Page 52 of Unlocked

She turned slowly. "You think this is my fault?" Her voice rose to a squeak.

"No." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through his control. "That's not…I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean?" she asked softly, rage burning in her chest.

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "I mean that whoever is behind this is dangerous. More dangerous than you realize. And you're putting yourself in their crosshairs."

"I'm already in their crosshairs," Tatum said. "They made that clear when they trashed my apartment."

"Exactly." Archer moved closer, and she could see the fear underneath the anger now. Raw. Real. "Which is why running after them alone was⁠—"

"The only option. They were right there, Archer. Right there.” She jabbed her finger toward the ground. “If I'd caught them, this would be over. We would have answers."

"Or you'd be dead."

The words hung between them, heavy with implication.

Tatum took a breath, forced herself to think. It was hard because her body was shaking from the adrenaline crash. "We need to figure out who they are."

"Agreed,” he ground out and then turned to face the windows.

She moved to the couch and sat, suddenly exhausted. "The way he moved. The way he, or she, I guess, it definitely could have been a woman, women tend to kill more with knives, I think. I’m sure I read that somewhere. Anyway, they knew exactly where to go, when to strike. This person knew Lebowitz's routine." She frowned. “They were also familiar somehow.”

“What do you mean, familiar?”

She gave a small shrug. “I’m not entirely sure. It’s like the way they held themselves, I know it from somewhere.”

“Maybe it was someone you subconsciously noticed when you were surveilling Lebowitz while they were following him just like you did," Archer said as he turned back to face her. “It also means you might have seen the killer.”

"Yes." She looked up at him, “but they don’t know that. Just like they don’t know we were there tonight.”

Archer crossed to the bar and poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass. He didn't offer her one. Just drank it in one swallow, then poured another. “They don’t know yet, but they will. This just makes you an even bigger target.”

"You think it's Davis?" Tatum asked, her pulse kicking up at the thought that she might subconsciously know who the killer was.

"I think he's involved." Archer turned to face her, the glass cradled in his hand. "But he wouldn't do this himself."

She rubbed her nose where some adhesive was stuck. "Why not?"

"Because Davis is a coward." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "He likes power, likes control, but he doesn't get his hands dirty. He'd hire someone."

"But this looked personal," Tatum said, the pieces clicking together in her mind. "The killer knew Lebowitz. The way they leaned in, spoke to him, that wasn't just business."

"No," Archer agreed. "It wasn't."

Silence stretched between them.

“Did it look like Davis to you?” Archer asked, breaking the silence.

Tatum thought about it for a moment, but her gut said no.

"So, if it's not Davis himself," Tatum said slowly, "then who? Someone he hired who had a personal grudge?"

"Maybe." Archer took another sip of whiskey. "Or someone working with him who has their own agenda."

"Like who?"

"I don't know yet." He set the glass down on the bar with more force than necessary. "But we need to find out. Fast."