Page 92 of When He Defends

“Gray, I seriously don’t think he was interested in me. Like at all.”

“No one, Emerson. Because I am homicidal where you are concerned.” A long exhale. “Yeah, I know that makes me seem deranged as hell. I’ll work on it.” Another hard exhale. “I’ll work on it.” He let her go. Moved back. “We should talk about the case. That’s, ah, why I got us the room. So we could talk privately.”

Her bodyyearnedfor him. “I think I’m homicidal where you’re concerned.” Didn’t one bit of brutal honesty deserve another? “I don’t want any other woman touching you. I get that we’re supposed to be pretending, but I don’t really care. With you, everything feels real.” Done. “I’d be jealous if another woman touched your body.”

He’d been sawing a hand over his jaw, but at her words, he stopped. The hand fell back to his side.

“I’d be jealous,” Emerson repeated. Maybe lines were blurring. Maybe it had been a mistake to be partners and lovers at the same time or maybe…maybe it had been the best choice she’d ever made in her life. “I trust you, Gray. I want you. I trust you and…”No, do not say it. Do not go there.

A furrow appeared between his brows. “And…what?”

She wet her lips. There were some things that, once said, could not be taken back. It was time to focus before she went too far. “You were right. We need to talk about the case. You’ve just given us the perfect private spot.”

“Um.”

“It’s partners.”

He didn’t change expression.

“You think that, too, don’t you? We’re not looking for just one killer. It’s two.Partners. A team.” Her words came faster. His gaze seemed so heated as it pinned her.

Her attention darted to the candles. The flames sputtered and flickered. “It’s so hard to kill two people at one time. I mean, with the first couple—Kris and Wendy Prichard—it could have been done, of course, because it was their brakes that were sabotaged. Not like the perp had tophysicallyoverpower them. But with the others…” She looked away from the candles and found Gray eyeing her with predatory focus. “With the others, it was about being physically overpowered. I don’t think one lone perp could do that. Especially with Zac and River. They were running. Zac was attacked, taken down, but if it was just by one attacker with a knife, then River might have been able to flee and get to safety. She didn’t escape, though. They were both stabbed to death. When I read the case files, Zac’s injuries were much deeper, harder, than River’s.” He’d been killed faster. “I think his killer was stronger. As for the person stabbing River—there werehesitation marks on her. As if the perp was uncertain. It took a lot more slices to kill River. I believe it’s because there were two killers.”

He didn’t speak.

“Partners,” Emerson repeated.

“Yes.” Gray nodded. “I suspect the same thing.”

Of course, he did. “You could have said something sooner.”

“I wanted you to reach your own conclusions. I could have been wrong.” He reached out. Picked up a bottle of massage oil.

“Are you often wrong?” Emerson asked.

He brought the massage oil toward the table. Toward her. “Occasionally,” Gray confessed. “When I am wrong, it is a colossal screw up.” He stopped in front of her.

She should probably hop off the table.

“Hannah knows that we’re partners. Someone tipped her off,” Emerson said.

He pushed up her skirt. One inch. Two.

“Who do we think t-told her the truth?” A little stutter because his fingers had skimmed the sensitive inside of her thighs.

“Has to be someone who knows that we’re faking our marriage.”

Yes, and that left their own FBI team. The team that was supposed to be watching their back. “The other agents,” she murmured.

His hands moved away.

She could take a deep breath again.

“Yes.” Flat. Cold. Gray opened the massage oil bottle. Poured a bit of oil into his palm.

“Uh, Gray?”

“Your mother knew we were going undercover.”