Page 23 of For the Love of Animals

“What about Lozano?”

“Don’t worry about Lozano.”

Nate kissed her on the forehead, and when she gave a soft sigh, he almost said fuck the job, fuck Lozano, and stayed with her. But he couldn’t. Not just for his sake, but for hers. She was counting on him to pull this off.

The last thing he did before he left the apartment was remove the ring she’d put on his finger last night, the ring he already felt entirely too comfortable wearing. Instead, he slipped it into her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Take care of this, okay?”

She gripped it tight and nodded. “Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

CHAPTER 9 - CARMEN

WHERE WAS NATE? He said he’d be back in time for dinner, but it was half past eight and the apartment was silent. Was he okay? I’d got his phone number from Captain P’s secretary, but when I tried calling, it went straight to voicemail.

I’d already searched his apartment out of curiosity—the man used more beauty products than I did—and now I was starting to get worried. Logic told me a man like Nate could look after himself, and even if he had gotten into trouble, it shouldn’t have mattered because I didn’t like him anyway.

My fingers went to my forehead again, to the spot where he’d kissed me before he left. No, I absolutely didn’t like him.

Well, maybe just a little, but not in that way.

More in the way that a girl respected a colleague, except I didn’t respect many of mine. The last guy I’d gotten on okay with other than Nestor, a seven-year veteran of GAFE who’d had the decency to address my face rather than my chest when he spoke, had recently been jailed for colluding with one of Lozano’s competitors.

Perhaps I should stop being so ambitious and accept that I was better off shooting people from a distance? Every time I tried talking, I just got myself into trouble.

Like now. Here I was, stuck in the apartment of a man I barely knew, waiting for him to help me fix up my mess. After all, the short deadline was mine, not his. If I weren’t involved, he could take a step back and regroup, then make a proper plan rather than rushing in with something half-formed. What if he didn’t come back? How would I let his family know? Did he even have a family? Should I start calling the hospitals?

The lock clicked.

Training meant I had my gun in my hand before the door swung open, but I quickly lowered it when I saw it was Nate.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you went out alone to do a dangerous job?” He got closer, and I took in his appearance. The untucked shirt. The undone buttons. The red smear on his face. “Is that lipstick on your cheek?”

“Probably.”

“Probably? Is that all you’ve got to say?”

He smelled of alcohol too, although he still seemed perfectly coherent.

“Jealous, querida?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

The asshole didn’t answer, just sauntered away and dropped his jacket onto the bed. I almost stormed off, but then he started undoing the rest of his buttons and my feet refused to move. Instead, I stood there with my hands on my hips, desperately trying to think of something smart to say.

Nate balled the shirt up and tossed it through the bathroom door, straight into the laundry hamper.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“I’m just angry that we’ve got a job to do and a deadline to meet, and you disappeared off on a date. I had no idea whether you were alive or dead since you didn’t answer your phone.”

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