Page 65 of Long Past Deadly

“What?”

“I like this Quaid.” She slipped her fingers through his dark hair, the blond gone.

“Why?”

“He’s honest, handsome, sexy, and lethal.” His eyes widened, then he blushed.

“What? Not used to the truth?” She glanced quickly over his features. Were they not ready for that level of comment?

He rolled and trapped her beneath him, and she was happy to take his weight – the experience new and thrilling.

He nipped at her neck. “Smart, intuitive, tough, devastatingly wild, intriguing, and beautiful. I am keeping you.”

The surge of panic at the keeper comment caught her off guard, then he kissed her again. His firm lips commanded, coaxed, and caressed all at once, and she was fascinated with the heat jetting from her breasts to her core. The newness made her hesitate, and she forced herself to end the kiss.

She had something more to talk with him about, and this conversation might not go well. But better to try it out with him than with the whole team or her boss because his tactical advice was the best she could get anywhere.

“Lani?”

She lifted off and sat beside him. She kept her hand on his chest. “We have to talk.”

“No woman ever says those words without it being a problem.” He shifted up to an elbow and tweaked her braid. “What did I do?”

She smirked, but let the topic settle in the seriousness of her face. “Mercer.”

Quaid groaned. “I am so sick of that man’s name. Spring it on me. What?”

“I’ve been studying his patterns.”

“I wasn’t aware we had enough information for a pattern.”

She used her hands to sketch out the office board visuals. “Sexual predator/killer – one method. Assassin – one method. Now, we have the last three, no four episodes. The fight with Whit, the attempt to kill you and me, the bomb at the hotel, and the attempted abduction of two girls, usual methods. But…he failed at all four.”

“What does that tell you?”

“He’s devolving, losing control of both methodologies. Killers devolve in two ways: they withdraw and regroup, or they escalate. He’s caught between the two.”

“Or he can’t get to either you or Whit and he’s getting frustrated, making mistakes.”

“At either angle, he’s losing control. Now is the time to push him, make him act before he stabilizes.”

“Push him, how?”

She used to have a poker face, but with Quaid she’d lost the ability.

He groaned. “You want to emerge from the protective shell we have around you. Taunt him.”

“It won’t take much.”

“How did you make that assumption? You’re at the highest risk now.”

“He’s following me.”

Quaid sat up and stared at her. “How?”

“He found me at QM for the assassination attempt, which was stupid. I searched the downtown area for Whit, many, many times. He could have found me there – in his hunting ground. Instead, he got complicated. He could know my FBI connection, could have staked out the San Diego office until he found me there or he followed me to QM after one of my street searches. He found me again at the LA Patton. He could have followed us.”

Quaid rose and went to the dresser, his back to her. He stood still. Their closeness evaporated, and she hated it. But she let him have a minute. She needed the warrior thinking strategically.