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We had to figure out the connection, if there was one, and get ahead of this bastard before he tried to snag her. So far, the note and creepy mutilated rat heart were all he’d done, but at some point that wouldn’t be enough. He’d escalate, and that fucking scared the shit out of me. This wasn’t battle; it was fucking guerrilla warfare. We had no way to fight him except to be on guard at all times.

“I’ll get the information.” The tip of the cigarette singed the ends of my fingertips as I pinched it off before tossing the butt into the ashtray. “Give us a second.”

Inside, the dry, hot air seared the inside of my nostrils. “You ready?” I called out impatiently. “Peters is here.”

My breath caught when she rounded the short corner from her bedroom into the living room. Long, bright strawberry-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, which directed my gaze straight to the sweater’s V–neck, showing off a hint of pale-skinned cleavage. The red sweater brought out the unique hues of her hair and gave her hazel eyes more of a green tint than brown.

“I'm used to wearing my uniform or sweatshirts everywhere,” she said, making her pale, freckled cheeks flame pink. “Is this okay?”

“You’re beautiful.” Understatement of the year.

The pink of her cheeks turned a bright red.

Extending a hand, I urged her closer. The moment she was within arm's reach, I pulled her flush against me, allowing her to feel just how ‘okay’ I thought her choice of outfit was.

“If any of the officers look at you—”

Her hand slammed against my chest with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. “They all know me. And this late at night, why would anyone be at the station?”

Shit.

“We’re not going to the ranger station.”

“Then where?”

“The Estes Park police station.”

All the color drained from her face. “I’ll go get my hat—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Cas,” she said while nibbling at the edge of her thumb.

The nervous energy radiating off her spoke to her rising fear. This woman who was born to stand out was terrified of allowing her natural beauty to shine, all because of one fuckstick. With a grip on her hand, I tugged her toward the door. “Don’t worry. You look extraordinarily ordinary.”

The corners of her lips twitched. “You sure? Because the rest of your body doesn’t seem to agree.”

“Positive, Lady.”

Peters’s eyes lit up in surprise and appreciation—the fucker—as she stepped out onto the porch behind me. I gave a slight shake of my head, and he cleared his throat and looked toward the SUV.

“Seriously, Birdie,” Peters sighed. “Couldn’t you’ve dressed up or something? Dressed like that, maybe we can take you to McDonald's or something after we’re done.”

I watched as her smirk grew into a full-blown smile. “Sounds perfect.”

The ride to the station turned awkward the moment we were all piled into the Suburban. Not a word was said the entire thirty-minute drive, the pelting of ice against the windshield and roof from the forming storm the only sound in the confined space. My thoughts were too consumed by the case and preparing for a battle at the police station for idle conversation.

The brakes squeaked as Peters slowed to back into a tight parking space.

“Let me do the talking,” I said, rubbing a hand down my face. “I have no idea what kind of resistance, if any, we’ll face inside. Most cops don’t like someone like me snooping around on their turf. And Alta?”

She swiveled in the passenger seat. Apprehension glimmered in her bright eyes.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

“Don’t talk to a single person in there. You’re still suspended, so technically you shouldn’t be here, but stay close. I don’t want you out of my sight. Peters, I’ll make sure you get the information you need.”

At that, I flung the door open and stepped out into the freezing drizzle. Peters and Alta followed suit. I hugged her close to shield her from the blasting wind, and we jogged in sync to the front doors.