“If only you were this cooperative in the investigation, I might have you in my bed already.”

“Seriously? I just found a dead man in my car and you’re hitting on me?”

Drake’s eyes blaze, his fingers tightening at the hem of my shirt and causing the tips of them to brush my back. “I saw your panties only a few hours ago. I don’t care how much you piss me off. You wear panties that nice and I’m going to be preoccupied.”

His words jolt through me in a mix of lust and annoyance that counteracts the fear lingering in my stomach. “You’re an asshole,” I mutter, getting up. “Trent, can I go in and get some things? Please?”

My brother looks toward Drake, and my heart sinks. That’s a no, then.

Drake surprises me by cocking his thumb toward the door. “Get in and out before anyone notices,” he warns Trent then looks at me. “You take nothing but essentials from drawers. You understand?”

“Understood.” I hold on to Trent’s arm as he takes me inside my house and upstairs to my room. I shove a change of clothing into my purse and grab my cowboy boots, knowing I have a spare phone charger at the office and I can buy a new toothbrush. I grab my makeup bag as an afterthought from the dresser.

The whole time, Trent’s eyes are scanning the house, looking for signs someone’s been in here, too.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. This is my fucking space, dammit. No one violates my house unless they eventually want a bullet through whatever limb I aim at when I find them.

“You think they’ve been in?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No signs of it. In your car, your window was smashed in. That’s good for us. We’re going to bring some extra officers in to talk to your neighbors and see if anyone saw or heard anything. Someone has to have heard the smash, and if they did, it’ll let us know when the body was placed in your car.”

I nod, biting my tongue so I don’t say what I’m thinking out loud.

It’s not a coincidence that both bodies have been placed on my properties once dead.

“I guess there’s no chance of bribing this autopsy report out of you,” I mutter.

Trent laughs quietly. “You’ll have to charm Detective Nash. I’m second-in-command here, Noelle.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Can’t you maybe hook him up with the flu or something until the case is solved?”

Trent looks at me like I’m mad.

“Or not,” I mutter. “Maybe I should read up on charming people. I’m not that great at it.”

“If you’re thinking about charming me for the autopsy report, it won’t work,” Drake says as we rejoin him on the porch. His hands are in his pockets as forensics remove the body and examine my car with a thousand fine-tooth combs.

“Dammit. Don’t I have a right to know how he died? I mean, my car and all that.”

“Nice try, Bond.” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor, Noelle. Go chill out and try to relax.”

I look at my car and snort. “Yeah. I’ll just do that and pretend this never happened.”

It definitely isn’t a coincidence.

That much has become painfully and somewhat scarily clear since I locked myself in a hotel room with a box of cupcakes and a bottle of JD. So it’s not Gigi’s, but cupcakes are cupcakes, and since I have no car to get to Austin, I have to deal with it.

I’d only just gotten the images of Lena in the Dumpster out of my mind, too. If that isn’t a bitch, I don’t what is. Thankfully, I clearly learned my lesson, because this time, all I saw before I called Drake was that the man was clearly dead and covered in blood.

At least he matched the paintwork.

I tip the glass full of Jack Daniel’s to my lips and stare blankly at the television. I have all the case files for Lena’s murder spread in front of me, but they’re all a mess of words and lines. All I can think of is that there were two dead bodies in the space of a week and both of them were planted on or around property I own.

Unless this body comes back as belonging to Ryan Perkins and the murderer is Penny Prescott, the only connecting factor in these cases is…me.

And I’m enough of a nuisance that it wouldn’t even be surprising.

I don’t think anyone hates me that much though, and they’re way too early for my birthday.

Not that dead bodies are great birthday presents. I’d rather receive shoes or something.

I roll the glass across my lips from side to side and put my ringing phone on speaker.

“Oh, my baby!” Mom cries.

“I told-a you! No job-a for a woman!” Nonna shouts.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Dad asks, much calmer.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

“You had a dead body in your car! How are you fine?” Mom.

A string of Italian. Nonna.

I swear the woman will never speak English where she can use Italian.

“Dad? Can you get away from the crazies?”

There’s some shuffling and then I hear hushed words as my father hopefully escapes from them.

“Okay, Noelle. I’ve locked them in the house and I’m in the car. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Daddy. Another dead body has shown up on my property in, like…four days. Or something. It might be five. Six, even. They’re all blurring together.” I swallow. “Drake took my alibi at the house earlier, let Trent go in with me so I could get some stuff, and I have to head down to the station tomorrow at some point so he can talk to me properly.”

He blows out a long breath that crackles down the line. “You wanna come stay at home for a few days?”

“No offense, Dad, but I’d rather ram a stiletto through my baby toe.”

“Can I join you, then? Ever since Trent called earlier, your mother has been going crazy. It’s a miracle she went five hours before dialing your number herself.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “I’m good. I’m at the Oleander downtown. I have my gun on the nightstand. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, love. If you want me to come to the station with you tomorrow, I will.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I just want to go in, do what I need to, and find out if they think the new murder is connected to my case right now.”

“Do you think it is?”

I don’t say anything. If I say it out loud, then that kind of solidifies that it is.

“Possibly. Or I’ve just really pissed off someone in town and they want to frame me.”

“Not at all reassuring, darlin’.”

I smile at the phone. “I’m gonna try sleep some now, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I promise. And try to get Nonna to cancel the whole date at Friday night dinner. I definitely don’t have time for it now.”

“I’ll do my best. ’Night, Noelle.”

“’Night, Daddy.”

I hang up and gather my papers. I stuff them haphazardly into the folder, something I know I’ll regret tomorrow. But right now, I don’t care. With the folder on the floor by the side of the bed, I finish the last of my JD, drop the glass on the nightstand next to my gun—double the weapon—and bury myself beneath the covers with the television still on.

I attach my gun to my ankle holster and admire my cowboy boot in the mirror. It hides the weapon perfectly, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

After I came to the conclusion that there’s a high chance I’m more deeply involved in these murders than I’d imagined I was, I spent the whole night tossing and turning. I eventually slept with my gun on the other pillow, my fingers brushing the handle. I got around two hours of sleep before I woke up, my mind buzzing with theories that are mostly total nonsense.

I’m freaked out. I am. I’ve done this kind of thing before, but never has it felt so personal.

Even if I’m not embroiled in it, the killer is dumping the bodies in my fucking space.

Asshole.

I pack my things back into my purse, relieved when my heels fit in there, too, and go downstairs to hand in my room key. I leave it on the reception desk with a note of my room number just so no one will talk to me. Then I all but run out of the hotel.