Page 35 of Pose for Me

"When exactly did you tell me you were detectives?" I counter, finding my voice. "Because I'm pretty sure that particular detail never came up during our... encounters."

A frown pulls at Knox's lips, his brow furrowing as if he's genuinely surprised by this revelation. For a moment, he looks almost sheepish, an expression so at odds with his usual severity that I almost want to laugh. But the gravity of the situation quickly reasserts itself as Knox turns his attention to the photographs in his hands.

The first image—the one of me entering the bar—doesn't seem to bother him much. His eyes scan it clinically, taking in the details with professional detachment. But when he flips to the second photograph, the one capturing the raw, primal moment between River and me in the alley, his entire demeanor changes.

A growl, low and dangerous, rumbles from deep in his chest. His fingers tighten on the edges of the photo, crinkling the glossy paper. With a sharp movement, he thrusts the image at River, who has been watching the exchange with an uncharacteristically somber expression.

"Someone saw you," Knox snaps, his voice tight with barely contained fury.

River takes the photo, his eyes widening as he takes in the intimate scene captured on film. His usual easy-going demeanor vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that sends a chill down my spine.

"Fuck," River breathes, running a hand through his hair. "This is... not good."

Knox begins to pace, his movements tightly controlled but radiating tension. Each step is measured, deliberate, like a caged predator assessing its confines. The soft thud of his expensive shoes on the hardwood floor echoes in the tense silence of the studio.

Knox stops his pacing abruptly, whirling to face River. His eyes blaze with barely contained fury as he fixes his partner with a withering glare.

"You were careless," Knox growls, his voice low and dangerous. "I told you to be more discreet, but you couldn't control yourself, could you? Had to have her right there in the alley, consequences be damned."

River has the grace to look somewhat chastened, but there's a defiant glint in his eye as he meets Knox's gaze. "You weren't there, Knox," he argues, his tone heated. He steps right into Knox’s space, his free hand coming up to brush against Knox’s stubble. "You didn't see how beautiful she looked, how responsive she was. I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried."

As I watch this exchange, a hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. "How is it that I have two detectives stalking me?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. "Isn't that, I don't know, against some kind of code of ethics or something?"

River's head snaps towards me, his earlier tension melting away as a wicked grin spreads across his face. "Oh, sweetheart," he purrs as he steps away from Knox again, his voice dropping to that sinful register that never fails to make my knees weak. "We're not stalking you. We're detecting."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck in the back of my head. "Right," I drawl, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because breaking into my apartment to leave baked goods and stock my fridge is standard police procedure."

Knox resumes his pacing, each step measured and deliberate, like the ticking of an ominous clock. His movements are tightly controlled, but I can see the tension coiled in his muscles, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

After what feels like an eternity, Knox stops directly in front of me. His eyes bore into mine, flecks of gold seeming to dance in their depths as he studies me intently. I feel pinned in place by the power of his gaze, unable to look away even if I wanted to.

"Tell us everything," he commands, his voice brooking no argument. "Every detail, no matter how small or insignificant you think it might be. Don't leave anything out."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself and I begin to recount the events leading up to this moment.

Chapter 23

Knox

Theprecincthumswithits usual controlled chaos as I settle into my desk chair, the familiar creak of leather doing little to soothe my frayed nerves. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare over the scattered case files and half-empty coffee cups littering the surface. I lean back, scrubbing a hand over my face, feeling the rough scratch of stubble against my palm.

Fuck. How did we miss this?

The question burns in my mind, a constant, mocking refrain. River and I have been watching Rayne for months, learning every detail of her life, memorizing her routines, her habits, her very essence. We thought we knew everything there was to know about her. And yet, somehow, we completely overlooked another predator circling our prey.

The realization sits like lead in my gut, a cold, heavy weight of failure. I've always prided myself on my observational skills, on my ability to see the things others miss. It's what makes me such a damn good detective. But in this case, I was blind. Blinded by my own obsession, by the all-consuming need to possess Rayne completely.

I pull out the photographs from the evidence bag, placing them both on my desk. The image of Rayne entering the bar is unremarkable, save for the fact that it exists at all. But the second photo... my fingers clench involuntarily as I stare at the captured moment of raw passion between River and Rayne.

The rage that had simmered beneath the surface since we left Rayne's studio threatens to boil over. The only person with any right to watch them is me. I want to tear the photo to shreds, to hunt down the bastard who dared to intrude on that private moment and make them suffer. Make them bleed. But I can't. I return the photos to the evidence bags and set them aside. The images are evidence now, a tangible reminder of my failure to protect what's mine.

Our carelessness could have cost us everything. If this unknown stalker had chosen to go to the police instead of threatening Rayne directly, our entire carefully constructed world could have come crashing down. Our careers, our freedom, our chance at a future with Rayne–all of it hanging by a thread because we let our guard down.

As much as we had wanted to stay with Rayne after she had told us the very limited information about her other stalker, she had work to do and so did we. There had been another body this morning, and then seeing the squad car outside of Rayne's place had me on edge and my control already almost slipped once.

I force myself to focus on the task at hand, pushing thoughts of Rayne to the back of my mind. As much as every fiber of my being screams to go back to her, to wrap her in my arms and never let go, I know we can’t.

My eyes drift to the empty desk across from mine. River left the precinct within minutes of arriving, citing personal time. I know exactly where he's gone—to set up surveillance outside Rayne's studio. It's a necessary precaution, but part of me bristles at the thought of him being closer to her right now while I’m stuck here.

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