Page 17

T here are seventeen days remaining. I presume now would be the time to seriously contemplate how I might kill the agent, but each time I sit down to plan or even consider my various options, the image of her bright blue eyes gives me pause.

They remind me so much of the sky…

“Wait. And this one is how much?” I’m careful not to touch when I point to the…pretty sure she called it a variegated fenestrated leaf.

Elena smirks, the barely there curve of her lips doing ridiculous things to my soul. “For this maturity, a thousand.”

“Holy shit.” I blow out a breath and take in the plant again. It’s pretty—big, wide fan-like leaves with splashes of white—and taller than me, but a grand for a house plant is astronomical.

She shrugs, tossing a pair of scratchy microfiber gloves to me. “Some people spend a fortune on trading cards, others, expensive bags. But the wisest of them, plants.”

“Those things are investments. They have a higher return. You also don’t have to worry about the upkeep and them dying on you.” I slip the gloves on, trying to imagine how I would feel after spending my right kidney for a damn houseplant only to have it shrivel up into a crispy brown twig the next week.

Elena tips her head indifferently. “All investments must be taken care of to a certain degree. Whether a protective sleeve for said card, or the purse routinely waxed and polished. Plants, on the other hand, give us something in return when we take care of it. They are proven to decrease stress, improve mood and air quality, and boost productivity. I doubt someone’s limited edition shoes with crumbling soles from nonuse can do that.”

“I see your point,” I agree, taking a bottle from her outstretched hand and spraying the leaves of a plant she’s named Larry. It looks a lot like a piece of swiss cheese, though admittedly, pretty cool. In fact, a lot of Elena’s plants are cool-looking. They’re unique and from my limited understanding, some are hella rare. Knowing how much time, dedication, and research she puts in to take care of them gives me an entirely different perspective of her. A softer one.

It’s strange, yet relieving, to see such an endearing side of her. It’s realizing she isn’t completely impenetrable and can feel for something else. Even though that something else is incapable of hurting her back. Smart of her, really. Bet she’s never done anything even remotely close to stupid in the name of love, or heartbreak, risking other people’s lives because of it…

“Additionally,” Elena snatches my attention as her eyes dip from the plant in front of her to me. There’s something so intense and sincere threaded in them that it causes goosebumps to spread over my arms and temporarily forget about the weight on my shoulders. “There’s a great satisfaction that comes with protecting and caring for something that would otherwise be dead without it.”

My lips part to respond but instead, the weight returns, this time heavier. Her words force my thoughts to rove over the past few days and how fucked the agency is right now, all because of me.

For so long I was gunning for one person at the expense of everything without a care in the world. I was willing to sacrifice it all just so I could come out on top and scream a big fuck you to everyone who told me it was pointless. And now, now that he’s being handed to me on a silver platter by ignoring another evil…There’s no triumph in it. No wonderful celebration or feelings of pride or elation. Instead, I feel like shit.

Like what I’ve actually been doing for the past two years is not only chasing my tail but being a childish brat who was so hell bent on not moving on that I inadvertently helped a different breed of asshole get even bigger.

Not only that, but on a more personal level, I was stopping myself from being able to develop any other relationship. I used him as an excuse to tell myself they all end the same and that there’s no point in even trying. To just have fun and not bother trying to see anyone else past what they show me.

Until her. This stunning woman in front of me who was the first person to ever make me even consider that maybe, just maybe I should move on. Become obsessed with healing instead of trying to feed the constant and insatiable hunger of needless revenge. To be seen, and in return try again.

Could it be the impact of a new budding relationship that everyone experiences? Sure. I’m not oblivious to that. But also, why the fuck not give it try? A real one. Without worrying about the future and instead focus on the here and now. Why not latch on to the powerful ass things she makes me feel and explore it? See where it leads, and stop digging holes that are getting harder to fill.

It’s because I believe this isn't just some side quest and have finally woken up from the sharp slap of my consciences that I’ve found myself in Elena’s shop, dusting the leaves of her plants with a concoction of neem oil and peppermint soap, loving every second I’m in her presence.

“So,” I start, moving from Larry to a section of smaller ferns. “What’s the most unique plant you have?”

Her brows tick together slightly. “They are all?—”

“Come on, Red. There’s got to be one that’s a little more interesting than the others.”

Elena rolls those pretty eyes of hers before finally nodding. “I have a few, actually. That one there by the door,” she points and I turn, eyeing a row of three standard-looking plants. The centers are splattered with a lighter green and freckles of white. “Those are dieffenbachias. Its leaf has a compound within it that can paralyze the vocal cords for weeks.”

My eyes widen. “Holy shit. Do people know that when they buy it?”

She lifts a shoulder. “If they read the care cards I leave inside their bags.”

“That’s wild that people can just buy a poisonous plant so readily. Especially because I’ve seen them at the grocery store.”

Elena huffs. “Half the things in the forest surrounding Noxus contain toxic plants. It’s their defense mechanism. People have simply decided that some are prettier than others and want them in their homes. Like those daffodils.” She nods to the flower wall. “I had to force the bulbs inside because of the strange winter we had and because of that, the blooms are toxic if ingested. The bulb itself can cause high blood pressure, irregular heartbeats and even death. Oh, and those philodendrons…”

I’m pretty sure my eyes begin to bulge out the more she talks, shock and awe flitting through me at both her knowledge and the fact houseplants can literally kill me.

“I also have a few rather poisonous flowers and herbs in the back that I don’t make available to the public. I keep them for a local college. Biology, herbalism, and even some doctoral students come and buy them.”

The smallest bell, somewhere distant and far, signals in my head. I’m not sure why, or what the hell it’s about, but there’s something there, just beyond where I can reach it. It oddly resembles one of the epiphanies I get after pouring over a file for a week and finally making a connection.

But right now, I can’t seem to grab on to it. Can’t even see it enough to formulate any real thought.

Spraying and wiping the last group of plants, I cock my head to the side, suddenly captured by a second, more prominent thought moving in.“What do studying doctors need with poisonous herbs?”

Elena shakes her head. “You’d be surprised.” She strips the gloves from her hand and turns the open sign at the front to closed . “Ready for the movie?”

I nod a little too enthusiastically, but don’t care. “Abso-fucking-lutley.”

There are two weeks left. Fourteen days. I should stop prolonging the inevitable and simply complete the task, ridding my hands of the entire situation.

And yet, when any opportunity presents itself, so does cause for delay.

I’ve checked my hair five times, rearranged the pillows on the couch seven, and changed which candle should be lit at least a dozen. I’m not an anxious person, and there’s never been a time I’ve been nervous for a date, but it seems like panic has infiltrated my bloodstream and is currently spreading so deep into my body, it’s embedded in my bone marrow.

The last hour of my life, I’ve been walking around my apartment, doing completely random shit, and have looked at my stove’s clock so many times that when I blink, the little green lines are still visible behind my eyelids.

It’s Elena’s massive shield, both around her emotions and facial expressions, that make her a hard read, and in turn has given me a huge dose of butterflies.

It could also totally be that I like her and don’t want to fuck this up, but admitting that, out loud, at least, would mean also acknowledging that I’m okay with the possibility of being hurt again. A feeling I’ve resisted for over two years and have been more than successful at avoiding.

But things are shifting now.

Knowing that Elena has likely the same type of protective barrier around her makes this leap a little less scary. A little less hopeless. That similarity between us, even though presented differently, has me wondering if more is possible. If those tiny glimpses she’s allowed me to see behind her fortress are an indicator she feels the same.

When I think about it, the vulnerability she’s shown me, I suddenly become terrified I could fuck that up.

Though it does absolutely nothing, I shake my hands loose before opening the cabinet above the fridge and grabbing my stashed bottle of gin. Without any decorum at all, I untwist the top and take a quick swig, revelling in the instant warmth that spreads through my limbs.

The placebo does its job almost immediately, calming my thoughts and releasing my muscles of the built up tension. Blowing out a long breath, I put the bottle back and finally choose the Teakwood candle. Just as soon as the flame is lit, a rasp of knuckles thud against my door.

My heart beat kicks up a notch, excitement and nerves threading through me.

“Coming,” I call, tossing the lighter down and skipping to the door. I don’t bother looking through the peephole and fling the door open to a mouthwatering Elena standing completely relaxed on the other side.

High-waisted black jeans hug her long legs, while a matching bralette style top contains supple breasts partially hidden by an olive leather jacket. My eyes linger for half a second before following the gold chain that rests against her collar bone to the face I dream about more than I want to admit. Full red lips, bedroom eyes under thick lashes, and a perfect ponytail with two loose tendrils coiling around her ears…I’m a fucking goner.

As if she knows she’s got me in her snare, one side of her lips tilt in the smallest grin, lighting up my chest with fireworks. “Hey, you.”

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip to keep my smile from being creepily massive and act before I talk myself out of it.

Stepping forward, I grip her free hand—only now noticing a plant in the other—and bring it to my lips.

My eyes stay connected with hers as I press a kiss against her knuckles. Her lashes lower before she tips her head back almost as though in challenge. The act, while so subtle and minute, makes my entire body tingle.

Despite not wanting to, I force myself to release her hand and step back, opening the door wider. “Hey, Red.”

Elena lifts the hanging pothos—I know it to be a silvery ann because of my lesson the other day at the shop—as she comes inside. “From our FaceTime last night, I noticed you were missing some fresh oxygen. I thought I’d rectify that with this. I recall you mentioning how much you liked it at the store.”

My cheeks warm as I close the front door behind her, accepting the plant. It’s full, already trailing over the side of the glossy black pot, the silver bits in the leaves a beautiful contrast to the soft green. “Thank you. I’ll make a macrame hanger and put it right over here by the back window.”

I walk to my patio door, setting the pot down on the TV stand.

“You macrame?”

I nod, grabbing a small bag I had hidden around the side of the stand. “One of my many talents. Or moments of hyper fixation. Tomato, tomato. Anyway, I actually got you something, too. Well, made it.”

Whirling around, I walk back to her and give her the bag, my pulse thumping hard. She dips a hand inside and pulls out the strange octopus-looking tool. Her brows furrow for a moment as she inspects it with that sharp gaze of hers before glancing back at me. “Thank you?”

I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. Elena perplexed has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “It’s a stem support tool. You were complaining about that monstera leaning, so I 3D printed it. Hopefully, it helps.”

Elena’s eyes flicker with something I can’t quite read, but the genuine full smile that takes over her mouth is something that will be etched in my memory like a cat’s prints through wet concrete.

Her entire face lights up, two small creases appearing in the corner of her glittering mossy eyes. “This is incredibly thoughtful, Jessica. Thank you.”

My name on her lips is nothing short of euphoria. “It’s nothing, just another fixation. Bought the damn thing because I wanted to make some of those crystal dragons for my neighbor’s kid who always looks so sad. Needless to say, it’s been sitting in my closet. I’m just glad it could be of use again.”

She playfully rolls her eyes before placing the tool back in the bag and setting it down on the kitchen counter. She turns to me and takes both of my hands in hers. “While I don’t like for you to discredit your kindness, I appreciate you thinking of me. It means a lot. Truly”

My legs turn to jelly as I let her words sink into me, and I into her gaze. I’m stuck in place, without a care in the world, and just like anytime I’m with her, nothing else really matters.

Haven’t since the moment I laid eyes on her. Not when we had coffee, and I was supposed to be headed back to work. Not when we stayed awake until three in the morning on the phone solving a crossword together when we both had to be up in a few hours. Not when we were at the movies sharing a tin of popcorn when I swore I didn’t want any.

And most certainly not now when we’re supposed to be cooking dinner instead of staring at each other.

Which is why this time, there is nothing in the world that can stop me. Not a phone call, not nerves, not a fucking flying saucer crashing into my living room.

I lean in a few inches, my eyes searching hers for the hint of approval. When it’s given in a ghost of her smirk, I close the gap between us.

Her lips are soft, molding to mine with such precision, no one could convince me they weren’t made to fit together. And God, do they fit.

For a moment, nothing more than a second or two, we stay like this, lips touching with neither of us moving, a million thoughts, questions and doubts ripping through my mind faster than I can even process them.

But then Elena sighs.

It’s soft, almost indecipherable, but I hear it, and it sounds as if she’s anticipated this moment—no, waited for this moment as long as I have, and in that sigh, everything, everything , fades to nothing, leaving only her and I.

My hands slip to her either side of her face as I kiss her again, this time harder, and when she relaxes into me, I fucking lose it.

Fire and ice consume my entire body, heaven where we touch and pure hell where we don’t, and suddenly—almost scarily—I can’t get close enough. Our mouths move in tandem, hungry and desperate for the other as if we’ve both done this a million times over while also having waited our entire life for it.

Pushing closer, Elena’s hands find my waist, her fingers gliding beneath the hem of my shirt and pressing into my skin as she grips me firmly in place. I can’t hold back the small groan that slips free as she takes control, and melt against her, my own hands slipping around her neck.

My mind swirls as she deepens the kiss further, her tongue gliding along the bottom of my lip, silently demanding I open for her. I do without hesitation, allowing her to explore me however she deems, and holy shittttt does she explore.

Her tongue isn’t tentative or shy, nor is it wild and chaotic. No. It’s controlled. It’s demanding. And with every little lash and added nip of her teeth, I wish time would cease to exist and I could spend eternity locked like this.

Heart pounding and skin burning, I let her consume me until I’m dizzy, and when she finally withdraws, I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out.

“Wow.” My voice barely more than a whisper as I drop my hands, noticing how my fingertips tingle from the separation.

The smile that claims her lips is slow and gradual. How the hell is her lipstick still flawless? “Wow, indeed, Agent.”

It takes entirely too long for my pulse to regulate to a pace that doesn’t have me holding on to the nearby counter for dear life, and even longer to move more than a few inches away from her.

Elena seemingly feels the same because as her eyes scan my face, a pleased look consumes hers. I remain speechless, trying my hardest not to attack her with my mouth again, only this time with the intent of kissing her everywhere.

“So, what are we baking?” She finally says after another once over, reaching up and lightly tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Her index finger lingers along the shell, igniting a fire low in my stomach.

“I-I found a sourdough pizza recipe I thought we could try.” My voice cracks as if I haven’t used it in a year. I have to clear it twice before motioning to the set up behind me, still not backing away. “Have lots of toppings all ready to go.”

Elena smirks, as if not even slightly moved after stealing my entire soul through her tongue. “Is the sourdough another fixation?”

This coaxes a light giggle from me that hits the small coil of hair by her ear. “You know, I think this is the only thing in my life that isn’t.”

Her brows tick together as she peers deeper into my eyes, trying to find the answer without asking. But before she can, I answer the unasked question, finally putting a few inches between us.

“My mom made a loaf on Sundays, and in between, every discard recipe you could possibly think of.” The back of my throat gets that tickle it always does when I talk about her, but I manage to grin at Elena as I say the next part. “As weird as it sounds, that little jar of sourdough came from hers and now feels as though it carries a part of her.”

Elena’s face takes on a softer demeanor, her shoulders relaxing as an empathic smile curves her lips. Lips I very much want to kiss again. “I know precisely what you mean.” She tips her head to the TV stand behind me. “That pothos was a cutting from one of my mother’s oldest plants.”

The discomfort in my throat morphs to a sharp burn behind my eyes, my heart somehow growing a whole freaking size.

This is what I was talking about. This is what shows me that for all that Elena is on the surface, she is ten million times more beneath it. She is caring, observant, endearing, strong and so, so, so many other things. She is…everything.

And it makes me realize that all my worries and fears about being hurt don’t matter. Not really. Not when it’s so clear we carry similar burdens.

As scary as this may seem and while I’m not sure where this thing is going to lead, I know I want her.

I want her in every single way that matters. I want to experience more of what she’s given me snippets of, and so much more of what’s behind the thick curtains.

How I’ll make that happen, I have no fucking clue, but I can start with dinner.

I shouldn’t have let her kiss me. Even I knew that was cruel. And with only ten days left, I need to act now before I allow her to do anything else. Like make me question if I can even do this.

Because if I answer that question honestly, it would mean my death.

Elena has completely taken over the portion of my mind where anger once lived. She curled it in her perfectly manicured fist and squeezed the life out of it before throwing it into the void, and replacing it with herself.

Incredibly unhealthy, I’m well aware, but fuck, this feeling of freedom, of pining and desire, is so overwhelmingly amazing, I can’t find it in me to care. Everything with her is so unhurried, which makes it even sweeter. There’s no rush to do anything. No urgency.

Every touch, every glance, every conversation, it’s as though time slows and each moment is that much more incredible. More satisfying .

And not to jump the gun or anything, but I want this to last. Like genuinely. I don’t want the quick high that comes from one night stands, or the guilt from ghosting people who can’t hold my interest. Surface level conversations, meaningless connections, and fake laughter have fed my quick endorphin fix for so long that I forgot there was anything else—anything more—until Elena.

Every earned smile feels like such a fucking accomplishment, I’m giddy hours after. Every minor detail she shares about her or her life feels like I’ve cracked the code on the world’s most encrypted file.

She’s made me realize there is beauty in delayed gratification.

Fulfillment in anticipated moments.

Pleasure in longing…

“Ready?” Jenna slumps against my desk, stealing my attention. “I’ve had the worst fucking day.”

I nod, clicking send on an email before logging out. Glancing at the time, I realize I’ve had this email written for an hour before getting lost in thought about Elena, so I welcome the distraction. “What happened?”

Jenna shrugs, tugging her hair from her bun. Her onyx locks fall haphazardly over her shoulder, the deep crease in the middle causes it to flair out in different directions. “Tom’s being an ass. The cops I got called on a case for were also being assholes, and I broke my freaking middle fingernail.”

“Damn, the nail is definitely the worst part. What case did they call you for?” Being as I’m only ever contacted for profiles, or the fact that, up until a few weeks ago, I was knuckles deep in my Alexi addiction, I don’t really know what goes on outside my bubble.

“Some white collar shit. It was open and closed but I think the local department was nervous about retaliation. So they called us to pool resources.” She pushes out a big sigh and glances at my dark computer screen. “They still got you on the second killer?”

I grab my bag from my bottom drawer and stand, pushing in my chair. “Yeah, but I’ve already worked up a good profile. Now me and Fikes are looking deeper into cases. Seeing if there’s anything that was missed.”

Which, if I’m honest, knowing the unsub is a woman—if the goon can be believed—has complicated things. I’m well aware serial killers can be women, but the cuts on the bodies and methodology of the kills are clean and concise, with no signs of hesitation or emotional slip ups—things not often found in women serial killers.

Plus, the majority of the victims were over two hundred pounds. She’d have to be strong enough to carry them to the drop off location. Which, don’t get me wrong, is very possible, especially after watching Elena haul those heavy ass bags of compost like a newborn baby, but it is less likely that the unsub wouldn’t struggle. And there are no signs of that. No postmortem marks or bruising from victims being dropped.

Also, there’ve been no eye witnesses that have seen anyone carry anything down to the docks. Nothing. Nada. Which is already suspicious as shit considering all the bodies that have been found on that river. Part of that is likely because the community doesn’t mind the type of people who are being dumped, which is the key to how Fikes and I have worked up a profile.

The unsub—whether male or female—is likely anywhere between twenty-five to forty with a possible background in law enforcement, military service, private security, or even part of criminal organizations. The pattern, both the methods of killing and all victims being male with a criminal record, suggests the killer is mission oriented. Perhaps driven by either a father complex, a need to correct the justice system’s shortcomings, a self-appointed vigilante, or someone hired as a contracted killer.

If they’re for hire, it would explain a female’s ability to drop bodies—maybe she kills, and someone else cleans—but with nearly all the men having connections with the cartel, it makes it less likely. The cartel has no problem killing their own who make a mistake. Hell, they make a show of it, so it serves as a lesson to other members who toe the line. But, at the same time, I don’t think there’s a singular soul who would put out so many hits on the cartel’s guys. No one who is sane at least.

Alexi.

The voice I’ve shoved into the deepest corner of my brain whispers and I wince. Now, that, I could believe. But by doing so would mean I’m allowing myself to be dragged back into the Babin hole I’m working incredibly hard to dig myself out of.

So instead of making those connections in writing, I simply send the profile with what I know. The facts, completely unstained with my opinions.

And the most pungent facts are that the unsub is highly intelligent, able to control their emotions, and is incredibly calculating. They likely have antisocial personality disorder and are capable of a professional detachment that allows them to compartmentalize their crimes while living a perfectly normal life.

It’s up to the commissioner and my uncle how they want to proceed or what connections they want to make.

It’s not my problem.

At least, that’s what I remind myself as I follow Jenna to the Four, then again later, when I’m two seconds away from pouring over the cases another time, and once more when I have to call Elena to distract myself from my old obsession.

Guess it’s not as easy to go cold turkey as I thought.

A week. Seven days. Today. I’ll end the charade this afternoon and release myself of the hold the agent’s managed to attain on me. I must. I’ve let this go on for long enough.

“We’re almost there,” I promise, trying my hardest to conceal the fatigue in my voice. Before today, I would have considered myself relatively in shape, especially with my aerobatics lessons, but holy shit, this hill is really putting my annual bureau stress test to shame.

“I believe you told me that almost a mile ago, Agent.” The smile in her voice makes my chest light. “Are you doing alright? I wish you would allow me to carry something.”

“Absolutely not, Red.” Re-adjusting the sack digging into my shoulder, I straighten, throwing her a smile over my shoulder. “I’m doing wonderful . The sun is shining, the breeze is cool, I’ve got the most stunning woman next to me, and not a?—”

You know how in movies, when the protagonist is facing death, they end up watching their entire life play out? Or when someone is having an out-of-body experience during a traumatic event and stares from above as paramedics pull them from a crash? Well, I’m experiencing both phenomena as my ass starts rolling down the hill we just spent five-ever climbing, trying my best not to flail around like a fool while also attempting to somehow stop myself.

My name is a cry on Elena’s lips and if my tumble wasn’t abruptly halted by a nearby brush that I’m sure has claimed lives before with its prickly-as-shit branches, I’d appreciate the worry staining every syllable.

“Fuuuuuck.” I groan, leaning to the side in an attempt to take weight off the sack containing all our likely destroyed food, mentally cataloging the dozen places pain throbs in my body.

“Are you alright?” Elena calls, her voice clearer as she nears the scene of my dwindling pride and increasing embarrassment.

“Agent isn’t here right now. You are currently seeing an apparition. Please come back at a later time.”

Her laugh is a spicy balm to both my physical pain and deflated ego. “Don’t beat yourself up. That was a rather large hole you tripped over. In fact, it was almost a Jack and Jill situation. Here, let me help you up.”

Peeling one eye open, I find the sun beaming around Elena, making her glow like an angel. Her smile is empathic, though the corners are turned in a way that says she also finds this a tad funny. One hand is outstretched, while the other grips onto the old school basket I’d brought along that must have slipped from my grasp. The side is dripping red, which tells me the strawberry shortcake is definitely off our lunch menu.

Disappointment and annoyance slithers through me, slimy and slow. I take her hand and wince when I rise, little shots of pain ricocheting around the places I’m sure the branches punctured. “I’m so sorry.”

Her eyebrows draw together, creating the cutest little v. “For what?”

I huff, hating I have to release her hand to brush myself off. Sure enough, little beads of blood are beginning to form in three different places along my arms and there’s a nice scrape down my left shin. “Ruining lunch.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, Agent. We’re still together.” Elena’s sharp gaze softens. “However, may I suggest setting up here so I can take a look at you?”

Smirking, I try to make light of the genuine pain filtering through the drop of adrenaline. “Oh, you can look at me anywhere, Red. Here, at the top. I can crawl back in the bushes if you’re into it.”

“You are?—”

“Beautiful, talented, cunning, a mess?”

Her smile widens as she leads me to a soft, flat and much safer part of the mini mountain. “All of those things. But mostly…human.”

“Or am I?” I joke, glancing around at the spot she’s picked out, double-checking for any dubious-looking terrain. “You haven’t seen me in water yet. Or during a full moon.”

Elena simply rolls her eyes, and despite my refusal and insistence that I can do it, digs inside the sack and pulls out the blanket, setting it down and then helping me onto it. Once she slides the backpack off my rigid shoulders, she instructs me to lean back on my elbows, only one of which has a smattering of red from trying to catch myself.

She takes her time inspecting me, her hands going over every square inch of my exposed skin, her eyes surveying as though she’s a surgeon mid-operation. Even with pain pulsing through me, all I can focus on is how not only is she incredibly hot, but how it’s been a long time, too damn long actually, since someone showed interest in caring for me.

Just as I think it, Elena pulls out a small first aid kit in her crossbody purse. “I’m limited on supplies, but I do have a few alcohol swabs and bandages. It should be enough to get you patched up and us back to the car.”

My heart leaps into my throat. “But lunch.”

“Is spilled amongst your bag and the hill. Additionally, it’s not as imperative as getting you cleaned up so you don’t get any infections.”

“It’s just a couple scrapes,” I protest. “Besides, it’s not like I fell into poison ivy.”

The corner of Elena’s eye glimmers with something I can’t decipher before she rolls them, clearly sensing I’m not abandoning this date without a fight. “Have you always been so stubborn?”

I smirk, victory shining in my chest. “I like to think of it as strong willed.”

Elena groans and I don’t stop myself from leaning toward her and brushing my lips against hers.

Her lips are as soft as I remember, melding to mine just as they had that night. It causes my nerves to fray, and my pulse to rack up, the intense need to pepper kisses all over her, suddenly consuming me.

So I do. I reach up, ignoring the pull of my aching tight muscles and grab either side of her face. One, two, three, four. I kiss her over and over until I hear an intoxicating sound that I know will follow me to the end of time; Elena giggles. Like truly. It’s light and carefree and void of anything but pure happiness. Of joy.

Needing to see what the sound looks like, I force my mouth away from her and gaze at her stunning face. It’s completely alight with that beautiful noise, her perfect smile on full display, the smallest lines creasing at the corner of her eyes. My heart flutters at the sight, an inexplicable amount of endorphins flooding through my system. Perhaps that’s why I say it. Or maybe it’s an excuse. Either way, my head tilts and a soft grin pulls against my lips.

“I adore you.”

Elena blinks once, then again as if the words are filtering in and processing one by one. For a second I wonder if I should have kept the comment to myself, but when her smile takes on a softer curve, I realize that even though she may not feel as much for me, I want her to know how much I like her. No, I need her to know.

I’m well aware I have always worn my heart on my sleeve and fall too hard, too fast, but this is different. I’m not infatuated with her. I’m not love sick or head over heels. This is something entirely different. It’s happiness. It’s contentment. It’s fulfillment.

Besides, if there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s letting people know how you feel because the opportunity might not be there tomorrow.

Releasing Elena’s face, I press a soft kiss on her nose before leaning back on the blanket. My elbow screams at the pressure, but I still very much refuse to end our date over my tumble.

“You,” she starts, adjusting her body and mirroring my posture, “make me feel things I most certainly shouldn’t.”

This gets a huff out of me. “Yeah, that’s on brand. Question is, is the emotion giddiness, annoyance, or pure unbridled lust?”

Elena graces me with her signature bedroom eyes. “One of those. Though I won’t tell you which.”

Groaning, I let my head fall back. “Such a tease, Red.”

“Oh, Agent. You haven’t the slightest idea what a tease would feel like coming from me.”

My core contracts while she simply smirks, winking one glittering green eye.

It’s then I know without a shadow of a doubt…

This woman will be the absolute death of me.

I could lie and say the only reason I haven’t killed her is because of my predisposed morals. The required stipulations that must be in place before I guiltlessly send someone to Hell. But even I can admit the agent has captured a piece of me no one has ever even managed to touch. She has exposed me to a part of myself I wasn’t aware I still possessed. A part long dead and gone, buried deep in a garden behind a house with blue shutters.

I have three days to decide who dies. Me or her. The one who deserves it, or the woman with blue eyes that match the very shutters I despise.

My heart is pounding out of my fucking chest, and twice I’ve checked my smart watch to see if I’m in Afib.

I’ve been to Elena’s shop more in the past few weeks than I’ve been to The Four in a month, but not once has she invited me to her apartment upstairs. Hell, up until today, it’s just been another mystery locked behind a vault I thought I’d never find the keys to. Or rather, she wouldn’t allow me to locate. But now, I’m standing at the entrance to her shop with my pulse pounding so loudly in my ears, I almost don’t even hear her greeting as she approaches the door.

As always, she looks spectacular, her red waves cascading over her shoulders and framing breasts contained in a black thin strapped dress hugging her in all the right places. She opens the door and grins, her face lighting up in a way only hers can, as she leans forward to hug me.

“Hey, Red.” I press a quick kiss to her lips, loving how natural it feels. “How was your day?”

One of her brows hitch up before she hooks a finger under my chin, drawing me back to her. Her gaze is low and sultry, completely melting the trepidation that was filling me moments ago. She presses her mouth to mine in a slow, deliberate motion, causing goosebumps to raise all along my skin. Once, twice. Both incredibly sensual and brain-foggingly perfect.

“You’ll find I’m not a fan of swift, Agent.” Her voice is silk as she releases me and turns to lock the door behind me. Then, before I can gather myself enough to respond, she slips her hand in mine and leads me to a narrow staircase at the back of the shop. “Watch your step.”

I hate when she releases me, but immediately forget my displeasure as she saunters up the stairs. Her hips twist in the smallest motion, but it’s more than enough to cause her skirt to sway in the back, exposing more of those tan thighs. My mouth waters at the shape of her, those curves I dream of just inches away.

A stroke of lightning extends through my limbs as I follow behind, my eyes tracing every part of her I want to explore with my tongue while I somehow trap a moan in my throat. It isn’t until we reach the landing that I manage a breath.

It takes a second, and Elena’s ass moving from my line of sight as she steps into her apartment that I take in the surroundings I’ve only ever seen glimpses of on FaceTime. Brick walls, dark wood, and plenty of greenery decorate the immaculately clean space, and it is exactly what I’d expect Elenas’s home to look like. The earthy smell that I’ve come to love fills my lungs and I realize I could literally drown in it without a care in the world.

“This is beautiful.” I tell her as I follow her to the quaint kitchen where two reusable cotton bags rest on the counter.

“Thank you. It was most certainly a labor of love.”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t in vain. And this view. Gah , I bet the rain puts you right to sleep.” My eyes flit to the skylight above. No more than three feet across, it showcases a gorgeous bubble gum pink sky painted with orange streaks as the sun sets, a few clouds hanging overhead, each oddly shaped. “I never understood how people can make things out of clouds. They all kind of look like a pile of peanuts to me.”

“You remind me of a peanut.”

My face snaps to Elena, who is withdrawing paints from one of the bags like she didn’t just casually refer to me as a salty snack. “What?”

Her smirk is lopsided and even though I’m a little dumbfounded, it’s still endearing. “A peanut, Agent. You share similarities.”

My lips part twice as I watch her take out a pack of small brushes and two ceramic pots. I can’t tell if she’s making a joke—which isn’t really in her character—or if she’s dead ass serious. After another stretch of silence as she packs away the bags and starts squirting little dollops of paint out on a silver tray, I finally speak. “Would you care to enlighten me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that something makes you think of me, but couldn’t it be…I don’t know, something a little sexier? Funnier maybe?”

Elena’s emerald eyes flash to mine, and for a long moment, she simply examines me. Her gaze floats over my features as though she’s considering all the ways I remind her of a damn nut. And I sit there, like actually sit still, letting her complete a full once over before she looks away, and busies herself with more paint.

For a second, I think she’s not going to answer me, but when she finally speaks, her voice is soft, and not at all in the confident tone I’m used to.

“Sometimes, after spending time in the garden, my mother and I used to lay in the clover and watch the clouds drift by. She always said I was good at picking out shapes she couldn’t see. They all merely looked like shapeless blobs to her until I pointed one out and assigned it a name. In retrospect, I suspect it was likely the horrid cards she’d been handed in life that stole her ability to see things for anything other than what they were. But not me. I hadn’t yet realized what I was experiencing wasn’t normal, so my vision was tinted from rose-colored glasses, and it made her so happy.”

Elena finishes pouring the remaining paints before picking up the small trays and leading me over to the small iron bistro table. I grab the ceramic pots and brushes before joining her, too scared to speak in fear she’ll stop talking. After being together for a month and talking as much as we do, she has never given me so much as a glimpse into life before adulthood. So I remain as quiet as possible, absorbing everything like a sponge.

“And doing that with her, laying there and getting her to see things for more than what they were and watching her light up when the images took shape became my favorite things to do. It’s all I wanted to do. Make her happy. Then, after her death—her murder—things changed. The sky was no longer full of animals and flowers and miscellaneous shapes.” Elena’s face sobers as we sit and she picks up a thin brush. She twirls it between her fingers while her gaze fixates to the pot in front of her. She’s lost in a place so far from me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and pull her back. But as soon as my heart squeezes so much it radiates in my chest, she clears her throat.

“They were simply blobs. Shapeless, meaningless clouds that were just that. Evaporated water, collecting to condensate.”

I swallow around the lump suddenly in my throat, my eyes burning around the edge as she continues.

“The first time I saw a shape again was the day after I saw you at the bar. I was watering the plants outside, and a cloud caught my eye. It wasn’t any different from the ones around it, but something made me look again. Examine it a moment longer. That’s when I saw it. A peanut. Perfectly curved and rounded at the edges. I stared at it for as long as it was in the sky, and when it passed, I searched for another. Any that resembled anything. See if it was a fluke or if something had changed. But I didn’t find one. Not until the afternoon you showed up in my shop. That time it was a sleeping cat. And then the next time I saw you, there was something else. And the next, and the next. You have unexpectedly and irrevocably changed something in me. Something so deeply seated that I couldn’t possibly guess what it is. All I know is that for the first time in a very long time, Agent, is that I can see again.”

My lips part to speak but close when she reaches across the table and brushes a thumb over my cheek, sweeping away a tear that slipped free.

“So, yes, while it may be odd or unorthodox, or the opposite of sexy, you remind me of a peanut. Of joy lost in a time and place I’d never think I’d reach again.”

Her smile is a mix of sad and joyful, and there is something in the fucking depth of my stomach that says this moment is so much more substantial than what I can possiblygrasp. And as though she can sense it, Elena leans over the small table and presses her lips against mine in a tender kiss. When she withdraws, she dips her paintbrush into the red, and begins to freehand a strawberry on the vase, her confident, nearly smug, demeanor back in place.

“Now, paint your vase, peanut.”

I have until tomorrow.

May my death be quick, because what Jessica is doing, is killing me slowly.