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He waves a hand. “I know. But give me a break, okay? Your ass should be in your apartment with, at the very least, two unis keeping watch—”
“Not happening.”
“I got that. So if you insist on staying on this case, I need you where I know you’re safe. I could ring Carson’s neck for taking you to that club today…” His hands ball into fists. “Look. I want you at the station from here on out. No more field work. And I need you to run background checks on the owner of The Lair and all the employees.”
My stomach drops, f
ree-fall. “I can’t do that.”
His eyebrows press together. “Why the hell not?”
Because I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t look into Colton’s past. Because I have to have some semblance of separation between my job and personal life. And because I don’t want to know.
But the dark voice cresting inside me whispers this is the very excuse I’ve been waiting for. I lash out at that voice, indignance burning fire-hot in my veins. I’m not that person. She’s not me—I won’t let Colton be devoured by her.
“Bonds,” Quinn says, breaking into my cycling thoughts, “this isn’t really a request. I need someone I can trust, who’s not leaking like a damn faucet to the media, to do this. I don’t want to start dragging in random suspects and have the department come down on me if it’s not warranted.”
“Fine.” Accepting my responsibility, I decide I’m the best one for this assignment. It’s better I look into Colton’s past rather than someone like Carson. “I’ll take care of it.”
He nods once. “Thanks. Let me know what you find.”
I leave him, feeling the pressure of my job bearing down on me. I knew it was possible it would come to this—that I’d have to delve into Colton’s past. Over the last week, I’ve fought the temptation to do just that many times. Not wanting anything to come between us.
No matter how I aspired to give him the trust he’s offered me so freely, my past has made me an untrusting creature. It’s the rules I’ve always lived by. I’m about to test Colton’s assurance of having nothing to hide.
Link
UNSUB
One seemingly minor action can trigger a domino effect that results in a drastic outcome.
It’s called the butterfly effect.
A tuft of snow is kicked loose from the mountain top, and down it travels. Down, down, gaining momentum, increasing in size, until it’s an unstoppable force. An avalanche.
The same snow, kicked in precisely the same manner and place, will have varying degrees of results. The course and aftereffect of the snow cannot be predicted nor controlled. It is ruled by chaos. The only thing that is known for sure is the link, the connection, that lies between the initial action and the aftermath.
Chaos is such an unruly fiend. Some want to believe their actions—no matter how inconsequential—have no influence on a catastrophe. Blame chaos. She’s the merciless mother, the creator of such heartache. It is all out of our control.
But there’s always a connection.
You may have to search hard, dig deep, to unearth it, but it’s there. Two people cross paths who would otherwise never come into contact during their lifetime, had it not been for one or the other’s small, trivial action. A chance meeting.
Or is it?
Once chaos has set the pendulum in motion, fate steps in to make her claim. Chaos and fate. These two deceptive beauties work flawlessly together. A fantastic chess match where all the pawns are eliminated—one-by-one—until the queen is checkmated.
And that’s the purpose, isn’t it? To come out on top. The victor. Against all odds, against all the pain, suffering, trials—against the destruction of the unpredictable—human beings persevere to triumph. Some are too hypocritical to admit it, but we all have a little devil lurking inside, nudging us to stomp out the weaker competition to seize the trophy.
History is full of these fools.
I rather like chaos, myself. The art of control is best learned through this condition. You cannot dictate the outcome, but you can finesse it. Caress it tenderly and guide it lovingly, carefully maneuvering all the players in place.
If you’re diligent enough, you can even wager fate.
Oh, in the end, all fingers will point to me. I will be analyzed and scrutinized, and it will allow them to sleep easily at night, knowing the blame rests with the killer.
But, although I was a part of the equation, I was not the one who set this particular course in motion. I was merely one of the fools who seized upon the opportunity. Truthfully, it would be remiss for me to take all the credit. I could not have orchestrated a game board like this all on my own.
