Page 16 of The Tracker

“Like a machine. Like nothing touches you.”

He stared at the screen a second longer, then shut it.

“Touch is overrated.”

A lie, and they both knew it.

His voice sounded flat to his own ears, hollow in a way that scraped against the truth he’d spent years denying. The moment the words left his mouth, Dawson felt the echo of them in his chest—tight, suffocating.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips parting as if to speak, but she said nothing. The silence that grew between them was thick and charged, every nerve suddenly alive to the dangerous thrum shealways seemed to rouse in him. He didn’t move, but the distance, the heat, the truth rippling out between them felt inescapable—too late to take back, and far too revealing to ignore.

He turned to face her fully. Her lips parted slightly, eyes narrowing like she wanted to pick him apart.

“You’re watching me,” she said.

“You make it hard not to.”

“You’re supposed to be watching the case.”

“I am.”

He took a step closer, watching her chest rise. “I see everything.”

Evangeline stood her ground. But her hands gripped the desk again. Always that damn desk.

“Careful, Dawson,” she said. “You’re dangerously close to sounding interested.”

“Sweetheart, if I were interested…” He stepped into her space, close enough that her scent enveloped him—jasmine and something warm and feminine, lush and decadent.

Her eyes widened, breath catching, but she didn’t move. Her fingers flexed against the edge of the desk, a subtle tell. Heat climbed her neck, blooming across her cheeks as she met his gaze head-on. For a heartbeat, her lashes fluttered, and something unreadable flickered behind her eyes—shock, maybe. Or want. Or both. Her breathing shallowed, but still, she didn’t flinch. She absorbed the moment like the first prickle of lightning before a storm, humming just beneath her skin, holding the charge in silence.

“…you’d already be on your knees.”

Her breath hitched. Just once. Just enough.

But instead of answering, she turned and walked away.

Which was fine.

He wasn’t done—not yet. There was still a case to solve. This wasn’t just a leak. It was Peter. And someone working with him—someone smart enough to stay hidden and dangerous enough to make it count.

And then there was her. A woman unraveling in ways that could break them both wide open.

She was under his protection now—or under him, the thought flaring hot and possessive. It wasn’t just instinct—it was primal. She wasn’t simply another assignment. She’d slipped past every wall he’d built, igniting something raw and territorial that scared the hell out of him.

This was not only unprofessional, it was dangerous. Letting it get personal had cost him before. He’d buried men for that mistake. He couldn’t afford to do it again. Not with her. Not when the stakes were this high.

One thing was certain—the bastard was going down.

And Evangeline? He’d make damn sure she made it out alive. Whole. Safe. Protected.

And if it meant getting his hands dirty—again—so be it.

5

EVANGELINE

If tension had a scent, Dawson would be drenched in it. It clung to her like velvet steeped in adrenaline—soft, but sharp enough to make her chest tighten and her stomach twist. The air around him pulsed with unspoken intent, every heartbeat hammering like a warning in her throat. It was thick and charged, the kind of weight that comes before a storm—oppressive, electric, impossible to ignore. It slid across her skin like invisible silk, cool at first, then prickling hot, each breath catching like the air had teeth.

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