Her lips wanted to twitch as she glanced at him.
“Rose.” His voice was hard. Angry.
Her smile froze. “What is it?”
“Take a look.”
She hurried to his side and peered into the drawer. The last thing she felt like spying was Dylan’s underwear, but—she didn’t see underwear in that drawer.
She saw a black morph mask. Just like the one the bastard who’d attacked her had worn. Her gaze locked on that mask, and she could not look away.
“Still think he couldn’t be a killer?” War asked.
All of the blood seemed to be rushing away from her head. Rose sucked in desperate gulps of air. With a shaking hand, she reached for the mask. Her gloved fingers closed around it, and she lifted it up.
Pictures were tucked under the mask.
Pictures…of her. Of her running in the morning along the beach. Of her laughing as she had lunch along the pier. Of her kissing Dylan. No, he kissed me. He set me up.
He’d…tried to kill her?
But it wasn’t just photos. There were three phones there, too. Burner phones. And the killer had been calling her. Taunting her.
“War.” She looked up at him as her heart squeezed. What did they do now? How did they get the cops to see this evidence? The cops had to obtain it legally or it would be thrown out in a court case. If Dylan had killed those women, then she didn’t want him walking. She wanted him rotting in a cell.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. Put it all back.”
She slid the photos and the mask back into place. Started to push the drawer shut.
“Not all the way, baby.” His fingers tangled with hers.
Her heart shoved hard in her chest.
“Leave it open. Just enough so that you can see that mask.”
Her response was a jerky nod.
In moments, they were out of the house. He’d reset the alarm before they exited. They rushed to his car, and she flew into the front seat just before her jiggly knees would have given out on her.
Dylan? He’d done this? He’d killed those women and come after her? She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the horror that someone she knew, a man she’d worked with day in and day out, was a monster.
“Yeah. Yeah. You heard me right. Dylan Nelson’s house. You need to do a search in there.”
War’s voice had her jerking back to the present. Her head swiveled toward him. He was talking to someone on his phone. She frowned at him.
His head turned. He met her stare. His eyes were cold. Hard. The darkness glinted. “You’ll find evidence that will tie him to this mess.” A pause. “What? Getting the search warrant is your department, not mine.”
A search warrant? But…wait, was he talking to the cops? “War?”
“How the hell am I supposed to give you probable cause? Not like that was part of our deal.”
Just who did he have a deal with? But the answer was there…because it was the only thing that made sense. The cops.
Yet…yet War had said he’d be working with her. That he’d give her forty-eight hours before he turned her over to the authorities.
Except now he was talking to someone—someone she thought must be a cop, and he was talking about their deal.
Betrayal burned through her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” War growled.
How was she looking at him? Like he’d lied to her? Set her up?
“No, no, dammit, I am not talking to you!” he fired to whoever was on the phone. “You have to get in that dick’s house. What? Jesus, do I have to do everything? Fine. Fine. When security gets called, make sure you are on scene.” He hung up the phone. Narrowed his eyes on Rose. “Do not look at me like that.”
“How?”
“Like I freaking stole your favorite puppy, ate your last bit of cookie dough ice cream, and hid all the chocolate in the house from you.”
Her lips wanted to tremble so she pressed them together. He knew cookie dough was her favorite, dammit.
“I did everything to protect you. Don’t forget that.” He curled his fingers under her chin. “I will continue to protect you. There is nothing I would not do for you. In order to keep you safe, I would lie, cheat, and kill. Know it.” Then he kissed her. A hard, angry brush of his mouth over hers.
Her hands lifted. To push him away—she was semi-sure that was her intention, but he backed away before she could. Push him away…not pull him closer. Right?
“Lock the car,” he ordered flatly. “Do not leave until I get back.”
“Where the hell are you going?”
His smile held a shark’s edge. “The cops must have a reason to get inside. An alarm will send them rushing to the scene. And when they do go inside…” He tilted his head to the right. Game on. “They’ll find that open bedroom drawer of his.”
That was his plan? “War—”
“I’ll be right back.”
Then he was gone. Rushing for the house. Her fingers slid over the door handle. She thought about slipping out of the car. Running away.
War lied. He was talking to the cops all along.
She had to blink a few times. If she ran, where would she go? If Dylan was the one after her, if the cops could stop him and she could put this nightmare behind her…
War lied.
Why had she started to count on him? Why had she fallen back into her habit of trusting him so easily? Why? Why? Why?
But she knew the answer, even as pain pierced through her heart. She knew exactly why she’d been so willing to believe what War said to her.
Because, deep down, she still had a weakness for him. She still cared too much.
And because she cared, she hurt.
Her finger slid around the handle again and—
War ran toward her. He yanked open his door. “You didn’t fucking lock it.”
Rage poured through her. “And you fucking lied to me.”
He flinched. “Rose…”
“Are you working with the cops? Tell me the truth!”
He stared straight into her eyes—and nodded.
Chapter Nine
“He says the mask isn’t his. Says the phones aren’t, either. According to Dylan Nelson, the guy has no idea how that stuff got into his drawer.” The detective had taken off her coat and rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt. Detective Lynn Slater slanted a glance toward Rose. “Though he totally copped to the pics being his. Turns out, he is quite a fan of yours.”
Rose’s chin jerked up. “Not funny.”
“No, I don’t think anything about this situation is humorous. I tend to find dead women particularly unfunny.” Lynn stared at her with hard, golden eyes. “You should have come to the police station sooner.”
She knew Lynn. Their paths had crossed more than a few times as Rose covered the crime beat. But during most of those crossings, Lynn typically just said “No comment” and told Rose to get the hell out of her way.
Lynn’s hair was cut short, sliding against her jaw. The cut made her golden eyes seem bigger. She was small, but Rose knew she could move fast when the situation called for it. Lynn hadn’t been a detective very long, only two months since earning the promotion.
“I came to you before and told you about Barbara,” Rose gritted out. “You didn’t believe me, and she died.”