Page 19 of Lovely Violent Things

When I don’t respond, Alister nods solemnly. “Look, I don’t care whose payroll you’re on,” he says. “This is my crime scene, and an overworked profiler isn’t touching my—”

“She’s leaving.” Kallum moves into my periphery like a dark shadow. “I’ll behave myself for a few hours without supervision.”

His words are delivered to Agent Alister with the hard edge of malice laced beneath his quip.

I expel an audible breath at the rise of testosterone as I glance between the two of them. Without a word, I shift my bag strap higher and turn to head off down the boardwalk, leaving the alpha males to their own primitive devices.

As I descend the steps, I pass a woman covered in a Tyvek suit, presumably the medical examiner here to remove the victim.

“We still need to talk.”

I’m almost to my rental, and don’t stop walking. “We did talk,” I say to Kallum, digging out my keys and clicking the fob to unlock the car. I pop the trunk and unload my gear, trying hard to ignore his demanding presence.

Rain pelts the roof of the car. I feel the cool drops on my face. Another roll of thunder travels through the marsh. As I glance up, Kallum is standing beside the driver-side door, hands deep in his pockets.

Agent Hernandez stands behind him at a distance, effectively giving us privacy, though I see his eyes lift to keep track of his charge.

“Please move away from the door,” I say.

Kallum’s drawn features soften at the weariness in my tone. Or maybe it’s theplease. I’m too drained by him to keep my fight strong for much longer.

“You think I did this,” he says, inclining his head in the direction of the wetland crime scene.

Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at him and really try to comprehend how he can deny what is obvious. How does he lie so effortlessly? Does he believe his own lies?

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I say. “It matters what the evidence will prove. Now, move the hell out of my way.”

Kallum’s gaze falls to my crossed arms, to the sliver of skin exposing the rope burn around my wrist. The visceral memory of his touch detonates inside my chest with a resounding shiver.

I reach out and touch the side of the car, grounding myself. “God, Kallum. Just…please go.”

He moves closer and clasps my neck, his fingers braced along my nape as his thumb delicately skims the bruises. I swallow hard against his touch, unable to free the trapped breath, until he finally releases me and steps aside.

“I need you to stay inside your room at the hotel,” he says. “Don’t leave, Halen.”

I pull the door open and slip behind the wheel. “I’m the last person on this planet who is concerned with what you need.”

He glances down at the GPS monitor strapped to his ankle, his features strained.

“Just so you know,” I say, hand gripped to the handle, “I’ve cataloged every square inch of that scene. I’ll know if anything is altered, which could clue me in on a piece of important evidence, so I’m almost hoping you have the audacity to try.”

I slam the car door shut and key the ignition. Putting the car in Reverse, I back out of the parking spot and refrain from glancing in the rearview mirror as I drive away from Kallum.

There’s a monster that feeds off pain, and his beautiful, disarming eyes look right into me, down to the rawest truth of my grief.

The more vulnerable I become, the deeper my daemon slithers. If I can’t escape him, he won’t stop until he consumes all of me.

5

IN THE FLICKER

KALLUM

Gray storm clouds hang over Hollow’s Row like a dark omen, forecasting bad and violent things to come. The cumulus billows of gas are the deceptive calm gathering before the storm, the harbinger of death and doom.

A bit dramatic, I admit—but I enjoy the play on words.

I watch the swollen clouds drift low in the sky as I impatiently wait across a tweed field of tall reed grass. I sink my hands deep into my pockets and lean my shoulder against the gnarled bark of a marsh tree. Agent Hernandez lingers off to the side, texting on his phone.

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