Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Frankie

"It's a bust on Petrovic," I growl, pushing my chair back hard enough to almost tip it over. I feel the tension in my neck spasm as I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tightness settling in. "These guys are like fucking ghosts. There has to be a connection." There's always one—some thread that weaves their lives together, even if it's as mundane as a shared gym membership or the fact that they're all cheating on their spouses.

Jay slams his pencil down, the sound echoing through the cluttered office. It's the telltale sign that he's reached his limit, too. "Yeah, I was hoping for more on those biologicals left on his forehead. Vitreous fluid," he mutters, shaking his head. "This guy's a monster."

"Tell me about it," I reply, the words coming out sharper than intended. "Squashing someone's eyeballs is peak demented. How far gone do you have to be?"

Jay exhales, a weary sound filled with disgust. "Maybe he's only hunting men? Just an opportunistic killer like Gacy, picking off what's available."

"Yeah, but Gacy still targeted young boys. This guy? He's all over the place—different ages, different backgrounds—just a bunch of men."

"Then that's your answer," he says, frustration creeping into his voice. "Maybe he's just a scrawny loser wishing he could be strong and virile like these guys. They're fit and attractive enough, right?"

I stare at the wall, my mind racing. It's easy to throw theory after theory, but it all feels like grasping at straws in the dark. This isn't just about profiling; it's about stopping a monster before he claims another life.

It's a good point, and I nod my agreement at Jay's explanation, but it doesn't feel right. As a detective, I rely on the evidence to make arrests and ultimately get convictions, but to get there, I rely heavily on my gut. Any cop who denies that is lying—or a terrible cop.

"You don't like it."

"No, I don't. The crime is too violent, too personal. He knows these men, or they're proxies for who he really wants to kill." It's the only thing that fits.

Jay pushes away from the desk and stands up, shaking his head while sending me a half-hearted glare. A surge of concern rises in me when I see the haggard look in his eye and the dark pools of fatigue circling his cheekbones. I'm sure my face mirrors his fatigue. "That's enough for tonight," he says with a yawn and adds, "We're not doing anyone any favors working ourselves to the bone. Let's get out of here and get some sleep."

"Maybe you're right," I agree. "I need to get out of here and get some sleep, or else I'm going to go crazier than I already am."

He lets out a short laugh. "Have you been staying because of me? You know you don't have to keep my hours, Frankie."

"We're partners," I grunt, as if that's the only response needed.

"I know, but you have some autonomy, you know. If you need to knock off early, do that. I see your dedication to the job."

His words mean the world to me. Especially after what happened to my dad. Yeah, I want to nail the fucker terrorizing these men, but I also want to end my career with a rep like Jay's as one of the best ever to wear the badge.

And if my dad is looking down, I want him to swell with pride that his little girl is following in his footsteps. That and only that would make all this hard work worthwhile.

Jay grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. "'Night, Frankie."

I turn out the lamp on my desk. "Night. Plans tonight?"

He glances down at his watch. "Fingers crossed. Maybe I can convince Cassandra to have dinner with me if it's not too late." His eyebrows dance with excitement, and I smile.

Jay's getting more action than me. Hell, he's getting all the action while I've just been ghosted by a man who gave me the best sex of my life. "Have some fun for me too, would ya?"

"I'll see what I can do," he says, giving me a two-fingered salute.

Jay and I leave the precinct together, parting when I head for my car. I check the back seat and my surroundings before slipping inside, then let out a deep breath and head home. My thoughts wander back to Damien, which pisses me off.

"Fuck him," I say out loud just to drive the point home to myself. He's not worth thinking about because, clearly, he's not thinking about me, which is fine.

He never made me any promises except for a good time.

And I did have a good time. A really good time.

It stings, that's all. I don't need Damien Wolfe or any other man for that matter. They are a luxury, not a necessity.

I arrive at my house and frown at an unfamiliar silver Audi parked in my driveway. The neighbors would ask before committing such an offense, and I brace myself for whoever the hell it is as I step out of my sedan and flip the snap on my holster—just in case.

The Audi door opens, and a tall figure steps out. Even though darkness conceals his identity, I know those broad shoulders and long legs. Even so, I aim my gun at the person. "Stop right there and identify yourself."

The man is unflappable, that's for sure. He doesn't freeze or gasp or show any other signs of shock. He stays relaxed as he turns to face me. "It's me, Francesca. Damien."

As if I don't know. "What are you doing here?" My voice comes out softer than I intended, betraying my mixed emotions.

His shoulders fall. "I had to rush off for a few days, Francesca, but I'm back now."

"Without a word?" I arch an eyebrow, trying to keep my demeanor cool even as my heart skips a beat.

He nods. "It was sudden. I didn't have time to explain. I'm sorry."

"I left you a message. Did you get it?"

He says, "I did. And that's why I'm here."

"Oh, so you think you can ignore me for days and then just show up like it's nothing?" Shit. Now I sound like a psycho.

He gives me that killer smile and shoves his hands in his pockets. "You got it, Frankie."

His easy agreement throws me off. I expected him to put up more resistance, but he just smiles like he's amused, making it hard to stay mad.

"Don't charm your way out of this, Damien. You disappeared, and now you're here. Why?"

"To see you." He takes a few steps forward, his eyes searching mine. "And to make it up to you. I'm here to cook dinner and spend some time together."

A flutter of excitement stirs inside me despite my best efforts to stay guarded. "Dinner? You better hope you're as good in the kitchen as you think you are."

He turns his back to me, popping the trunk of his car.

"You got a body in there?" The playfulness in my voice is clear. "Sorry to tell you, Damien, but I'd have to arrest you."

He turns to me with a fake pout. "You would? After all we've shared?"

"In a heartbeat," I reply, biting back a smile. "Badge before…whatever this is between us."

He retrieves two canvas bags from the trunk. "Good thing it's just dinner ingredients, then. I'm cooking for you tonight if you'll let me."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "You cook? Or did your private chef pack some gourmet TV dinners with reheating instructions?"

Damien's laugh is rich and genuine, the sound wrapping around me like a warm embrace. "I'll have you know I'm quite skilled in the kitchen. Among other things," he adds with a wink.

Heat rises to my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see how much he affects me. "Big talk, Wolfe. You'll have to prove it."

"With pleasure," he purrs, his voice low and promising. "Though if I accidentally poison you, feel free to sue me. I hear I'm good for it."

I chuckle, some of the tension between us dissipating. "You've got yourself a deal. Either I get a great meal or a fat lawsuit. Seems like a win-win to me."

His eyes soften, a touch of vulnerability showing through his confident exterior. "So, does this mean I'm forgiven?"

I turn toward the house, allowing myself a small smile he can't see. "That depends on how good you are with your… cooking skills. I have high standards, you know."

I'm also curious to see what else he'll do with those magic hands.

Maye a night of hot monkey sex is just what I need.