I leave a message for my boss, after trying to catch him at his desk, by way of two calls through the switchboard. He’s avoiding me. Just like Jacob is pissing me off. Really, really pissing me off. The front door shuts, and he comes walking into the room, all big and broad and good looking, and yep, I’m pissed, all right.
I charge toward him and poke his chest. “This shirt works for you because you suck.”
“And why exactly is that?” he asks, zero emotion in his reaction.
“Because we both know that you’re going to put yourself between me and this asshole stalking me, not because it’s your job. Not because you want to protect me. Because you get a high off of it.”
“That’s not true, Jewel. I don’t get high off trying to die.”
“You’ve all but told me that’s why you were a Beret.”
“I never wanted to die. I just wanted to get lost in—”
“The high of living when you should have died,” I supply. “Tell me right now that you don’t plan to somehow turn yourself into the next target.”
His hands come down on my hips and he pulls me to him. “I will protect you at all costs.”
“Then we’re done. I don’t want someone who will die for me. I want someone who won’t.” I shove at his unmoving chest. “Let go, Jacob. We’re done.”
“We’re so far from done, sweetheart, we’ve barely gotten started. You’re in my bed now. You’re in my life. And I’m in yours, and I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
“I have to go to Rodriquez’s funeral. I’m not going to yours. I’m not—”
He grips my wrists and walks me backward, pressing me against the wall beside the window. “You’re not what?”
“Going to fall any deeper into this with you.”
“Then I’ll fall deep enough for both of us.”
“Damn it,” I murmur, lowering my chin to my chest. “You don’t get it.”
“I do get it,” he says, tilting my face to his. “You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Remember when I said that it’s okay to be human with me?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m scared,” he shocks me by saying, his hands coming down on the wall on either side of me. “I’m fucking terrified of how much I already need you. I’m terrified of how easily you could die, just like you are of me. But you have to know that it’s not in my nature to stand back and watch you try to survive what I can end. My mistake here was even contemplating doing what I’m going to do to protect you without telling you.” He pushes off the wall and tries to walk away.
I can’t let him go. I catch his arm. “Please come back.” He turns to look at me, his gray eyes hooded, expression unreadable but hard. “You don’t suck. You don’t even come close to sucking. You dying would suck. It would hurt.” I press my hand to my face and shut my eyes before looking at him again. “I am scared,” I dare to admit, before looking at him again. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. And how long can my father stay in Europe before he’s a target again? And I just can’t seem to make it end.”
He steps into me, hands returning to my waist. “Then let’s set a trap. You and me together.”
“I don’t want you to be the bait, Jacob.”
“We set him up or we sit and wait. Neither one of us are sit and wait kind of people. That’s why we work. We get each other.”
“Maybe I should do what Sierra said. Make him come for me. Make him make a mistake.”
“And when he flushes you out by killing someone else? That’s the flaw in Sierra’s plan that I didn’t want to point out with her here. She meant well, but we’re back to every action has a reaction. He has proven he will kill. We have to pick the next victim and I am no average victim.”
“Which means he’ll get a high off beating you—killing you.”
“He’ll get a high off trying, but don’t expect me to let you arrest him. I’m going to kill this bastard and if you want to cuff me and shoot me after the fact I’ll kiss you before you pull the trigger.”
“Maybe you should just kiss me now,” I whisper, but I don’t wait on him to do it. I push to my toes and press my lips to his lips. “Just so you know, every time I call you an asshole, it’s because you’re not an asshole at all. It’s because you leave me exposed and—”
His hands come down on my cheeks, and he kisses me, God how he kisses me. Like he’s drinking me in. Likes inhaling me. Like he needs me just as much as need him. Like he hates me just as much as I hate him and that is not all. “Jacob,” I breathe. “I want to say—”
The doorbell rings. “Fuck,” he breathes out. “Sometimes living in this building is like living with an open door. You want to say what?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Something. More than I have.”
The doorbell rings again. “I want that more,” he says, kissing me again. “Save it for me.”
He releases me and walks away, while I sink against the wall, trying to catch my breath and yet, somehow breathing easier now just because I didn’t hold any of that in. Because I talked to him then and there. Because even though he didn’t say everything I wanted to hear, he was honest with me.
The sound of Royce’s voice has me pushing off the wall and on edge. I head through the living room and join Jacob on one side of the island, while Royce claims the other. “My wife is having contractions. We think they’re false alarms, but I wanted to share a few updates in case I’m out of the picture for a few days.” He doesn’t give us time to comment. “First, Detective Carpenter—”
“Jewel,” I say, eying the writing samples I’d given him that are now on the island.
“Jewel,” he amends.
“Did you already get the results on the samples back? Is that even possible?”
“My handwriting expert got called to Washington on a job. She’s delayed a week. I took photos of everything and sent it to her. She prefers originals, but she’ll make the alternative work. We also got the lab results back on the butterfly and the umbrella with nothing useful. I had a local lab run the card and notes. We got a cluster of fingerprints on both. Nothing helpful. All explainable, but we expected this. This guy is smart.”
“But you did email me the reports?” I ask.
“I did,” he confirms. “And I talked to your boss. He’s now aware that Rodriquez was dirty. I provided him with the proof and suggested you return to the case. But, like all of us, he’s still entertaining the idea that your stalker might have killed Rodriquez and Gerome. That means you’re off duty, with pay, for the protection of those around you.”
“Of course, I am,” I say. “And he won’t even take my calls today.”
“One of the reasons I opened Walker Security was to get the hell out of the red tape and politics of the system,” Royce says.
“Maybe you should hire her,” Jacob replies.
I look at him, surprised. “What?”
“You’d be a damn good addition to the team,” Jacob says.
“He’s right,” Royce agrees. “You would be, and you have a standing offer for double what you’re making now, and a hell of a lot of freedom to choose the jobs you feel matter.” He looks between us. “But you two need to be sure you’re ready to work together.” His phone buzzes with a text. He grabs his phone and glances at it. “Lauren wants me home.” He shoves his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll let you know when I hear from the handwriting expert, but I’m of the opinion this guy has so many minions that he does nothing himself.” He knocks on the counter. “You two be safe.” He heads for the door and Jacob follows him, locking up after he leaves.
I pick up the bag of samples and battle with some niggling thought in the back of my mind. By the time Jacob has rejoined me, I’m sitting on a barstool and tabbing through the writing samples. “What’s bothering you?” he asks, sitting down next to me. “Because the look on your face says something is.”
“It’s not about the job thing, if that’s what you think,” I say, “though you sideswiped me on that.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. It came to me. I said it. You going to consider it?”
“A week ago I would have said no,” I answer honestly. “The way I’m being treated right now though, it’s hard to completely dismiss. At this moment, however, I am thinking about this.” I show him the photo of the suicide note.
“Thinking what about it?”
“I don’t know. Something is in the back of my mind.” I read it out loud. “I’m sorry, Jewel. He knew things you just weren’t ready to know. If you were, you'd have seen what I already showed you.” I look at Jacob. “If he had Rodriquez lead me to Gerome, why kill him before he can tell me whatever he knows? Especially if he’d already showed me, even if I have no clue what that means.”
He considers that a moment. “It’s a game to him. We know this. So, where does the game lead?”
“Right,” I say, standing up. “A game.” I start to pace and he turns to face me, leaning his back on the island. “A game.” I stop walking. “He wasn’t trying to keep me from finding whatever he’s hiding. He was challenging me to find it. He was telling me I wasn’t ready, and he wants me to prove I am.”
“Ready for what?” Jacob asks.
“I don’t know. I have no idea, but that’s his constant theme.” I look down at the photo on my phone again and murmur the words again, “He knew things you just weren’t ready to know. If you were, you'd have seen what I already showed you.” I look at Jacob. “I’ve never met Gerome but the inference is that he showed me something about him before the murder.” A sudden thought hits me. “On my God.”
“What is it?”
“The note was lying on top of Rodriquez. We assume it referenced Gerome because it looked like Rodriquez had killed him to shut him up.”
“But if it was written by someone else and it was laying on top of Rodriquez,” Jacob says, following my lead, “then it could mean Rodriquez.”
“Yes. I’ll read the note again: I’m sorry, Jewel. He knew things you just weren’t ready to know. If you were, you'd have seen what I already showed you. There is only one thing that connects Rodriquez with the slayer.”
“The card,” Jacob says, reaching for the bag on the counter.
“We still need gloves,” I say. “Just in case there’s something we’ve all missed.” I dart to the coat rack, grab my bag and pull out a pair of gloves for each of us.
“Ready?” Jacob asks, unzipping the bag.
“Yes, and I swear I’m nervous, but pull it out.”
He does just that and both of us study it. I read the note: “Finally, it’s our time.” I look at Jacob. “Why is it finally our time? That’s is what I don’t understand.” I flip the card over. “I don’t see anything. This was a long shot, but it felt right.”
“We aren’t done just yet,” Jacob says, walking to a drawer and returning with a flashlight. He beams the small but powerful light on the bottom of the card and slowly climbs upward. He finishes one side and then flips it over and just when I’m ready to change directions, he murmurs, “Bingo.”
“Bingo? What does bingo mean?”
“Each side of the card is basically two pieces of paper glued together. There’s something inside the card.” He pulls out a pocketknife and slices the end before holding up the card. A piece of paper falls out onto the counter.