“Been awake for a while.” He couldn’t stop touching her, his hand moving from her shoulder to trail down her spine. “I’ve been watching you sleep.”
“That’s either romantic or creepy.” She tilted her head to look at him, honey eyes soft in the morning light.
“Probably both.” His hand settled at the small of her back, thumb stroking the dimple there.
She giggled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest while his hand stroked her skin. The morning felt suspended in time.
“I should probably shower,” she said eventually, though she made no move to get up. “I smell like sex and massage oil.”
“You smell perfect.” He pressed his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply. “You smell like my mate.”
She shifted against him, finding a more comfortable position with her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulders. His heartbeat was steady under her ear. It made her feel safe.
“I slept so well last night. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since… Since the morning of the execution.”
His hand stilled on her back. “Are you having nightmares?” he asked. He’d experienced them himself.
“Sometimes. But mostly just... replaying it.” She rolled onto her back beside him, staring at the ceiling.
Hunter turned on his side, propping his head on his hand to watch her. Every instinct screamed to protect her.
She took a shaky breath. “The man who died. I can still see him sometimes when I close my eyes.”
Hunter’s jaw clenched, but he kept his touch gentle on her hand.
“He had on a dark suit,” she continued, her voice distant. “I remember thinking he looked like a businessman, not a criminal. The briefcase fell when he... when it happened.”
She paused, her brow furrowing as if something was surfacing from deep in her memory.
“I was so focused on hiding. But now, for the first time since it happened, I’m remembering other things.” Her hand tightened on his.
“Like what?” he asked gently.
She turned to face him, and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. “There was a smell. Sharp and chemical, like...”
She paused, searching for the right description. Hunter waited.
“Like cat piss mixed with ether.” She shuddered.
Hunter’s entire body went rigid. His hand tightened involuntarily on hers as pieces clicked into place.
“Hunter?” Her voice pitched higher with concern. “What is it?”
“That smell.” His voice came out rough. “It’s P2P. Phenyl-2-propanone. The precursor chemical for methamphetamine production.”
She stared at him. “Meth?”
“Not just any meth. That specific smell combination means they were using the P2P method. It requires real chemistry knowledge.” He sat up, his mind racing. “Brennan. The man I was tracking. Before he went rogue, he published papers on P2P synthesis at Bright Institute.”
“The man you lost that morning?”
“The same morning you witnessed the execution.” Hunter ran his hand through his hair. “This wasn’t random, Brie. Youstumbled into Brennan’s cartel connection. Either he was there himself or that was his product being moved.”
Her face had gone pale. She sat up, pulling the sheet around herself. “The same cartel that’s hunting me...”
“Is the one Brennan’s working for. The Sinaloa Pacific Northwest branch.”
Brie’s whole body had started trembling. Hunter immediately pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
