Nari paled. “Pippa is our baker. The killer even knows about her, so he’s killed this baker?”

Angus downed the rest of his wine to keep himself from punching the wall.

Nari’s hand shook around the glass. “That’s every woman connected to the team. He’s found a look-alike victim for all of us. Now what?”

Now he had to go after the real thing. Again. For some reason, he’d already tried for Nari. Why?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nari awoke with a jerk to silence. Real silence. She stretched in the plush bed and rolled over, smashing her face into a mass of fur. She coughed and leaned back. “Roscoe. What are you doing?”

The dog had his head on the adjoining pillow and his butt angled toward her. She petted him. “When did you come in?”

He stretched out his legs, pushing his back into her. Then he rolled over and stood, leaning down to lick her face.

She giggled and pushed him away. “Gross. You have doggy breath. Get off the bed.”

With one last swipe at her chin, he jumped over her and landed on the floor. She looked at the unused side of the bed. Angus and Jethro had talked about the case late into the night. Worn out, she’d headed to the guest room. Apparently Angus hadn’t joined her. Why would he? Well, they had shared a bed before. And a carpet.

His abandonment shouldn’t hurt, yet she rubbed her chest anyway. She was getting in too deep with him.

Morning light streamed through the blinds covering her window, while a thick, white throw rug blanketed the cement floor. The headboard, side tables, and dresser were all high-end metal and appeared handmade; the adjoining bathroom was, in a word, plush. Dr. Jethro Hanson must’ve made some serious money after he worked for British Intelligence.

Angus knocked and entered the room. “Wolfe is going to be here in about fifteen minutes with updates from everyone. We figured it’d be best if we only had one liaison to cut down on the chances of anybody finding us, including the killer. Wolfe will know if anybody tries to follow him.”

Nari sat up, holding the bedclothes to her T-shirt. She couldn’t let go of the feeling of abandonment. “Why didn’t you come to bed?” Oh, heck. Why had she asked that stupid question?

He stepped inside and studied her, his eyes a moss green in the early light. Today he’d worn dark jeans and a fresh tee that emphasized every hard muscle in his chest. “You needed sleep, and I was up most of the night going through the old case files.”

Her temples ached already. “What are we doing? I mean, seriously. We have wild sex on my floor and then you don’t have the emotional balls to just come to bed?”