Page 52 of Dozer

"I know."

He answers, voice shifting instantly back into the flat, controlled register I recognize as his work tone. I sit on my bed and watch him pace once near the window while Hunter talks. I shouldn't be staring at his mouth. I am. I shouldn't be thinking about how close it came to kissing me. I am. I shouldn't be wondering how that kiss would have felt if that damn car door hadn't slammed. I absolutely am.

This is becoming a problem. A very specific, very six-foot-three, very stubborn problem. A problem unlike any I’ve had before. I am good at solving problems, an expert really. Why should this problem be any different?

The call ends and he looks at me. For one second, neither of us says anything. Then he sets the phone down.

"We should sleep." He tells me.

"Probably."

Neither of us moves.

"Dozer?"

"Yeah?"

"You were going to kiss me." It's not a question.

His jaw tightens. "Yeah." One word and it’s not a denial. My stomach flips.

"Okay." I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point.

His eyes stay on mine. "Okay?"

"I just needed to know I wasn't imagining it."

"You weren't."

That does more to me than the almost-kiss did. Maybe because there is no room for interpretation anymore. Whatever this is, it's real. Our conversation just cemented that. I’m not imagining the attraction between us or making up the chemistry I feel. It’s real and it’s there for both of us.

We settle into the narrow beds and the space between us suddenly feels much smaller than it did when we walked in. I lie there staring at the ceiling. Across the room, I hear him shift.

"Goodnight, Kenzi."

"Goodnight, Dozer."

Silence. Then, after a minute he speaks again.

"Kenzi?"

"Yeah?"

"I would've."

I smile into the darkness. "I know."

And for once, I don't need to say anything else. Some things are better left uncatalogued for a little while longer. Especially the things that might be worth waiting for.

CHAPTER 17

Dozer

Hunter's contact reroutes us again the next morning. The lab two counties over has been compromised. Forced entry, according to the message, although nobody stole anything worth stealing, which tells me immediately what the break-in was really about. Somebody wanted access, not equipment. Somebody is still one step ahead of us, and I don't like thinking too hard about what that means, because every time I do, the list of people who could be feeding information to our pursuers gets shorter.

The new location is an abandoned regional hospital an off-duty coroner used years ago as an unofficial overflow site, back when the county ran out of room and apparently decided the solution was to stop asking questions about where the dead went.

I don't like it on sight. There are way too many entry points, windows and structural neglect. The kind of building that's been left to rot exactly long enough to become genuinely dangerous without anyone needing to shoot at us. The number of hazards from broken glass to rotting floorboards is high.