kicked herself, she reminded herself she could hardly be expected to be calm in a situation like this. It wasn’t every night she was called to the scene of a gruesome murder.
Confronted with the man who, after all this time, after everything he’d put her through, still had the power to make her knees shake when she looked at him. It seemed impossible that he should still have this effect on her. He’d put her brother in jail for Christ’s sake, hadn’t lifted a finger when she’d asked—no, begged—for his help. Thenwhen their relationship had been exposed in the press, Cole had told reporters his feelings for Megan weren’t serious, certainly not serious enough to interfere with his job. Which took priority over everything.
Yet she took one look at that hard, chiseed face; that rangy, broad-shouldered body; those big, long-fingered hands, and her stomach did a completely irrational, adolescent flip-flop.
“You know him?” Dev whispered.
“Yeah, we go way back,” Megan replied, proud of the way her tone sharpened, happy to feel the fresh burst of anger in her chest chase away the rest.
Something flashed on his face—regret? Then it was gone as his gaze shifted from her to Dev. “I understand you called Miss Flynn after you found the victim?”
Dev’s gaze flicked anxiously to Megan, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Yeah,” Dev said softly. “She told me to call the police.”
Cole’s full mouth pulled into a half smile. “Smart woman.” He started to say something, then paused as the trailer door opened behind him.
“This is my partner, Detective Olivia Petersen,” Cole said. “Petersen, this is Megan Flynn and Devany Sinclair.”
With her tall, athletic body, short blond hair, and cleanly sculpted features, Detective Petersen looked like some kind of Nordic goddess of war. Her eyes did the cop sweep around the room, taking in every detail.
“You found the victim, correct?” she asked Dev.
Dev nodded.
“And who are you again?” she asked Megan, who tried not to bristle at the woman’s sharp, businesslike tone.
“I’m Dev’s court-appointed advocate.”
Detective Petersen’s perfectly arched brows knitted into a frown. “Why is your name so familiar?”
Megan fought not to squirm as the woman’s blue stare pierced her. “Most likely because my brother Sean is on death row and recently waived his right to appeal,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “His name is in the press lately because in less than two weeks he’ll be the first person executed by Washington State in over a decade.” She felt her mouth stretch into a sneer. “And whenever they talk about Sean, my name comes up. The crazy, delusional sister who won’t believe her brother is guilty.” Her eyes narrowed and she couldn’t resist a look at Cole.
He watched her silently, his eyes dark and full of sympathy that bordered on pity. Goddamn him. She didn’t need his pity. “Stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me, Cole. We both know how you feel about Sean.”
Cole opened his mouth to protest, but Megan cut him off as she turned back to Detective Petersen. “None of that matters tonight. Dev has already been through a lot. Maybe we should pick this back up in the morning—”
“We’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible,” Cole said, his low voice somehow soothing, now that he was once again all business.
“It’s okay,” Dev said. “We can talk now.”
He motioned for m" w sit on the couch and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table while Petersen remained standing, arms across her chest. Megan sat on the couch next to Dev, pressing herself as far back into the cushions as she could. Still she couldn’t escape the claustrophobic sensation, like Cole had sucked up all the space and air in the room.
Dev wasn’t having nearly the same reaction, andMegan couldn’t blame her. Had she not known better, Megan would have fallen under Cole’s spell too. There was
Confronted with the man who, after all this time, after everything he’d put her through, still had the power to make her knees shake when she looked at him. It seemed impossible that he should still have this effect on her. He’d put her brother in jail for Christ’s sake, hadn’t lifted a finger when she’d asked—no, begged—for his help. Thenwhen their relationship had been exposed in the press, Cole had told reporters his feelings for Megan weren’t serious, certainly not serious enough to interfere with his job. Which took priority over everything.
Yet she took one look at that hard, chiseed face; that rangy, broad-shouldered body; those big, long-fingered hands, and her stomach did a completely irrational, adolescent flip-flop.
“You know him?” Dev whispered.
“Yeah, we go way back,” Megan replied, proud of the way her tone sharpened, happy to feel the fresh burst of anger in her chest chase away the rest.
Something flashed on his face—regret? Then it was gone as his gaze shifted from her to Dev. “I understand you called Miss Flynn after you found the victim?”
Dev’s gaze flicked anxiously to Megan, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Yeah,” Dev said softly. “She told me to call the police.”
Cole’s full mouth pulled into a half smile. “Smart woman.” He started to say something, then paused as the trailer door opened behind him.
“This is my partner, Detective Olivia Petersen,” Cole said. “Petersen, this is Megan Flynn and Devany Sinclair.”
With her tall, athletic body, short blond hair, and cleanly sculpted features, Detective Petersen looked like some kind of Nordic goddess of war. Her eyes did the cop sweep around the room, taking in every detail.
“You found the victim, correct?” she asked Dev.
Dev nodded.
“And who are you again?” she asked Megan, who tried not to bristle at the woman’s sharp, businesslike tone.
“I’m Dev’s court-appointed advocate.”
Detective Petersen’s perfectly arched brows knitted into a frown. “Why is your name so familiar?”
Megan fought not to squirm as the woman’s blue stare pierced her. “Most likely because my brother Sean is on death row and recently waived his right to appeal,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “His name is in the press lately because in less than two weeks he’ll be the first person executed by Washington State in over a decade.” She felt her mouth stretch into a sneer. “And whenever they talk about Sean, my name comes up. The crazy, delusional sister who won’t believe her brother is guilty.” Her eyes narrowed and she couldn’t resist a look at Cole.
He watched her silently, his eyes dark and full of sympathy that bordered on pity. Goddamn him. She didn’t need his pity. “Stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me, Cole. We both know how you feel about Sean.”
Cole opened his mouth to protest, but Megan cut him off as she turned back to Detective Petersen. “None of that matters tonight. Dev has already been through a lot. Maybe we should pick this back up in the morning—”
“We’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible,” Cole said, his low voice somehow soothing, now that he was once again all business.
“It’s okay,” Dev said. “We can talk now.”
He motioned for m" w sit on the couch and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table while Petersen remained standing, arms across her chest. Megan sat on the couch next to Dev, pressing herself as far back into the cushions as she could. Still she couldn’t escape the claustrophobic sensation, like Cole had sucked up all the space and air in the room.
Dev wasn’t having nearly the same reaction, andMegan couldn’t blame her. Had she not known better, Megan would have fallen under Cole’s spell too. There was
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