Page 32 of The Chaos She Brings

“I can’t discuss this over the phone.”

A cold knot tightens in my chest. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I’ll explain when I get there. Just keep her safe until then.”

“Obviously.”

“I’ll land in eight hours.”

The line goes dead, and I lower the phone, staring at it as my thoughts spiral.What the hell has he uncovered?

Knowing I won’t sleep now I busy myself on my computers. I may not be able to find anything on Tess, but I know that Nate will be eager for his next victim, so I get searching.

A woman came through one of the shelters not long ago. From what Carina managed to get her to divulge she’d beenbrutally gang raped by her husband and his friends. That’s the kind of sick fuck that deserves Nate’s version of justice. Just because I don’t like to get my own hands dirty doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the need for that style of revenge.

I find out all the information I can on the woman's husband then send it through to Nate on the secure line I set up for him. It’s completely untraceable and the message will delete itself after twenty-four hours.

I must fall asleep in my chair because I’m jolted awake by a knock at my office door. Then, “Kai?” Tess’s quiet voice follows. “Are you awake?”

I don’t move to open the door, refusing to trust myself around her. “Yeah.”

The door creaks open, and I curse myself for not locking it.

“What do you want, Tess?” I ask, scraping a hand down my jaw. My tone comes out harsher than I intended, but I don’t bother to soften it.

She huffs, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She moves to stand directly in front of my desk, looking far too comfortable invading my space.

“I can’t sleep.”

My jaw clenches. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, you’re not sleeping either,” she says, shrugging as if that’s reason enough. “So... entertain me?”

I keep my expression blank. “I’m not in the mood, Tess.”

“Too bad.”

Before I can respond, she hops up onto my desk, right in front of my keyboard, and my eye twitches.

“Watch it,” I warn, my voice low.

“Live a little,” she quips, swinging her legs like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

I grip the armrests of my chair, trying not to give her the reaction she’s clearly fishing for.

“You know,” she starts, tilting her head with that maddening, knowing smile. “You’re nicer than you pretend to be.”

My eyes narrow, but I stay silent.

“You act like I annoy you,” she continues, undeterred, “but I think you’re scared.”

“Scared of what, exactly?” I challenge, taking the bait.

“Losing control.” Her gaze locks onto mine, steady and unyielding, and I hate how accurately she’s called me out.

She’s right.

I’m not annoyed with her. Not really. Despite her incessant rambling, her mess, and her pert ass perched on my desk like it belongs there... I like her.