The woman was pissing him off, not analyzing him. Which didn’t help a bit, considering she was naked in the water and close enough to grab and kiss. But they’d both been through hell that day. Her body needed to heal and his mind needed to get back on track. Angus settled down in the hot water and kept an eye on Roscoe in case he alerted on any threat. “I’m not completely oblivious to my motivations.” He wasn’t a moron, for Pete’s sake.
“Well, there’s that, then,” she mumbled.
He wanted to know more about her, too. “You and your bio father don’t seem close. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t really know him,” she admitted. “He and my mom divorced when I was a baby, and I grew up with a single mom until my early teens. We lived in a small town and I always wondered why he left us.”
Angus rubbed his chest. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, rippling the water. “I guess a part of me always wanted him to like me, you know? Maybe that’s why I took the job with HDD when it was offered—something that seemed to tick him off, actually.”
Angus took another sip of his Scotch. “Maybe he just doesn’t understand why you took the job when he’s obviously been an absent father. There’s got to be some guilt on his part for deserting you.”
“Look at you, profiling people,” she said.
He grinned, feeling closer to her than he had to anybody else in way too long. “We seem to have that in common.”
“I know.” She rolled her neck. “My mom and my stepdad met, married, and then moved us to Los Angeles, and I loved the city. It was nice to meet other Chinese kids, too.”
He wanted to hold her hand, so he tightened his grip on his glass instead.
She straightened. “Different topic. Do you think this new killer is Lassiter or a copycat? Gut response—don’t think about it.”
“I don’t know,” he responded instantly, oddly more comfortable talking about psychotic killers than himself. Maybe the lust attacking him would disappear now. “I really don’t. Either is possible.” He ran through all the details. “He left a note this last time.” Angus had already memorized the phrase and now recited it to her.
She moved her arms through the water, sending ripples his way. “It sounds like something Lassiter would’ve liked, but if somebody is copying him, that makes sense.” She repeated the phrase thoughtfully. “Slivers of time make up each moment, and only the pale horse and his master prevail in the most crucial of breathy gasps.”
Angus made a mental note to call Jethro in. His friend’s retirement would have to wait. “Yep. Classy, isn’t it?”
“Well. Pale horse means death, right? The master would be the grim reaper?” She gazed out at the forest.
“The master could be the killer,” Angus said. “I started a murder board inside and need to build the profile of this killer. I can do that tomorrow. Then I should rebuild Lassiter’s and compare them.” His mind clicked facts into place while his body tried to relax in the heat, which was just impossible with Nari so close. One night with her wasn’t enough, although he’d memorized every smooth inch and taken each of her soft sighs into his heart to remember later. Yeah, he really was a moron.
She kept low but scooted along the other side of the tub to the steps. “I’m hot and ready to get out. Should we talk about the sleeping arrangements?”
She had her professional voice back and he couldn’t blame her. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“No. We’ll share the bed. Give me a break.” She climbed out, and he turned his head to give her privacy. Mostly. “We need to be at the top of our game, so let’s be adults.” Within seconds she had disappeared inside the cabin, with Roscoe on her heels.
He sighed. Why couldn’t they just get drunk and fuck?
The forest quieted around him with a sense of foreboding, as if the universe was holding its breath. Now he was getting maudlin. Enough of this shit. He stepped out of the hot tub and replaced the lid, letting the chilly air wash over him. Grabbing a towel, he headed inside, where the lights had been extinguished. The fire had died down, its burning embers barely showing Nari’s form in the bed.
He grabbed boxers from his bag and moved into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Once done, he moved to the bed, then stopped short. Roscoe lay in the middle, his head on a pillow, snoring softly.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Angus yanked bank the covers, needing to use some force with the dog’s weight on the blankets. “Get your butt to the sofa or the floor.”
Roscoe kept snoring.
Angus sat. “I know that’s not how you sound. Move. Now.”
The dog opened one eye but didn’t move. What a faker.
Nari turned on her side toward the dog. “Let him sleep with us. Please?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. “Fine. But end of the bed. Period.” Angus was not going to wake up with a dog in his face.
