Page 9

E lena’s long lashes drift closed for a beat as she reclines in her chair. When they peel back open, the pretty green illuminates with a new sense of amusement. “And what is it you’d like to know?”

Well, for starters, if the gurgling in my stomach is from indigestion or butterflies. Then? Everything.

I have so many questions, and even more musings. Usually, I’d have no problem spitting them all out at once, but in fear of scaring her off with how jumbled my mind is, I manage to keep it to one. “Why do I sense a conversation with you will be like one of those choose-your-own-ending Goosebumps books?”

Her head tilts. “Isn’t that what any conversation is?”

“Not with such high stakes.” I mean, I guess some of them ended up with the reader sucked into a gutter, devoured by wolves, or falling to their death over a cliff. But this seems a lot more substantial. More Real.

She arches a questioning brow. “Do I make you nervous, Agent?”

I try not to think of Austin Powers when he asked if he made you horny. Though, my answer would be the same regardless. “A little.”

Her expression remains impassive. “Why?”

I release out a soft huff, dropping my hands from beneath my chin. “Because I’m usually pretty good at reading people—it’s literally my job—but you…well, it’s like you’re written in an entirely different language.”

Elena’s eyes flash as Mrs. Ward carries over our order. “Then perhaps it’s time to consider becoming bilingual.”

This makes me laugh, and the tight muscles in my neck seem to melt a fraction. She thanks Mrs. Ward and takes a tentative sip of her coffee. It causes her shoulders to drop an inch and a subtle sigh to release from her lips. Simultaneously, my thoughts wander off to imagine if I could cause her to have the same reaction.

Ha! Who am I kidding? I know I could. My tongue between those toned thighs would bring her to fucking tears. But that happening without getting my head ripped off is another question entirely.

Lightning tingles up my spine at the thought, and my thighs clench involuntarily. I just met this woman, and already I’m a mess.

In an attempt to distract my thoughts, I take a drink of my coffee. The liquid is the perfect temperature, just before scalding, and sears down my throat and through my limbs with overwhelming notes of flavor.

“Good, isn’t it?” Elena asks from behind her cardboard cup, her tone playful.

I nod. “Very. A hell of a lot better than what we have in the pot back at the office.”

Elena huffs. “You know, you don’t strike me as a typical federal agent.”

Now it’s my turn to lift a brow. “No? And what stereotype do I not fall into?”

“Calm, cool, and collected,” she says plainly, taking a long sip. “Don’t mistake it for an insult, but I find you to be rather eccentric, thus far.”

A genuine laugh bubbles out of me. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Then tell me, how did you end up with that badge clipped to your chest?”

I shift in my seat, tearing off a small piece of the croissant. It’s soft, flaking under my fingers as I pull it apart. Like the coffee, it’s delicious, and I wonder how the hell this place isn’t bursting at the seams with a crowd. My eyes flit to the woman standing behind the counter. She’s pretending to be busy wiping the counter, but it’s clear her ears are methodically angled in our direction.

Elena follows my gaze before setting down her cup. “She’s likely surprised I’m here with someone.”

“Oh, am I the first?” I probe, trying not to sound too excited as I take another bite of bread. “I’m honored.”

“You are, and you should be.” Elena’s smooth, dusky voice is free of a lie and my eyes flash to hers. “I’m not what people would consider a social person.”

My mouth pops open twice with a response, but it’s cut off by the vibration of my phone against my hip. It’s the timer I set so I could get back before anyone would notice. But when I look at Elena, I can’t bring myself to cut our impromptu date short.

What’s a few more minutes?

I slip my hand in my pocket and snooze the alarm. “I assumed you were introverted considering you left the bar when I suggested a game of pool.”

She shrugs halfheartedly. “My social meter had run dry, I’m afraid. It was unfortunate that I left not knowing if I’d see you again, though.”

My heart damn near does a somersault. “Same. Guess fate had other plans.”

Other plans being to investigate what’s supposed to be where your shop is.

As if I’d been wandering around a dark room, distracted by the glowing green flicker of light, the overhead fluorescents violently flood the space.

Fuck . I should really start taking my damn prescription. Or at least a vitamin or fish oil. Something .

Reminded of why I’m here in the first place, I readjust in my seat and clear my throat. “Um, completely random, but have you heard of a place called Lexton Glass?”

Elena’s head cocks to the side for a moment, her brows drawing in slightly as she considers my question. But before she can answer, Mrs. Ward’s voice floats from behind the counter. “Yes, they are a little deeper in Noxus. Same street, but on the East end.”

“Oh, yes.” Elena nods as though something clicks. “I’ve only had a few people wrongly end up at the store looking for them over the years. I’ve asked them to fix it on the website but I guess they still haven’t.” Her smile returns. “Looking to get glass blown, Agent?”

Relieved the place actually exists, I cast a playful net out, not able to tell her my true intentions. “Perhaps. Would you care to join me?”

Elena’s face softens. “I thought you said we would go hiking?”

I release a huff of laughter. “We could go to the top of Mount Everest if that’s what you want.”

“What about the moon?” she muses, her smile taking on a more genuine tilt. My eyes rack over it and commit the sight to memory. “Would you take me?”

“I would bring it to your front door.” I lean forward and try not to suck in a surprised breath when she mirrors me, meeting me head on. Our surroundings fade to nothing, and the only thing I can focus on is the incredibly intoxicating woman in front of me.

“But what about the adventure of the journey? It means nothing if you simply drop it at my doorstep.”

I scoff, only slightly baffled. “I should have known that.”

She picks up her cup to take another drink, her lids suddenly low. “Yes, you should have.”

Her voice is playful, lined with a dare to challenge her, and I eat that shit up. Hell, I want to eat her up. I slip my phone from my pocket and slide it across the table. “So how about we not leave our next encounter to chance?”

Elena’s eyes drop to my phone, and I don’t miss the small muscle in her jaw that ticks. She’s fighting a smile, and I’m not sure if I love that I can invoke a reaction from her, or hate that she feels the need to conceal it.

“Is there a reason you like to hide your emotions?”

She wraps a delicate hand around my phone and I notice her nail beds are clean with no dirt in sight, but a few bits of polish are chipped. For some reason, that seems odd. I would assume she’s the type to completely redo a messed up manicure the day it isn’t perfect. “I’ve never found being easy to read an intelligent trait. Especially in Noxus.”

“So you must think I’m pretty damn stupid.” I wear my emotions as plainly on my face as a cartoon character. Not a thought flies through my mind without it showing. It’s gotten me in trouble on more than a few occasions.

“Surprisingly, no.” She lifts a shoulder. “Actually, it’s rather intriguing, interesting, even, that you’re so forthright with people.”

I tilt my head comically as I watch her fingers float across the screen of my phone. “So I interest you?”

Elena pauses, the smallest smirk breaking through her hold. “How can someone like you not?”

Her words satisfy something so deep in my core, my nerves thrum with a shot of dopamine. I prop my chin on my palm again and bat my lashes playfully. “True.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes before finally tapping on the small screen and saving her number. When she hands it back to me, a smile spreads over my lips. “Elena Baudelaire. So professional.” I click and edit the name with one I deem more appropriate. As I slip the phone back into my pocket, my snoozed alarm comes back from the dead and reminds me yet again, my time is up, but for real this time.

I internally curse my uncle for the babysitter he’s saddled me with and sigh. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go.”

Elena nods once and tips her cup toward me. “As do I.”

We stand in unison, the atmosphere now suffocating as we say a goodbye to Mrs. Ward and I lead Elena back outside and to her shop. I linger by her door longer than I should before opening it for her.

She holds out her hand. “Thank you again. This was…surprisingly pleasant.”

Not thinking twice about it, I slip her soft hand in mine and bring it to my lips. My eyes stay connected with the sweet hues of hers, loving when her pupils expand just a fraction as I press a light kiss on her knuckles. When I release her, there’s a void in my chest. “That it was.”

“Until next time.” Elena swallows and nods before turning to disappear inside, leaving me with my heart in my throat and a pulse between my thighs.

* * *

My eyes scan over the screen one more time, double-checking I wrote the address down correctly this time. I also glance at the street view map and note the surroundings.

Normally, I would be irritated that I wasted a trip because someone forgot to update their address online, but thankfully, it turned into a happy little accident. One that I probably used up all my good karmic energy to receive. But I’m not complaining in the slightest.

My heart is still thrumming thinking about Elena and how her number is currently nestled in my phone. Twice, I’ve glanced at the black screen and have had to talk myself out of shooting her a quick text. I’m definitely not the type who holds back or plays it cool, but with her, I’m trying to do things a little different. Don’t ask me why, though, because I have no fucking clue. I just know this woman has me by the metaphorical throat, and I love it.

“How was your lunch?” I jerk upright from the sudden deep rumble behind me I recognize as my trainee.

I twirl around in my chair and beam up at him, bracing both hands on the armrest beside me to lift and sit criss-cross. Even without accomplishing any life-changing career breakthrough, my mood is equivalent to being on cloud nine. “Delightful, actually. Yours?”

His head tilts, and it’s only now I’m realizing how big it is. How it isn’t quite proportionate to the rest of his body. Kind of like a bobble head but not as noticeable. “Eventful.”

“Oh?”

Fikes nods. “Agent James stopped by looking for you, asked how everything was going. Then, was oddly curious about the college I went to. Somehow we ended up talking about my family, but were interrupted when he got a call about a body being discovered in the Savannah River.”

My eyes nearly bulge past what’s comfortable, curiosity over my uncle’s inquisition dissolving under the latter news. “Like a body? Or a body-body?”

One of his dark brows lifts. “If you mean, did we get notified because it aligns with the deaths this office is attempting to connect to one suspect? Then yes.”

I nearly jump out of my chair, ignoring the sharp pull of my hamstring from the quick movement. “Why didn’t you start with that, Fikes? Let’s go.”

Yanking my jacket from where I discarded it on my desk, I throw my arms through it and grab my bag. When I take a step past him, though, he stops me with his next string of words. “Well, the thing is, it’s not exactly like the others. This one is different.”

“How so?” I shift to look at him, but he swivels and begins walking forward, forcing me to follow.

“While I was waiting for you to get back, I took the liberty of combing over the files of each victim that’s been found in the Savannah over the past twenty years. At first, I saw what everyone else had been seeing. A pattern, a connection, all of them displaying similar CODs and pre-mortem trauma—” he winces, though it feels strangely forced. “Or torture. But then I went through some of the more recent ones that had been discarded as random homicides linked to gang or cartel members.”

My nerves are on fire with the slow drawl of his voice. And much like a Jack-in-the-box, I’m literally on edge for when he’ll pop and get to the damn point. “And?”

“Well, in the past twelve years, if the cause of death and key characteristics didn’t align with that of what our singular suspect is known for—cigarette burn holes, missing appendages, the sliced cheeks—it was put into a different file. But because everyone is working so hard to connect them to a serial killer?—”

“Or Babin,” I interject, annoyance pricking my nerves that he’s not just saying it’s me who is connecting the murders to one person.

“They aren’t focusing on the random homicides,” he continues. “But the thing is, they also aren’t random. They, too, have very specific connections. Prominent patterns, in fact, and I’m honestly surprised no one noticed before now.”

I bite my tongue from venting to this poor kid about how rules, laws, and general laziness keeps a lot around here unnoticed, along with ignoring how his statement feels like a slug to my abilities. “So, what are you saying?”

He looks at me with a grim expression, one that I just know in my gut is about to complicate my life even more. “It’s in my humble opinion that there are two people—two serial killers—that dump in the Savannah River.”

I swallow. Well, shit.