Haven’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but a faint furrow lined her forehead. “How long did it take you to get over it?”
I could feel the nervous energy rolling off her. “It took the next guy getting shot in front of me to get over the first one. But, then I had to get over the second man.”
Her bottom lip quivered.
“You’re taking off tomorrow.”
“No. We need to figure out what’s going on with Sheriff Bran and Deputy Martelle as well as continue tracking—”
“Take a break.”
Sighing, she walked away. “Goodnight, King.”
No.
Not thinking, I caught her arm and spun her back toward me. I really wanted to yell at her. Or kiss her. . .hard. But it would be inappropriate and wrong. She was my agent and she was definitely shaken. It would be taking advantage of her.
Her face flushed. “Yes?”
“Listen to me.” I kept a tender grip on her arm. “Take a break. We’ll get back together in a few days.”
Haven’s voice came out quiet. Not threatening or demanding in the least. “No. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight in the morning.”
I gently pulled her to me. She didn’t move away. We stood barely two inches away from each other, breathing the same air. Warmth flowed between us.
It took everything in me to not lick my lips. “You need to get some mental rest, Haven.”
“I won’t, not until this psycho is caught.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll burn out fast if you put emotions in this.”
“I don’t see how you can’t.”
“Separate yourself from the case.”
“I can’t. Those little girls looked like me when I was young. They did the things I did. Jumped rope. Read stories. Went to church.”
My heart weakened from those words. I loved her spirit. It was why I’d join the FBI and followed in my father’s steps. I yearned to save the world. After all these years, I’d lost some of the sparks that set my passion on fire. And with Haven’s arrival, a low flame rose within me.
Unable to help myself, I wrapped my arms around her. “Then, take my hug.”
She remained within my hold. Humor lay within her low voice. “A hug from the famous Agent King. I’m honored.”
“You should be. I don’t give these hugs to everyone.”
I thought she would move away, but she remained.
A second later, she leaned her head against my chest.
“Anytime you need me, Agent Barron, I’ll be here. I know what you’re going through.”
Within the silence and in between her doorway, I held Haven close to me, enjoying her soft warmth and wishing I could do more. My body came alive, although I did my best to control myself. Now wasn’t the time to hit on her or allow myself to be aroused.
A few more minutes passed, I dragged myself from Haven’s warmth, let her go, and stepped back.
Stop this or you’ll be holding her all night.
My voice came out hoarse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I walked away.
Her voice sounded behind me. “Thank you.”
“No.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Thank you.”
Chapter 17
Messages
Haven
I hate to admit it. That hug did make me feel better. He is an agent whisperer.
When the door closed, I walked over to the window and opened it. Like many of the others, my room faced the courtyard’s beautiful gardens. A cool breeze carried an array of floral scents into my room.
I let out a long breath and looked down at my shaking fingers.
Stop being weak.
Things were slowly coming to light. I couldn’t afford anything less than full strength. The Angel Maker would not stop, and I knew it wasn’t the deputy that Alexander had shot.
That moment from tonight returned.
Deputy Martell wanted to kill me. He’d yelled out the N-word and meant every damn syllable. I spotted the rage in the eyes. And then Alexander shot him in the head. All life left that angry gaze.
Now, he’s dead.
That moment shook me deep within my soul. I would never forget it.
Again, I looked down at my hands—those stupid shaking fingers. I hoped Alexander didn’t notice it.
Of course, he did. That’s why he hugged me.
His hug was the only good thing that came out of tonight. I’d needed it. I relished in his hard muscle surrounding and protecting me like a fort. I’d come to Fullbrooke to work the case—to get rid of the monster preying on little girls. But in these few days, I found enjoyment in being around Alexander. He was smart and courageous. A leader. Someone I could learn a great deal from.
Still, he was also tempting me. Already, I missed his arms and wished he was inside this room, comforting me some more.
Forget tonight. Forget about the hug. Take a shower. Get some rest. And figure out who the Angel Maker is.
I pulled off my shirt and headed toward the shower. Goose bumps spread across my flesh.
Damn, that hug felt so good. He should bottle that up and sell it.
And then the dying man’s face flashed in my head. A chill ran through me. I took off the rest of my clothes and walked into the bathroom.
Exhaustion plagued me, but I knew not much sleep would come.
I thought back to Alexander and his hug, wishing he could’ve given me more. Tonight, I needed more than a hug—more than his arms. I yearned to feel his lips on my skin. I craved something to get my mind off of the case. I wanted to feel lust, heat, and passion.
Nothing wrong with a little sex to divert me from the flashes of a dead guy.
I stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. It sprayed along my skin, warming me up.
Everything is going to work out. I’ll get some rest and be ready for a new day.
Minutes later, I left the shower, dried off, put on a nightshirt, and went to bed. Too scared to sleep in the dark, I kept the lights on.
Before I passed out, I checked my phone. There had been several missed calls from Sean. He shifted to texts. I read them. All begged me to leave this case and go back home. I wasn’t sure if he was solely trying to protect me or didn’t want me to indicate his father in this case.
Besides Sean, my mother had called to check on me. I made a mental note to contact her tomorrow. I was too drained and scared. She would hear it in my voice and worry.
Just go to sleep. It’ll be fine after that.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the peaceful rest I required. Blood and bullets filled my dreams. Deputy Martelle chased me with a gun, yelling out the N-word with each step.
In the middle of the night, I woke up screaming.
My heart raced.
Madness boomed in my ears.
Someone knocked. The door rattled from the sound.
And suddenly I realized that my screaming hadn’t woke me up at all.
It had been the knocking.
Who the hell is this?
Yawning, I sat up in the bed.
The person knocked again.
“I’m coming.” I rubbed my eyes. “Who is it?”
No response came. The knocking stopped.
Exhausted, I left the bed, went to the door, and peeked through the eye hole. No one stood on the other side.
What the hell?
It had been a long night of craziness. I walked over to my desk, grabbed my gun, and took it out.