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“Well, then she’ll be fine being guided by your perfect self.” William swept past her to grab his own clothes.

“I never said I was perfect,” Anne said, the conflict clear in her voice, “but I can’t just keep fooling around with you, Will.”

“Well, that’s on you, love. Because you’re the only one who’s fooling around here.” William buttoned his pants and stood, facing the window. “And as for her dad… You got someone else banging down your door for the job?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Yeah.” William jerked on his shirt. “Your little sis said her father wasn’t in your lives. So, you’d basically let her go without, then have me, is that it? Because I’d be so bloody terrible at it that she’d be better off growing up with abandonment issues, like you?”

“I’m not exactly alone here when it comes to daddy issues,” Anne pointed out.

William turned to glare at her. She brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a small ponytail.

“Fine.” William gestured toward the door. “Go then.”

“Don’t be like this. I’m just trying to set boundaries—”

“Get out of here!” William shouted. “Go!”

“I will!” Anne shot back. She grabbed her shoes, reached into her dress, and said on the way out, “I’m incoming, guys. We have a lot of work to do.”

William watched her go, then dropped back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. It hurt more than he could say; Anne walking out of his life again and for exactly the same reason. And though he hadn’t spent much time with Evie, the thought that he could never be good enough for her stung as well. Partially, because he suspected it was true.

Chapter Twelve

Anne hadn’t slept at all by the time she got to the precinct. Between Michelle’s needling questions, and Evie’s tantrum, and Jeffers’ tantrum (via email and text), she’d barely had time to have a shower and change. Thankfully, she could leave Evie with Michelle today, with strict instructions not to let William in.

If he even wanted to come in. Anne was torn because the two of them clearly still had the same chemistry as they’d always had. She couldn’t toy with Evie’s life like that though. If they didn’t work out for some reason, and him getting sent back to prison was strongly possible, Evie would be worse off. Getting to know William and then losing him, whether he left her or was ta

ken from her, would still be traumatizing. Anne understood that. Michelle seemed to as well. Anne hadn’t really told her what had happened at the gala, but she seemed to know, and for once, she hadn’t offered her opinion.

Anne came in and went immediately to the coffee maker. Jeffers followed her into the breakroom and stood there, arms crossed and eyes on her for an uncomfortably long time.

“Jeffers, I’m too tired to play guessing games. If you have a problem, say it,” Anne said as she prepared her coffee. “We got some good material last night, right? At least something to start with?”

“What? Yeah, okay, we got a little bit of intel, but you got something else!” Jeffers snapped. “And while you were getting something else, our killer took someone else out.”

Anne turned around. “Really? Who?”

Jeffers motioned for her to come with him and stalked out.

“During the gala? Or after?” Anne pressed as they walked down the hallway. “That matters.”

For the next hour, Anne sipped her coffee and stared at the crime scene photos of their newest victim. Gabe Brundle, another man with a less than perfect record, but not as built as Pigg had been. The team on the scene had made sure to look for the mark between the fingers of his left hand, now that they knew it might be there. Only this time, the victim wasn’t shot multiple times. His Achilles’ tendons had been cut, and he’d been tortured for some time before being shot in the head. This was Santiago’s signature, not Egerton’s. Santiago always tried to get information out of traitors and deserters before putting them down.

“It would help if we knew how Spencer was a part of all of this,” Jeffers said.

“It really wouldn’t.” Anne didn’t spare a look for Jeffers. He was being incredibly annoying, and if he spilled what he expected about last night….

“I may not be the sharpest detective in the VPD’s tool belt, but I can guess that if he didn’t put them there—”

Anne glared at him.

Jeffers raised his hands. “—which he couldn’t because you were with him when this happened, then he’s been targeted by our perp.”

“Spencer doesn’t fit any of the patterns,” Anne said. “He wasn’t shot five times. He hasn’t been shot once.” She lowered her voice. “Amazingly.”

“Yeah, I find that hard to believe, too. So then how—”

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