Page 38 of When He Defends

The gang leader had brought the murders to his attention?

“That couple that was celebrating their tenth anniversary? They happened to be friends of his. Cassius has taken a special interest in the case. If we bring down the killer…” His gaze held hers. “He’s promised that he will greatlyowethe Feds. I’m sure you understand how having Cassius in my debt could be a very beneficial proposition.”

Her arms wrapped around her stomach. “Cassius wants to kill the guy.”

“Yes, true.”

“Heintendsto kill the perp.”

Gray didn’t argue.

She felt like a recap was in order. “You’re going to find the killer. But you’renotgoing to turn him over to Cassius, are you?”

“The plan,” a smooth response from Gray, “is to stop the perp. To lock him up. The same way we locked up Jake Waller.” He began to pace around the condo. “I get that the place is a rental. But there are zero personal touches in the space. You left everything as is, huh? Whatever the decorator put in, you kept.”

She turned to watch him peruse her space. “It came fully furnished. No sense in changing things. You keep having me zip off to different parts of the country so it’s not like I’m here for long periods of time.” Where would they be heading for this latest case?

“That’s a convenient excuse, Emerson. But why don’t you try telling me the real reason there is nothing of you in this place?”

Emerson sucked in a sharp breath, completely caught off guard by his response. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” But Gray turned his head toward her. “Want my theory? You don’t have personal effects because you’re not putting down roots here. Just like you haven’t put down roots at the last three places you’ve lived. You rarely stay anywhere longer than a year.”

“My work keeps me busy. You, of all people, can surely understand that.” Her voice was steady.

“I understand a great deal. Far more than you realize.” He waved toward the bookshelves. Shelves that were carefully decorated with things that weren’t books. Vases. Small statues. Art pieces. “You’re an avid reader, Emerson. But no books?”

“I tend to read on an e-reader.” How did he know she was an avid reader? She hadn’t read around him.

“No doubt, plenty of people do that—Ido it often. Makes it easier to travel with books. But, come on, I’m sure you’ve bought plenty of physical copies over the years.”

“Having books likeThe Mind of a Killeron your shelf hardly make guests feel comfortable.”

“That’s cute.”

Now her brows shot up. “It’s cute that I want to make people feel comfortable?”

“No, it’s cute that you act like you have guests. You don’t.”

“You’re here now. Hate to point it out to you, but that makes you a guest.”

“Hmm. I’m here because I forced my way in. You didn’t give me a spontaneous invitation.”

No, she had not.

He strolled toward her. Casual. Graceful. That was something she’d noticed about him early on. Despite his big size, the man was extremely soft on his feet. Sneakily soft. Predatorily soft. Gray stopped directly before her. “You didn’t invite any of your new FBI friends over. No dinner with Trinity. No night cap with Rylan.”

“Your point being…?”

“You don’t make friends easily, do you, Emerson?”

“No.” And she envied him that ability because she knew that he did have a close circle of friends. His former Marine buddies—the ones who’d bled and fought together. They had a bond that she found to be quite amazing.

“You don’t take lovers often, either, do you?”

Well, he’d just gotten very, very personal. In a blink. Tricky. Her chin notched up. “How often do you take lovers, Gray? All the time? Every other week?” A sharp snap entered her voice. Jealousy.

Great. Jealousy and envy, all in one two-minute period.