outside the box. “No. We’ll do it your way, but I’m not a lapdog.”

“Diem, I was teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny,” I mumbled.

“I see that now.” He waited, and the weight of his attention was almost too much.

I picked the foil, scratching a nail at the parts that were adhered to the plastic, doing my best to scrape them off. But I’d chewed my nails to nubs, and it was impossible. I tossed the pack of gum aside with more force than was necessary. It glided over the edge of the counter and landed on the floor. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Tallus bent to retrieve the gum and held it out. “You might need it.”

I snatched it from his hand—because, again, he was right—and stalked into the other room to find my coat.

Tallus followed silently on my heels. I knew I was radiating a shitty, unapproachable vibe, but I couldn’t seem to shed the ugly feelings. I was always off-balance, always one step from losing my head. Working cooperatively with other people was not something I was good at. It was half the reason I’d left the department.

I punched my arms into the trench coat, another hand-me-down from my grandfather, stopping only when Tallus spoke, his voice calm and placating.

“I don’t think so, Guns. It’s a great coat. A bit dated, but the idea is for you to remain unremarkable. It’s not too cold, andyou have thick skin. Go without. Otherwise, you’ll have to find somewhere to stash it since you can’t play janitor with a coat on.”

I shed the coat and tossed it across my desk. “Anything else, boss?” The sarcasm was not hidden. The snark was dialed to a full level ten, and I almost apologized.

But Tallus smiled. It was unexpected and took down my temper a few degrees. “Breathe.”

I inhaled and exhaled with enough acerbity it was accompanied by a rumble in my chest. “You and my fucking therapist. Breathe, Diem. Breathe. Breathing does nothing.”

“Then what helps to calm you down when you’re like this?” He held up a finger to stop me from answering. “And don’t say fucking because we aren’t going there again, remember?”

No, we absolutely weren’t. I didn’t have an answer but managed to simmer enough to say, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“May I use your bathroom first?”

I motioned to the opposite side of the room where the regretfully pitiful office facilities were located. Tallus ducked inside and closed the door. While he was busy, I clutched the side of the desk and let my head hang as I closed my eyes and breathed. Part of my issue was that I didn’t like people telling me what to do, but Tallus—and my doctor—were right.

When the toilet flushed, I pulled myself upright and worked on keeping my muscles relaxed so I could focus on the task. As it stood, being in Tallus’s presence took every ounce of my energy.

Tallus exited with a frown, thumbing over his shoulder. “You don’t have a shower.”

“No.”

He arched a brow. “But you live here.”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “And you don’t have a shower.”

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