Oh.
Oh, this changes things.
He’s investigating.
Not obsessed.
Well. Both.
But one of those comes with a badge and consequences.
Does he know what Callum is? Does he know what I did to Tammy?
I scan more.
There it is.
He watched Orion and Callum with Adam.
Fuck.
He has proof. But filed no report.
So either he’s choosing me...
Or he’s building the case that destroys us all.
And I need to know which.
I pull a pen from my purse.
On the last page. The one he’ll flip to after I stroll over to his table? I write:
Dinner. The Italian place on Main. 7 Wednesday.
Come collect the other panties in person. Or I’ll come collect you. Your choice. But we both know you’ve already chosen.
Your move, Detective. But next time you want to play hide and seek, remember: I don’t lose.
And I really, really like winning in handcuffs.
— J
P.S. Your car smells like me now.
You’re welcome.
I glance up.
He’s at his table.
Jaw working that burger, completely oblivious that I’m currently fingering his entire soul.
God, that jaw.
I want it between my legs until I forget English.
I hike my dress just enough, slip my hand into my panties. The white lace ones that are already soaked through from reading his obsessive little diary.
