She moved her arms through the water, sending ripples his way. “It sounds like something Lassiter would’ve liked, but if somebody is copying him, that makes sense.” She repeated the phrase thoughtfully. “Slivers of time make up each moment, and only the pale horse and his master prevail in the most crucial of breathy gasps.”

Angus made a mental note to call Jethro in. His friend’s retirement would have to wait. “Yep. Classy, isn’t it?”

“Well. Pale horse means death, right? The master would be the grim reaper?” She gazed out at the forest.

“The master could be the killer,” Angus said. “I started a murder board inside and need to build the profile of this killer. I can do that tomorrow. Then I should rebuild Lassiter’s and compare them.” His mind clicked facts into place while his body tried to relax in the heat, which was just impossible with Nari so close. One night with her wasn’t enough, although he’d memorized every smooth inch and taken each of her soft sighs into his heart to remember later. Yeah, he really was a moron.

She kept low but scooted along the other side of the tub to the steps. “I’m hot and ready to get out. Should we talk about the sleeping arrangements?”

She had her professional voice back and he couldn’t blame her. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“No. We’ll share the bed. Give me a break.” She climbed out, and he turned his head to give her privacy. Mostly. “We need to be at the top of our game, so let’s be adults.” Within seconds she had disappeared inside the cabin, with Roscoe on her heels.

He sighed. Why couldn’t they just get drunk and fuck?

The forest quieted around him with a sense of foreboding, as if the universe was holding its breath. Now he was getting maudlin. Enough of this shit. He stepped out of the hot tub and replaced the lid, letting the chilly air wash over him. Grabbing a towel, he headed inside, where the lights had been extinguished. The fire had died down, its burning embers barely showing Nari’s form in the bed.

He grabbed boxers from his bag and moved into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Once done, he moved to the bed, then stopped short. Roscoe lay in the middle, his head on a pillow, snoring softly.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Angus yanked bank the covers, needing to use some force with the dog’s weight on the blankets. “Get your butt to the sofa or the floor.”

Roscoe kept snoring.

Angus sat. “I know that’s not how you sound. Move. Now.”

The dog opened one eye but didn’t move. What a faker.

Nari turned on her side toward the dog. “Let him sleep with us. Please?”