Page 5 of Go Under

Therapy hadn’t helped. Marcus hadn’t gotten through to her. Her mother was too afraid of fighting with her again to try to get through to her.

And now Winters had to call them with this bullshit stupid case.

He took a deep breath and released a heavy sigh. It briefly fogged up his windshield before the defroster melted it away.

It wasn’t Winters’ fault that Cox or one of his cronies had killed again. It wasn’t her fault that Kate was a genius, or that Cox’s MO involved leaving ciphers at crime scenes that called for Kate’s expertise as a cryptanalyst. It was just the world of shit that they lived in.

Almost none of that was about Marcus, and the fact that he was upset for himself at all only worsened his mood. He just couldn’t figure out how to be the man he wanted to be or have the life he wanted to have. Maybe it was something in his genetics.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small complex where Kate lived. The one silver lining to this cloud was that after Cox somehow slipped away from them in Baltimore, she agreed to let him stay with her to keep her safe. Sure, it was painful to be constantly reminded of how much of a crappy person he was, but at least if Cox reared his ugly head, Marcus would have a second chance to put a bullet through it.

He parked in the passenger loading/unloading zone and flicked his hazards on. The zone was five minutes only, but he had a feeling it would take longer than that to make sure Kate was showered, dressed, and packed. Her latest bout of obsession was eating into her ability to take care of herself and reminding her of that did little to change anything.

He climbed the stairs, took a deep breath to brace himself for what he’d find, then turned the key and entered the apartment.

He walked in and blinked in surprise.

The apartment was clean. It was even cleaner than he’d left it. No notes were scattered across the table or the floor. No half-eaten takeout boxes rested on the couch or the coffee table. The air was a little stuffy, but not rancid. She’d even vacuumed.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Kate stepped out. She was dressed in her work outfit: dark khakis and a loose with button down shirt, both of which appeared to have been ironed. Her curly auburn hair shimmered and bounced in a way that showed unusual attention to detail for her. Her skin glowed, and the sprinkling of freckles around her face shone like stars in a bright sky.

That was something he would never tell her, and not just because it made no sense for stars to shine in a bright sky. She was self-conscious about her freckles, despite the fact that they were her best feature.

She carried a duffel bag and her bulletproof vest in one hand. With the other, she adjusted her shoulder holster, positioning her service weapon perfectly under her left arm. She looked at him and smirked. “What?”

He blinked. “Nothing, um… Place looks great. You do, too.”

Her smile widened slightly. “Thanks. You want to drive, or do you want me to drive?”

“I’ll drive. I’m parked in the loading zone.”

“You don’t want me to drive your car, or what?”

“Oh, um… it’s fine, I can drive. I know you can drive. I trust you, but—”

Kate laughed and clapped his arm. “Relax. I’m just messing with you. You can drive.”

She stepped past him. He turned around, not loving himself for the peek he took at her ass as she walked away, but he was only a man, and a part of him still held out hope for some miracle that would let them end up together.

He forced his eyes away after a half-second, and that’s when he saw the vacuum cleaner. The barrel was missing. His brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to ask where it was, then saw the shoebox on the table. A photograph had spilled out, a picture of Kate’s father speaking to a group of medical professionals at a convention in Chicago twenty years ago.

Kate stood by the door, looked back at him, followed his eyes to the box. She tensed a little, then called, “You coming?” in a too-cheerful voice.

Marcus nodded and followed her out of the apartment. She didn’t lock it behind her, so he did.

It was clear now what had happened. He’d called her and told her he was on her way back. She’d realized that both she and the apartment were filthy and spent the past hour stuffing all of her notes into a shoebox and cleaning. In her haste, she’d forgotten to put the shoebox in her bedroom closet. He had no idea what happened to the vacuum cleaner’s barrel, but no doubt she had misplaced that in a rush, too.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? If she could hide her obsession did that mean she was in control of it, at least enough to recognize it?

“Hey, you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Kate asked. “You seem distracted.”

Marcus realized she was standing behind the trunk of his car, unable to open it. He clicked the key and said, “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Thanks for cleaning up.” She gave him a look, and he said, “The apartment, I mean.”

She gave him another wry smirk. “You’re welcome for cleaning my apartment where we won’t be staying for probably the next several days.” He reddened, and she rolled her eyes. “Just messing with you again. Sorry. You’ve been through a lot lately. I’ll be nice.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. Was that the second or third time he’d repeated that sentence?

They got into the car, and Marcus headed to the airport. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Kate asked, “What are we looking at?”