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“It is,” I tell her firmly. “When it comes to the case, it is your business.”

Ophelia nods slowly. “Apology accepted, then. What did the two of you talk about?”

“Ancient history and our differing views of our place in the present. Nothing much helpful.” I give her a brief rundown of the conversation.

Ophelia nods again, thinking. “He made it seem like he has information on the other two supposed victims. Information that would tie them back to the Haverstad campaign.”

“He might be bluffing,” I point out.

“He might be, but…” She trails off, crossing the room to sit down on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.

I meet her there, one hand braced on the wooden frame to keep myself from doing something foolish and distracting like burying that hand into her damp hair and kissing her again.

“But?”

“But… I don’t know. You know him better than I do. Do you think he’s bluffing?”

“I’m not sure.” I lose my battle for restraint, at least partially, cupping her jaw and tilting her face up toward mine. “But after last night, I don’t particularly care to see him again. At least any time this century.”

She huffs a short laugh. “Agreed.”

“So then, where will we find our next lead?”

Ophelia hesitates, a bit of uncertainty in her eyes as she glances back toward where she left her phone on the dresser.

“Apologies for the presumption. You don’t have to answer that. I…” I trail off, a bit of shame creeping up the back of my neck. I drop my hand from her face. “After everything that happened last night, I don’t want to presume that we’re still…”

I can’t make myself finish the sentence, but Ophelia fills in the blanks.

“That we’re still working this case together?”

I nod, and Ophelia thinks for a moment. “I’m still alright working this with you, if you don’t have any objection?”

“None.”

Her lips turn up in a small, wry smile. “But maybe we shouldn’t, uh, lay out all the details for the Bureau? I know Blair’s not there anymore, and I feel like shit for keeping things from Cleo, but…”

I shrug. “I’m not on the Bureau’s payroll, so I hardly think it’s a human resources concern.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Blair always went through the formality of offering compensation, but I’ve always declined.”

“Huh,” Ophelia murmurs. “So we’re… good, then?”

“We’re wonderful. If you meant what you said about trusting me last night, then I’ll let you know I feel the same. I trust you, Ophelia, and I want to see this case through together.”

“Of course I meant it. And I want to see the case through with you, too.”

She stands as she speaks, offering me her hand. A handshake—after all we shared last night—seems woefully inadequate for the weight of the trust settling between us.

Still, she offered, so I grasp her hand tightly in mine and use it as leverage to tug her closer. I breathe in her rich, sweet scent, reveling in the warmth of her.

“Deal.”

I rest my forehead against hers, and we stay that way for a few long moments. At least until her phone vibrates with another incoming message.

Ophelia glances over at it. “Well then, in that spirit, want to come with me today to meet with Audra? She’s got some more information on Devin.”