the office on Monday morning, his Bluet

s, as soon as I can. Tell him not to speak to anyone without me. No problem.” He disconnected the ca

bfounded. He’d never before t

to her feet to get her tablet and purse. Then he noticed a vaguely fa

at it. “Who

r cheeks. “Oh, it’s Ma – Mr. Pritch

fuck! He hoped she wouldn't fall for the slimy bastard so ea

unmistakable anger, but Christine thought he couldn’t p

r cheeks heat up even more. He couldn’t be jealous? Shaking off that preposterous idea, s

t lesson.” He spoke for the first time at his flashy red Ferrar

sportscar uncertain whether she heard h

ifting one dark eyebrow at her, his long, elegant

*

office was a middle-aged Latino woman. S

f the cross. “He didn’t mean to kill him.”

an to one side, his arm

Ms. Morrison she will be my assistant.” His eyes clashed with Christine’s; they held a warning which Christine couldn’t mistake for

roceeded to the interrogation room

than fourteen years old. But his eyes seemed like those of an old

ugh the photos. He passed it to Christine who caught herself in time, not to show how the crime scene photos affected her. The boy shot

*

Christine took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to relax. She was still not comfortable with travelling by car. It took years of therapy and medi

I’m stopping for lunch.” He took a

hungry, but her treacherous stomach gr

smiled without looking at her. How could he even think o

rought the car to a stop in front of a restaurant at the river si

ed with her friends. They usually went to bars where the foo

ordered for them without asking what she would like. Christine didn’t k

hen the plates were served. Chase ordered a bottle

e. It’s just not done.” Chase poured a

ut

usy day ahead.” He said, smil

she groaned, feeling her face heating up. It somehow felt ina

ot to mention so sexy, his dark hair falling devil-may-care across

d thoughts about her boss. The look he gave her had

listening attentively to his client with empat

to earth, “what do you make of ou

sputtered. “Sorry.” Christine wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think

n. But our job is not to find another suspect, but just to cast enough reaso

hink so.”

h up, we hav

*

ointments, doing her usual work and typing out her observatio

At that moment, Chase stepping out of the elevator on his way back

acket at my place on Friday.” Chr

ticed Chase in his peripheral vision watching them. His forehe

cene looked as personal as he wanted it to. Mason wanted to rile Chase up as much as he wanted

st name?” he asked, his voice low and husk

ds, but her back was against the wall.

t professional at the office, Mr. Pritchard.” She man

vator, staring daggers at her. Mason

lifted his hand in a salute to Cha

nch him in his goddamn face. What the hell was she thinking, anyway? Of all people, sleeping with Mason fucking Pritchard. He didn’t figure