Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Unbidden, there’s an image of me slamming the knife into Roger’s chest, which has me swallowing hard and wondering how true that statement he just made really is or is not. He convinced me to keep my badge for a reason. It’s about a place to hide.
For both of us.
I have no idea what the hell is going on with me tonight, but I need to be inside Purgatory, working this case, consumed by my duty, not my history. I say nothing to Kane, I simply slide inside the vehicle.
He follows, of course, because nothing I do, no matter what it is, detours Kane from his pursuit. The emotions he stirs in me, now and always, ground me. They remind me that I am human. I am not cold and callus, but I can be cold and callus. These are two different things and two different people.
I do care about saving people.
But sometimes I fear it’s about proving something to me and the world I should not have to prove.
Chapter Eighteen
On the bright side, in a night filled with murder and jabbermouths, I trust everyone in the vehicle with my life…just not to keep their traps shut with Kane.
Kane slides in close but not too close.
He’s playing it safe, not sorry. You never know when I might punch a guy, even if I’m in love with him. Sometimes because I am, at least in Kane’s case.
Not that you’d call us snugglers or two people who pack on PDA, anyway. We have reputations to protect. His as a cartel boss, killer, and badass, and mine as simply a bitch. In his case, I fear his reputation has suffered while mine has not. That cop liked him a little too much and feared me a little too much. Perhaps not for the reasons I thought at first. Maybe he’s more comfortable around crime than law. I think back to Kane leaning on the door either entertained or irritated by the cop, and it’s hard for me to judge the height of the other man.
The vehicle starts to move and I shift around to face Kane. “Who was the cop talking to you?”
“Mark. Just transferred in from Florida. He’s not your guy. He didn’t have any idea who I was.”
“Or he’s a good actor. That’s what this guy does. Acts out roles.”
“If he’s a killer, I’m a Sunday school teacher,” Kane says, producing his cellphone. “But I always pay attention to those who pay attention to me. I made a point of memorizing his badge number.” He punches in a text and hits send.
“Of course, you did,” I say dryly. “Because you’re as much a schoolteacher as I am delicate. Everyone in this vehicle should remember that.”
Jay doesn’t dare turn his ass around at that.
I remove my phone from my pocket and grimace to find my messages have blown up since I last checked. Kane, of course, just now. Tic Tac, Chief Houston, the mayor, and more Tic Tac. Interestingly, nothing more from Murphy, though that may mean nothing. Murphy, as a high-ranking member of the FBI, respects how in the moment I have to be to work. Those who are in the moment with me, don’t.
Except for Kane.
I send the badge number to Tic Tac, scan his notes, and decide they are all for Purgatory. As for the chief, he’s calling because the mayor is on his ass. I group text the two of them: No to a press conference in the morning. That’s an FBI directive. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk. You don’t need to talk. The end. That from the only one of the three of us who was in that horror show tonight, including the ME who ran away from it.
I forward the message to Rollins and say: Let’s meet at the ME’s office. Text me when you know when the autopsy will take place. I’ll bring the coffee, you bring the booze.
He replies instantly with: As long as that coffee has booze. And fuck the mayor.
Fuck them all, I think.
I slide my phone back into my purse, aware that it’s already pinging me with a new message I have no intention of answering. Feeling the heat of Kane’s stare, my gaze lifts, only to find him watching me intently with unreadable eyes.
But I know what he’s thinking.
The same thing I am.
Nothing has ever rattled me but “that” night. So why now? Why this? Of course, unless Jay ran his mouth, he doesn’t even know what “this” is but it wouldn’t matter. He’d be of the same opinion. I once worked a crime scene where a dead man sat in a chair with his decapitated head in his lap. Andrew was there that night and he didn’t understand how that didn’t fuck with me and I didn’t really have an answer for him then or now. I just don’t freak out over gore and brutal or even gore and brutality with obviously intended showmanship. Except for the river, and not even Kane knows that about me.