Page 106 of An Oath at Midnight

“No. As I said, I was a loner.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” I said.

“No.” Luke stood. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”

“Thank you for your time.” I grabbed Bram’s hand, tugging him from his seat and dragged him from the room and into the elevator.

I blew out a frustrated breath and turned to him as the doors slid shut in front of us. “Well, you were in fine form back there.”

“He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you,” Bram said by way of explanation.

I thought he looked at me like he wanted to take a bite out of me, and not the good kind. “Do you think he’s our killer?”

“He’s capable of it,” Bram said, then shook his head. “But I don’t think so.”

Shit.

I didn’t think so either. “The yearbook, the one with Willow’s piece in it, there were several poems scattered through it as well, I’m sure of it.”

Maybe one of them was our killer? Or maybe it was time to cast that wider net? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of any fucking thing.

CHAPTER 27

Magnolia

I flicked through the yearbook. I’d showered while Bram had heated us up the dinner Mom left for us, and now we were back to scouring for clues.

“You find any?” Bram asked, sitting on the couch opposite me.

“Two. The first was by Maria’s brother, Marcel, the one who passed away in some accident with his younger sister, and it’s seriously dark.” It was called “In the Dead of the Night.” “If the guy hadn’t been dead for years, this would put him at the top of my serial killer suspect list.”

I leaned forward on my wooden kitchen chair, and turned the book so Bram could read it. He scanned the poem, and I knew when he screwed up his face that he’d gotten to the bit about stabbing his broken heart and letting it bleed into the mouth of the person who broke it, so they could taste his pain. “Fucking hell,” he muttered.

“My thoughts exactly. There’s another one.” I flipped the page. “By a guy named Thomas Alway.”

Bram looked over at me. “A relative of Ryan’s?”

“That’d be my guess.” I crossed my legs, and his dark gaze slid over my bare skin. My belly swirled.

“Any good?”

“It’s about a flower.”

“Sounds riveting.” Bram flipped a few more pages. “There any pictures of the poetry group in here?”

“None.” I was guessing they were lucky to get their poems in the yearbook, let alone a photo as well.

He nodded, then looked back up at me. His stare was intense. “Love it when you wear my shirts,” he said.

“Yeah?” There was another swirl, this one dipping lower. I’d put one on after my shower.

He nodded and moistened his lips. “Nearly every one I own, you’ve worn. I used to think about how they’d been against your bare skin.” His gaze grew darker still. “You ever notice that I always wore whatever shirt you’d slept in the night before?”

I hadn’t thought too much about it. I usually tossed the one I’d worn on his bed after I dressed, I’d assumed he’d just grabbed the first one he saw. “You did it on purpose?”

“Fuck yeah. Your scent was all over it, and knowing your bare skin had been right up against it and was now right up against mine, it helped satisfy the possessive male in me.”

I’d had no idea. None. “And how does it make you feel now?” I asked, my heart racing faster, an ache building between my thighs.