Bear Claw Lawman. Jessica Andersen

very personal for her, both as a way to prove herself, and a way to make amends for some of her past mistakes. Including the one she’d made with Nick, letting herself get distracted from what was really important by something that they had both agreed from the very beginning would only be a passing thing.

      It wasn’t anybody’s fault but her own that she’d let herself forget that part.

      Aware that Gigi was waiting for an answer, Jenn finally said, “Nick wasn’t the first guy I’ve dated since Terry died…but he was the first one who made an impact. He was the first one I was excited to see, the first one I missed when we were apart, the first one—” She broke off. “Anyway, even though it’s been almost three years since Terry was killed, Nick was my rebound. I jumped in too far too fast, and clung too hard to something that wasn’t real, mostly because I was so damn excited to finally feel something.”

      “The thing between you and Nick was just a rebound, huh?” Gigi’s tone didn’t quite call her a liar. But it was close. “And now you’re over him. You sure about that?”

      “One hundred percent.” Not just because she needed to be, but because she was seeing him for who he really was these days. Over the past month, without the blinders of lust and admiration dimming her view, she had realized that the man she had known—the one she had thought she knew so intimately—was just one part of the real Nick Lang…and she wasn’t sure she liked the other parts of him.

      With her, he had been charming and courteous, but with an edge of wicked and earthy humor that had jibed with her own, along with a down-to-earth streak she’d loved. He’d made goofy faces at Amber, the K9 who’d taken up desk duty at the P.D., along with her injured human partner, Kelsey Meyers. He’d gone running in the rain with Jenn and he’d used her shampoo without caring that it made him smell like flowers. And when she’d gotten up in the middle of the night to pace or stare out into the darkness, when she came back to bed, he’d always stirred and reached for her in his sleep.

      She might not have known where he grew up or what kind of music he liked, but she had thought she knew what kind of man he was. That is, until she started watching him more objectively and realized that while he was sometimes the guy she’d gotten to know, he could also be any number of other guys, depending on the situation.

      With the other cops, he was a cop, which made sense. But she had also watched a couple of tapes of him interrogating some of the jailed militiamen. And what she’d seen had startled the heck out of her, because he hadn’t just been talking with them, he’d become one of them—not just with a few quick changes of clothing, but with his body language, his speech… . Even his face had been different, though she couldn’t have said how. More, she’d seen him do the same thing on other tapes, with witnesses. He’d been the perfect gentleman with a nervous grandmother and a midrange escort, but toughened up fast when facing a trio of teens who’d thought they were more badass than him and very quickly learned they were wrong.

      She’d watched the tapes in order to get a different context for her evidence, in the hopes of adding to the case. Instead, she had learned more than she’d really wanted to about Nick.

      He was a chameleon, the kind of guy who could slip into any situation and make himself indispensable. He’d even said as much, though not in so many words, when he’d told her that his greatest skill as an undercover agent was his ability to slip into any group, any situation. But what worked for busting drug rings

      really didn’t work for her.

      That wasn’t resentment talking, either, or an effort to make herself feel better about the breakup. If anything, it had made her feel worse to realize that she’d come very close to once again falling for a manipulator.

      Her instincts, it seemed, still sucked.

      “Anyway,” she said, realizing the conversation had lagged, though she’d kept swabbing at the bloodstains, capping and labeling the tubes with automatic precision, “I’m grateful for what happened, in a way. At least I know that part of me isn’t gone for good. Getting involved with Nick showed me that I can feel those feelings again. I’ll just have to make sure I use better judgment and next time around find myself someone who’s really available and not just passing through.”

      “Does that mean you’ll let me set you up?”

      Jenn winced. “Look, I’m sure the bird man is a great guy—”

      “He’s an ornithologist, not to mention Matt’s best friend. He’s really cute in an intense yet geeky sort of way, and I think you guys could have some fun together… .” Gigi trailed off hopefully.

      “I…well, not right now, okay?”

      “When?”

      Seeing that Gigi wasn’t going to give it up—she was still in that slightly sickening, more than slightly annoying “everyone should be as happy as me” phase of her relationship—Jenn blew out a breath. “After the Death Stare case is closed. Until then, I want to stay focused on this.” Her gesture took in the scene and the spatter, and for a moment the smell intruded, bringing a stab of pity for a man who probably didn’t deserve it, followed by a sting of guilt that she was letting Nick distract her again, and he wasn’t even in the room. Or her life.

      Gigi sent her a long look. “You know what I think? I think that—” Her phone chimed, interrupting with the two-note tone that said it was incoming info from Dispatch. Jenn let out a sigh of relief as Gigi answered with, “Go for Gigi.” She listened for a moment, then nodded. “I’m on my way.”

      “Please tell me it’s not another torture victim.” The Investor—or whoever was doing this—had never hit twice in one night before…but he’d also never shed this much blood before, or used his makeshift weapons with such vicious abandon.

      “No, but it’s related.” At Jenn’s look, Gigi grimaced. “It’s a murder-suicide, guy and his girlfriend. Looks like he was flying high on Death Stare, and snapped before he OD’d.”

      “Oh.” Jenn swallowed an uncharacteristic surge of nausea. “Damn it. I thought it was off the streets.”

      “Apparently not all the way.” Gigi took a look around, lips flattening. “I hate to leave you here alone.” The analysts tried to work in pairs, but it wasn’t always possible.

      Jenn waved her off. “I won’t be alone. There are plenty of cops in the building doing door-to-doors.”

      “That’s not what I meant.”

      “I know.” Gigi was the only one who knew how much the actual on-scene work bothered Jenn. But it was a part of the job, and one she’d learned to tolerate. “Go on. I’ve got this. We’ve nearly finished the first sweep, anyway. Another hour, maybe less, and I can take this stuff back to the lab and get started on the preliminary runs.” That was the part she was good at, and where she could make a difference for the case…and the victims.

      Gigi was already packing her gear, of course. They didn’t really get a say in where they went, or when. “You don’t mind taking all of it back with you, mine as well as yours?”

      “Not a problem. If I need to, I’ll get one of the cops to help me carry it downstairs.”

      “Promise me you won’t try to do it all yourself?” Gigi’s tone was suddenly intense.

      Jenn looked up at her friend. “What?”

      Wearing her heavy parka now, cheeks flushing from the heat in the apartment, Gigi shrugged and looked a little sorry that she’d said anything. “I just…I don’t know. It worries me that you keep so much to yourself. I want you to know you can talk to me…or if not me, then Matt. Or someone.”

      Not sure how they had gotten here, Jenn rocked back on her bootied heels. “I’m fine, really.”

      “You keep saying that.”

      “Because it’s true.” Or close enough. And the parts of her that weren’t fine weren’t the sort of thing her