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And all I feel is a sick sense that justice was finally served.
How many future victims did I save? That’s the way I keep looking at it. If the number is even one, I can’t bring myself to feel bad about what happened to him.
But that’s the thing. Knowing the lengths that Burns will go to make me happy? Because, to my cop, that’s exactly what he was doing when he went after Carter… something’s changed between us. Even if I wasn’t so sure, the way he manipulated me into going down on him proves it.
Because he was right. Deep down, I wanted to do it. He just gave me the excuse.
He made himself the bad guy, and while there’s no denying he is, I’m not a victim. Not anymore.
And I’m ready to get the hell out of this basement.
Burns isn’t a mind-reader. Sometimes I’m terrified that he is. He knows so much about me. My thoughts. My memories. My motives.
I mean, he knew about Carter. I never told a soul about him, but Burns knew someone hurt me before I confessed his name, unwittingly signing my attacker’s death warrant.
Just like Brick. He’s dead because of me, and I… I don’t care. If Burns went after Dean, I would. He’s an innocent in all this, a chess piece who didn’t even know he was on the board. Now he’s nothing but a pawn to use against my captor—only Burns used Dean against me instead.
I thought I knew him. Officer Burns. I thought I did.
I’m learning that he’s nothing like what I believed… and that could mean trouble for me.
I can’t sleep. Not for fear that the nightmares will find me, but because I don’t think I can spend one more night as his captive. From this moment on, I consider myself his partner in crime.
It’s time I started to act like it.
He’s not sleeping, either. Despite my head buried against him, listening to his steady heart and his soft, panting breaths, I know that he’s as wide awake as I am.
Then he murmurs, “You okay, angel?,” and I know I’m right.
Before, when he asked me that, it was in that emotionless voice he uses sometimes when he’s not sure what kind of reaction he’ll get from me. Now? That seductive warmth, the same cajoling tone he uses when he wants to fall apart in his arms… it’s back in his voice.
Burns is back.MyBurns.
“As good as I can be.”
“You haven’t slept yet. You need your rest.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
“So what’s the matter?” He pauses before murmuring into the darkness, “Do you regret what we did?”
We. See? Partners in crime, just like I said.
I think about what he said for a moment. I could lie to him, but he’ll know. Then Burns would probably take the excuse to kiss me again, to call me out on thinking I could fool him. Why not just cut to the case and tell him the truth for once?
“I regret missing. I regret you having to finish him off because I couldn’t.”
“You did more than enough—”
I shake my head, burying it in Burns’s chest. He smells so good, it isn’t fair. A twisted part of me thinks it’s the scent of blood—Carter’s blood—clinging to his skin that’s so enticing. It’s not just that, though. Burns’s innate scent is intoxicating: woodsy, dark, and undeniably dangerous. “You shouldn’t have killed for me.”
“Wasn’t the first time,” he reminds me.
Right. And that’s something else I’m still trying to process. “Carter was my problem.”
“He was. But your problems are my problems, angel. Haven’t you figured that out yet? You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine. I’m still pretty fucking impressed with your shot, though. For the first time firing a gun, you did good, baby.” He strokes the back of my head, fingers running through my hair. “I always knew you had a bit of devil in you. Just enough to make you my perfect match. My perfect soulmate.”
My heart skips a beat. When I first discovered the depths of Burns’s obsession, a statement like that would frighten me. Now? I’m just confused because I’m not even a little bit scared. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not fear.
