“Cute that you think you can keep me here,” he deadpanned, and his eyes met mine, serene and cold. No flinching. He let the syringe glint under the light, then relaxed his grip, folding his fingers and disengaging the mechanism. He crowded me, closing the distance, and when he reached me, his hand came up—not fast, not a grab, but a deliberate movement that made my pulse kick. There was no hesitation, no warning, as his fingers brushed the underside of my chin, tilting my face toward him,then sliding to rest on my lip. I shook him off with a sharp twist of my head. He tutted.
He fucking tutted!
“Some people are liabilities,” he murmured.
For half a second, I was sure he meant me. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Not you.” Doc raised an eyebrow. “But whatever happened to my patient, I’ll deal with it.”
The air between us was charged, a shiver crawling over my skin. His gaze locked on mine, then flicked downward, lingering too long where it shouldn’t. The distance between us was inches, right into my space, close enough I could feel the warmth radiating from him. He dipped his head, slow, deliberate—and fuck, was he sniffing me? I cataloged the twitch in his jaw, the calm pulse at his throat. Dangerous didn’t cover it.
“So pretty,” Doc murmured, and I stiffened as something pressed into my side—a knife? A syringe? A gun? I couldn’t tell, and that uncertainty crawled under my skin like electricity. I was rigid—not out of fear, but out of instinct, every nerve keyed up, ready. But beneath the tension, something darker pulsed. Not terror. Not a threat. Something else. I inhaled the scent of him, because…
I don’t know why…
Jesus Christ. I was getting hard. His gaze stayed on me too long, unblinking, analytical, and it made my pulse jump for all the wrong reasons. There was nothing gentle about it—his stare dissected, studied, and owned. It wasn’t tenderness, it was curiosity, a predator’s kind of fascination that crawled under my skin and left my thoughts tangled. I hated the way my body reacted, the heat that rose despite the danger; every instinct screamed to back off, but I couldn’t look away. He leaned in until his breath ghosted over my skin.
“Goodbye, Detective,” he murmured, and a warmth in his voice made my thoughts whirl. My hand twitched toward my gun, but my mind wasn’t catching up. I wasn’t scared. I was fascinated and maybe tempted. “I’m leaving now. So, you’ll need to call your guard dogs off.” He reached past me to open the door, and I stepped aside to let him. No sign of Robbie now, but Enzo still held the crowbar, and Rio wielded a wrench.
I sidled past him, blocking Doc’s path for a second. Enzo wasn’t ready to stand down yet, muscles tight and fury radiating from him. “Remember what I said,” Enzo warned Doc, voice low.
“Blah blah don’t touch Robbie blah blah die,” Doc murmured.
“Let him leave,” I said. Doc waited until Enzo and Rio stepped aside, then reached the top of the stairs. A bristling Enzo went to move after him to do whatever the hell Enzo did to anyone who mentioned Robbie’s name. I placed a hand on Enzo’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Enzo growled again, and we watched as Doc descended the stairs and stalked through the garage to the open bay doors.
I held up a hand to forestall arguments from the two men, as Enzo opened the bathroom door, tugging Robbie out and holding him close. Then I tapped my ear, and Caleb was responding instantly.
“Tell me you got all of that.”
“Yep.”
“Tell me you’re tracking him now.”
“Facial rec, yep.”
We’d find out where he was going, what he was doing, and somehow we’d crack Doc’s life wide open.
However hard he tried to hide.
The next morning,I couldn’t head straight for the Cave to see what they were pulling on surveilling Doc—not yet. I still had reports to write and a department to pretend I belonged to. The hum of fluorescent lights and the clatter of keyboards filled the bullpen, a world away from the chaos I’d encountered at Redcars. I sank into my chair, and the monitor’s glow hit my eyes too hard. I hadn’t slept much last night, and since the confrontation with Doc, I was on edge. I’d expected him to admit to what he’d done, or deny everything, or at least give me names to save his own skin. I could have arrested him, or not, but instead I just felt confused. He’d touched my face, stepped into my space, and I felt…
Wrong.
The hum of conversation around me blurred into static as I tried to settle my thoughts.
Frank was already at his desk, coffee in hand, a look on his face that said he’d been waiting. He had the freshly showered calm of someone who’d gone home, slept, maybe even eaten breakfast. I hated him for it.
“Where are we at?” he asked, leaning against the edge of my desk, waiting for me to catch him up on whatever it was that had sent me somewhere he couldn’t follow.
I rubbed a hand over my face and exhaled slowly, the motion doing nothing to chase the grit from my eyes. “Depends on how you define ‘at,’” I muttered. “Because right now, all we’ve got is what the coroner gives us and what Stanton is putting on the board.”
“Nomagicanswers yet?” he poked in a whisper, and I shook my head.
“About time you got in, Rosen,” Stanton snarked from across the room. “Team meeting in one.”
“Great,” I muttered as Frank threw me a sympathetic glance and handed over his half-empty cup of coffee, which I took without a word, then followed him into the conference room. The whiteboard at the end of the table was already filled with crime scene photos.
