Page 119 of Watch Me Burn
“It isn’t.” But he doesn’t sound convinced. “Besides, they don’t have my DNA in any database. Cade made sure of that.”
I wrap my arms around myself, chilled despite the fire roaring in the fireplace. He moves to his desk, pressing a button on what looks like a high-tech communication system. The large monitor on the wall flickers to life, showing a video call interface.
“Cade. We have an issue.”
The man who appears on screen is familiar. The gala. Champagne and canapés, small talk, and his vetting me. Did Damien put him up to it? To make sure I could be trusted? Every moment of that night is tainted by what I know now.
Damien was my watcher, stalker, serial killer lover.
Say that three times fast.
Cade looks the same as Damien usually does in his business persona. Polished, professional, and controlled. If Damien is calling him, he’s part of this. What does he do? Clean up the scenes? Get rid of the evidence? The bodies?
Oh, Jesus. I think I’m going to be sick.
“What kind of issue?” Cade’s voice has an edge to it, the relaxed executive from the gala now replaced by someone harder.
“Karen Mills is still sniffing around. They found tire tracks matching a Range Rover and DNA at the Pearson site, and she’s determined to make a connection.” Damien’s tone is all business now, the CEO taking charge. “I need you to find out what she has and how close she is to building a case.”
I step back, trying to stay out of view of the camera. This conversation feels dangerous, like something I shouldn’t be witnessing.
Cade’s expression darkens. “I fucking told you this would happen. Warned you a dozen times. But you’ve been sloppy, careless, leaving a trail because you’re too busy thinking with your dick to use your brain.”
The words hit me like a slap. Too busy thinking with your dick. The dismissiveness in his tone, the way he reduces me to some sexual distraction that’s made Damien stupid, sets my teeth on edge. How dare he?
“Cade.” Damien’s voice goes flat and cold, that tone I recognize from when he wears his wolf mask. “Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I said, shut the fuck up. This is my fault, not hers. Now do your fucking job and find out what Mills knows.”
There’s a long pause where Cade seems to consider pushing back, then thinks better of it. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll get back to you. But you know I’m right.”
“I don’t need a fucking lecture, Cade. Just handle it.” Damien ends the call with another press of the button.
The office falls silent. I stare at the blank screen, feeling the weight of Cade’s words settling over me.
“It’s not your—”
“Don’t.” I turn away, unable to look at him. “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault when we both know better. If you hadn’t been spending every night with me and killing abusers connected to me, you would’ve been more careful.”
“Luna. Look at me.”
I don’t want to, but something in his commanding tone compels me to turn. He’s moved closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
“This is not your fault.” Each word is deliberate. “I made my choices. I took the risks. The only thing you’re guilty of is being brave enough to warn me about what the sheriff has.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Frustration flares in my chest. “How? What does that mean exactly?”
His jaw tightens, and he retreats behind that wall of control again. “You don’t need to know.”
“There it is.” A harsh laugh forces its way out of my throat, so far removed from actual humor that it sounds like it came from someone else. “There’s the real problem between us, Damien. You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
