“Oh fuck, woman,” he murmurs, and then he’s pulling my mouth to his, and the kiss devours me. He devours me. And some secret part of me has always needed these moments with Kane where I don’t have to hold back anything. And I don’t. I don’t hold back. And neither does he.

When it’s over, when we’re wild and free, and then exhausted in the best of ways, I collapse on top of him, my head buried in his neck until I can breathe again. Then and only then do I push off his shoulders to stare down at him, a realization coming to me. “We’re good together. We’re lethal together. We are dangerous to the Society. We know it. They know it. And I—” I pause, pieces of tonight, and my investigation, punching at my mind. “And I need—”

“You need to be in Purgatory, your so-named thinking room because you just thought of something related to your case.” He laughs, that low, accented laugh of his, and says, “I know, beautiful. And that I can live with for the rest of my life. Go. Be the badass FBI agent I know you are.”

I smile and kiss him, pushing off of him and grabbing my clothes before rushing to the hallway bathroom. I need to be dressed. And yes, I need to be in Purgatory thinking right now.

I’ve just gotten dressed when Kane, also dressed, steps into the doorway. “What did you figure out?”

“When I was driving home, I thought: what does the Society do to those they see as dangerous?”

“Kill them, or ruin them if they can. But you know, I’m sheltered by the power of the cartel, no matter my role, or lack thereof, and therefore we’re sheltered.”

“Right. I do. They do, too. And what good does it do for them to try to fuck with my head? I mean, they have to know by now that doesn’t work on me. Lord help me for giving him any credit, but I don’t feel on the fence about what I’m dealing with anymore. Pocher is many things but not stupid.”

“You really think this is a copycat Umbrella Man.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t think he’s copying him. I think he thinks he’s better than him.”

“Then why the blood in the jar?”

“It got my attention. It assured I’d be called to the scene. It said ‘game on and you’re the one I want to play with.’”

“And the wedding dress? There are no coincidences, right?”

“Andrew is still fucking Samantha. She didn’t leave town, which I’m sure you know.”

He arches a brow. “Why would I know about Samantha, Lilah?”