My jaw clenches.

“So…” she drawls. “There are consequences. For you, Jack.” Her lips tip into a smug little smile.

She’s enjoying this.

Whatever this woman’s endgame is, it’s definitely to make me suffer.

I could stop this now. It would be simple enough to follow her home tonight. Wait until she’s asleep in her bed. Drop my hand over her mouth and subdue her. I wouldn’t need a sedative. Or a Taser. I could have Dr. Roth tied up in my personal cold room in less than twenty-four hours, where I could torture the answers from her, then get rid of the annoying problem.

Life would resume as normal.

I could even pin it on Brad. Get rid of two of my problems at the same time.

But the longer I stare at Dr. Kyrie Roth, caught in the knowing gleam banked behind her pale-blue eyes, the more curious I become.

While it’s true curiosity killed the stupid cat, it’s also the cornerstone of research facilities and breakthrough discoveries.

I err on the side of caution, always. If she’s aggressive enough to kill one meddling grad student, she might be aggressively dedicated enough to keep her secrets. Or just crazy—crazy has a tendency to make things difficult.

The truth is, I need more information. I need time to dig into her background and excavate answers. I never execute a plan before I have all the details aligned and everything in place. So far, we’ve been playing by her rules. I’m at her mercy.

It’s time to flip the game board.

And if all else fails, there’s always plan B.

Her polished bones would look good displayed on my trophy mantel.

“What do you want?” I ask her outright.

She licks her lips enticingly. “I honestly don’t think you’ve earned that answer from me yet, Jack. Why don’t you try groveling?”

A grin sneaks onto my face. I take one step forward to bring us closer. “How about a counter offer.”

She arches a sculpted eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“I can tell you what I want,” I say, letting my gaze drag over her body in deliberate pursuit. If I’m not mistaken, her reaction proves I affect her; the dip along the slender column of her throat; the tiny shiver that racks her body. “I want you the hell out of my department. Out of my university. My town. Territory.”

She recovers quickly, all flirtatious façade dissolving beneath her severe expression. “Not going to happen. I’ve worked hard to be—”

“You were a favor hire,” I cut her off. “I saw the referral from your professor to Dr. Cannon. I admit, you worked the social ladder-climbing circuit really, really hard, but you didn’t earn it on your own accord, with the required experience at this level.”

With less work experience than all the other applicants combined, I still don’t understand how Hugh hired such a green wildlife biologist. All I know is nothing has been the same since Dr. Kyrie Roth stepped foot inside my university.

If looks could flay, my skin would be a pile of ribbon around my feet. Satisfaction swells in my veins.

“I had no idea how utterly misogynistic you are, Dr. Sorensen.”

“Call it what you want, but merit goes farther than referrals with me.” I shrug, letting her believe this is why I never gave her the praise she so obviously and desperately wanted from me. “Maybe if you had first put in the years of needed experience, we’d have had a completely different professional relationship, Dr. Roth. Instead, you invaded my territory with lacking skills, and issued a challenge.”

Her eyes narrow. “We’re no longer talking about career paths, are we?”

“I take affronts to both very seriously.”

The truth is—as petty as it sounds—I was here first. If she wants to get primitive about it, I marked my territory long before her cute ass pranced into West Paine.

I’ve only ever encountered one other predator stalking my territory. Ten years ago, that particular rivalry ended with him dead, his body incinerated—bones and all—and me vacating my hunting ground.

Yet I’m the apex predator that came out on top.

History has a precedence here.

Kyrie bites the corner of her lip, then: “You have no idea how full of shit you are,” she says, her tone taking on a severe edge.

“I’m not too impressed with opinions, either,” I say, and before she can retort, “There can only be one, Kyrie.”

My use of her first name surprises her, and she huffs a sardonic laugh. “Two men enter. One man leaves.” Her eyebrow wings up again in challenge. “Not very politically correct. Perhaps we should update the rules of Thunderdome to a more gender neutral wording.”

I slide my tongue over the smooth surface of my teeth, then toss a glance at Brad through the glass wall as a dark thought presses against my resolve. I had another plan for eliminating the Brad dilemma, but maybe he could still serve a purpose.

Someone needs to suffer. Might as well be him.

Plus, I really dislike that fucker.

“Dr. Bradley Thompson is a problem for us,” I say.

“Is he?” Kyrie shakes her head as she walks around her desk. She picks up a manila folder and flips through the pages, feigning interest. “I don’t really find Brad a problem, Jack. Maybe you should try sucking his cock. He likes that. He might even back out of the competition with you for the research trip to Madrid.”

“You really are that naïve as to what you’ve done.”

This gains her full attention. She sets the folder down.

“When Brad finds out the student who discovered the discrepancy has gone missing—”

“He’s going to point a finger at you,” she fires back.

“And then I’m going to play this for the police.” I reach into my blazer inseam and produce my phone. I hold it between us and hit the Play button on the screen.

“So, that’s really what this is all about. When I didn’t fall at your feet like everyone else, you decided to frame me.”

Then her voice fills the office: “I guess I break all your expectations then, don’t I, Dr. Sorensen?”

I hit Stop on the recording. “There’s quite a bit more of your very informative monologue. You do like to talk, Kyrie.” I gift her a smug smile. “If I go down… Well, you know the rest.”

“God. So obvious,” she says.

“Yet effective.” I pocket my phone, and her smile stretches, like she has another secret just waiting to spill past her lips.

“All right, Jack,” she finally concedes. “Body Farm Thunderdome has commenced.” She spreads her arms wide. “What’s the objective?”

My gaze slides to the office across the hallway, where Dr. Brad Thompson is doing a poor job of covertly watching us with a look of distress on his pale face.

“Brad has to go,” I say.

“That’s too easy.”

As much as I want to eviscerate him and leave his entrails and organs to be pecked over by birds, killing Brad right now isn’t wise. “Brad needs to leave,” I clarify. “Of his own volition. He either has to be so afraid, or so annoyed—” I glare at her, implying this is her expertise “—with his position here, that he voluntarily transfers out, forgetting all about the discrepancy.”

Kyrie doesn’t agree right away, which I almost respect. She considers it for a moment before saying, “And whoever gets Brad to leave wins, I assume. The loser taking his long walk of shame right off campus grounds.”

“Or her walk… But yes, that’s the idea. At which time, I’ll erase my phone recording, and you’ll tell me where the other half of the remains are located.”

Her lips twist into a sly smile as she extends her hand. “Fine. You have a deal, Jack. Let the best person win.”

A hesitant beat stretches between us where I stare at her hand, absorbing the fine framework of her metacarpals and slender phalanges. My eyes track upward along her radius, and when I take her hand in mine, my breath reflexively stills as I rest my fingers along her delicate wrist bones.