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His hand remained pressed to the glass.“Everyone else thinks I’m a monster.Even my lawyer doesn’t want to be near me.”
Her chin lifted.“You aren’t a monster.You’re my brother.”
And she would get him out.
Shewould.
She just…
Had to catch the real killer first.“I’ll catch him,” Lark vowed.“Or die trying.”
Alarm flared in her brother’s eyes.“Lark, don’t youdare.”
Oh, but she would.She was desperate, and a desperate woman would dare just about anything.“Just wait, Lane.You’ll be free soon.I’m going to get the Ice Breakers to help me.”She smiled for her brother.She knew he’d heard about the cold case group.Everyone had heard their success stories.“See you next week.”She put the phone back into place.Stood up.
His hand remained pressed to the glass.
She turned away.Walked to the door.The guard opened it for her, as he always did.She passed down the long corridor.Headed back through the security intake area.Collected her purse.Her phone.Her keys.
There were more doors.More security checks.But then she was outside.The bright sunlight shone down on her.Her car—with its newly cracked windshield and the wonderful scratch marks that spelled out KILLER on the left side—waited in the lot.
And FBI Special Agent Oliver Foxx waited beside the car.No, actually, he glared at the car.Then at her.Even though aviator sunglasses shielded his gaze, she could feel the fury of his stare.
“What the hell?”Oliver demanded as she drew closer to him and her ride.He waved toward the damage.“Did you report this shit?When did it happen?Who did it?How did you—”
She stepped around him.Hit the button on her keychain to undo the locks.Though, really, who was going to steal this beat up ride?Each time she got it repaired, more damage was done.So she’d stopped with the repair work.Now her vehicle just looked like shit.
Maybe it would be better if itdidget stolen.
His hand curled around her upper arm.“We have to talk.”
Lark stopped.She looked down at his hand.“Do not touch me.”
His hand jerked away instantly.
“And there is nothing to say,” she informed him crisply.
“Yes,” he growled.“There is plenty to say.You love me, remember?”
He had not.He had fuckingnotjust thrown that at her.She turned.Made herself stare at him.It was so hard.Lark had this thing…she’d always had it.When she was mad at someone—truly, deeply angry, no, enraged—she just couldn’t look at the person.Her fury was too great.
Looking at Special Agent Oliver Foxx in that moment required all of her strength.
And she knew fury had to blaze from her eyes.“I love my brother.”
“The courts are going to handle—”
“He’s being framed.I thought you were a good FBI agent.Someone out for justice.Someone who wanted to help.”She shook her head.“All you did was use me.Lie to me.Seduce me.”
A muscle jerked along his jaw.“Our relationship was separate—”
She flinched.“We didn’t have a relationship.We had you using me.You getting close to me so you could find evidence that you’d use against my brother.You told me all the things I wanted to hear.You probably researched me, didn’t you?Before we actually met?Maybe even made a profile onme.” Because that was what he did.He was so good at getting into the heads of people.“You figured out what I would like the most.You gave me that.Nothing with you was real.”
“Itwas.”
Like she could believe him.“Stay away from me.My brother’s lawyer said you shouldn’t be alone with me.”But it was more than that.More than just following some protocol rules for the case.It was personal.“I don’t want to be alone with you.I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
Pain flashed on his face.“I had a job to do.Listen, dammit, you and I—that’s separate from everything else.”
