Page 21 of Power & Punishment

When I finally feel my pulse start to slow down to a normal beat, I straighten my blouse, force my facial features back into neutral, smooth lines, and head back toward the bullpen.

When I get to our shared desk cluster, Keith looks up, and I feel my right hand shaking, but I steady it. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, dropping into my chair like my entire world didn’t just turn upside down. “Just an old colleague who wanted some advice on a case they’re working.”

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his assessing stare. Shit.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Keith says with a concerned frown.

“I told you I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” I say, which is the truth.

“Are you having bad dreams again?” he asks, making a cold and familiar sweat break out on my back.

There was so much blood.

So much.

I shake my head, rattling the memory from my brain.

I told Keith about my dad’s murder once, but it was easier to let him believe it was a bad dream—which again, not a total lie. But at the end of the day, it was my choice not to tell my partner about my past. He’d never look at me the same if he knew I came from the same people we were trying to put behind bars.

“No.” I sigh, my hand squeezing my phone hard enough that my knuckles turn a ghostly white. “I’m just adjusting to this new sleeping medication the doctor put me on.”

He nods his head, still not entirely convinced. But thankfully he drops it and announces he’ll finish up our paperwork while I duck out early.

I decided not to tell him about the call in the stairwell. I have this sinking feeling that everything is going to go to shit soon and I don’t want to drag him down with me. I can handle tanking my career. I can’t handle ruining his.

I busy my mind by pulling up an old report and pretending to work, but my eyes keep wandering back to the timestamp at the bottom corner of my computer.

Meeting with Leo alone is stupid.

I’m probably walking straight into a trap.

But if he really does know what happened to my brother, I’ll do it.

I’d risk everything not to relive the torment of never knowing.

I press my palms firmly into my eye sockets as the neon sign of the twenty-four-hour diner keeps flickering. I can feel a headache cresting deep inside my skull, mocking me as the countdown to my meeting with the devil gets closer and closer.

When I remove my hands, I let my gaze scan the room again, marking my exits and memorizing all the patrons currently occupying the restaurant.

This place is right around the corner from my apartment, so I’ve been here plenty of times to know the night shift waitress by name and that the bathroom window will jimmy open if I put all my weight against it.

I am in the perfect environment to feel in control, and yet I feel anything but. My hands squeeze the stained ceramic cup tightly.

“Need a warm-up, honey?” Shelby asks, balancing a tray with one hand. I shake my head and politely decline.

She’s about to leave when she looks toward the door and her eyes widen enough to smooth out the wrinkles perched underneath. “We don’t get men like that in here.”

I don’t want to turn around because I know what I’m going to see.

The air shifts and the already quiet hum of conversation sinks to a nonexistent level—exactly like it does when a predator walks into a room full of people who are oblivious to the fact they’re prey.

Me? I already know I’m prey.

Or at least I’m going to pretend I am to get him to lower his guard.

Fake it till you make it.