Night Games

12

There was a picture of Selina’s necklace on the floor under his desk. Jack frowned and bent to retrieve it. One of the papers Delta had dropped, maybe? He looked at the huge pile of files and flipped open the top one. Paperwork filled out in Selina’s neat handwriting. Attached to it was a picture of the now-familiar murder scene.

The New Orleans files had arrived.

She’d have to help him sort through them when she got back from the break room. He could definitely use another gallon or three of espresso. Without Gregor as a viable suspect, they were back to square one.

Jack pulled out the first picture and set it on his desk, then went digging to find the other three. Four victims in the Big Easy, Selina had said. He wanted to see them lined up together, compare them to the other victims’ pictures. Especially since this was the one city that seemed to have started it all, but didn’t quite fit the pattern. There was no denying these pictures, though. He’d guess once the tech guys went over the many photos of the fang puncture wounds—or mouthpiece punctures—they’d find they were an exact match to all the others. Unless they had multiple people passing around the same mouthpiece and committing murders in the exact same way for thirty years, it looked like this was more of their vamp’s handiwork.

Two women and two men. Two Magickals and two Normals. The photo of one of the women snagged his attention. She was wearing the necklace. Selina’s necklace. He pulled that one closer to him and looked again. No, it wasn’t the same. The stones were different colors, but the rest looked exactly alike. The chain, the shaping of the metal. And she was an elf, too.

It didn’t mean anything. Elves tended to specialize in magical objects. He had elven-made objects in his house—part of a security system meant to ward off those who meant him harm. The effect it created was similar to the shield spells many Magickals used to protect their property, but since he had no magical abilities, he’d had to improvise.

Still, his gaze kept going back to the necklace. Maybe it bothered him to see an elf with a necklace like Selina’s staring up at him, lifeless. He dragged the woman’s file over and flipped it open. More of Selina’s handwriting. The woman was named Elizabeth Leblanc (nee Chandler), born in England in the 1600s, next of kin was her mother, Agnes Chandler (nee Grayson), both elves.

Grayson.

His gaze caught on the name. It could mean nothing, but the hairs rose on the back of his neck. He looked back at the picture, at the necklace. What had Selina said about it at the wedding? A talisman, made by her cousin.

He pushed his chair over until he sat in front of his computer, pulled up the database for All-Magickal personnel files and typed in Selina’s name.

Bingo. Listed under next of kin was her aunt, Agnes Grayson Chandler, now deceased. They needed to update her file.

As if that was the most important problem.

In the last few minutes, incredulity had given way to anger. It boiled up inside him, an insidious darkness that spread within him as it hit him how very little Selina had trusted him. With anything other than her body. For both professional and personal reasons, she should have told him about her goddamn cousin being murdered by the man they were hunting.

This sure as hell explained why she flinched when people talked about their families. Her aunt had hated her, and her cousin had been slaughtered during a case Selina was investigating. He doubted that had helped matters with her aunt.

He realized his hands were clenched so hard on the edge of the desk, his knuckles had gone white. He’d told her about his wife, spilled his fucking guts to her, and she hadn’t even bothered to clue him in on something that touched on their case. Her lines between work and private didn’t apply here. No, she’d just lied to him, let him think this case upset her because it was gruesome and unsolved. It was the one that got away. It haunted her, she’d said.

He’d damn well deserved to know why.

Picking up the pictures of Elizabeth Leblanc’s crime scene, he forced himself to look through them. She didn’t look much like Selina. Her hair and eyes were as pale as Selina’s were dark, but there were a few similarities in the shape of the nose and chin. Not much else. It was difficult to tell with nothing but a corpse to go on. The animation of life might have given expressions that resembled her cousin, but death stole that away.

He cycled back around to the photo he’d picked up off the floor. The close-up of the necklace was a picture of the victim’s personal effects after they’d been removed from the body. Selina’s cousin’s body.

Every time he saw that talisman, he felt the rage fester inside him. His jaw clenched and he forced a breath out through his nose. He’d be pissed if it was anyone except Selina, but right now he was beyond livid. He wanted to hit something, wanted to feel something besides deceived.

“Jack?” Selina stood in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her expression wary. “Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t. His teeth ground together, and instead of saying anything to her, he set the close-up of the necklace on the desk.

Her eyes went wide when she saw it, and she drew in a sharp breath. “The New Orleans files arrived.”

“The New Orleans files arrived,” he agreed, his voice sharper than a cracking whip.

Stepping forward, she stared down at the picture for a long moment. “I forgot she was wearing that when she died.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He was going to strangle her. He’d never done violence to a woman in his life, but his hands were shaking with the need to spank her ass for keeping this from him.

She shook herself, shook her head. “I was going to tell you about this.”

“Right.” He snorted. “When was that?”

“Today, before Delta came in to update us on the profile.”

“Convenient.” Sarcasm coated the word.

She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not lying about this.”

“About this, maybe.” And he had his doubts, considering how huge an omission this was. “You just left out a lot of information about everything else. I had to go digging through your personnel file to put all the pieces together.”

Damn it. Damn her and all her secrets.

Her chin jutted stubbornly. The chin that looked like her cousin’s in the pictures. “I couldn’t risk you or Luca yanking me off the case because the last victim in New Orleans was related to me. Theodore and I had been hunting him for weeks before that. I had the most knowledge to offer you on the previous cases, which is why Merek brought me in.”

“Did Merek know about Elizabeth?” If he had, Jack might just strangle the groom when he got back. At the very least break his nose.

“No. Theodore knows about Bess, and my old superiors, but they’re all retired now.” She shook her head. “I had to be in on this, can’t you understand that? I can’t just stand back while this bloodsucker goes around killing Magickal-Normal crossover people like you and me. And Bess.”

That sent an icy chill down his spine. “Wait, what? I’m a Normal who knows about magic, yeah, but—”

“And my first husband was a Normal.” She cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms. “What? You didn’t get to that part of my personnel file? It’s not that uncommon. There aren’t that many Magickals out there. Some people look down on it, but if we didn’t marry humans, we’d be as inbred as European royalty.”

He shook his head. “This is beside the point. You should have told me. I don’t care how fucking private you are—I had every right to know about this. It was my decision to make whether I wanted you on my case, my decision whether or not your family ties to these crimes would jeopardize the investigation.”

“It’s my case, too.” She unfolded her arms and jabbed a finger in his direction, an angry flush racing up her face. “It was my case first.”

“So? What do you want, a cookie? You didn’t manage to solve it, so it’s my case now. You’re just on loan, remember?” He knew he wasn’t being fair, but the fact that she couldn’t even admit she was in the wrong enraged him even more. He jerked to his feet, towering over her. “It doesn’t matter how much older or more experienced than me you are, you should have treated me like an adult and let me make the best choice for my case.”

She flinched as if he’d slapped her, and he wanted to take the words back, but he felt too angry and betrayed himself to back down now. Her mouth worked for a moment, and her voice came out a strained whisper. “It wasn’t about you. I would have made the same choice with anyone. Sleeping with you didn’t change anything.”

The words were a blow to the chest, especially after he’d opened up to her that morning. He felt gut-punched, hurt, and that just pissed him off even more.

“Right.” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “Of course not, because I’m just a quick fuck for you. What did you call it? Food followed by anal sex. Message received. My mistake. It’s so nice to know you would have deceived anyone to get what you wanted.” He leaned closer to her, until there were mere inches between their faces. “It’s professional courtesy to let someone know before you fuck over their investigation. Even if we weren’t sleeping together, I had a right to know about this.” He slapped the rest of the pictures down on the desk in front of her.

Her gaze dropped to the photos and her face went deathly pale. Swaying on her feet, she put one hand on the back of a chair to steady herself. She swallowed hard, then clamped her free hand over her mouth.

“Selina?” He looked down and saw a close-up of Bess’s dead face. But Selina had seen all these before, hadn’t she? She’d probably been there in person.

Spinning on a heel, Selina walked over to the trash can in the corner, bent forward, and vomited. He watched her back heave as another spasm racked her, and she hit her knees.

He was around the desk in a split second, kneeling beside her. She didn’t resist when he drew her against his chest. He rocked her lightly, his chest tight. He didn’t know why her reaction was so violent, but he couldn’t stand aside and watch her suffer. Maybe that made him weak or a fool, but that was how it was. It didn’t matter how angry he was with her. “Shh. Selina, shh.”

“I just—” Her muscles locked, and he leaned forward with her, held back her shirt and necklace so she didn’t get puke on them. A rough sob broke out of her, and she threw up twice more, until there was nothing left in her stomach and she dry-heaved. She was shaking when she slumped back against him.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Jack looked up to see Peyton standing there. He had a leather jacket slung over one arm. “I was on my way out and I heard ... Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Selina’s voice was a gritty rasp, and she swiped her arm against her mouth.

Jack added, “Food poisoning. She’s going home.”

The wolf nodded as if that made perfect sense, though Jack was damn sure Peyton had heard them yelling and that was what had brought him running. He reached over and picked up Selina’s bag. “I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll drive myself, thanks.” She hauled herself out of Jack’s arms and rose to her feet, weaving a little unsteadily.

Peyton retained his hold on her messenger bag. “Fine. I’ll follow you and make sure you get home safely.” He lifted a hand to ward off any protests. “Then I’ll go straight to the pack for lockdown, I promise.”

“Fine.” She didn’t look at the pictures or at Jack as she marched out the door.

Jack stood slowly, met Peyton’s gaze. “Take care of her.”

“I will.”

Because he couldn’t. Because she didn’t want him to. He could feel her retreating behind those walls of hers, locking him out. It was two steps forward and five steps back with her, and he just didn’t have the energy left to deal with it today. If she needed to retreat and lick her wounds, that was her prerogative. He couldn’t force her. It was a lesson he should have learned with his wife. If a woman didn’t want to stay with him, he couldn’t make her. At least this one hadn’t chosen death as a better option.

That evening, Selina stood in front of Jack’s front door. She lifted her fist to knock, hesitated, let her hand drop. Grim parked himself beside her, leaning against her in support. He barked once to encourage her. Pain in the ass he might be, but he was loyal to the core, and she could use the bolster to her courage right now. Selina took a deep breath, raised her hand again, and stumbled back a step when the door flew open.

Jack frowned down at Grim but reached out to ruffle the dog’s furry head. “I thought I heard a mutt on the porch.”

“Hi,” Selina squeaked.

His blue gaze rose to meet hers, his expression inscrutable. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. His dark hair was rumpled as if he’d run his fingers through it multiple times, and while he still wore the clothes from the office, his tie and jacket were gone, his shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. “Hello. You’re supposed to be home recovering from food poisoning. Did you need something?”

“I don’t know.” Pressure had built and built inside her since she’d left him, after she’d upchucked in his office and he’d lied to protect her pride from Peyton. It had been ... kind, when she didn’t really deserve it.

Still, she couldn’t get the image of her cousin out of her head. It had always been there, lingering in the background for thirty long fucking years, but seeing the pictures again made it feel as though the image was seared into her retinas. That night played in a loop in her head. Getting the call that there’d been another one. Realizing that she knew the address and having to call Holmes to let him know before she raced out the door. It had been the longest ten-minute drive of her life to get to Bess’s house. Some part of her had hoped, prayed that someone else had died, not her baby cousin. Her aunt had been the one to find the body, and the venom she’d spat had been nothing compared to the horror that froze Selina inside when there was no more denying the devastating truth. Those staring, blank eyes had made her vomit then, too. She’d come back and done her job, but the violent reaction had been as beyond her control then as it had been today.

Jack watched her, waiting. Then he silently stepped back and held the door open for her. “You might as well have some coffee while you’re here.”

A pathetic amount of gratitude flooded her that he wasn’t just going to slam the door in her face. He had every right to, and they both knew it. She stepped in, Grim preceding her. “Coffee’s good.”

But it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d become addicted to having him as a distraction. Talking to him, sexing it up with him. Hell, there’d been a couple of especially long days when they’d just sat beside each other and watched television, making sarcastic comments about whatever they happened to be watching. Mostly, she just wanted him to strip her and fuck her hard until there was no past or present or future, until she didn’t have to think about a damn thing.

She wanted to use him, just as he’d accused her of earlier. It made her feel like shit, but her insides were twisting and writhing so badly she’d go crazy if she didn’t get some relief from her own thoughts. She only knew of one distraction powerful enough to take her mind off of this. There were several men she could have called to take care of her needs, but she didn’t want them. She wanted Jack, no matter how pissed off he was at her, no matter how complicated things were between them. The idea of any other man touching her right now was repugnant. She only wanted Jack.

“Forget the coffee.” She caught his arm when he would have turned toward the kitchen. “You know why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes. Your convenient fuck buddy.” There was a sting in his voice that lashed at her.

“That was all this was ever supposed to be.” Her tone was almost pleading, and she hated herself for the weakness, but she couldn’t make herself walk away.

“It’s more than that now.” And he didn’t sound very happy about it. She couldn’t say that she blamed him. Right now, she was a bad bet, for so many reasons.

“I know.” Confessing it hurt. She should never have let it get to this point, and she had no one to blame except herself. As usual. She was her own worst enemy.

His chin dropped to his chest and he sighed. “I’m still pissed. I have every right to be.”

“I know.” Gods, she did. In his position, she’d have already kicked her ass to the curb.

“You should have told me.” He looked at her, and the pain in his gaze made her flinch.

“I know.” She swallowed, telling herself to leave it at that. But she couldn’t. “At the time, I made the decision I thought was best. Given the same circumstances, I would probably do the same thing again. I didn’t know you, and I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“And you had to be on this case that badly, no matter what the cost?” His gaze drilled into her, daring her to look away.

“Yes. For Bess. For all his victims I couldn’t spare.”

Even now, she had to see this through to the end. It wasn’t in her to let it go and walk away. Just being who she was had pushed more than one man away over the years, and it added more weight to her chest to realize Jack might be another.

“Are you going to make me beg?” She wanted the question to be glib, but instead it broke in the middle.

“No, I’m not going to make you beg.” He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His touch was gentle when he brushed her hair back. His gaze searched her face, but she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t deal with the questions in his eyes, couldn’t deal with the storm of emotions that rocked her.

Fisting her fingers in his shirt, she tried to pull him down for a kiss, tried to lose herself in him and bury everything that she didn’t want to feel.

He resisted, kissing her so sweetly it made her breath catch and her eyes sting. He bent and swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her across it. His lips played over hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth to twine with hers. Her breathing sped, her nipples tightened, and the desperation faded, replaced by the hot lust he never failed to inspire. This. This was what she’d needed. She slid her fingers into his hair, the warm silk of it soft against her palms. The stubble on his jaw rasped against her skin, the feel delicious.

Blindly, they tugged at each other’s clothing, pulling off a piece at a time between long, drugging kisses. The taste of him intoxicated her, made her crave him even more. The feel of his naked body moving against hers was something she’d never get enough of, not if she had a hundred more years to try. But she didn’t. Squelching that thought, she nipped at his lower lip, pushed her tongue in to slide alongside his and take in the flavor of him. So perfect. Her heart squeezed tight enough to make her breathing hitch.

He slipped his hands up her arms, drew them away from his body and over her head. He broke the kiss, and before she could blink, he’d snapped a metal cuff around one wrist, looped the chain around the wrought-iron bars in his headboard, and closed the other cuff around her free wrist.

“Oh, really?” She arched her eyebrows and tugged at the bindings. “You think these things can hold me? I know the spells to get out of even police issue handcuffs.”

“These aren’t exactly department issued. These were elf-made just for me. Bespelled to keep even the most powerful and unruly Magickal under wraps. A Normal like me needs all the advantages he can get.” He leaned forward to blow a slow stream of air against her sensitive ear, then flicked his tongue against the delicate point. “Besides, you don’t want to escape me.”

She shuddered, arching her body toward him. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” He sat back to trail his fingers from her collarbone to her breast. His face was shadowed in the dark, only thin shafts of light coming through the bedroom doorway. “Close your eyes.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then did as he bid. He’d make it good for her, she knew it, and she refused to think about why she trusted him so implicitly.

Testing her magic against the bindings, she found he wasn’t lying. They were built to nullify magic. If she shoved every ounce of magic she had at them, she might be able to escape. Maybe. It looked like no pleasure spells for her tonight. She just got to lie back and relish whatever he had in mind for her. A shiver went through her and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

He blew another breath against her ear, and she writhed on the sheets, the cuffs clanging as they drew taut. Gooseflesh burst out on her arms and legs, and her nipples drew to painful points. That she couldn’t see him made it all the more erotic, and her sex throbbed, aching to be filled.

The tip of his tongue followed the path his fingers had taken, sliding over her collarbone and slipping down to circle her nipple, then he bit down. Her breath caught at the sharp sensation, the pleasure with the sting. She tried to push her breast deeper into his mouth, bowing her back, but the handcuffs jerked tight, kept her from forcing him.

“Shh. Just enjoy it.” His breath rushed against the damp flesh of her nipple.

Shivers went through her, and a needy noise slipped from her. Tonight, she didn’t even care if that made her weak. She needed him now, needed what he could give her. Release. “Suck me, Jack.”

His lips opened over her nipple, and he sucked the tight crest, batting it with his tongue, shoving it against the roof of his mouth. Switching to the other breast, he offered it the same treatment. She panted, twisting against the restraint of the handcuffs. The binding only accentuated her helplessness, and it excited her more. Sweat beaded on her flesh as her desire reached a fever pitch. Her pussy was so wet, shivers racing through her body.

“Mmm.” He hummed, letting her nipple slide from his mouth. The sheets rustled as he sat up to strew kisses down her torso. Sliding one muscular thigh between hers, she felt him move to kneel in the vee of her spread legs. “Now would be such a good time for that pleasure spell of yours, where we get to feel each other’s lust.”

She choked on a laugh, opening her eyes to look at him. “Undo the cuffs, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Nah. I like having you tied up and at my mercy. It’s fucking sexy.” His hard cock twitched and seemed to expand even more. His hands closed over her thighs and shoved them wide. “I can do anything I want to you now.”

Her heart thumped at the expression on his face, so hot and worshipful at the same time. She didn’t remember a time when a man had looked at her that way. “Jack.”

“Hmm?” He brushed his fingers through the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, dipping in to circle her clit. He pressed down directly on that tight bundle of nerves, then moved his finger over it in rapid strokes that had her hips arching off the bed.

Moans poured out of her, heat streaking over her skin. Her lids drifted shut again, and she steeped herself in what he was doing to her. He wasn’t even inside her, and she could feel orgasm beginning to build as she undulated under his hand. The muscles in her thighs shook and her arms ached from yanking on the metal bindings.

“Jack, please!”

Pulling her legs up, he rested her ankles on his shoulders. “Look at me.”

She did, dazed with the lust humming through her. His gaze locked with hers, the blue deep enough to drown in, the intensity electric. Rubbing the blunt crest of his cock against her slick lips, his gaze never wavered from hers. They groaned together when he pushed into her pussy, filling her as exquisitely as he always did. The expression in his eyes demanded that she stay with him, that she not look away. He withdrew, slow enough to drive her wild, then plunged back in, hard enough to make her sex clamp down on his thick cock.

Sweat trickled down their flesh, one more sensation to heighten the others. The friction from his thrusts drove her to the edge of climax, but she wanted this to last. Her body stretched taut, and each time he entered her, the cuffs squeaked against the wrought-iron headboard. Still, she didn’t look away from him. She could see everything he was feeling. The craving, the strain of holding back his own orgasm. Laying his palm on her lower belly, he eased his thumb between her thighs, stroking her clit in time with his thrusts. It was too much. Far too much. Her hips heaved upward, and she came hard.

A scream ripped out of her, and she arched hard against the restraints. A single wave of magic burst out, golden light that bathed their skin, melded their pleasure, amplified their orgasms so they groaned together. Her sex pulsed around his cock, milking his hard length. His come pumped into her, a hot flood of fluid. He shuddered over her, continuing to rock himself inside her. And still they stared at each other until he dropped his forehead between her breasts, panting. She shook where she lay, her body wrung out, her mind as blank as she had hoped when she arrived at his house.

The cuffs jangled for a moment before they fell away, and he tossed them onto the nightstand. Her body went slack against the bed, relaxing bonelessly. He drew her wrist to his lips and kissed it. “You’ll be bruised.”

She shook her head, licked her lips, and focused her magic for a moment. Warmth seeped beneath her flesh, and the pain in her wrists faded. Healed. “A little Magickal first aid. All better.”

“Nice.” He brushed his lips over the repaired skin.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He pulled her against him, rolling them so that her back was to his front. He wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her pressed to him. Silence descended on the room, and she could hear the steady cadence of his breathing, the tick of the clock on the nightstand, the click of Grim’s nails as he walked down the hallway.

It was peaceful.

She’d thought she wanted rough, fast sex, but instead he’d given her a connection that shattered her. He’d given her exactly what she needed. How he’d understood that when she hadn’t, she’d never know, but she was glad.

His fingers drifted up and down her arm, and maybe it was because he didn’t demand any information, or maybe it was because she needed to give it voice after locking it away for so long, but there in the dark where no one could see her cry, she could finally talk to someone about Bess.

“She was named after Queen Elizabeth—the first one, not this one.” Gods. Just that one sentence hurt. Opening this festering old wound hurt. No, forget hurt. That was a pansy ass description for it. It fucking burned a hole in her soul that could never be filled.

His fingers continued to stroke her shoulder and down her arm. “Right. I suspect she predated the current one by quite a lot.”

“Yeah. She was about a hundred years younger than me. She was such a little brat, too.” A reluctant smile curled her lips while moisture seared the backs of her eyes. “She was a hellion, determined to do everything her own way, and damn anyone who got in her way.”

“Must be a family trait.”

She laughed, and the sound was watery. “Maybe. She was ... a hippy before there were hippies. Bohemian and artistic, carefree and unwilling to live with the fetters of anyone else’s rules. She drove me batshit-crazy.” She shook her head, her hair rustling against the pillowcase. “It wasn’t until about ... I don’t know, the 1890s or so that we met again in New Orleans. We hadn’t seen each other in centuries.”

His lips brushed the nape of her neck. “The time had changed you.”

“Yes and no. I wasn’t a young bride chafing to get out from under my family’s heel. Even at a hundred, I was unwed and looked like a blushing girl, so that’s how society treated me, and I had to live like humans did. In my family’s home, under my uncle’s rule, until I got married and was transferred to my husband’s home and his rule. I just wanted out. And I had to deal with a hellcat baby cousin who didn’t listen to a thing I said, even though they made it my job to look after her.” Which had prepared her for her future career as a governess for spoiled, wealthy children once she’d been left a widow. It seemed like she’d been lonely most of her life.

“Her mother was that aunt who hated you.” His voice was calm and quiet in the dark, his hand squeezing her arm in support.

“Yeah, Aunt Agnes didn’t really foster a loving environment in her house.” Truer words had never come from her lips, but that had hardly been Bess’s fault. Selina had been miserable in that house for a lot of reasons. “To say little cousin and I didn’t get along was kind of an understatement, but the second time around, we were both adults and had been out on our own for a long time. She’d married a Normal man and he helped ground her, but didn’t try to tie her down. The guy was perfect for her, and she was devastated when he died. We’d become friends before, but that was when we got really close.” She licked her lips. “When she was killed, I just felt like ... we had lost so much time when we were apart, and then what was left was stolen from us.”

“She was your best friend.”

Her lips trembled and tears glutted her eyes. “Yes.”

Gods, yes, she had been. They were as different as night and day, but they’d loved each other anyway and learned to appreciate the other’s strengths. Nothing had ever in her life hurt as much as losing Bess. Not losing her mother, her husband, or any of her lovers or friends along the way. Death was just a part of living, but with Bess? No. She’d been so alive ... far more than Selina had ever managed. A piece of her had died with her cousin, and every year that passed seemed to take a little bit more of her, until she was cold and empty and so damn tired of all of it.

“You blame yourself.”

“No. Yes. Maybe, I don’t know. I always feel like it should have been me. I was the oldest, I was the cop, I was the one investigating the case. It should have been me to go first, not her. That ugliness should never, ever have touched Bess.” Sweet, light, vivacious Bess. She’d been the best part of Selina. And then she was gone, leaving Selina more alone than she’d ever been in her existence.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

An echo of her words to him about his wife. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

Did she? Her aunt had blamed her, wished it was her that had died instead of her beloved daughter. And Selina had always felt as though she’d failed her cousin by not catching her killer. That was a lot of guilt to pile on for decades.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Hoisted by her own petard. Again. She pressed her lips together, trying to still their shaking enough so she could speak coherently. “It wasn’t my fault. But, gods, I miss her so fucking much.”

And then she broke, sobbing with the terrible anguish she had never allowed herself to express in all these years. She’d set it aside to chase the killer, set it aside to stay sane, set it aside to focus on her career. She’d avoided it for so long that once it hit her, she was drowning in it, her body rocking with every ragged, hitching breath, her throat raw with the keening wails that ripped from her. There was no escaping this horrible grief, not anymore.

Jack held her through it all, murmuring a soothing cadence of reassurances. He didn’t leave her, just let her get it all out until there was nothing left.

He smoothed her hair back and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, honey.”

So she closed her eyes and let unconsciousness take her. Jack’s arms were around her, and she felt less alone than she had in a long, long time. She sighed, sliding into dreamless slumber.