He straightened, and I jerked as the plastic creaked. The brown of his eyes had entirely vanished behind his widening pupils. Double damn.

“I’ve been trying to get rid of you for the last two years,” he said. “You don’t have bad luck.” He smiled, showing me his human teeth. “You have me. Shoddy backup, garbled messages, leaks to your takes. But when I finally get you to leave, you take my best runner with you.” His eyes grew intense. I forced my hands to unclench, and his attention flicked to them. “Not good, Morgan.”

It hadn’t been me, I thought, my alarm hesitating in the sudden realization. It wasn’t me. All those mistakes weren’t me. But then Denon moved to the gap in the walls that was my door.

In a sliding rattle of metal and plastic, I found myself on my feet and pressed up against my desk. Papers scrunched and the mouse fell off the desk, swinging. Denon’s eyes were pupil-black. My pulse hammered.

“I don’t like you, Morgan,” he said, his breath washing over me with a clammy feel. “I never have. Your methods are loose and sloppy, just like your father’s. Unable to tag that leprechaun is beyond belief.” His gaze went distant, and I found I was holding my breath as they glazed over and understanding seemed to dance just out of reach.

Please work, I thought desperately. Could my wish please work? Denon leaned close, and I stabbed my nails into my palm to keep from shirking. I forced myself to breathe. “Beyond belief,” he said again, as if trying to figure it out. But then he shook his head in mock dismay.

My breath slipped out as he drew back. He broke eye contact, putting his gaze on my neck, where I knew my pulse hammered. My hand crept up to cover it, and he smiled like a lover to his one and only. He had only one scar on his beautiful neck. I wondered where the rest were. “When you hit the street,” he whispered, “you’re fair game.”

Shock mixed with my alarm in a nauseating mix. He was going to put a price on my head. “You can’t …” I stammered. “You wanted me to leave.”

He never moved, but just his stillness made my fear tighten. My eyes went wide at his slow intake of breath and his lips going full and red. “Someone’s going to die for this, Rachel,” he whispered, the way he said my name making my face go cold. “I can’t kill Tamwood. So you’re going to be her whipping girl.” He eyed me from under his brow. “Congratulations.”

My hand dropped from my neck as he eased out of my office. He wasn’t as smooth as Ivy. It was the difference between high-and low-blood; those born a vamp and those born human and turned. Once in the aisle, the heavy threat in his eyes dissipated. Denon pulled an envelope from his back pocket and tossed it to my desk. “Enjoy your last paycheck, Morgan,” he said loudly, more to everyone else than me. He turned and walked away.