But I don’t. I grasp my mug like it’s a lifeline, ignoring the plainclothes detective standing merely feet away from me.
“Your cameras cut out about ten p.m. last night.”
“They were hoping I was here,” I whisper into my mug.
“Yeah,” Drake answers. “Came back on around ten thirty when it was obvious you weren’t.”
“Any ideas who?”
“From the grainy picture of someone in head-to-toe black? A male. Tall. Lean. Beyond that, no?”
“Sounds like you’re coming along fabulously,” I reply dryly before sipping on my coffee.
“Trent told me about your idea,” he says, stepping closer.
I move away, and he bangs his fist on the counter.
“Dammit, how can you be so fuckin’ stupid, huh? Invitin’ a killer to come and get you?”
I meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Detective. I don’t answer to you.”
“No, but your dead body does.”
“Just as well there won’t be one, isn’t it?” I set the mug down and look at him. “Y’all pullin’ some DNA from here or what? Don’t tell me there’s still nothing after all this time.”
“Forensics is on it.”
“And if they don’t find anything, you should look at replacing your department,” I snap, folding my arms. “Are you done here?”
Drake shakes his head. “Noelle, think about what you’re doin’. Think about the ramifications of your actions if your plan backfires.”
“It won’t,” I bluff, ignoring the fact that my plan, right now, is actually to wing it. “I’m not like the rookie shits you send into my places to look for shit. I know what I’m doing!”
“Clearly you don’t if you think you can trap this killer without a plan!”
“And what does that have to do with you, huh?” I shove his shoulder. “Nothin’. That’s what. I’m not a damn kid or a graduate from the police force. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Then you know how stupid you’re being!”
“God, you are infuriating!”
“And so are you!”
“Get out!” I yell, my voice hoarse.
“I’m sorry?” Drake recoils.
“Get out. Of my building,” I add, moving toward him as he walks backward. “If you don’t have a warrant in your ass pocket, get the fuck out. Now.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls me into him. “Listen to me, cupcake. Someone got real lucky last night, and that someone was you. You weren’t here when your killer wanted you to be. Yeah, I said yours. They know you’re waitin’ for ’em. Most nights, you’d be here, right? But last night, because I pissed your ass off, you weren’t. Know what that tells me?”
“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” I manage through gritted teeth.
“It tells me this killer is watching you. You ain’t safe. They’re waiting to strike, and it’s gonna be the second you’re alone. We’re close. I can feel it. You’re their target now. And this killer? They want to kill you.”
“No shit,” I whisper, looking away from him. “I won’t back down. I don’t care what you say. They can try to kill me. I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Stop being a pain in my ass.” He grabs my chin and forces me to look into his eyes and all of their devastatingly icy glory. “Someone. Wants. To. Kill. You.”
“I know.”
“Yet you don’t care.”
“I care,” I whisper, holding his gaze. “But did you ever think that I’m your best bet at catching this person? If they’re watching me, if they want to kill me, they’re there. Waitin’, like you said. And that means they’re gonna come to me. Not you. Not anyone else. Me.”
“Yeah, I thought it. But I don’t like it.”
“Ain’t your job to like it, Detective. It’s your job to deal with it.”
“You’re right. It ain’t my job to like it, but I ain’t exactly dealing with it.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means—” He leans in, his touch relaxing just a smidge. “It means that I don’t like it. I’m not dealin’ with it. And the thought of you bein’ in the kinda danger you are scares the ever-lovin’ fuckin’ shit out of me.”
My inhale is sharp and harsh and loud. “I’m no wimp,” I reply, trying to ignore the proximity of his lips to mine. “I’m not afraid. They want to come for me? They can. They’re gonna get a real surprise when they look down the barrel of my gun instead of into my eyes. Don’t be afraid of havin’ another dead body on your hands, Detective, ’cause you ain’t gonna get one.”
“Ain’t just any dead body on my hands I’m worried about, cupcake. It’s yours.”
“Yeah, well, in the highly unlikely situation this moron succeeds, you’ll find my body in your hands and my ghost haunting your ass until you join me in Hell,” I breathe. “And then I’ll never leave you alone, so keep on wishin’ for me to stay alive.”
“Oh, I am,” he replies, his voice soft and gentle and honest. “And when you don’t die, we’re talkin’ about your deluded idea to date Giorgio Messina.”
“Deluded?” I move back, making him drop his hand. “We’ve discussed this. No delusion necessary, thank you.”
“We’ll see.” He releases me entirely, his eyes intense and his presence suffocating and everything about him consuming and disastrously sexy.
I cough, pushing everything away. “You’re right. We will.”
The office front door busts open and my entire staff comes bursting through it. Bekah looks as rough as I do, her hair mussed, her mascara smudged with purple circles beneath her circles. Dean and Mike look as though someone just threatened their unit or battalion, and Marshall looks somewhat dumbstruck. I’m assuming this staff rally was a last-minute, emergency gathering.
“What the hell happened?” Dean demands, his arms tense, looking like the toned giant he is. “Miss Noelle?”
“Another break-in,” I reply with a sigh.
“Was anything taken?” Mike asks.
“Nothing,” Trent replies, coming up next to me and touching his hand to my back. He faces me. “It was a straight in-and-out job, sis. I’m sorry. We’ll hopefully know more when forensics gets some results back. They pulled some fingerprints from the windowsill.”
I sigh, knowing that every member of staff will have prints on that thing. I guess it excludes them though, right?
“Thanks, Trent. Sorry y’all had to come out so early.”
“Apologize to Alison,” he grins. “She was ready to attack me with the kettle when I left.”
“Don’t,” Bekah groans, sinking into Grecia’s now-empty receptionist chair. “Just don’t.”
Drake’s eyebrows go up. “I’m guessin’ y’all had some fun last night.”
“Well, pretentious detectives bring it out in me.” I smile and motion pointedly toward the door. “Aren’t you done here now?”
“Here?” he asks. “Yes. With you? No.”
I hold his gaze as his words circle me, and once again, I motion toward the door. “Goodbye, Detective. You can see yourself out.”
His eyes hold mine for a long moment before he finally, slowly, makes his way to the door. He places his hand on the handle and stops, looking at my staff. “She’s not to be alone in this building. Do you understand? A patrol car is outside of her house as of now, and deputies will switch shifts. She’ll be escorted between here and there and everywhere else.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No,” he agrees, still not looking at me. “But someone is trying to kill you.”
My nostrils flare in anger as he walks through the door, making all of my staff and friends look at me.
“Wanna clue me in?” Trent asks quietly.
“Ask your boss,” I grind out, “And get the HWPD the fuck outta my office.”
“They’re not done—”
“If there were a part of me that gave a single fuck, you could have it. Get. Them. Out. Now.”
“Noelle…”
“Warrant,” I reply.
“Don’t pull that crap with me.”
“Then get out.” I turn from him to Mike, Dean, Marshall, Bekah, and Grecia. “Y’all get to work. You can leave early tonight.”
“Noelle,” Trent says.
“No.” I look at my eldest brother. “This is my building. Mine. If I want you out, you get out. Got it?”