Page 6 of Built for Mercy
Callie sucked in a breath. “What?”
“I guess they ran some DNA through some new equipment and were able to match them to a couple more recent cases. One of them is in prison for the next ten years; the other’s still roaming free. Unfortunately, they both said they knew my father soof course their DNA was at the crime scene.’But I know it’s them.”
She paused for a moment to examine me. “Tell me you’re not keeping tabs on the one who isn’t incarcerated.” I nibbled on my lower lip. “Sophie!”
“What? It’s not like you’re any better! You set up a pretend sting operation to investigate your ex, pretended to be engaged to him, and found out he was a serial killer you’d been living with, for fuck’s sake.”
She winced. “Damn, too soon.”
I laughed. “It’s not funny, but you either laugh or cry, you know?”
Callie arched a perfect brow at me. “Or go into a murderous rampage to avenge the death of a loved one.”
I rolled my eyes.Deflect.“So how is Liam?”
The shy smile that crept across my friend’s face said it all. She was smitten and soaking up every bit of their betrothal. I was happy for them—elated even. They deserved it after what they had gone through.
I thought I once felt that way about my ex, but I couldn’t show him the darker parts of me. Not on a physically intimate level—he never wanted to try anything new—and definitely not on the emotional level. I always felt like there were things I couldn’t share, sides of me he’d judge me for, and I felt like he never really knew me at all.
He also couldn’t handle the competition of what got more attention, him or my job. And in the end, he couldn’t make me choose.
And by that point… I was already too far removed emotionally from our relationship.
Callie and I spent the next hour catching up, and I tried to focus on anything but the man who had slipped into the bar halfway through like a serpent in the night. His eyes found me instantly as he took a seat in a booth, directly in my line of sight. And rather than alert Callie to my dangerous habits, I insteadturned my attention to conversation that ebbed and flowed between laughter and solemnity.
I missed her, and felt guilty about all the time I’d spent avoiding her.
At the end of it, we hugged. I needed to make more of an effort with my best friend. I’d almost lost her—on more than one occasion—and rather than try to make up for lost time, I shirked my responsibilities as a friend because I was a coward. I refused to make the mistake of going this long without seeing her again.
She gave me a stern look—brows pulled low and lips in a flat line—and told me to be smart, as if she sensed I was about to confront a dangerous man upon her departure. I smacked her rear end playfully and waved as she left, watching as she climbed into an Uber. When the car was out of sight, I turned and made a beeline for the booth in the back corner, where Mr. Suit sat waiting.
It was the first time I’d seen him since that night a month ago, and the light in the bar illuminated him in stellar ways.
But rather than focus on his attractiveness, I reminded myself he’d been killing my vibe for the last half hour.
The smell of garlic fries hit me as I passed a large table, making my stomach grumble. I eyed the food and bit down on my lip, resisting the urge to go order something with that many calories.
Instead, I let that hunger morph into anger as I approached Mr. Suit. He was all angles, with defined cheekbones and a strong jaw dusted with facial hair, and eyes a devastatingly dark blue that watched my every move as I sat down across from him.
Eyes I most definitely didnotsee the color of a month ago.
My stomach flipped, but I let myself be more agitated than nervous as we stared each other down.
“Why are you following me?” I whisper-shouted, deciding to cave first.
He leaned forward on the table, his muscular arms flexing underneath his dress shirt. I could see the dark lines of tattoos peeking out from the cuffs rolled halfway up his forearms. Not like I noticed. Okay, I definitely noticed—and was distracted by it.
“Nice to see you again, too,Detective.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Can’t say the same. Answer the question.”
He debated for a moment. “To make sure you’re not a threat.”
My brows furrowed, a movement his eyes followed. “I don’t even know who you are. How could you be threatened by little ol’ me?” I asked sweetly.
His brows rose as he sat further back in his seat. “You don’t know who I am,” he repeated slowly.
“That’s what I just said. Try to keep up.” It came out harsher than I intended, but there was no taking it back now. I probably should be more careful with what I said to this man—he was packing heat, after all. It wasn’t exactly hidden on his hip since his suit jacket was on the table beside him. Plus, he exuded a power and confidence I only wished I had.