Page 48 of Targeted By Desire

“He was here,” I murmured. “We…we played Russian Roulette.”

“What? Why would you do that? Did he force you?”

“No.”

“You could’ve died!”

“I know.”

“You know or you don’t care? Because I’ve never known you to act so recklessly.”

“I know it was stupid, but I… I just…” There wasn’t a reasonable explanation for my actions. We both knew that. But, I couldn’t say the truth aloud. If Gabriel knew about the rush, the thrill, I felt in this dangerous stranger's presence, he was dragging me straight to a shrink.

“This case is getting to your head. Maybe it’s best if you drop it.”

“But, I can’t! If I do, he’s just going to continue murdering other people!”

“I’d rather that than watch him kill you.”

Unless we catch him, he’s going to do that, anyway, I thought, but didn’t say aloud.

Gabriel sighed at the frustration on my face. He set his hand on my forearm and gave a soft squeeze. “Look, Simone, I understand you want to save the world, but we’re not superheroes; we can’t stop every villain in the world.”

I lowered my gaze. “Yeah, but it’d be really nice if we could.”

He put his finger on my chin and brought my eyes back up to meet his. “Promise me you’ll drop whatever obsession you have over this guy. For your own sake.”

“I will,” I murmured. I hated lying straight to Gabriel’s face, but I had no other choice.

This situation wasn’t something I could just throw in the trash and forget. Especially not after I’d crossed his boundaries. My “secret admirer” was coming back for me. I just didn’t know when.

And for the time being, I did my best not to worry about it.

After the weekend trip, Logan threw us a new case and Isabelle was blowing up my phone with more wedding talk and dress preparations for her father’s company’s annual charity gala. Between working and spending time with her, the only time I had reserved for him was at night. The shadows of my dreams have become his new favorite place to hide. I barely got any sleep with the echo of his voice in my head.

By the end of the week, I was damn near burnt out. My body ran on caffeine, and my mind hadn’t slowed down since the Russian Roulette game.

I needed air. Silence.

On Saturday morning, I decided to go to one of the few places I was able to find peace.

I stopped at the local florist shop to buy some flowers before driving to the cemetery. My sneakers crunched against the dying grass as I hiked up the hill towards my father’s gravestone.

“Hey, dad,” I greeted as I approached it.

A transparent vision of him appeared at the sound of my voice. Not a day older than the last time I saw him, he smiled up at me and patted the space beside him.

I knew he wasn’t really there. Just a figment of my imagination; something my brain conjured to cope with the grief. But that never stopped me from sitting beside him. I curled my legs up to my chest and laid my chin on my knees. The cool air kissed my cheeks as I stared up at the gray, cloudy sky.

What’s wrong, baby girl? My father’s voice whispered in the wind. Talk to me.

I told him everything. Covering for that stupid assignment. Witnessing Lorenzo’s murder. Getting caught in the crosshairs of the assassin behind his death. Struggling with the thin line between hating and enjoying the deadly games we were playing.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted once the story was through. “I know I need to catch him, but I don’t know how. I mean, what would you do?”

The soft howl of the wind replied, but there was no advice within it. None that I could comprehend, anyway.

God, I wished my dad was still here. He’d know what to do. In all his years of work in law enforcement, he must’ve dealt with something like this at some point.