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CHAPTER TWENTY

Alarm rushed through Tyson as he watched Olivia’s reaction.

Whatever had happened, it had shaken her.

She’d mentioned finding roses in his office. But he had no idea what she was talking about. He certainly hadn’t bought any roses—not after the other incident at his house.

He leaned closer so he could look her in the eye. “What’s going on, Olivia?”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I . . . I guess I just panicked.”

Tyson reached for her. Hesitated to gauge her reaction.

When she didn’t back away, he pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.”

She melted in his embrace.

He let her stay there for as long as she needed. He tried not to note how perfectly she fit in his arms, how her head tucked beneath his chin like a puzzle piece.

Several minutes later, she pulled away. “No, it’s not okay. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I . . .”

“You’ve been through a lot.” He placed an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I’m going to take you to get some coffee. Afterward, I’m going to talk to Sheri and see what she knows about those flowers.”

Olivia didn’t argue.

Tyson led her down the stairs and into the small deli on the first floor of the building. He ordered while Olivia sat at a table by the window, staring outside at the passersby.

A moment later, he sat down with two cups of warm coffee.

“I feel so paranoid.” Olivia turned her gaze from the window to Tyson.

“Do you want to tell me about the roses?” He took a sip of his coffee.

He knew enough to know roses had somehow been a part of her abduction. But he didn’t know any details.

He waited to see if she’d share.

He wouldn’t push her. She didn’t need that pressure.

But more than anything, Tyson wanted to be there for her . . . if only Olivia would let him.

* * *

Olivia drew in a deep breath and let it slowly escape before answering. “The roses are a countdown.”

“A countdown to what?”

“It’s . . . it’s complicated.”

Tyson drew his eyebrows together in confusion. Instead of asking, he took another sip of coffee and waited for her to continue.

She gathered her thoughts as she drank her coffee. She wasn’t sure how much to tell him. But she had to start somewhere.

“He always begins with the dozen roses.”

“Who does?”

“The Admirer. He’s a serial killer, and roses were his MO. He’s supposedly dead, but . . .” She cleared her throat. “After he sends the initial dozen roses, he’ll then send ten—like the ten today in your office. Next, I’ll get eight, then six, four, and two. Finally, when I’m given the final rose, the person who bought them will reveal himself to me.”

Tyson blinked as he stared at her. “Like you said—it’s a countdown . . . a really sick countdown.”

She nodded somberly.

“But who . . . ?”

Olivia shrugged. “I have no idea. Was the wrong person killed? Did he have an accomplice? Or is there a copycat? Or is this a horrible joke? I have no idea.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I . . . I really hate talking about it. I can’t afford to send my mind reeling back in time. It will cripple me, and I have a job to do.”

Tyson lowered his voice compassionately. “I understand. But I’m here to listen if you need me, Olivia.”

“I appreciate that.” She took the last swallow of coffee and crumpled her cup. Standing, she looked at Tyson. “Thanks for listening, and I apologize for the misunderstanding. I’ll let you get back to work now.”

She started to walk away, but Tyson grabbed her hand.

She paused and looked back at him.

His expression was surprisingly gentle and kind—enough that her heart softened.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore. But don’t run away from me because you’re afraid you’ll have to. I’m not going to pressure you into saying anything you don’t want to share.”

A knot formed in her throat. “Thank you.”

“Let’s go back up to my office together and see if we can figure out where these roses came from.” He stood beside her. “We need to get to the bottom of this before this situation escalates any further.”

If only that were possible, she mused. If only.