Male muttering across the bullpen in Case Room One pulled her like a magnet. This was a mistake, but it was time somebody made it. Apparently she was the only one on the Deep Ops team willing to cross Angus Force right now.

Enough was enough.

The smell of whiskey caught her attention as she drew abreast of the doorway. Wonderful. He was drunk again.

She stepped inside to find Angus sitting with his boots on the conference table, staring at a whiteboard of mutilation and death. Papers were scattered across the table in no apparent order, as if he’d flung them across to see where they’d land. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s rested on several manila file folders, no cup in sight.

Roscoe snored quietly over in the corner on a new blue bed she’d bought for him the week before.

“Angus. You have to stop this,” she whispered.

He didn’t flinch, no doubt having heard the elevator arrive. “Go home, Nari.”

She wanted to go home, but she had a duty to the team, and it was time she finally did it. “I had the power to take you out of this position for the last year,” she murmured, leaning against the doorjamb. “I haven’t exercised it because I think the team works. But you’re killing yourself, and I can’t let that happen.”

His chair swung around and his boots hit the floor as he turned to face her. The force of his gaze almost had her stepping back. His eyes were a clear green, deep and tortured. Her body took the hit from that look with a slow roll and shiver that had nothing to do with fear, and she could only study him in return, her nipples peaking like little traitors. Thick, dark hair curled around his ears and matched the scruff covering his stubborn jawline. In his ripped jeans and faded black T-shirt, he all but bellowed wounded bad boy who needed saving.

She snorted. “You’re a cliché at this point.” That didn’t mean she couldn’t save him. Yeah, she was as dumb as the rest of the women who were drawn to Angus Force, wanting to ease his pain. Oh, most of the team didn’t know about the women who flocked to him, but she’d been watching him for months. Long, torturous months during which she’d tried to figure out the right thing to do for everyone while dealing with dreams nearly every night starring his hard body and firm mouth.

His lips turned down. “You’re back early tonight. Another bad date?”

“No. It was lovely,” she said, straightening.

He rolled those desperate green eyes. “Right. Either you’re choosing the wrong guys to go out with or there’s a demon from your past still chasing you.”