Page 131 of Broken
“Later,” she said as she dragged her gaze back to her screen.
His phone rang, he answered. “Armstrong.” He listened, tapped his phone. “You’re on speaker. Jacqueline and I are working—”
“Any progress?” Z interrupted.
“Z, did Luther testify in court against any of the criminals ALPHA arrested?” Jaqueline asked.
“No, never,” Z replied.
“That’s all I needed,” she said.
“Contact me through ALPHA and I’ll call you back.” The line went dead.
She’d been staring at Prescott, more like gawking, but when Z hung up, she shifted her attention back to her laptop. While she wanted to get lost in him, she had to keep pushing forward. The killer was winning… by a lot.
“Let me read you my profile,” she said. “A male between forty and fifty. College degree, possibly a family. Current or former law enforcement. He knows his victims and his victims know him. Since the killer didn’t take out Addison, Hawk, and Luther, he’s not a sniper, so I’m ruling out special forces with the military.”
Prescott nodded.
“I thought he could be a criminal that ALPHA had testified against, but he wouldn’t have known Luther was with ALPHA, so that changes my profile. All his targets have been White. Is Luther?”
“No, he’s Black.”
She scanned her list. “I had twelve suspects, but I’m eliminating one.” She turned her laptop toward him. “Do you recognize any of these names?”
Rather than pull the laptop close, he dragged his barstool flush up against hers. His musky, leather scent jumbled her thoughts as she breathed him in. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and get lost in his touch, his kisses, his everything.
The need to bed him was primal and out of her control. She swung her gaze in his direction. The pull so strong, she glanced at his mouth, then studied his profile.
Prescott was the epitome of wealth. He had an aristocratic look that should be shared with the world. Model-like features so beautiful, it pained her to stare at him, yet looking away would hurt more.
Like they’d been chiseled from stone, his cheekbones sat high on his face. A strong Roman nose without a bump or even a blemish. Dark, thick stubble shadowed his tanned cheeks, chin, and upper lip. He had full lips that, when pressed against hers, made him the perfect kisser. Her sigh floated in the air between them.
His light, almond-shaped eyes slid from the page to her, and a gritty growl filled the silence. “Can I help you?” he ground out.
“Most definitely.”
“If I kiss you, I won’t stop. You’ll end up in my bed, beneath me and over me. I will pleasure you until the light of day reminds us that we’re hunting down a killer.”
All she heard was “in my bed”.
She was shaking—more like vibrating—so hard, she couldn’t think. All she could so was stare at his face and imagine them together.
Snap out of it. Someone else will die and it’ll be all your fault.
He kissed her, the rush of energy leaving her breathless. He never touched her, never slid his tongue inside her mouth. When it ended, he gazed into her eyes.
“Irresistible,” he murmured. “As soon as we finish, you aremine.”
Fueled by the promise of Prescott and his late-night talents, she turned back to her list of suspects. “Do you know any of these people or recognize their names?”
“I know the first three,” he replied. “So, you’ve narrowed it down to ALPHA only.”
“And Gloria and Bert’s spouses.”
“You can cross off Terrence Maul.”
“Why?” she asked.
