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The detective shrugged, though it seemed stiff. “The thrill of it all. Fuck if I know. I don’t understand those mind games, which is probably why I’m still single with only my cat for company.”

“Nothing wrong with cats,” I mumbled. Sighing, I rubbed at my jaw, the weight of the day hitting me like a fucking four-hundred-pound lineman. “I’ll make sure Dr. Evans gets somewhere safe for the night.”

“Sounds good, but I want to talk to her first. See if there was anything of extreme value in the house that put her on someone’s radar.”

Smart.

Our footsteps pounded on the stairs as we jogged down one flight, swiveled around the second floor, and hurried down the next set of steps.

Outside, Jameson still had his arms wrapped around Rain. Her hazel eyes flicked to the woman beside me as we approached.

“Detective Gray,” Rain said.

“Jennifer, remember?” the detective said, all the harsh lines from when she’d spoken to me gone when she talked to Rain. “I know it’s been a tough night already, but can you list anything in the house that had a high monetary value?”

While Rain and the detective spoke, I angled my head, indicating for Jameson to step aside with me. With a light squeeze around Rain’s waist, he whispered something in her ear and then moved to the edge of the sidewalk. Both of us were close enough that we could get to Rain if needed but far enough for a private conversation.

“This was personal,” I muttered.

“Fuck. Did they leave a message or anything?” Jameson’s gaze flicked from me to Rain, then down the sidewalk, no doubt searching for threats in the shadows.

“Not that I saw, but you’ve been here a few days. I want you to go inside. Look at it from your perspective. Your shit was tossed through too. They ruined most of her clothes if the lethal levels of bleach fumes are any sign. Go inside, check your shit, and grab anything of hers that’s salvageable.”

He winced as he massaged his left arm. “Okay. Are you thinking of taking her to a hotel, or—”

“Fuck no. You two are staying with me.”

20

RAIN

The full-body tremble, every muscle convulsing, that started the moment it dawned on me that someone broke into my home hadn’t stopped. Adrenaline continued to pump through my veins, keeping me on edge as Slade drove us away from the house, leaving Detective Gray behind to finish sweeping the crime scene alone.

Damnit.

Tears welled, threatening to fall as I gazed out the back passenger window. The familiar homes surrounding my neighborhood had shifted to businesses and restaurants a while ago, yet I still hadn’t uttered a single word despite the two men up front shooting worried looks my way.

Shock was still firmly in place, making me feel numb. I wanted to tell them I was fine, because physically I was. Mentally and emotionally, not so much. But even the single word felt like too much effort. So instead, I sat in the back seat, forehead pressed to the cool window, completely unresponsive.

Plus, I didn’t want to tell them my suspicions of who ransacked my home.

The unshed tears burned in my throat.

My home. The place I’d once felt safe, and now that was ripped away. I could replace the furniture and clothes easily, but that sense of security the townhouse provided was gone for good.

The sensation of eyes on me had me flicking my gaze toward the front seat. Worried light-brown eyes were focused on me, scanning my face for the hundredth time since we all piled into Slade’s car.

“How much longer?” Jameson asked with an exhale as he settled back into his seat.

“Fifteen minutes,” Slade sighed. I met his bright green gaze in the rearview mirror. “How are you holding up back there?”

The wordsfine, orokay, orall rightsat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t utter a single one. Instead, I raised a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” Jameson groaned. “Talk to us. Anything. We know you’re not okay. That’s obvious. Tell us what you’re feeling.”

Feeling. How I was feeling.

Vulnerable. Victimized. Angry. Sad. Despondent. Guilty.

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