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Not again.
“You need to separate yourself from this case,” I tell Avery. “Hand it over to someone you trust in the lab. I’ll get you a detail of unis until—”
“No.”
I close in until I’m near enough to smell the scent of lavender in her shampoo. “I don’t tell you how to do your job. Don’t tell me how to do mine.” I stare down, holding her gaze. “Until I make the connection, and I know you’re not in any danger, or can’t be implicated…you don’t touch this. We’re doing this one by the book.”
“This one?” Her voice is soft, questioning. But her eyes drill right into me.
Damn. I don’t make these kind of mistakes. Only here recently, and only now more and more when Avery’s involved. My control is being tested. Like now, as she cocks her head back challengingly. Daring me with the truth.
My jaw tightens. “Don’t make me be an asshole, Avery. If I have to get you removed from the crime lab, if that’s what it takes to protect you, then that’s what I’ll do.”
Her eyes narrow. “You need me,” she says.
Against my will, my body responds, my arms bracketing either side of her body. “I need you safe—”
“You need the answers I have. I’m the only one who can tell you how the drug was altered. I’m the only one who knows my formula. And I might not have names, but I have locations. I can put together a sting—”
I clasp her chin. “Like hell. You’ll give me everything you know and I’ll handle it. The less you’re involved, the better.”
Her gaze slits into a glare, but she doesn’t pull away from my touch. My fingers burn where we connect. “You don’t trust me.”
“This has nothing to do with trust
,” I say, enforcing conviction into my tone. Regardless of any suspicion I harbor about the last case, what I suspect of Sadie’s involvement, or what I assume Avery may know…the truth of the matter is Avery’s safety.
“You’ve been through enough already,” I add. “It’s best if I take care—”
She scoffs. “That’s it, then. Fragile Avery. I don’t need to be sheltered, Quinn.” She windmills her forearm, breaking out of my hold, but I grip her shoulders and keep her against the wall.
“You don’t want to be treated like a victim, then stop acting like one. You’re smarter than this. You know protocol, you know procedure, and you’re not fragile. But you will damn sure get yourself into deep shit trying to prove it like this.”
She blinks. “You don’t see me as a victim,” she says, the question in that statement clear.
“No. I don’t.”
Her hand snakes up to rest on my chest. My heart pounds, beating the fuck out of my rib cage as she leans into me, her sultry mouth just inches from mine. “Then prove it. Prove that you don’t think I’ll break if you touch me—really touch me.”
Her body heat presses against me, and it’s torture. I watch her mouth part, her tongue trace her teeth, tempting me closer. My hands grip her arms to hold her back, but I could just as easily pull her to me. And I almost do…
“That won’t prove anything, Avery,” I say, forcing myself to release her. “Other than I’d be a bastard for taking advantage of…the situation.”
She mock laughs. “And what situation is that? My poor, delicate mental state?” She shakes her head. “Saint Quinn. Always doing what’s right.” She steps around me, but pauses near to whisper, “But just think how much fun it would be if you relinquished that righteous control of yours.”
I plant my hands against the wall, my fingers digging into the brick. My teeth grit until my jaw aches as I let her walk away. Then I take the long way back around the building toward the crime scene, allowing my aching balls to walk off the shame.
7
Warning
Avery
I’m no detective, but I have enough conviction to make up for what I lack in the sleuthing department. After I uploaded the pic I took of the victim’s thigh at the crime scene, I initiated an online image scan, determined to match the brand.
So far, nothing remotely close. It’s not as if there’s a criminal social network where victims’ pics are traded like baseball cards. Not on the Internet I can access at work, anyway. I’ll have to dive deeper later, once I’m at home and on my own personal interface. But as it is, Quinn will probably have more luck searching the police databases than I will on the darknet.
At least I was able to confirm that the partial brand on the first vic is in fact the same design branded on the second. That links the two victims together. There’s a connection there, but of what…I have no idea.
