MURDER, SHE DESIRED

the beauty of cleaning after hours-no bosses, no coworkers, no questions. Just the echo of her

started in the hallway, headphones in, a true crime podcast droning in one ear. Ironic, maybe. But mur

lean. Too quiet. Too... watched. Something about the long corridor of black-tinted glass

ne of those d

conference su

asn't

t the thresh

ans

of her cart. The room smelled off-not like bleach o

er chair at the end of the table. Eyes wide

caught in

oo

. Bl

th

her. The door

and ther

es that cut through her like

sto

, frozen in the stillness

n't raise

ead, calm as a shadow,

t supposed

ees tr

- I won't say any

he could see the fine cut of his jaw

he cleane

eart slamming

ly to the name stitche

er with maddening composure, "you jus

rned t

ght he

-fire, fear, desire

yanked at her wrist, but his grip wa

ything," Eva whi

expected to find. "You saw everything," he said softly. "And you wal

flin

stammered. "I don't ev

m," he murmured. "

ard the door. Could she make it? Her legs felt like rubber. H

ing something, and slow

nted to, but something

it f

ing more

He wiped the handle of the gun clean with a monogrammed handkerchief and tucked it in

asked before she

lder, one brow raised. "

. "No. Yes. I

g two slow steps toward her. "The

id her name m

home. You throw that uniform in the trash and get yoursel

e asked, her voice b

d in his eyes. Not

darker. Mo

re not as innoce

nt a chill d

ust fear prickl

restrained. The way danger clung to him like co

hand on t

walk away, Eva," he said wi

n he wa

was sil

thundering of

d deep, dark, and trembli