His eyes meet mine, and instantly he smirks, sipping his coffee as he watches me over the rim of the mug. The scent of ground beans almost revives me as much as taking my first sip. I lift my chin, keeping my head held high as I go to grab a cup from the cupboard next to him. However, with one finger, he slides another mug across the counter toward me, filled to the brim with cream and sugar, just the way I take it.
I raise an eyebrow at him. It’s not necessarilysuspicious that he knows the way I take my coffee; we have known each other for fifteen years after all. But it is suspicious that he made one for me. Perhaps this is a peace offering for letting him sleep in the bed. Probably not.
“Did you spit in it?” I ask.
“Is that what you’re into, princess?” He smirks as Lottie rolls her eyes, muttering, “It’s too early for bickering,” before walking out of the kitchen.
I take a defiant sip, the caffeine hitting me almost instantly despite the kernel of concern growing in my stomach as his grin widens.
“I guess it is.” He laughs, kicking off the counter and leaning on the island as if the very weight of his broad frame was too much this early in the morning.
“What?”
“I guess it is what you’re into.” His eyes dip to the coffee, the pull at his lips sending prickles down my spine.
“You did not spit in my coffee,” I snap, taking another sip to make a point despite the churning in my stomach warning me to toss it at him instead.
His eyes dip down to my throat as I swallow, and a faint line draws between his brows. He coughs, lifting himself from the kitchen island, and adjusts his sweatpants.
Rounding the island, he puts his coffee mug in the sink by leaning into my space. Once he’splaced his mug down, he doesn’t back up; instead, pushing a tendril of hair behind my ear, bending low to whisper. “Thanks for the cuddle, princess. See you next month.”
I slap his hand away, and he laughs, sauntering out of the room as if he owned the place. Once he’s out of sight, I pour the coffee down the sink.
Chapter Two
Jonesy
My job as an army psychologist has given me a lot of things. The army not only paid for my college education, but it also paid for me to complete my PhD in the field on active duty, providing treatment and relief to those actually fighting in a war zone. The experiment of conducting treatment on those still in their stress zones wasn’t overly successful, but it gave the army enough evidence to show that communal support and pastoral care during active duty were just as important as treatment when soldiers got home. Now that I am permanently based in Seattle, I work with all military bases, not just the army.
I’d received my marching orders at 5 a.m. this morning to receive a debrief in the sergeant major’s office. Being summoned by a commanding officer isn’t unheard of, but it is certainly unexpected for someone in my position. Slipping down the dull mustard-yellow corridor, the glass panel of his door rattled as I knocked it. I didn’tusually like to speculate as to what a meeting such as this could be for, but a nugget of unease sits in my throat at the thought of being relocated.
I’m settled here. Happy. And despite my eternal bachelor status, my family is here, my friends are here. Hell, a defiant redhead she-devil, is here. I couldn’t leave now, not when we’d finally had a breakthrough this weekend. It’s been years since she did anything but scowl at me. Not since my first tour, come to think of it. Sure, we had a few hugs in the last six months, given the drama of Alfie and Mia’s relationship leading to her getting kidnapped by one of his patients. But Katie would have hugged anybody in that moment. I just happened to be there. Therefore, it doesn’t count.
“Come in.”
I open the door, stand to attention, my chest puffed out, chin raised, and salute. I expected it to just be the two of us, but the colonel is here too. As if on instinct, my chest puffs out even more.
“At ease, Major.”
I lower my hand, moving it to grasp my other palm behind my back and widen my stance. The army really did lock in these micro-movements.
The sergeant major sighs, flicking through papers on his desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
His eyes flit nervously between me, thepapers, and the colonel. “Sit. This won’t take long. We have a new assignment for you.”
I quickly flick my attention to the colonel, and note he’s already studying me. His gray eyes seem lifeless. Seen far too much shit, no doubt. Most men who are lifers always have this look about them. Dead from the nose up. Sure, they breathed, ate, fucked, but their eyes gave nothing away. Nothing seemed to faze them because, with their forty-plus years in the military, they’d seen everything.
“There’s been an incident with a soldier off base. He—” He nervously turns his attention to the colonel, who continues to keep his stony gaze fixed on me. “He murdered someone last night. I hear it’s a clear-cut case and will probably need little intervention. However, as it happens, a full psychological investigation will be conducted by the police, and we’ve insisted on having one done by one of our own. You.”
“Yes, sir,” I bark on instinct, despite feeling utterly bamboozled. A murder mystery was not on my bingo card for this year. In fact, it’s something that’s way more likely to be in the she-devil's jurisdiction. She is a forensic psychologist for the Seattle Police Department, after all.
Wait.
Surely she wouldn’t be the one on the case?
Sergeant Major Tilly shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s always been a sort of nervous guy. His unfortunate surname gave him thenickname Silly Tilly behind his back after a series of blunders a few years ago, which led to Colonel Rogers surpassing him in rank. Now he works for him, and by the looks of things, the colonel’s reign of terror is alive and well. He has been fighting terrorists for years, so it seems he’s learned a few tricks.
