Chapter 1 #2
“He just attacked you,” Gray reminded her in his are-you-fucking-kidding-me voice.
“That attack means we’re gonna have cause to search this whole place.
” He glowered at the killer. “Thanks for making the whole search business easy, dumbass. Otherwise, we would have needed to do the full song and dance for a warrant, but now here I am, about to arrest your ass inside your business.” A low whistle escaped him as he considered the matter.
“Betting you have some mementos around here, don’t you?
Little trophies to remind you of your kills?
” His foot lifted off Jake’s shoulder. The guy’s blood was everywhere.
Gray was pretty sure the bullet had gone in and out of the perp.
Gray was also pretty sure that his shoes were ruined.
Dammit, he’d liked those shoes. Bought them less than a month ago.
Emerson really should have gone outside and made that call.
A quick glance from the corner of Gray’s eye showed that she did have her phone out.
She was calling from right there. Asking for backup.
Saying they needed assistance, stat, with a violent offender who had attacked them.
Then she shoved her phone back into her little black bag and fiddled with the purse strap that was—somehow, despite her scuffle—still over one delicate shoulder.
Emerson cleared her throat. Smoothed her hair back into the sleek bob that normally skimmed her shoulders.
“You should move the gun away from his forehead. The suspect isn’t armed any longer.
He’s not a lethal threat.” She began to walk around the garage.
“I do believe we also need to read him his rights, but I am the new one so…”
“What in the hell is she doing?” Jake wanted to know.
“Pissing me off even more,” Gray snarled.
Pissing him off, plus giving him orders.
As if she was the one in command when she was the one with practically zero field experience and thus…
the whole reason she’d been taken prisoner by the perp just moments before.
But he did need to move the gun because the longer he kept it on Jake’s sweaty forehead…
The more trigger happy I might become. “Jake Waller, you’re under arrest.”
“For what?”
Was the idiot for real? “How about for attacking a federal officer?” Gray threw back. Though, technically, Emerson wasn’t an FBI agent. She was more…freelance. More… problematic.
So very problematic.
Gray hauled Jake to his feet. Read the guy his rights. Gray pulled out cuffs and began to slap them on Jake’s wrists. First the right wrist.
“He would have his trophies close.” Emerson’s heels click-click-clicked on the cement floor.
“He’d need to be able to access them anytime he wants, and this garage—well, it’s his sanctuary.
Makes sense to keep the trophies in his sanctuary, doesn’t it?
” She stopped near a shelf on the right wall. “Bingo.”
Bingo? His head angled so that he could keep both Emerson and his prey in sight.
“That’s a big, shiny lock on this toolbox,” Emerson noted. She glanced over her shoulder and eyed Jake. “What’s inside?”
“Fucking tools!” Jake bellowed. “Get away from my box! Get away!”
She did not, in fact, get away. Gray began to cuff Jake’s left wrist.
Jake screamed at an ear-splitting level. “My shoulder, my shoulder! Ah! Assault, assault—” Then the sonofabitch tried to slam his head back at Gray.
Gray dodged the hit. But in that instant, Jake leapt forward, with only one wrist cuffed. He ran not for the exit, but straight for Emerson as she leaned toward the locked toolbox. His hands flew out, reaching for her.
Gray knew he was going to have to shoot the prick again. “ Freeze!” he bellowed.
But Jake didn’t get the chance to freeze because, calm as you please, Emerson lifted her hand from her little, black bag. She gripped a taser, and she immediately tased the ever-loving-hell out of Jake. His whole body shuddered, jolted, and he hit the floor. After wetting himself.
Then Emerson tipped her head back. Those plump, red lips of hers curved just the slightest bit, as if she’d enjoyed tasing the asshole.
Slivers of dark hair slid over her high cheekbones, and she blinked her big, bright blue eyes at him.
Sapphire blue. Yeah, fine, maybe he’d looked up that exact shade because her eyes were so distinct.
His buddy Tyler had blue eyes, but they looked nothing like Emerson’s.
Emerson’s eyes stared straight into your soul.
“He wasn’t freezing,” Emerson murmured. “So I stopped him.” She frowned down at the shaking man. “Did I stop him too hard?”
Gray bounded toward her. Put himself between Emerson and the still trembling perp. Then he snapped the second cuff around Jake’s left wrist even as the man bellowed and threatened and started screaming that Emerson would be next.
The hell she will, you bastard. You will never touch her again.
“You’ll pay, bitch! You’ll pay! I’ll fill you with so many h-holes that you’ll be begging me to stop.
You’ll cry and bleed, and I w-won’t care.
Just like the others—you’ll end up in a shallow grave, and no one will care!
I’ll throw you away like the garbage that y-you are!
” Some of Jake’s words shook and stuttered with his trembles.
Every muscle in Gray’s body locked down as he glared at the monster on the floor of that garage. One squeeze of the trigger, and there is one less nightmare in the world.
“Don’t.” For Gray’s ears alone. Emerson’s low, husky voice. Her soft fingers fluttered down his back and sent a weird, electric charge cascading through him in the wake of her light caress. It was a charge he felt every single time they touched. Hugely problematic.
But, then again, this was Emerson. Everything with her was problematic.
His breath huffed out. “You get to tase people, but I have to hold back?” In what world was that fair? Oh, wait, he knew. The world where he’d been forced to take on a partner he didn’t want.
“You got to shoot him once already.”
He had.
“And we both just got his confession.” Her fingers fluttered over Gray’s back one more time.
His teeth snapped together.
“Let’s call it a win, shall we?” Emerson murmured.
His head turned toward her. He towered over Emerson, even when she wore her heels. The woman always seemed to wear heels. Even at the most inopportune of times. “He had a screwdriver shoved under your chin. That’s not a win.” Not by any definition. Anger rumbled in each word. “That’s an assault.”
Her eyes widened as she searched his gaze. “Grayson?”
He’d told her over and over again to call him Gray. Just Gray. “It’s not a win.” Flat. “It’s the last mistake he’ll ever make.”
Gray thought she’d back away from him.
She didn’t. Emerson stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
The hell, no, he wasn’t. “His last mistake,” Gray gritted out, “and yours, too. Consider our partnership over. ”
And, for the first time, real horror filled her gaze. She hadn’t been horrified when she’d been grabbed by the serial killer. Hadn’t looked horrified—or even particularly afraid when the freak had shoved that screwdriver beneath her chin but now…
Now …
Horror flashed in her incredible eyes.
So did fear.
Then she shook her head. Squared her shoulders and said, very, very definitely, “We’re not over, Grayson.”
“Gray. ” Fuck. How many times did he have to tell her? Gray. If she called him Gray son and she was Emer son , they were too fucking sing-songy with their names. Too coupley. Too—ah, fuck it. “Gray.”
The serial killer at their feet began to whimper. Somewhere in the distance, sirens screamed. Emerson ignored everything else as she stared straight into Gray’s eyes and promised him, “We’re just beginning.”