My vision loses focus briefly as realization slams into me.
Someone must have taken her from her kitchen.
I wasn’t paranoid; thisisa crime scene.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
Before the magnitude of this situation has a chance to cut me off at the knees, I force my lungs to empty, expelling my burgeoning panic along with the air.
Fortunately, my career has prepared me for times like these. I know exactly how to cut off my personal connection to this case.
And that’s all this can be if I’m going to solve it.A case.
A shrill scream coming from over my shoulder sends me jumping a foot off the ground. When I land, I instantly twist my body, my gun hand extending in front of me.
The ear-shattering sound increases in volume until it approaches glass-breaking levels.
Lila.
She’s here.
Thank merciful fuck.
My shoulders sag. All I can do is stare at her, afraid that if I blink, she’ll disappear.
She stops screaming—thankfully—but her wide-eyed gaze locks on my gun. As I take her in, I notice her hands are thrust over her head in surrender.
“Shit.” I lower my weapon, my heart still somewhere outside my body. “I’m sorry.”
Lila’s chest heaves, and she tentatively lets her hands fall to the sides. The rest of her remains frozen. “Why were you pointing a gun at me? Are you arresting me?”
Not my greatest moment. I’ve had many of those around her. Why break my streak now?
I shake my head. “Where were you?”
“Why are you in my house?” She tips her forehead down, intensifying her glare. “Again.”
Rolling my eyes, I slide my gun back into its holster. “Why did you leave the water running?”
“Huh?” Her adorable nose crinkles. “What’s with all the questions?”
My brow furrows in response to her deflection. “What’s with you not answering them?”
The vibe in the room steadily shifts, the frazzled shock giving way to a different tension.
She flutters her lips. “Another question? How original. Are you training to host a quiz show? The FBI thing isn’t working out, huh? Well, I’m sure you did your best.”
With our demeanors returning to their normal state—antagonistic banter laced with sexual desire—I stifle a grin. “Where were you?”
“Oh. We’re taking it from the top?Umm. Let’s see. I think my first line was something likewhy are you in my kitchen, pointing a gun at me?”
Drawn to her like gravity, I inch forward and let my lips quirk. “Lila, where were you?”
She wags her pointer finger at me. “Stop it. That’s my job.”
“What is?”
“Answering questions with questions. Get your own shtick.”
