by Trisha Wolfe
3
Frayed
Avery
The tap tap tap of our footfalls echos like the secondhand of a clock ticking down. The rhythmic patter against the linoleum could lull me to sleep. I march down the white-walled corridor as if I’ve been zombiefied, a medical examiner’s worst fear.
It’s ironic, I guess. A hollowed out shell of a woman, a corpse in my own right, on my way to the morgue. If not for Quinn risking his career to save me, I’d most likely be on a slab in my own lab right now.
I don’t know what would’ve happened if Quinn and Sadie hadn’t been able to stop that van. But I know, eventually, those men would’ve killed me. It’s not as if they were just going to let me walk away with their secrets.
Secrets.
They have one of mine, as well. And since I did escape, I wonder how long I have until Mr. A. K. Tie—the man who threatened me; the reason why I’ll never forget the cold bite of steel inside me—makes my damning secret known.
But after the events of the past forty-eight hours, lethargy is my immediate enemy—the threat weighing me down with each exhausting step.
I could’ve put up more of a fight with Quinn, dug my heels in and refused to be removed from my lab, where I have control over the evidence as it’s discovered. I could have—and I would’ve eventually worn him down, but the thought of resting was more tempting.
I want to laugh. Risk my life, my freedom, my reputation…for just one extra hour of sleep. But screw sleep. Sleep is my enemy, too.
Every second already lost will take hours to recover on this case.
I force my feet to keep moving forward, leading Quinn toward the crime lab. I’m hyperaware of him behind me, the press of his strong presence against my back. So when he grabs ahold of my wrist and pulls me into a nook along the hallway, I’m only slightly alarmed.
“What are you doing?” I look up into his face as he towers over me.
“We need to be on the same page.” He’s standing way too close, causing my heart to thump erratically in my chest.
I swallow hard. “We are, Quinn. I get it.”
He trails his hand up my arm, grips my bicep, his worry evident in that one action. “Get your team on point, but don’t give them any more information than needed.”
My shoulders sag. I’m not sure what to respond to first. His obvious concern, or his domineering temperament. As my defenses surge, anger over my situation rising anew, I’m swayed toward defensive. “They’re not idiots,” I snap. “They have access to all the same evidence, and they need to know what to do with that evidence.”
He releases a deep breath and removes his hand. “I meant about your circumstance. The only lead we have right now is your darknet connections. If someone in your lab gets wind of that…” He presses his lips together. “I don’t want anything leaked to the press. I don’t want these people you’ve been dealing with to get spooked and disappear.”
“What makes you think it’s my department leaking?”
His eyebrows hike toward his gray-streaked hairline. “There have now been two incidents within your department. Simon was a damn serial killer, and—”
“And those men who barged into my lab yesterday have nothing to do with my people.” My jaw sets stubbornly. Although, there’s nothing I can offer in way of Simon’s excuse. I’m still not sure how Price Wells got to him; whether Simon was a part of Wells’ plan from the beginning and then infiltrated my lab, or if Wells selected him after the fact.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. Quinn’s right. The crime lab is tainted. A monster like Wells took one look at my lab and found a weakness, an opening. How many others in here—in this building—are just as weak and waiting for a moment to snap.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Quinn moves closer. His body heat charges the air, igniting a craving to be touched. “I don’t want to be right,” he says. “I just want to make sure no one else gets hurt.”
The depth of his words buries me in yearning. And when he palms my cheek, the rough pads of his fingers tracing my face, I wish I could make that promise to him.
There’s a gulf between us, dividing us further apart with every passing second. When he finally knows the truth of me, what I’m capable of and what I’ve done…it won’t be my pain that I wish I could vanquish.
Before I’m able to entertain the thought of pressing my lips to his, he pulls away. “Let’s get the facts we need, then put this sting together.”
I nod, run my hands over my shirt and pull the hem straight. Soon, I won’t be able to protect Quinn from my secrets. Those secrets will rip through our tentative feelings for each other with a fury, decimating not only us, but whatever faith he has left in the law.
That kills me.
I don’t want to be the one to tear his conviction away.
As we move through the hallway, the fluorescent lights above wash the world in bleached out colors, as if I’m trapped in some realm between sleep and wakefulness. The fatigue becomes all-consuming. My head is thick with a dense cotton feel, like I’m teetering on the verge of sickness.
It’s futile to fight against the impending illness, though. The sickness has already invaded me. The day I agreed to help dispose of Price Wells, my abductor, was the day I welcomed it in with open arms.
Simon’s not the only one who taints this place.
As I push the swing doors open, heads turn my way, eyes wide and staring openly. My lab techs freeze in place. I can see it in their shocked expressions: the questions. Why am I here? How badly was I damaged this time? And the one pressing fear none of them will voice but screams from their eyes: are they next?
“Do you want me to—?” Quinn begins.
“No.” I stop him short. “I can handle this.” Returning the first time was damn impossible. This time, however, is not like starting over. Not like finding my rhythm again and trying to put the past behind me.
There’s an unnerving thread of panic tightening around me and flowing like a current through this room, warning me that this is only the start.
“Natalie.” I approach my intern, and she’s quick to try to make me feel at ease before I can get my instructions out.
“Doctor Johnson. Oh, my God, we were so worried about you. Are you all right?” Her large dark eyes beg to hear a lie—any lie. One that will alleviate her worries.
My lips turn up in a tight smile. “I’m fine. Thank you. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details…” I glance at Quinn, and he nods assuredly. “But it’s important that we go over a few things. The autopsy reports need to be corrected, and I need you to report all evidence and findings to me.”
While I instruct the lab on the two victims and correct the COD reports, Quinn takes a call from Sadie. I can barely focus as I try to eavesdrop. This second, Sadie is in the very place where my abductor used to work. Did Wells sit at a desk and plot his scenes? Choose his methods and dream about them while talking to his clients? How can Sadie even step foot in that law firm?
My hand spasms over the keyboard and I flex my fingers.
“Doctor Johnson?”
I shake out my hand. “Lauren Carter,” I say, directing Natalie’s attention to the COD report. “Was brought in yesterday, but still needs to be properly identified. I want a full autopsy and toxicology. I want the reports done thoroughly, but delivered to me as soon as possible.”
Quinn moves off to the side of the lab, talking in a heated, lowered tone. I latch on to his voice, allowing it to anchor me in the present. It keeps me from fixating on what occurred in the spot I’m now standing.
I can still feel the cold steel of the gun. My legs tremble as I force the crude memory from my mind and instead focus on the screen.
“I’m glad you’re taking some time off,” Natalie says.
I almost laugh. As if I didn’t just return from time off. Maybe Quinn’s right—maybe moving my department to another floor, closer to the ACPD, isn’t such a bad idea.
“My leave won’t be long,” I assure her. “Please, just keep me updated on everything in the meantime.”
The door to my office is unlocked, and a sinking feeling pulls at my stomach as I enter. Things are just as I left them yesterday, only it somehow feels different. Off. Like this isn’t my office at all.
“Do you need help?” Quinn stands at the doorway.
I push my hair back from my face and turn toward my desk. “Just need my laptop and a few files. I have mostly everything we need on my computer at home.”
“We’ll grab that, too. Along with whatever else you’ll need.”
Confusion pushes my brows together as I face him. “Grab my stuff…to go where?”
Abashed doesn’t suit Quinn. The way he shifts his stance, shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. His gaze, though—that is steady on me as his lips thin into a determined line. “You’re staying with me.”
My mouth parts, disbelief shocking me silent.
“It’s not safe at your house,” he continues, pulling his hands from his pockets and lacing his arms over his broad chest, effectively setting his body language in a deflective, no argument stance.
I take my own defensive measures, propping my fists on my hips. “Now you’re crossing a line, Quinn. I’m sorry, but I won’t be made to feel so…helpless. My home is the one place where—” I break off, searching for the right words. “It’s my place. It’s the only place I have left that this darkness can’t touch me.”
His whole body tenses, his nostrils flare. And in the second his tough persona slips, I glimpse the crack in his armor that conveys pain.
Shit. I might as well have slapped him. My mouth flies open to correct myself—to let him know that I didn’t mean… Hell, I don’t know what I meant. Yes, I feel safe with Quinn. But I don’t want to feel dependent on that. On him.
The nights he spent holding my hand while I slept, fitfully, in that hospital bed come rushing back, and I’m suddenly mortified. No matter where I am, he’s my haven.
And he wants me.
“I have to have something of my own,” I try, sensing my backpedaling making it worse. God, what’s wrong with me? “You understand that, right?”
He steps forward, closing the door behind him with a loud click. “You understand that the people who took you yesterday know who you are. As much as this pains me to say, you have to hear it, Avery. They had no intention of releasing you. You know too much, and they’re not just going to let you—”
“Live?”
A heavy breath expels. “Exactly. But I promise. We’ll figure this out and end it so you can put it behind you.”
I want to scream. Maybe even cry. Yet another thing to put behind me. When does it end? What if I’d just refused to correct the drug. Trifecta—that’s what the man in the mask called it. Had I’d just stood my ground and denied them that, then they would’ve killed me, and this would already be over. No more running. No more fear.
No more secrets and no more lies.
The truth hovers on my tongue, a breath away from confessing my sins. Quinn needs to know—I have to tell him everything in the hope that he can glean even one clue to stop this madness.
Yet, in life’s never-ceasing moments of irony, my phone rings, dragging me from the depths of panic. I gulp down a breath to expand my burning lungs and glance at my phone. Detective Carson’s name flashes on the screen. “Johnson,” I answer, raising my gaze to Quinn.
“I heard you were taking a leave of absence,” Carson says. “Is that true?”
I rub my forehead, my thoughts muddled. “Uh, yes. I am. Why?”
A brief few seconds of silence, then: “Shit. I need to know who to contact, then,” Carson says. “Another body has been reported. A victim that needs processing—”
“I’m on my way.” I still have the phone to my ear as I head toward my locker.
“But I thought you were off? Avery, you can hand this over—”
“Carson,” I snap, then squeeze my eyes closed briefly and curb the irritation in my voice. “I said I’m going. Is there a mark? On the vic’s thigh?”
As Carson goes on about just being called away from the law firm, Quinn steps into my line of sight. “Give me the phone.”
I hesitate. “Why?”
“So I can tell Carson you’re not going.”
I hold Quinn’s unwavering stare. “Carson, please pick me up a coffee and I’ll meet you there in five.” I end the call and turn to my locker, yanking out a jacket and pair of pants. “I don’t want to hear it, Quinn. This is bigger than me and you, and I need to go.”
He flattens his palm against the wooden door, caging me in. “I know.” I pivot enough to meet his gaze. “I know what that demanding pull feels like. I just… Fuck.”
His hand slams against the door, and I flinch. This isn’t only about his desire to protect me; he needs to be there, to do his job, and he can’t. I rest my hand on his strong forearm. “You didn’t get the update.”
He glances down at the silent phone clipped to his belt. “Removed from the case, remember?” A dejected, tight smile fights free. “So another vic turned up. Another woman, possibly another pro.” Quinn lowers his hand, slipping away from my touch, and I resume sliding on my medical examiner jacket. “I guess it would be futile to point out this might be an effort to lure you out.”
Actually, I hadn’t thought about that at all. “I’ll be safe.” I yank my skirt down to change into the pants. Quinn averts his gaze, always the gentlemen.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before. Recently, in fact.” This forces his eyes on me, and I wink.
“There’s a time and place, and this isn’t it.” He moves closer as I pull my pants over my hips. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you constantly since this morning.” He snags the drawstrings of my pants and tugs me forward, his mouth hovering near mine, too close, as he loops the strings together and cinches the waist tight.
My breath catches, my whole body alert, as I await the press of his lips.
He rests his hands on my hips and lowers his mouth to my ear. “I want an update every hour, and your detail goes everywhere you go. This isn’t up for debate.”
I blink. My breathing struggles to regulate and sync with my rapid heartbeats. “I can live with that.”
He inclines his head to the side, his gaze roams my face. “Good.” Then his hand slides into my hair as he presses a tender kiss to my forehead. He backs away, leaving me chasing the fire in my belly. “I’ll be there in a second if you need me.”
A small smile stretches my lips. “I know. Thank you.”
Quinn may have difficulty expressing himself when it comes to matters of the heart…which I can’t fault him. We’re both clumsily maneuvering this thing between us. But when it comes to his job, he is the job.
“Oh, here,” I say, heading toward my desk. I tweak a sheet of paper from a notepad and jot down my ID and passwords. “This will give you access to the darknet under my account.” I hand him the paper. “While I’m identifying the newest victim, maybe you can figure out how those bastards found me.”
He accepts my keys as I place them in his hand. A crease burrows between his brows. “Just like that. You’re giving me access.”
I shrug. “I trust you.”
Our eyes stay locked as the weight of that statement presses upon the span of air between us. “And I trust that you know how to operate the interface,” I add, turning to grab my bag. “You said that you once worked a case where you had to learn more than the basics, so I don’t think you’ll mess anything up. Too much.”
His chuckle is light, and in stark contrast to our current situation. A testament to how much we’ve already endured. “You were listening.”
“Had to do something to keep myself from tearing your clothes off and jumping your bones.” I cock my head and grin, loving how this tough man, who has faced down numerous bad guys, flushes at my words.
“All right
,” I say, anchoring the strap over my shoulder. “Here we go.”
“Wait.”
That’s the only warning I’m given before Quinn grasps my waist and hauls me against the wall. He presses me into the corner, his mouth finding mine in the same beat that I gasp. His lips are hard and demanding, his tongue delves deep to taste me as his hands roam beneath my shirt to steal a rough caress of my flesh.
I can’t help it; I moan into the kiss, unable to control the longing. I’m terrified—terrified of leaving this office and confronting fears that threaten me with all my suffering. I cling to his strong shoulders, losing myself in a moment of weakness.
When he breaks away, his labored breaths coming as fast as my own, he whispers, “I should come with you.”
As much as I want that very thing…again, I can’t allow myself to become dependent on Quinn’s protection. “Wexler would have a shit-fit if you showed up at the crime scene.”
His expression contorts. “Right.”
I wish I knew how to make this better for him. For Quinn, being suspended must feel close to death. I run my hand up the back of his neck, kissing him slowly before saying, “I’ll call every hour. We will figure this out.”
He licks his lips as he pulls back and holds up my keys. “You’ll know where I’ll be. Come on. I’ll follow you there first.”
I watch him leave my office, taking a moment to collect myself before I’m able to face my lab. There’s another body, another dead girl. And this time, I know she didn’t die in pursuit of the Trifecta serum.
If the Alpha Killer is trying to send a message, it’s been received.
4
Crosshair
Quinn
Avery’s scent lingers in the air of her bedroom; the fragrance of lavender and vanilla mingles with a faint antiseptic trace of the crime lab. It tightens my chest, knowing she’s too far away. Tucking my unease down deep, I make quick work of locating her suitcase and packing essential items.