Page 235 of Chameleon Killer

“Excellent fucking question.”

I looked at Flint. He looked at me. Neither of us moved toward the door. That, more than anything, told me how seriously Flint was taking this.

Normally he would have already positioned himself between me and whatever problem was coming.

This time he was thinking.

So was I.

Brewster had been removed from the case.

His supervisor had taken his credentials.

I'd seen enough of the argument through the glass to know his involvement with me had become part of the reason. And instead of going home, sleeping, calling his union representative, attorney, supervisor, therapist, priest, or whoever suspended federal agents were supposed to call when their careers imploded⁠—

He'd come here.

To Flint's apartment, probably because he suspected this was where I would be.

Not reassuring.

“How do you want to deal with him?” I asked.

Flint looked at me. Something shifted in his expression. It was subtle, but also warm and intoxicating. Which was frankly inappropriate considering we were standing naked in his living room while a recently disarmed federal profiler approached his door.

“What?” He blinked like he hadn’t fully registered what I’d said.

Which was bullshit. This was Flint, he didn’t miss much—if anything. “You heard me.”

“I did.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you asked.”

I folded my arms, then immediately reconsidered because that did things to my breasts I didn't particularly need him noticing right now.

Oops. Too late. His eyes dipped. “Flint.”

His gaze returned obediently to mine. Mostly.

“This is your home,” I said. “He's showing up uninvited. You know the building. You know the security. So—how do you want to handle him?”

His expression softened another fraction. I understood why. This wasn't me surrendering control. It wasn't Flint making a decision for me.

It was trust.

Apparently we'd stumbled into some of that between bouts of sex.

Terrifying? Maybe. But this was still Flint. I trusted him.

“I don't want him inside.” The response from him was immediate as was my reply.

“Okay.”

Another flicker in his eyes. Apparently the easy agreement surprised him too.

“Don't get used to it.”