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“Sothat’swhat’s fueling this? Your wounded ego?”

His shoulders stiffen. “More than that. You’re a menace to society. Someone needed to stop you.”

I lean in a little closer. “Why? Because I flirt with men, tell them what they want to hear, and they respond by giving me things? That’s not a crime.”

He barks out a laugh. “Is that how you sleep at night? You tell yourself that nobody gets hurt?”

I shrug. “Nobodydoesget hurt…” When he glowers at me, I hastily add, “Usually.”

His expression turns hard. “Yeah, well. It was only a matter of time. You think you can do whatever you like and leave people like me to clean up the mess you make.”

I push back from the table. “Peoplelikeyou? You mean the men who are so conceited they couldn’t conceive of the idea that the woman flirting with them isn’t doing so because she’s madly in love with them?”

He scowls. “I never thought you were in love with me.”

“No. You thought I was your dream girl—easy on the eyes and just plain easy.”

He shoots to his feet, fury etched into every line of his face. “That isnotwhat I thought.”

I cross my arms. “Then tell me. Whatdidyou think of me?”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw, voice rough. “I thought I was the luckiest guy alive—that a beautiful woman like you picked someone like me.”

My stomach flips. Normally, that line wouldn’t faze me. I might even like it. But hearing it now—after everything I’ve done, after what I nearly cost him—makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

He drags a hand down his face. “I’d had a crap week. There were reports of a body in the water. We got there, and the place was crawling with cops. It was pitch black. Eerie. We found her tangled in seaweed. Face down. Pink puffer jacket. Sneakers.” His voice cracks. “She was just a little girl. Been missing for days.”

I choke on a breath and cover my throat like I can shield myself from what he's just said.

The image he paints slams into me—and suddenly I’m small again. Cold. Flailing. My arms cut through water that feels thick as tar. A man’s voice shouts from the dock, but no one’s coming in after me. My lungs burn. The surface slips farther away.

I blink hard, dragging myself back into the room.

His eyes are locked on me. “But you don’t think about that, do you? Guys like me are just walking wallets to you.”

The cold cuts deeper now, but not for the reason he thinks.

“It wasn’t like that,” I whisper, voice flat. “Not this time.”

He locks eyes with me, and heat blazes through my body. “Yeah. I was the only one who came after you.”

I lift my chin, desperately trying to find a way to talk my way out of this. But I can’t. Nothing I can say would take back what I did to him.

It’s just another black mark on my already filthy soul.

Mick

My cell rings, and I abandon the futile conversation with Samantha for another one I’m overdue to have. I pick it up, keeping my eyes on her as she sits in the same chair, curls into it like a cat, and switches the TV on again.

“You have an update for me?” I ask.

“How’s our patient?” The voice is a low rumble, and I instantly snap to attention. Silas.

I glance at Samantha and back up into the small kitchen. “Mouthy,” I say.

Silas chuckles. “Mouthy is good. The more she talks, the more likely she is to tell you something useful.”

“Yeah. I don’t know.” She’s too savvy for that.