Page 211 of Chameleon Killer

So, I chose to say the one thing I’d avoided for days. “Because he got there first.”

Mallory went utterly still.

To be fair, that sentence sounded a lot worse out loud. It was possessive, juvenile, and—true.

I looked away. “That isn't fair to you.”

“No.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. It was pretty crappy on my part, but she wanted to know and that was how I felt.

“I'm not something anyone gets to first.” As gentle as that reprimand was, I felt it all the way to my bones.

“I know.” The words came out snappier than I intended, so I raised a hand. “I do know that, Mal. It’s why I didn’t say anything.”

Her eyebrows rose. “About what?”

I stared at her.

She already knew. She wanted me to say it.

Fine. “You want to hear it?” I asked her, narrowing the space between us. “You want me to say it out loud?” When she didn’t back off or say a word, I went for it. “I didn’t say anything about how much I wanted you—have wanted you and still want you.”

The room became extraordinarily quiet.

No traffic. No refrigerator hum. No city noise.

Mallory set her coffee down. “When?”

That was so far from what I’d expected her response to be, I gaped at her for a moment. “What?”

“When did you start wanting me?”

I laughed quietly, not entirely certain whether I should be amused or annoyed. The woman made me crazy. “You're interviewing me now?”

“Occupational hazard.” She tested the way those words sounded with just a hint of a teasing wince. It was the first sight of her beneath the journalistic facade she’d been projecting.

“A little convenient, don’t you think?”

“I learned from Simon.”

My jaw tightened before I could stop it.

“Oh.”

“What?” I growled the word. No amount of breathing exercise was going to keep my temper in check at the moment.

“You really don't like the name.”

“I don't care about the name.” Before she could jump on that statement, I cupped her chin so her eyes had to stay on mine. I kept my grip light so she could pull away and told myself I wasn’t savoring how soft her skin was. “I don’t like what that name represents.”

She swallowed hard.

“He gave you something no one else had. He invited you to a personal meeting and whether he was there or not, he forged a connection with you.” I hated that so damn much, it made me want to throw things, but I kept my calm. “Now, you call him Simon.”

Because the bastard had been successful.

“Brewster calls him the unsub. The Bureau calls him the Auditor because you named him. Everyone else knows the public version.”