7. Badges and Boundaries Both Ignored
Badges and Boundaries Both Ignored
T he rain hasn’t let up by morning, so I don’t bother drying my hair after a quick shower to wash Ghost’s marks from my skin. I allow the car to drive to the station while I sit back and enjoy the first half of my coffee in quiet contemplation.
Everything feels different. I feel different. And it’s all because I found my soulmate. Every mated person I’ve spoken to said it was something I’d never understand, but now I do. Meeting the other half of your soul changes everything.
Only… he’s a psychopath.
I sigh, looking into my coffee like it holds my needed answers. This is insane. All of it. I don’t know the first thing about who he is. The only thing I know is that he kills people. Yet the mere thought of him touching me makes me hotter than this coffee.
There is something seriously wrong with me. Which makes sense, considering we are meant for one another.
I still don’t have any answers to my existential crisis when I walk into the station, but as always, everyone else does.
“Did you even sleep last night, Kira?” James asks while pouring himself a coffee. It doesn’t appear to be his first, and the dark rings around his sunken eyes certainly suggest he needs it.
“Did you?”
James chuckles, looking down at his black cup of coffee like the secrets of the universe really are held within its dark depths.
Maybe I need to use less cream.
“I returned to the station last night to help sort through the goldmine we got from the raid.”
“Anything good?” I ask, my interest peaking as my mind focuses back on Ghost.
“Shit ton of info, actually,” James laughs darkly before taking a long sip from his coffee. “Might be enough to bring down Roman.”
I raise an eyebrow, unsure if I believe something like that is possible.
“If we can ever make sense of it all,” James mutters.
There it is. I knew taking down Roman wouldn’t be as simple as a bunch of computers falling into our lap. There is always something with the Romans.
“I’m headed back down to help the techies. I think Captain pulled most of the patrol units because of the weather.” James winks before I can groan.
Office days usually mean paperwork, and I hate paperwork.
Killian is relaxing in his seat at his desk, mirrored glasses on as usual. It doesn’t matter the lighting or time of day, they are always on. He smirks as I go to my chair like he can hear my thoughts. His smirk suggests that he only wears them because he knows it annoys me.
Rex is already lying beside my desk, halfway back to sleep. The dog has always loved rainy days.
I take a seat in my chair; it feels stiff. Unused for far too long. I bounce slightly, trying to force it into a state of comfort.
“You good, princess?” Killian asks, still wearing the smirk from earlier.
“Yeah. It’s just this damn chair.” I stand up to push the bar to the side and attempt to adjust the height. A sense of panic creeps in the more I fiddle with the seat, trying yet failing to get it into the right position. “Damn it.”
“Here,” Killian says, suddenly standing beside me with his chair in tow.
I hadn’t realized he had moved.
“Take mine. I’ll work yours in.” He pushes his chair toward me.
Cathy’s old chair.
All fight leaves me. “Thanks,” I breathe, touching Cathy’s chair and feeling somehow closer to her. It doesn’t smell like her perfume anymore, but the lingering smell of Killian’s cologne is somehow comforting.
“Anytime, princess. We’re partners. We’ve got each other’s backs.” Killian picks up my chair and takes it to his desk. He doesn’t seem to have any difficulty getting it into the proper position or resuming his relaxed state.
The day marches forward, but it appears the storm has come to stay.
Weather forecasts predict three more days of rain, and the chill in the air suggests that fall has arrived in full force.
I spend the day actively avoiding work while teaching Killian how to do the same, which primarily consists of pretending to look busy whenever Captain comes out for lunch and his regularly scheduled bathroom breaks.
I even wrote the schedule on a sticky note for Killian to reference.
He did well, other than almost allowing Captain to catch him reading the note directly in front of him.
At least Killian is good at shifting conversations.
Rex wags his tail, shooting through the door the moment we get home, but he looks over to the doggie door and whines.
“I can’t control the weather, and you don’t know how to piss in a toilet. You’re gonna have to go out there, eventually.”
The shepherd turns his brown eyes to me, and I imagine the words fitting into place inside his mind. At least, in the primitive way dogs understand things. Then Rex turns and heads straight for the couch.
Apparently, deciding he could hold it a little longer.
“Hope for a break in the rain, I guess,” I say, resigning him to his fate while I grab a frozen dinner. The next time I go to the store, I’ll have to get ingredients for an actual meal.
Looking at the bottle of vodka, I frown, only having enough left for one more drink.
I thought I had at least half a bottle left yesterday.
My brain fights to remember yesterday outside the thoughts of Ghost that have spiked my libido at random intervals throughout the day.
I had added more with Rex’s loud chewing, but I didn’t think it was much.
I’ll have to make a trip to the store tomorrow.
The warm scent of my microwave meal fills the air as I stand at the island, watching Rex sprawled out on the couch. He occasionally throws a lazy glance out the window, seemingly disinterested in the world beyond the backyard.
“Yup. It’s still raining, buddy,” I laugh, knowing he will ultimately drag himself out there before he dares to go to the bathroom in the house.
Police dog training.
He huffs, and I take the empty tray from my food and toss it into the trash before washing my fork. My drink comes with me when I head for my bedroom. It feels like I need to make a decision by the time I shut and lock the door, but I do not know what to do with Ghost.
I don’t even know how to wrap my fucking head around it all.
I head into the bathroom, checking behind the curtain and all around the perimeter of my room before stooping low to look under my bed. The disappointment I feel when I don’t find someone lurking underneath it tells me more than I want to admit.
I laugh at myself while getting out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable.
With my phone in hand, I select my favorite playlist; the upbeat tempo urging me to dance, though I remind myself to drink my cocktail slowly.
My feet ache and scream in relief when I kick off my boots, helping me to feel immediately more at ease.
My body takes over undressing while my mind continues to obsess over Ghost. My room becomes a chaotic ballet as I pace back and forth, the floor littered with clothes I throw into the heap at the mouth of the closet.
I need to get to know him before I can decide.
After changing into a new tank top and underwear, I feel the soft cotton against my skin as I relax in bed.
My phone is on the table next to me, and I know the kit is inside the drawer just beneath it.
A war wages in my mind, and I wish I had his damn number to talk to him.
While all this mystery certainly does things to my body I never thought could exist, I could use a little more normalcy.
There is always one other way to reach him.
I yank the drawer open and see a small piece of paper with something written on it sitting right on top of my kit. My blood hums, drowning out the sound of the music as I grab the note with trembling fingers.
Did you scream?
A small scream escapes my lips. He was here. Inside my house. Inside my room.
My heart hammers against my chest as I look around the room, clutching the note.
Excitement and terror mix with utter silence from my inner voice.
The world feels hazy, the edges of my vision swimming in and out of focus.
The more I strain, the more my head pulses and the world slips away.
A rush of cold runs up my spine, and I have the distinct feeling that I am on the verge of passing out.
I turn toward the bed, finding my head swimming around the warped vision of my comforter.
It feels like needles made of ice are digging into every inch of my skin as I crawl up the bed and reach for my phone.
The music coming from it stops as my fingers slide over the screen.
It’s hard to be sure that I am pressing the correct areas through my ever-waning vision, but I hope I turn on the record button to the camera like I intend.
My fingertips push the phone roughly into position, leaning against the side of my table with the camera trained on me.
It should record until the battery runs out.
I have no choice but to surrender to the pull of unconsciousness. Part of me is terrified of why this is happening. The only answer my mind seems to come up with is Ghost.
I awake to pounding rain, but it’s nothing compared to the pounding inside my head. It’s pitch-black outside, suggesting it’s still the middle of the night. My mouth is so dry my tongue feels like sandpaper as I move it across my tender lips. I groan, rolling to my side.
A faint glow comes from my phone on my bedside table, plugged in and charging.
It takes my brain a moment to clear through the fog, but the sight of my phone sparks swimming memories of my fingers pushing it into place somewhere else.
The feeling of scared desperation comes with the memory, sharper than the images in my mind.