I call men like him the birds. They watch, they swoop down to be heroes, but they are so limited when it comes to putting down the dogs.

It’s only once the man, who told me his name is Dave, has driven off do I click over to my tabs on the laptop. First checking the cameras and waiting for Ross Brass to make his entrance. He’s a no-show at the moment, but given who he’s meeting, I’m certain he’ll arrive any moment now.

In the meantime, I read the texts between Cody and Delilah.

I need to see you. Cody’s been relentless. I can’t blame him. He’s worried and for good reason. I haven’t responded to the messages he’s sent me. I’m sure that’s caused some unfortunate thoughts to enter his mind.

I never thought I’d hear you say that. I can practically hear her voice hum the somewhat flirtatious response.

Please, tonight.

It must be more than jealousy that I feel when she gives in. Perhaps … it’s obsession. Although from what I know of that shortcoming, it often comes with anger. And there’s not a bit of it at the thought of her loving Cody. She has such a big heart. I’ve seen her love a monster before. She could love me too. I know she can. But it would be so much easier to love Cody.

The faint sounds of chairs scraping and men with thick accents greeting each other force me to click over to the other screen. It’s already recording but still, I watch and wait. These strings are more important to pull than the ones of lovers.

Delilah

It’s easier to pretend like it didn’t happen than to face the reality. Every other minute, those piercing blue eyes penetrate my every thought and remind me that I saw him again, kissed him again, and was dying for it like I had before. Not only that, but so much more transpired.

And I enjoyed it. I wanted more.

I could lie like an expert witness on the stand and tell myself it was for answers, but the crackle I felt between us, the dose of lust and shot of heat can’t be ignored. There’s something fucked up in my head. It’s wrong and I’m aware, but I can’t change it, no matter how much I lie to myself.

Shutting off the blinker puts an end to the clicking as I park my car in the parking lot. My motions are automatic as I reach for both the umbrella and my purse before stepping out onto the wet asphalt. There’s only a bit of rain spitting from the skies, but with my hair newly done, I’m not risking a drop landing anywhere near me.

The whoosh and click of the umbrella opening amid the staccato of my heels is followed by my car door shutting as I search for Cody’s car.

A coffee date with my FBI agent lover two days after I come apart in my bed at the hands of a serial killer, I would imagine, is unique for the patrons of this diner.