24

Drip.

A drop of blood falls at my feet.

Brock scrunches up his face. "Gross."

It takes a lot to gross out people who do look at murdered bodies for a living, but Hyde is getting there.

What's more, he's becoming prolific.

The third victim was found at his home in the east of the city this evening. Like the last victim, he seems oddly ordinary. No priors or obvious criminal connections. We've identified him but found no family to contact.

Brock and I are surrounded by the bustling chaos of the crime scene. The body is lit up by the flash of the forensic team's cameras. The victim is propped up on a table, impaled by at least twenty different blades across his neck, chest, and limbs.

The image of it is transfixing. Hyde certainly knows how to put on a show.

Brock glances over at me. "You all good, Ava? You've been staring at him in silence for, like, ten minutes now."

I guiltily snap out of my trance. "Oh… Yeah, I'm fine. Ijustwish we could find some promising leads."

We've been combing through the profiles of the victims, but nothing seems to tie them together so far. A businessman and two sketchy, seemingly random men. I still believe this is personal to Hyde, but Ineed tofigure out how.

Even if I told them the truth about Hyde stalking me, what good would it do? He toyed with me like a cat tormenting a mouseandI'm not going toput my team in harm's way.

I step away, staring at my notes, but Brock tails me with a puppy dog expressionon his face.

"Um, Ava, sorry this is bad timingbut,I was wondering if… maybe after our shift… if you'd like to grab a drink with me?"

I turn back to him, shifting on my feet uncomfortably. Is Brock asking me on a date?Ireallyneed a friend on the forceandIdon't want to make things weird between us.

I'm perpetually single. I'm terrified to let anyone close because I know whatI'm capable of. I killed Harvey; who's to say I wouldn't hurt anyone else I let in?

I tried to go on a date with Mike, but he walked out on me. Lily told me he texted her that nightsayinghe was going out of town for a month. I guess he really wanted to get away from me.

And what's more, I can't date anyone while Hyde is occupying all my thoughts.

"Sorry, Brock," I say softly. "Not tonight, I'm going to stay late and work."

"Oh." Brock's face sagsandI feel a burst of guilt. He doesn't know it, but he's better off far away from a woman like me.

Hawkins walks up to us with a grim expression. "We have a witness of a possible suspect from last night. She's being taken to the station now. Brock, conduct the interview and write up the report."

A witness. There's a flutter of hope in my stomach.

I turn to Brock. "I'll help you with the interview."

Hawkins raises an eyebrow, his expression unyielding. "No, you won't. You're going to stay here and talk to the forensics team."

I frown. "That can wait a couple of hours. We always interview the witnesses in pairs."

"Are you refusing an order from your superior, Detective?"

I can feel the frustration boiling over in my voice as it rises. "But I—"

"I'm not asking, Cain. And let me remind you that disobeying my orders was why you were placed under observation and sent to Dr Kellerin the first place."

"Captain—"

Hawkins stares at me, examining my face. "Have you slept at all in the last two days?"

"Of course."

I sound indignant, but I know it's clear from my face I'm lying.I've tried to sleep, but every time I begin to drift off, I see Hyde's mask.

More specifically, I can't stop thinking about his touch. How incredibly good it felt. And how intensely fucked up that is.

Hawkins eyes me. "I know you have an obsessive streak, Ava. Most good cops do. But this is going too damn far."

I swallow down my guilt.

He points to the exit. "You're dismissed for the day. I don't want to see you back here untilyou've got somesleep. You're no good to the case like this."

Frustration burns through me.

I toss my notesdownon the table and head for the door without looking back.

He can force me to leave, but he can't stop me from working.

***

An hourlaterI'm downtown, trying to find a quiet bar that I can use to keep working on my notes.

Hawkins told me to go home, buthereI ambackto my old behavior of disobeying orders. What would Jackson think of this? His face springs into my mind, making my heart stutter with guilt. His disarming smile, cut cheekbones, and dark, deep-set eyes. His warmth, like the sun.

What would he think if he knew how Hyde had made me come?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure walking toward a bar down the street. A man in black, a mask.

My stomach flips.

Is that—

My head snaps up toward him.

No. It's just a blond guy in a Venetian mask. Grinning to his similarly masked buddies as they slip inside the guarded entrance.

My shoulders fall in a twisted mix of relief and disappointment. I glance up at the club sign, my cheeks burning as I realize the implication. Masks, bouncers, consenting adults.

This isn't the kind of place I go to. But since Hyde touched me, I've felt on fire with the need for more.

Now,maybe I've accidentally stumbled uponexactlywhat I need to get Hyde out of my head: an anonymous encounter with a different faceless stranger.

If I go home, all that will be waiting for me is restless, feverish dreams of Hyde touching me.

Before I can chicken out, I walk up to the bouncer. I smile through my nerves, gesturing at my face. "First time. No mask."

He eyes me up before opening the door. "Go ahead.Leave your phone with me.Pick a mask from the wall and bring your own next time."

I pick the firstmask that catches my eye:black, gold, and shinylikea carnival accessory.

I can feel the vibrations of distant bass thumping through the floor as I enter the club's dark hallway. I move toward its sound through the labyrinth of passages until I'm greeted by the kaleidoscope of colors on a dance floor. The air is thick with the heady scent of sweat and alcohol. People in elaborate masks move in afreneticblur.

A group of men in masks pass by, laughing loudly. One of them glances back at me where I stand, full of apprehension.

"You look lost," he says. "Want me to show you around?"

I look up at him. He's the tall, blond-haired guy in the Venetian mask I saw earlier. His grin is wide and welcoming.

Anxiety pulses through me. This is what I wanted, right?A distraction in the form of any other man but Hyde?

I shrug, taking his outstretched hand. He gives a dumbstruck grin to his friends as he leads me down a hallway away from the dance floor and opens a door.

The lighting in the small room is dim and tinted red. A plush velvet couch sits against one wall.

We stare at each other awkwardly for a moment. Slowly, I shrug off my leather jacket, drop it onto the couch, and clutch my elbows across my chest. I'm in a gray t-shirt and jeans, but I somehow feel practically naked.

The guy leans down, gently pulling me closer. He smells like cheap, minty shampoo.

I sigh. Could be worse.

"I'm Nate," he says. "You?"

I grit my teeth. "No names, Nate."

"You done this before?"

"How about no talking, period."

He chuckles. "Noted."

Slowly, he presses his lips to mine. Gentle. Cautious.

I'm waiting for the awkwardness to die down. I want to feel the rush of fire I had with Hyde. But for some reason, it's not coming.

He murmurs in my ear. "You're so fucking hot, you know that? I couldn't believe you agreed to come in here with me."

I can hear the hunger in his voice, but it's muted, as if he's trying not to scare me off.

"Thanks," I mutter. "But you can only see half my face with this thing on. And I said no talking, remember?"

I kiss him back, half just to shut him up. Am I allowed to ask him to be less gentle? I want him to shove me against the wall, push himself inside me, and tell me I'm going to take it like a good girl.

Broken.

I try to shake off the feeling of shame.

Nate guides me to the couch, cautiously lowering his body over mine.I thoughtthis was what I wanted, but the distraction isn't working.

Something flickers in the corner of my vision. A prickling feeling of fear rises along my spine.

My head snaps around.

My stomach clenches.

There's someone watching us.

There's a frosted glass window in the door to the room.I canjustmake outafigure standing in front of it, unmoving.

I sit up, pushing Nate off me. "Um, I think one of your friends wants to join us."

"Huh?" He glances over at the door, looking annoyed at the distraction.

"One man in a mask is enough for me right now. Can you tell him to leave?"

He sighs, going to swing the door open. "Hey, buddy."

Electricity crackles through me as the figure comes into sight.

I thought the man standing outsidewas going tobe some creepy peeping tom.

But I can't take my eyes off him.

He's tall. Taller than Nate. A skull-patterned mask covers his face and hair. He's wearing a grayt-shirtand black jeans. My breath hitches atthe waythe fabric clings to his chest and arms. He's built, his muscles taut.

Nate looks at him, more uncertain than he was a second ago. "Uh… Would you get out of here, pal? Private show. The lady is spoken for."

The mystery man leans down to reach Nate's ear. I can't hear what he says over the music. But Nate's eyes bulge.He gives a half-glance back at me before shrinking to theside of the other manandscurryingout of the room.

I hop off the couch. "What the hell?"

The mystery man steps inside, swinging the door shut behind him. He clicks the lock.

"Hey," I protest. "Whoever you are. I'm not a deli special. You can't just pick me."

He takes a step forward. His movements look painfully familiar.

Is that—

No. It can't be. This is cop paranoia. It's a different mask. A different outfit. Everyone here is in a mask. That doesn't mean anything.

He steps even closer, and his scent hits my senses.

Leather and cedar. Woodsmoke and iron.

My stomach drops.

"You," I breathe.

I shiver at the sound of his distorted voice when he answers.

"Took you long enough, my little detective."