“You’re right,” I admit. Her eyebrows hike at my admission. “There was a giant, unknown variable around your past and how you’d respond to all the emerging details.”
She touches her tattoo key again, thoughtful. “As you can see, it’s been difficult.”
Something akin to guilt slices through me. “I’m here
now,” I say. “You don’t have to work through your dissociation alone.” I plan to work Lydia right out of her system.
Her gaze narrows; always assessing. “I don’t like the distance I’ve felt between us for the past two weeks. Even while you were in prison, even with the weeks of separation after you escaped, I didn’t feel the disconnect the way I do now.” She releases a breath. “Partly my doing, I admit. Outside pressures are causing us both strain.”
“You’re risking everything,” I tell her.
Her eyes find and hold mine. “It’s my choice.”
I believe her. I bury the doubt. “I won’t let it happen again.”
And like that, London and I are in sync, an effortless team.
“Agreed.” She gifts me a sultry smile. “So let’s think about this logically and logistically. No matter who the copycat is, we’re still ending it here.”
“That’s an inevitability. The chase and running becomes tiring. Neither side can go on forever. Better to end it on our terms.”
She considers this a while, and adds, “We need both of them.”
I nod. “They each have a distinct role.”
“Detective Foster is a brute. He’d be capable, and he hardly exhibits enough patience in his own investigations. There’s a lot of similarity.”
My skin hums as she breaks it down. Her mind excites me. “I’ve been considering as much. But Agent Nelson suffered a setback at work over the past year. That’s a…what is it called?”
“Stressor,” she supplies.
“Stressor. His FBI career is his life. Something threatening that, like not closing enough cases, could send a perfectionist like him over the edge.”
Her fingers halt their ascent along her leg, and the sudden dimness covering her expression dampens my libido. “Nelson had another setback recently,” she says. “I rejected his advances.”
A slow curling fire licks the back of my neck. “Interesting,” I say, my voice grinding out like gravel. The primal Neanderthal inside me rears up, London in danger of a brutal fucking where I stake my claim like the carnal animal she makes me.
“Do you think he suspects us?” she asks.
It’s an intelligent estimate. If Nelson believes, like Foster, that London is in fact my accomplice, then pushing his way into my territory is the natural order for beasts like us.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her. “Regardless of his motivations, I have no doubt that he wants you.” And that realization sears what’s left of my control.
As if she senses my waning restraint, London arches her back, slipping her hand higher and dragging her fitted skirt up her thighs.
“It would be even more interesting if there was a partnership at hand. Two unlikely allies, teaming up to hunt killers. Who in turn become killers themselves.” What are the odds?
But something has shifted in her demeanor. This discussion is over. “How did you work the information from the tech?” Her voice is breathy.
“Who wants to know? London or Lydia?”
“Both.”
Finding a way to unify the conflicting shores at war within her is key. I can’t have any part of London as my enemy.
“I Zip Tied his cock to his wrists and rigged it so if he moved, even a millimeter, the tie would cinch closed. I can only imagine how painful it was for him every time he struggled. How does that make Lydia feel?”
“Aroused.”