“Ella Gadot!” the principal says into the mic as the audience hollers, clapping fiercely.

Chloe’s family gets up to whistle and send smiles my way as I go to get my diploma during graduation. All the teachers shake my hand while praising my intelligence and predicting I’ll make our city proud someday.

I quickly grab my diploma while winking at the principal, who is still disappointed with me for not wanting to give the valedictorian speech. He passed it to Kyle, who has a slightly lower GPA than mine and gets off on the attention.

For me, it means nothing, so whatever. Besides, the three most important people will never hear it, so what’s the point?

I look up to the sky, and murmur, “I did it, Mom… Dad… Sarah. I love you.” And although it’s been a year, the pain doesn't go away.

Not a raging inferno anymore, but rather a scar that will never heal.

I join Chloe back at the seat as she wiggles her brows. “Who are fucking college students now? We are!” She shoots her fist in the air in a victory gesture and then hugs me and Simone at the same time while we groan.

“We’re not even going to the same college, girl,” Simone says. I silently laugh while she shares my amusement, but Chloe just shrugs.

“Our colleges are only like a few hours away. So I expect you two to be there for me in case I have a crisis,” she warns, while I just roll my eyes.

“I’m studying in New York and you’ll be in Texas. How is that a few hours away?” I wonder sometimes if Chloe lives in her makeshift reality.

“I meant flying,” she says, wiggling her fingers at us while her shoe keeps digging into the chair in front of us.

Yeah, like that will be possible with my law degree while holding down a waitressing job. Although I have insurance money and a scholarship to New York University, for the past year, I’ve busted my ass at the local diner to have enough for my spending money. Chloe’s parents constantly try to buy stuff for me, but I refuse. They have two more kids to feed and clothe. I’m not their responsibility, although I will be forever grateful for this past year.

Never once have they made me an outsider. They’ve tried their best to integrate me in their family. But unfortunately, it didn’t change the variables in my life’s equation.

“News flash, we aren’t rich,” Simone adds, but Chloe has none of that.

“That’s not freaking true—” Whatever she says next escapes my notice as my eyes widen when far away, emerging from a car, I recognize Agent Bates.

The man who investigated my parents’ death.

I rise swiftly, ignoring the surprised looks thrown my way, and almost run to the guy who holds a box with a red bow.

“Hi,” I say, while he just nods and gives me the gift. While I take it, I can’t care less for it. “Thank you. Why are you here?” A year ago, they couldn’t find the person who killed my parents, so they wrapped up the case and left.

He told me there is just so much profiling they can do, and I hate knowing the monster is out there, terrorizing other families. Although I never found anything in the crime section of the newspaper, I still kept tabs on those constantly.

But he is here now, so it means something, right? No point in stalling.

“Yes, we found the man responsible for what happened to your family. And we are sorry.”

“Sorry?” I repeat like a parrot, confused as hell.

They should be proud and happy! Now I can finally spit in the face of that awful man for what he has done.

Before he can elaborate, chaos erupts around us.

A SWAT team surrounds us, and a moment later, I hear a scream behind me and spin quickly, only to see Chloe’s dad being held down on the ground as the officer recites his rights to him.

No.

No. No.

But Agent Bates doesn't let me live in denial. “He is the one, Ella. And I’m so sorry.”

This couldn't have been a bigger nightmare, could it?

But as I watch Uncle Benjamin get cuffed by the police officers while complete indifference is reflected on his face, the horror becomes my reality.

And I do the only thing I can think of.

I run in the opposite direction before anyone can stop me.

Ella

The car stops abruptly and I startle awake, sitting straight at once.

“We’re here,” Kierian says, while chuckling. “Partied hard last night, huh?”

Frowning at his humor, I just shake my head and check my phone along with my tablet to make sure I can snap pictures if needed.

As hot and man-whorish as the guy seemed back in the club, he hasn't spoken a word since we got the order. He just pointed at the car, telling me to hop in, and turned on classical music that immediately filled the space.

I find it weird, but then it seems everyone has issues in this job, so I’m not really surprised. I just wish I hadn’t slept with the guy two weeks ago, even if it was the best sex of my life. Maybe he doesn’t even remember us hooking up.

And at that, anger swipes through me, because the idea tastes bitter in my mouth.

Moving on.

I’m about to hop down, when his hand on my arm stills me. “Have you seen a crime scene before?”

“Yeah.” Back during my internship with the FBI and the police academy, the only reason I felt bad during the presentation of a case was because I’d never seen parts of bodies just randomly lying around. I think it can unsettle anybody.

“Dead bodies too?” He presses the issue and I nod, even though that’s only partially true.

While I’ve seen them, I’ve never come close or touched them willingly, but I know it’s part of the job. “You think we might find something?”

He shrugs and we get out of the car, while he murmurs, “You never know. I’m just making sure you know what to expect. This job won’t be for you if you turn green every time.”

I don’t have the chance to reply or defend myself against what feels like a personal attack, when a police officer greets us. “Agents.” He shakes our hands. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did you find anything?”

The man exhales heavily. “Part of the first victim, and the second, legs. But other than that, no. I think it was just these two bodies.” Kierian doesn’t seem convinced, though, as he grabs the gloves, gives me a pair, and puts on the other.

While he hunts for more clues, I look around the forest, registering several details in my mind, trying to build a complete picture that will give me better insight into the unsub’s mind.

The forest is located halfway up the hill, with the road several miles from here and the lake. Besides a few hunting shacks, the area is undeveloped despite being situated between two cities. However, it’s an open space and not a secluded area, so anyone passing by could have seen the person dropping bodies or driving up here.

So the unsub must have been strong, have a driver’s license, and good knowledge of the city and its outskirts. Not to mention he knew the exact place where wolves or coyotes would be searching for food.

But even those animals don’t typically feast much on human flesh, just destroy the bodies. It’s like the unsub punished the victims even after death, basically showing them one, giant middle finger.

Taking out my phone, I dial the shortcut for Preston’s number, and he answers on the first ring. “Yes?”

“Can you check something for me? What’s closer to the crime scene? New York or New Jersey?” Maybe we’ve searched in the wrong location, but we had to narrow it down.

If a different state seems like the stronger possibility, we’ll have to transfer the case. “One second.” Preston’s clicks on his keyboard echo in my ear, and in a second, he replies, “Definitely New York. It’s around an hour’s ride, give or take ten minutes. It’s around two hours to New Jersey.”

“The unsub is from New York.”

“Right, his MO shows no respect for victims, so he wouldn’t spend more time with them than necessary. In his mind, it means giving them attention they don’t deserve.”

At least we narrowed it down to the city. “Check everyone who recently got out of prison or a psychiatric facility, please.”

“Sure.” Then he disconnects the call, and I walk down the narrow path among dogs sniffing around for clues.

Kierian kneels, tracing his fingers on the ground and looking closely. I recognize the barely visible tire track. “Police cars?”

He shakes his head. “They won’t drive this close to a crime scene.”

“But it can’t be him. The bodies are several months old and we’ve had some heavy rains.”

“Unless he comes here on a weekly basis.” Sometimes serial killers love to visit their crime scenes; they get a special high from the place that fueled their sick desires. It usually works for them until the longing for fresh blood overpowers their pleasure in knowing someone lies in the ground.

That is usually the time they choose new victims, and it becomes a never-ending circle.

Except I don’t think that’s what drives our unsub; I don’t have an explanation for it yet, but something is not adding up for me.

Kierian rises, while shouting to the men nearby. “Check those tracks. We need information on them as soon as possible.” Then he briefly glances at me and resumes scanning the environment. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s easier for him to kill than come here.”

“Why?”

“He clearly hated those men. He wouldn’t give them the time of day after the killing.”

“Interesting theory, but we shall see.” Narrowing my eyes on his dismissive tone, I’m about to speak a few not-so-nice words to him when we turn in the direction of a huge-ass tree that stands a few feet away from us, as a police officer shouts, “We found something.”

We rush over there, and when the criminalist scoots aside, scattered flesh and body parts come into view.

A festered leg and hand, smeared with dirt, have bite marks visible on the skin. The smell coming from them is so offensive stomach acid rushes up my throat. I count to ten in my head to control my natural reaction and then swallow back the bitter taste.

Kierian stands closer to me, bumping his shoulder against mine, and I blink in surprise at his silent support. He can’t do much else with his gloved hands. “Are these similar to what you found earlier?” The criminalist nods.

“Yes, they appear to belong to the last victim.” And the man proceeds to put them in a bag, while carefully preparing to take fingerprints in case he finds them.

Kierian dials someone, and in a second, Noah’s voice echoes between us on loudspeaker. “What is it?”

“We found two more body pieces, but they all appear the same. Looks like only two victims were here.”

Noah stays silent, and then asks, “Preston, do you have anything for me?” He is on the line too?

My brows furrow, while Kierian mouths, “Conference call.” And then we hear Preston’s voice. “No debts or loans, and no illegal stuff. So it’s not a revenge or professional kill.”

Well, we can cross mafia off the list, but it doesn’t suit the unsub anyway.

He won’t work for anyone else.

“Can it be Sociopath?” The notorious serial killer who cleaned up half the elite around seven years ago. “Maybe he’s back?” Noah asks.

Before any of the guys can reply, I pitch in, “He hasn’t been active in years. And the victimology is different.”

“I agree with Ella,” Kierian says.

Noah orders, “Come back here. We need to review the information before proceeding.”

Kierian nods to the police officer. “We’re going to head out. Thanks!” We remove our gloves and throw them into the trash. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me to the car.

“What are you doing?” I try to tug my arm away, but it’s useless. He doesn’t react except to press me to the car, blocking the view of me from everyone else.

“Are you all right?” He scans me from head to toe, and I blink, surprised at the surge of energy between us as he transforms from cold coworker to dominating man who awakens my body with new desires with a single touch.

“Yes.” Licking my dry lips, I exhale heavily. “I just don’t see… well… that on a daily basis. But I’ll adjust with practice.” Not wanting to create an uncomfortable situation for both of us, I say, “Let’s just forget about it.” Stepping away from him, I go to my side of the car and get in as he does the same.

My hands freeze on the seatbelt, when he tells me, “You don’t run from dead bodies, but you do run from men.” Well, apparently, he does remember our one-night stand.

I don’t know what annoys me more, the relief flashing through me, or fear where this conversation might lead.

Or rather how I sneaked out of his apartment after he fell asleep, so I wouldn’t have to face him the morning after.

In one single night, he made me feel more alive than I’ve ever been. The emotions he awakened inside me have no place in my life.

“I didn’t run.” Clearing my throat, I add, “Even the term one-night stand means two people for just one night.”

“Thank you for explaining the phrase to me. Here I went through life, letting women walk all over me,” he replies cockily, and I want to smack him on the back of his head.

None of it is funny.

“This is not funny, Kierian.”

“I beg to differ.”

Huffing in exasperation, I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We work together now, so it’s better we never discuss it again, okay? There is no point.” Since he stays silent, smoothly navigating the car through different turns, I finish with, “We are coworkers.” Oddly enough though, the word tastes bitter in my mouth.

What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be this emotional over some guy I just met two weeks ago and shared a few hours of sex with.

Especially not when there are people dying because of a serial killer.

“And nothing else?” He catches my gaze as we stop at a traffic light. “You’ll be able to look at me and not think about that night?” he asks, and instantly a flashback hits me, as vivid images dance in front of me.

Biting a pillow to muffle my screams, I close my eyes, my back lifting as Kierian scoots me closer to the edge of the bed, his fingers digging painfully into my ass, probably leaving marks that will last for days.

He opens me up for his assault, sucking on my inner thigh and sending ripples of pleasure through me as his whiskers scratch my skin.

He breathes me in, before asking, “Have you ever been properly fucked by a man’s tongue, Ella?” But he doesn’t care for my answer, as his tongue pushes into my opening, licking me deep, at once making me aware of every single breath and sensation in my body.

He slides his tongue from one lip to the other then growls against my core, causing a vibration that spreads fire through my entire system.

A moan tears from my throat as I throw the pillow to the side and lace my hand into his hair, pressing him closer to my center, seeking the pleasure he’s promised me.

Shaking my head from the memory, I lean back on the seat, my cheeks flushing and heart beating rapidly against my ribcage. I long to gulp air, but I can’t with him so close to me.

He chuckles, although it lacks humor, as he speeds up on the road. “That’s what I thought, darling.” He changes gears and flashes me a determined look. “We are far from over.”

As I discovered during our night, Kierian is very good at keeping his promises.

God, what am I going to do now?

Psychopath

Unfamiliar emotions swirl through me—although, I’m not sure a euphoric rush of adrenaline at remembering her fear-filled voice could be considered an emotion.

But what brought even more anticipation?

Her mind.

Her desire to catch me is so strong. She sees outside the box and digs into details other people might never notice.

How can I not enjoy playing a game with her?

She would have been a great asset to the team helping catch the likes of me.

Too bad my case will be the first and last she’ll ever have.

Ella

“Kierian, you look too smug for your own good,” Andrea muses while pouring herself a cup of coffee and sending us a smile as the rest of the team hangs around her table, sitting silently deep in thought.

Kierian winks at her, placing his hand on his chest as he sighs dreamily. “Why now, Andrea, is that a compliment? Flattered.” She punches him in the stomach, and he lets her, quietly laughing as his gaze catches mine, but I quickly evade his drilling stare.

After our conversation in the car ended, I put on my headphones and blasted music on high so he wouldn’t bother me anymore with conversations that confused me.

He didn’t push though, just kept whistling under his breath, and I don’t know why, but it pissed me off.

No matter how much my body craves him, or how much we have in common, I’ve learned that nothing but a one-night stand works out in my life. So why does he insist on trying to make things complicated?

My head should be busy with our unsub, not men. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for a distraction.

“So what do we have so far?” Noah fires a question, drumming his fingers on the desk while looking at the pictures spread before him.

“Not much besides the two dead bodies, with the same MO and nothing connecting them. Both hidden in the same spot.”

“Similar crimes outside the state?”

Preston clacks with his tongue. “Nothing.”

“The autopsy showed the unsub most likely used scalpels and knives in certain places to torture. Like the liver, stomach, back, and neck. Based on the criminalist’s report, they wouldn’t lose much blood, but the pain would have been unbearable. Their ribs were broken. He also detected serum in their system.” Jacob reads the last part, sliding it to Noah.

“Awake for the torture,” he states. “So we’re dealing with a sadist?”

“Except—” I snap my mouth shut, not knowing if I should continue my thought, but since everyone looks at me expectantly, I elaborate. “I don’t think he’s a sadist.”

“He is inflicting pain on their bodies. And then lets animals eat the remains. Clearly, he wants them to suffer even after death,” Andrea states.

“Or he is punishing them.” Preston blinks at my words. “It’s like he is getting revenge on something. Both bodies have similar marks. Both male. But they are not connected. What if it’s not them he is punishing?”

She rubs her chin. “Surrogates for someone else?”

“Most probably his father.” Usually all traumas came from childhood, especially such violence.

“Then both the victims have something in common that reminds him of his father,” Kierian supplies, and I nod, but Jacob just curses.

“It still gives us nothing. Not even a hint of where to begin this investigation or create a profile.”

Noah scans the board from side to side and then points at me. “Ella, speak with Mary Parker. Maybe she can clue us in on her husband. Andrea, talk with the other family. If we know more about the victims, we will know more about the unsub.” Then he shifts to the guys. “Preston, dig deeper, maybe there were cases of similar body dumping? He could have developed a stronger MO over the years.”

True. Serial killers learn as they gain experience. Their very first victims rarely undergo the same torture as everyone after them. They try to play with firsts, exploring what answers their desires.

“Jacob, you, Kierian, and I will investigate their workplaces.”

Everyone spurs into action, but his defeated expression nags on my mind.

So before he can exit, I call his name, and he turns to me. “What happens if we find nothing?”

“Police will still investigate. Unfortunately, the case for us will be closed. There is only so much we can do.”

It can’t happen.

It means evil wins, and I didn’t come here to let monsters ruin innocent lives.

I will find him.

Ella

Entering the common room, I notice a beautiful young woman sitting on the couch, drinking water as she holds a small baby sleeping in her arms.

She licks her lips while breathing heavily, and her shoe taps the floor in a nervous manner, like she doesn’t know what to expect.

Oddly enough, I don’t see sadness or pain in her features; they’re usually present during this kind of meeting.

I speak as gently and quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the baby. “Mrs. Parker? Hi. I’m Agent Ella Gadot.”

She freezes as she looks at my extended hand, seeming lost for what to do next. She eventually nods and sips a bit more of her water. I’ve seen many women in my line of work, and her hesitation to take my hand unsettles me. I plaster a smile on my face, hoping it’ll ease her a little bit.

“Do you want to put the baby in the stroller?”

She shakes her head, bringing her son closer to her chest. “No, I prefer to hold him.” Exhaustion laces her voice, but also fear. Why is she afraid of this? Surely she doesn’t think we have her under investigation?

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She rocks the baby from side to side, as she finally asks, “He’s really dead?”

There is no easy way to say it to loved ones. I still remember how an agent delivered the news to me and how it shook me to my core.

A monster killed her husband, the father of their child. He’ll never get the chance to see his baby. How can anyone do that?

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat and clear my throat. “It’s him.” She blinks and looks to the side, avoiding my gaze.

Maybe she doesn’t want me to see the tears in her eyes? I hate to continue this conversation with a woman who probably still had hope her husband would come back, but work is work. The faster we catch the unsub, the fewer families who will fall to his monstrous ways. “Mrs. Parker, was he acting differently before he was kidnapped? Any weird phone calls? Friendships?”

“No. We’d just moved to the neighborhood. He didn’t have time to talk with anyone much. He had no friends here.” She pauses, something flashing in her eyes but quickly disappearing. “He just started a new job. He was a lawyer.” She pats the baby. “Our son was about to be born. Everything was normal.”

“Did he have any changes in temperament? More nervous, aggressive? Any anger issues?” Sometimes great fear in the wake of something provokes aggressive behavior, so maybe he just hid his problems from her.

And based on our records, he didn’t have a job, so he must have lied to his wife. Why?

Self-disgust crosses her face, but she replies steadily, “No, he was the same.”

Something isn’t adding up here, but I see Noah motioning for me to finish it. Clearly the wife doesn’t know much, so keeping her here with a child is useless.

“Thank you, I guess there are no other questions.” I stand up, but she is still glued to her couch as she raises her brown eyes to me, filled with curiosity.

“Do you know who did this?”

I wish I had an answer to her question; it’s the most valid one when this kind of tragedy strikes.

Who and why, and in most cases why isn’t satisfying or fair, but you learn to live with it.

“No, but I promise we will do our best to catch him.”

She turns around to pick up her diaper bag and her shirt tugs on the side, exposing a little of her back. I blink in surprise, noticing several faint scars under the harsh light. Once she is done, she gives me a weak smile. “Thank you for telling me.” With that, she leaves, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve imagined the relief coming from her.

That’s not possible, right?

“You all right?” Andrea joins me inside, holding her mug of coffee and offering me mine.

“There is something fishy about this situation.”

She pauses with her mug midway to her mouth. “The wife couldn’t have killed him.”

“No, it’s not about that. It’s like she wasn’t even sad.”

“She is probably in shock.”

“Or doesn’t mourn him much,” I mutter, the bitter taste in my mouth staying while I think about this more. “How about Ken’s wife?”

“Surprisingly, she stayed calm, just kept repeating that it was over. She seemed relieved actually, but I think it’s easier to know for sure he is dead, instead of spending her life with what ifs.”

Or when you don’t really feel bad for someone killing your husband and can’t hide it very well.

I go back to the case, studying the different body parts, but still they have no answers for me.

Why would a wife not mourn the loss of her husband?

What could he possibly do?

What?

And more importantly… did the unsub know?

Psychopath

Sitting on the school bleachers, I rest my back on the seat behind me as I watch the football practice in full swing. Young guys scream at each other, some pushing and flexing muscles while others keep all their attention on the game, running back and forth even though they don’t know the plays yet.

Cheerleaders giggle as guys wink at them, and they murmur things to each other, while stretching and bouncing in place.

A loud whistle erupts and their coach, a muscled man, joins them on the field while waving at everyone.

Instantly, all activity ceases, and the football players stand straight as he watches them approvingly. Especially his son, the captain of the team, who hides from his gaze yet puffs up his chest proudly for people to see.

He is the best on field; his nickname is “machine.” He’s already gotten several scholarship offers, while his father posed in all the photos with him, preaching that hard work and discipline helps you achieve success.

Kids look at him with adoration and respect. After all, what’s there not to like about the guy?

Two kids. Long-lasting marriage. Favorite coach of the year twice and works at the local shelter once a month to help those in need. The community values him deeply and no one gets on the team without his approval. He loves his team dearly, giving them the best, and always protects them.

“All right, kids. Stop staring at the girls and keep your mind on the game.” Little snickers echo through the team as he clasps his hands. “We have the most important game coming up. Let’s show them who’s the best.” He swings his gaze through them. “I don’t hear your support.”

The roar erupts, and everyone jumps to do their stuff as the coach calls to one of the girls who happens to be his daughter.

“Lina, come here.” He murmurs something to her, and because they are too fucking busy with their lives, most people won’t notice as fear enters her eyes and she winces nervously, her shoulders sagging with each word.

Adjusting my sunglasses better on my nose, I make a decision as a smile spreads across my face.

He’ll be perfect.

I don’t usually kill so fast, preferring to take my time between victims. I get more of a high from anticipation, and besides, my mentor taught me better. They’ll probably close the case since there is nothing connecting my killings on the surface and move on to another one. That’s how profiling procedures work. But if I give them more bodies, they’ll have no choice but to work on them.

How can I refuse to create one more case for Ella to find the truth faster?

When she finally figures it out, she’ll be at my mercy.

I can't fucking wait for that.

Ella

Yawning loudly, I stretch my arms while sighing heavily. No clues pop up no matter how many times I read through all the files.

We’ve spent the rest of the day studying cases that could fit the unsub but come up blank. The guys didn’t get much information from coworkers or other people either, only that they were great, all-around men and everyone felt sorry someone killed them.

On the surface, it seems the unsub doesn’t have clear preferences when it comes to victims, since one victim was a young man in his thirties and the other was a man in his fifties.

I’m so deep in thought that a voice next to me startles me and my coffee almost spills on the table. “The workday is over.” I look up to see Kierian, his gaze sweeping over me.

Only then does it register we are alone in the office, most of the people gone. Normally when the team travels all over the country, they work on the case twenty-four seven until it’s solved, but when you work in your own local area, you can go home and regroup.

“I’ve got nothing.”

“Staying here won’t solve the problem.” He motions to the door with his head. “A fresh perspective in the morning will be better.”

It’s hard to argue with that statement.

“You’re right.” I stand up, shut off my laptop, and scoop all the paperwork into my bag. “Crap!” I exclaim, searching for my phone in my pocket. “I need to grab a cab home. My car is in for repair; the thing had to break down today of all days,” I mutter, and blink in surprise as his hand halts my movement.

“I’ll drop you at home.” If it came from any other person, I would gladly agree, but in this case, it’s too weird.

Especially with his earlier statement.

“I don’t think—”

“Let’s go, Ella. It’s not safe wandering around the city. I promise you this wolf doesn’t bite.” I lift my brows, and he chuckles. “At least not outside the bedroom.”

“I don’t remember much biting.” I groan inwardly. Why did I have to go there? I shouldn’t encourage his playful behavior. “And for your information, I’ve been on my own for a long time. I don’t need a protector.” He doesn’t appear impressed with my words; he just holds the door for me, and I quickly slide in and press the elevator button, feeling exhaustion run through me.

“Tired?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Finally, the doors open, we step inside and ride down, and then he leads me to his car.

“I’d offer dinner, but I suspect my offer would be met with a refusal.”

Hilarious.

“Definitely.” He chuckles again and we hop inside. A few minutes later, we’re heading in the direction of my house, which is located around thirty minutes from the office.

Then it dawns on me.

“You didn’t ask where I live.” My brows furrow, uneasiness washing over me. I don’t think he is dangerous per se, but a girl can get ideas.

“It’s in your file, Ella. Relax.” He makes a hard turn, and I sway to the side, bumping shoulders with him. Instantly, electricity sizzles between us, but I quickly lean back, avoiding the touch.

He doesn’t comment on it, just squeezes the steering wheel tighter.

Topic. We desperately need a topic that can distract us from the sexual tension running high in this freaking Jeep!

“So how long have you been working here?”

“Around three years. I was on the police force before that.”

“What made you choose criminal psychology?”

He shrugs and stops at a traffic light, shifting his attention to me, and once again, I’m on the receiving end of his silver eyes. “Because I felt this way I could stop criminals before they did more damage. It felt right at the time.”

The way he says this confuses me, so I ask, “It doesn’t anymore?”

“There is always frustration when we can’t solve a case or someone dies while trying to solve it, even though we are doing all we can. The constant guilt. But then again, I think everyone in law enforcement has the same frustration, one way or the other.”

True.

“Any family?”

He flashes me a grin. “Why? Suddenly curious about my life, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, because I hate all this shit. God knows how many women guys call that name, and I feel like when you address someone, it should be a nickname designed specifically for them.

I can hear Chloe laughing in my ear as she called me an idiot while Simone nodded in agreement. They didn’t understand my little quirks like that.

“Actually, forget I said anything.”

He meets my murmur with a sarcastic comeback. “Apparently, ‘forget it, Kierian’ are your favorite words thrown my way.”

“Do you harass all your one-night stands?” Not that I ever want to think about him with other women, as it creates a deep, red rage inside me.

“I’m hardly harassing you, Ella. And it wasn’t a one-night stand.”

Oh my God. He’s impossible!

He threatens my sanity, and no person should do that. I want to sacrifice my life to catch serial killers, and I won’t be able to form any kind of relationship with someone if my head is busy worrying about them.

In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t bother explaining or justifying my actions, but I feel like Kierian deserves that. It’s not his fault I’m fucked up. “My family was killed by Benjamin Donovan.”

He freezes, muttering quietly, “Fuck.”

Talking about my family always brings me pain, but it needs to be said so he can put all this crap to rest. So I continue. “It changed my whole life, okay? I don’t ever want to come home to find my family dead… again. I don’t do relationships. Frankly, I have no clue why I’m telling you all this, considering we had a one-night stand, but there you go. Please drop the subject, Kierian.”

“You are the only living victim of his crimes.”

“Right. The lucky one.” Sarcasm laces my voice. “Someone even offered me a contract to write a book.” I shut the door in their face and got a restraining order. How stupid can someone be to be so insensitive to a tragedy?

I expect him to reassure me or tell me he’s sorry; that’s what people usually do and why I hate to share this tidbit of information.

Instead, he turns the radio louder and continues our ride in silence while I’m slightly taken aback by this attitude. Shouldn’t he have additional questions for me? Anything to break the silence that’s fallen over us.

And while my initial plan was for him to step back, I can’t help the disappointment deep in the pit of my stomach that my fucked-up teenage trauma changed his mind.

Go figure.

Finally, my building comes into the view and he pulls over to the side, the engine running as he gets out, and my brows furrow.

What is he doing?

I follow suit, only to be immediately pressed to the closed door behind me without even an inch between us.

“What are you—” My words die on my lips as he covers my mouth with his, and I gasp in surprise, giving him the perfect opening to push his tongue inside. One hand fists my hair while the other locks tightly around my waist.

All common sense flies from my mind, and instead of freeing myself, I angle my head, giving him deeper access, and we both groan. I can’t help but grab his jacket, bringing us closer, although closer is impossible at this point.

No one in this world in my memory kisses as good as Kierian McAvoy. With him, I don’t have to think about anything, because only we exist in the cocoon he creates.

He dominates my mouth in a way that makes a promise and stakes a claim, and even though I know it’s not meant to be, I give all of myself to this kiss.

My lungs burn, and with a moan I tear my mouth away as we both breathe heavily, gulping air. He runs his nose along the crook of my neck, breathing me in, as I whisper, “Thanks for the goodbye kiss.” He bites a little on my skin, sending a hot flash straight through me, and thank God he parked in a secluded area, so no one will see this public display of affection.

He leans back and our gazes clash; his heated one drills into me as if he wants to know my darkest secrets, but I don’t have any. “At work, we work. But when we’re outside it? We’ll explore this. Understood?”

The haze of the kiss doesn’t overshadow my determination as I pull away, and surprisingly, he lets me. “Kierian, you don’t get to order me around.”

“No, but I get to push you out of those chains you’ve placed on yourself.” With that, he gives me one last peck, and murmurs, “Goodnight, Ella.”

I stand there speechless as he hops in the car and drives away, leaving me alone while confusing emotions swirl in my mind.

Placing my fingers on my burning lips, I wonder just how determined Kierian can be.