Page 266 of Chameleon Killer

“There wasn't time.” So not an excuse. Not that he sounded apologetic so much as exhausted. Well boo-fucking-hoo. I was exhausted too and I probably had a concussion.

“There's a back seat.”

The gun in his hand didn’t waver when he shrugged one shoulder. “You might have been seen.”

“Oh, I forgot. Silly me. You kidnapped me.” Bravado had gotten me out of a lot of bad situations. It had also buoyed me through others. Probably not the best plan to bait the profiler who had apparently slipped the chain on his reason—but dammit.

His jaw tightened. “I chose the safest option.”

I stared at him. Disbelief flooded through the anger burning in my gut. Then I laughed. The sound hurt my head, but I couldn’t stop.

“What's funny?” His gun dipped slightly as he glared at me.

“You.” I managed to squeeze the word out between chuckles.

His expression hardened.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that.” I waved a hand at him. “You kidnapped me, put me in your trunk, brought me to God knows where at gunpoint—by the way, you’re still pointing that thing at me—and somehow you're offended by me finding your choices laughable because I know you think you’re protecting me. Or at least that’s what you’re lying to yourself.”

“I am protecting you.”

“From who?” I snorted as I swiped at the tears which had escaped my eyes. From the laughter or the pain? I didn’t know.

Hostility flashed in his eyes. “You know who.”

Simon. I stopped laughing.

Brewster reached toward me with his free hand. “Can you stand?”

“I'd rather not hold hands.” I avoided the offer as I braced a hand on the side of the trunk.

“Mallory.”

I made a face and mimicked his tone. “Elliot.”

His hand remained extended. I ignored it and pushed myself upright even as I avoided his hand.

Bad decision.

The world tilted.

Brewster caught my arm.

I jerked away and banged my arm against the side. “Don't touch me.” The bruise hurt but I preferred it to his hand.

His mouth compressed. For one second, renewed anger flashed through his eyes. Then vanished. It was unnerving to see the way the emotions played out on his face before he ruthlessly suppressed them.

“Fine.” He waved me out of the trunk with the gun. “Get out.”

I swung my legs over the bumper and looked around. I took my time in order to see as much as I could. It also helped my queasy stomach and aching head.

Industrial area. Warehouse. Lovely.

The building rose behind him, three stories of stained brick and broken windows. An old loading dock stretched along one side. Rusted metal doors. Weeds growing through cracks in the pavement.

Beyond it, I could hear water. River. That felt like another cliché.

“Where are we?” I kept a firm grip on the edge of the trunk as I slid my feet to the ground. I took a moment, not quite trusting my balance.