Page 35 of Pure Killers

Then, as fast as any of the rest of this happened, she’s pitched towards the back of the room, into the window. It smashes under the impact, a waterfall of glass gone in a second. Then she's gone too, marked only by a short scream. I'm still on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the missing window, the glass glittering on the floor, when he shakes me, and I turn to look into the mask. His hood has fallen back, but at some point in the scuffle, the lamp fell off the desk and smashed, so the only light comes from the hallway door. "Eleanor! Talk to me. Did you swallow anything? Did she get anything in your mouth?"

"I, uh…”

Too impatient for my answer, his gloved hand grips my jaw, not unlike the way my would-be murderer just did. I wince as he presses on tender skin, my mouth opening wide. He peers in as I make a small, almost offended noise and pull out of his grip. “She didn’t!”

Appearing to have reached that conclusion himself, Needler takes my arm and pulls me to my feet. "Who was she?" I ask. “She mentioned Greg Talisof…”

"That’s your job to work out, isn't it?"

I can hear traffic on the street below, subtly changed now. Abruptly, I look back at Needler. He's here, apparently concerned for my welfare. How chivalrous, except he'd also justkilled a woman without a second thought. "Why are you here?" I ask.

"I saw her following you." His black-gloved hand comes up, brushing away a lock of hair stuck to my forehead. "And that’s my job."

My aching head and other various injuries make themselves known, now that the relative safety is setting in, replacing the adrenaline of almost being killed. I touch my temple, finding sticky blood. I wince. "She’d dead. You saved me. Why?"

"I like having you around."

"I'm the cop on your case. I'm trying to put you in prison."

"But you're so much more fun than anyone else."

I shake my head, stepping back. "I need to…" I stumble against the side of the desk. Needler catches me, a hand on my waist. Somehow, I've ended up between him and the desk, looking up into the silver mask. For the fact that I linger, I blame the head injury. For glancing at his mouth, inviting it, I blame the near-death experience.

There’s no stolen kiss this time. It’s slow, savouring, the taste of aniseed dimmed, and his arms around me, pulling me against him even as his body presses me back against the solid desk. I close my eyes and that mask disappears. He just feels like a man. I lift my chin, pulling deeper, fingers digging into his shoulders. In these moments of temporary insanity, I want more, to feel alive, to postpone the moment when the terror of everything that just happened will set in. And he gives, hand sliding up between my shoulder blades, leaning into me, claiming my mouth.

When some semblance of reason returns, I breathe, "I can't be here.”

Staying against me, hips to mine, looking down on my face with my own shadow blocking a clear view of his mouth and chin, Needler asks, “No? Your friends will be on the way.”

My thoughts are muddled, everything leading to this moment a confusing mess. There’s a dead woman out the window, fourteen floors down. “No, I… I’m notsupposedto be here.”

A pause, and then I almosthearhim smile. “Breaking the rules, are we?” He leans down again, lips nearly brushing mine, voice low as he asks, “Any more you’d like to break tonight?”

I sway, gaze dropping to his mouth, the black smear more distorted for our kiss. The blackness might be on my own lips too now, a mark of him. How far could this go? I hang onto reason. “How am I going to explain a dead woman outside?” I demand, pushing him back a step.

“Tell them it was self-defence.”

“God.” I grip my head with both hands. “They’ll put me into protection again, counselling. I don’t even have a warrant. It’s too messy. I’ll lose my job.”

“Eleanor…”

I drop my hands, focussing back on him. “You killed her! You need to clean this up."

"You want me to save your lifeandclean up your mess?"

"My mess?You threw her out of the fucking window!"

"You would havebeenthe mess if I hadn't been watching her. And you."

My temple throbs. "What do you care if they blame you for this? You kill people all the time!"

Needler crosses his arms. "Certain people! And carefully. This is messy. I don't like it. That’s not how she should have gone."

"You're nuts. And you know who she was."

“Sharna Wells,” Needler tells me. "Talisof's handler. Think of her as an erotic mother figure."

"Wonderful." I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. Dirk didn't want me here now. Tawill will be mad that I was here at all, as will the FBI no doubt assigned to the Cadden case by now. And unless I then tell everyone I did that to Sharna myself, I'llhave to admit to being witness to a murder. More than one, at this point.

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