Jackal’s eyes were darker than normal, even in the half-light, and a fine sheen of sweat filmed his skin. I liked his eyes on me, and I liked the hate I felt for him even as I wanted him. Hate: an exciting emotion. I studied his face. Hair sticking up, combed by not-my-fingers. A little saliva hanging off the corner of his lip. Still more handsome than a man had any right to be. I smiled and reached for him, liking the feel of his shoulders beneath my fingers, his musky scent mixed with the sticky-candy smell of that girl’s perfume. I kissed his cheek and melted into him, my hands at his belt now.

“Jackal,” I whispered, and he brushed his nose against my clavicle, aligning my lips perfectly with his ear, “tell me about those old case photographs on your floor.”

Chapter 6

Jackal didn’t come clean right away. “What do you mean?” he asked, pulling back. Avoiding my eyes. Still keeping himself between me and the snapshot on his office floor.

“I don’t think you’ll be seeing that girl again.” I rearranged myself on his desk, smashing papers under my ass. That seemed to irritate Jackal, and he shoved me off. I didn’t mind. “Did you like her much?”

“What did you mean, about old photographs?”

“It doesn’t shock me that you’ve got something on the side,” I said. “Only I think you’d do well to remember the Lady Upstairs is less forgiving of sidepieces than I am.”

His hands bunched, and he took two steps around the desk—he almost forgot the game he was playing and bent down to grab the photo before he turned around. There was a small smear of lipstick on his collar. Ugly, tropical-punch pink: a little girl’s color. He was wild-eyed and trying not to show it, trying to think of something to say or do to throw me off, outsmart me. “I don’t know what you think you’ve found out, but you’re—”

“We both know you aren’t as dumb as you like to pretend to be. So tell me. How long has it been going?”

His shoulders slumped. “Does Lou know?”

“Not yet.”

“If you tell her anything, I will make you sorry, you bitch, you—”

“Oh, calm down,” I said, dabbing my finger over the smudge on his collar. The pink blushed my thumb, and I sniffed it, then popped the tip in my mouth.

“If you tell her anything, I’ll—” He closed the space between us. I put a hand on his chest, but it wasn’t to stop him.

“You’ll do what?”