I watch students shuffle by the conference room, curiously peeking over with red-rimmed eyes, their concern for a friend or fellow student evident in their distressed performance. The professional staff within this room are concerned with deadlines and how the case might delay or disrupt their work. They’re putting on a good front to display concern, but really, we’re all exceedingly egotistical by nature. You don’t get to the top of the ladder by carving out space in your thoughts to care for one lone grad student.

That’s why the hunting in the Tri-City college towns is so good.

And why I didn’t notice the rising reports of missing male students and men. I’m guilty of the same bloated ego of my colleagues, which kept me from recognizing another hunter in my midst.

That vanity will cost me.

As the meeting comes to a close, Hugh allows the agent to pass out his personal contact on cards to the team. Kyrie is the first to slip out of the room.

I bypass Agent Hayes, living up to my dismissive reputation, and trail Kyrie through the warren of glass offices. As she turns down a hallway, I coast up beside her and clasp her bicep, steering her into the cold room.

“Jack, what the hell?”

I swing the door closed, trapping us inside with the steel modular lockers bricked along the walls. There are rows of storage for biological reagents and chemicals that, along with the bodies, need to be stored at a chilling thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit.

The immediate drop in my body temperature cools my overheated blood. It affects Kyrie too, as I notice how she rubs her forearm, her eyes blazing despite the chilled enclosure. My gaze drifts to her hardened nipples peaked against her thin white blouse.

“Did you want something, Jack?” Her demanding tone bites into my erratic thoughts. “Like, say, to tell me the date of your resignation and to congratulate me on winning? Or are you here to make good on your threat to have me on my knees.” One perfect eyebrow arches. “I honestly didn’t suspect you as being one to fraternize in the workplace.”

And like that, all cool composure cracks. Impatience stirs in my veins, and I back her against the steel body lockers, caging her in like a feral animal.

“That might be the only way to shut you up,” I say, the visual of stuffing my studded cock down her throat more than tempting to get that desired effect now.

A swallow drags along the delicate column of her throat. “Then why—?”

“The FBI didn’t show up here because of one student reported missing,” I say, my voice cast low between us. “They’re here because of a pattern of men going missing.”

Agent Hayes didn’t list any names, but he didn’t have to. He hedged around the college bar, implying Mason was a possible victim connected to a rash of disappearances—ones that could be directly connected to the body farm program.

Her wide eyes soften a fraction, disarming. “One agent,” she says. “Not the whole FBI or a task force. Hardly a reason to be meeting all clandestine in the body cooler.” Before I can remark, she adds, “That agent didn’t say anything about a pattern. You’re paranoid.”

“And you’re careless.” I bite into my bottom lip, my hands balled at my sides, restraining myself from the urge to clean up my own careless mess.

I take a purposeful step back, putting enough distance between us to shield myself from her body heat. Kyrie has the innate ability to look on the positive side, but even she should be more concerned about a fed snooping around.

My gaze narrows on her as I say, “You think sending Brad to Madrid on my grant field trip makes you the winner and solves our problem. That trip is three weeks away. We need Brad gone now.”

Her body trembles from the cold, her teeth chattering a little as she sucks in a breath. Against my will, my cock jerks at the sight. The titanium studs rub abrasively against my briefs and make it damn hard not to reach down to adjust myself.

“You’re right,” she says, surprising me. “Brad’s not real good at keeping his cool like some.” She flashes amused eyes up at me. “It’s a huge inconvenience—”

“That you killed a student in our department, bringing the feds to our door? Yeah, it is.” I push in another inch closer to her. “Did you know your victim had contacted the feds?” I demand.

I study her pursed features; she’s pretty even when indignant. “Do you honestly, really think so fucking little of me?”

My nostrils flare, the scent of her perfume invading my senses. “That’s not an answer.”

She huffs a soundless laugh. “No, Jack. I did not know Mason had already contacted the feds before I injected him with SUX and chopped up his body. Next time, I’ll make sure to be extra thorough when killing someone to cover your ass. Satisfied?”

The crude visual she paints allows me to imagine in graphic, arousing detail how she subdued and killed her victim. I blink hard to clear the mental imagery as I dissect her admission beneath the sarcasm.

Kyrie discovered Mason had planned to go around Brad and send the FBI information that could implicate me—or possibly her. I can’t be sure whose ass she’s actually looking out for, seeing as she more than wants me to suffer.

I glance away as she tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “As for Brad, I had a plan for him,” I say. “I was handling him.”

“At a glacial-fucking-pace,” she snaps. “By the time you would have ‘handled him’”—she makes air quotes, quickly wrapping her arms around her quivering body—“Mason would’ve led Brad to three more discrepancies. He had a file, Jack. I erased the hard drive on his laptop. He was going to give Brad that information after the gala.” She cocks a neat eyebrow. “So, you’re welcome.”

I release a hard breath through my nose, then drive my hand through my hair. I should have left West Paine three years ago. The reasons I didn’t pale in comparison to the shitstorm brewing now.

“I said, you’re welcome,” she stresses.

“Don’t pretend any part of Thursday night was for me,” I say, the unwanted memory of her entering Brad’s front door raiding my thoughts. “You have your own selfish motivation.”

As my gaze tracks Kyrie pressed to the lockers, I fight the illogical voice whispering that my reasons for staying were merely excuses. We are all selfish creatures in the end. Some destructive part of me craved to be near this woman, despite all sound logic. I knew it then, her light to my dark, her brimming kinetic energy animating my lifeless corpse.

This rivalry between us started long before now.

Challenging Dr. Roth became almost as satisfying as feeling my victims take their last breath.

My gaze settles on the pale tint of her trembling mouth, the blood drained from her plump lips. No part of me wants to make her warm. I’m gripped with the sudden and dangerous urge to tear the flimsy buttons of her blouse open to see the gooseflesh covering her skin.

I should leave.

Tonight.

The wise choice is to pack my belongings and head out of town. I’ve had my next destination in place for a while. All I have to do is walk away and not look back.

“So what do you suppose we do?” The question leaves my mouth, shocking the both of us.

“I’ll handle Brad,” she says, voice shaky. “Without evidence or proof of any discrepancies, I can calm him down just fine without having to go to extreme measures.”

Right now, I finish the statement for her.

Brad might be malleable for the time being, but his expiration date expired the moment he invaded my territory.

I silently agree with a firm nod. “And the body?”

She releases a breath, her lips quivering, as she flattens her palms to the steel and pushes herself forward. I don’t move back.

“I don’t see why we should cancel all our fun…” She boldly pinches my tie between her fingers. “Besides, you still have that pesky recording of me. Are you willing to delete it, Jack? Give up your leverage?” She twists my tie around her palm, the heated friction of her hand grazing my chest. “A girl has to look out for herself in this world.”