Page 169 of Detectives in Love

I press my ear to the door. I can hear Xavier saying something, but the wood’s too thick and the music outside is too loud to catch any of it. I feel a sense of desperation rising in my chest as I’m trying to understand at least something.

“Is everything alright?”

I turn to see the waitress a few steps away, watching me with a puzzled look.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “We’re leaving. Can I pay now?”

“Of course,” she says with a nod. “I’ll get the check.”

As soon as the waitress leaves, I turn back to the door and try the handle again—just as it swings open. Selena stands there, hand still on the handle, clearly enjoying herself. Xavier’s a step behind her, flushed, gaze distant.

For a second—stupid, irrational—I wonder if he kissed her. The thought flares up fast, hot, and I push it down just as quick. It doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t. Still, the sting lingers.

Xavier doesn’t say a word. He barely glances at me before brushing past and walking down the corridor. I start to follow, but Selena catches me by the elbow.

“If you’re interested,” she says, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, “the man who gave the kid the tracker was sent fromThe Chronicle.”

I blink, thrown. “The Chronicle?” For a second, I’m not even sure I heard her right. “You mean the newspaper?”

Selena nods.

But I’m already pulling my hand free and heading after Xavier, heart pounding, mind spinning.

Fred.

It has to be Fred.

That son of a bitch.

I rush through the rooms toward the exit—no sign of Xavier anywhere. As I pass through the main hall and push the door open, the cold air hits my face like a slap. I take a breath, trying to steady myself, to think through what any of this could possibly mean.

Then I see him.

Xavier’s a few feet away, arms folded across his chest, deep in thought. Frowning.

“Xavier,” I call out as I catch up to him.

He turns, and the shift in him is immediate. There’s a distance in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier—like a wall’s gone up. His jaw is tight. His whole posture closed off.

Whatever I meant to say slips right out of my mind. “Are you okay?” I ask, that creeping dread crawling up the back of my neck.

Xavier nods, watching me in silence.

“You were right,” I say. “It’s Fred. But why would he do this? He acted like he didn’t know you—like he had no idea the agency even existed, and—”

Suddenly, Xavier turns on his heel and walks off.

I freeze, thrown for a second, then hurry after him, the sense of déjà vu hitting hard.

“Xavier,” I call. “Where are you going?”

I catch him by the shoulder, and he turns to face me. His expression is tight with anger, but there’s something else underneath it—something I can’t quite read.

“Is this about what I said at the interview?” I ask, a cold weight settling in my chest.

“No,” Xavier says.

I frown. “Then what is it? Is this about Selena? What did she make you do for the information?”