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ChapterSixteen
Istare at the drawing and commit it to memory. The man staring back looks like a regular Joe. Someone who would stand behind you at the supermarket checkout or hold the door open for you at your favorite restaurant. What he doesn’t look like is a kidnapping murderer, but evil rarely wears its true face in public.
“He looks like a thousand other people. I could walk past him on the street, and he wouldn’t even warrant a second look. And that’s coming from me—someone who is naturally inclined to be suspicious of others.”
I look up at the sound of Law’s voice. He leans over me and stares at the picture his sketch artist friend drew from Bill’s description.
“I didn’t even hear you come in.” I smooth a hand over my face, feeling exhausted.
“I was just thinking the same thing. I mean, we can show this around, but he has such an unremarkable face that I doubt anyone would remember seeing him, unless he did something specific to make himself stand out.”
“Like kidnapping someone,” Law rubs his hands over his face, clearly as frustrated as I am.
He walks to the window and looks out at the busy street.
“I’m still not a hundred percent sure these cases are related. Going over everything you have—it’s not just the act of dumping the body that’s changed, but the victimology too. Before, there were no common denominators. But now, they all fall into a similar age and background bracket.”
I stand and walk over to him. I slide my hand up his back, feeling his tense muscles contract under my touch.
“I’m not ruling out anything right now. My boss is convinced there is a link and that woman is rarely wrong. It’s like she has a sixth sense about these things.”
“Or inside information. Tell me, how well do you know this woman?”
He barely has the last word out before I have him flat on his back. I straddle his chest with my hands wrapped around his throat.
“She saved my life. She means more to me than you’ll ever understand. I’d die for her in a heartbeat. But more than that, I’d kill for her and feel no remorse.”
I squeeze his throat before I let him go, knowing I could hurt him if I don’t rein my temper in.
“You love her,” he says softly.
“You’re damn right I do. Don’t ask me to choose between you because you’ll lose every time,” I warn him as I move to stand. He yanks my leg and pulls me back down on top of him before rolling and reversing our positions.
“It’s my job to ask the hard questions,” he snaps, leaning his face close to mine.
“You’re not a cop anymore, Law. You work at a fucking gym. It’s your job to save those kids, not me. And even if it were, you sure as shit don’t need to save me from Sugar.”
He clenches his jaw, his hand sliding into my hair. He grips a handful to keep me pinned in place.
“So you come out swinging when I say something you don’t like?”
“No, I come out swinging when you threaten me or my family.”
“I didn’t threaten—”
I cut him off with a snarl. “You’re telling me you’re not like a dog with a bone when you have a suspect in your head? I won’t let you turn her into a scapegoat just so you can sleep better at night.”
He dips his head and slides his nose against my cheek as he whispers. “Tell me, Malice, is it all cops you hate or just me?”
“You’re not a cop anymore, Law,” I remind him spitefully. “Or did you forget they threw you away?”
His breathing is now almost as ragged as mine, his grip on my hair tight to the point of pain, but neither of us is willing to back down.
“I need you to be objective—”
“And I need you to fucking trust me!” I snap.
The seconds between what was said and what happens next are a blur as Law slams his mouth down on mine.
