“That wasn’t my question.” The snap in Flint’s tone was arctic and could have frozen Lake Michigan.
I looked at Brewster. He didn’t look away. “Washington hasn’t decided,” I said carefully.
Flint’s laugh was humorless. “Washington never decides. They stall until the choice makes itself.”
Brewster’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue the point.
“If you do this, you do it with me.” Clearlynotdone, however, Flint continued, “You do it with the network. You do it with your team.”
I didn’t reply to that, because I had sent a message to the Unsub without him or my team. I’d kept it from him. Currently, I had no reason to regret that decision.
Flint exhaled, controlled. “Call me the second you know anything.”
“I will,” I lied.
He hung up and for a moment, I just stared at the phone in my hand. It was warm to the touch, like it held all the volatility of that conversation ready to explode.
The quiet after was like standing outside in the aftermath of a fierce storm. Brewster didn’t speak immediately. He stepped closer. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… inevitable.
The space between us narrowed until my body noticed before my brain could make a decision about it.
“You didn’t tell him,” Brewster said.
It wasn’t a question.
“No,” I said.
Something moved across his face—approval, maybe. Relief. Possession. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know.
“Good,” he said anyway.
I bristled. “Stop.”
“Stop what.”
“Stop rewarding me,” I snapped. “I’m not—” I cut myself off, because the rest of that sentence didn’t help either of us.
Brewster’s eyes stayed on my mouth for half a second.
Then back to my eyes.
His voice lowered. “You want him to think he has access. You want him to think you’re still in control.”
“I am in control,” I said, even if right now, I couldn’t have said whether the him Brewster discussed was Flint, the Unsub, orhim. Maybe it was all three. Or none of them… I had no idea.
Brewster’s mouth tipped slightly. Not a smile. A dangerous acknowledgement.
“Then act like it.” He may have murmured the reprimand but it still hit like an open palmed slap. The air thickened, charged and electric. He raised his hand and cupped my jaw without his previous hesitation.
The connection was almost instantaneous even as the memory of his mouth on mine flashed so fast it made me dizzy.
“Don’t,” I breathed, and didn’t know what I was telling him not to do.
Brewster’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t let me go. The caress of his fingers moved up from my jaw to my cheek.
He said, “We’re running out of time.”
I was positive he wasn’t discussing the case right now. He took a step forward, compressing the space between us until we were chest to chest.
