A Taste of Sir (Doms of Decadence 6)

“That was a waste of time then.”

“Travis,” Lacey snapped. “You’re not helping.”

He knew he should thank the other man for his help. But he just didn’t have it in him to do that right now.

“Gray, can we talk? In private?” Lacey asked.

“Sure.” Anything to get him away from her cousin.

She turned, and he followed her out of the room and into a smaller room two doors down. Once the door was shut, he pulled her against him and hugged her tightly. “Have I told you how much I love and appreciate you lately?”

She hugged him back tightly. Almost with a hint of desperation, which made no sense. He ran his hand up and down her back. This had been a tough few days for both of them. Then she pulled back, stepping away from him.

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something you won’t like.”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s about your sister’s disappearance.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember the Latin Lothario?”

“That serial killer who sent his victims love letters and signed them with Latin phrases? Sure. But he was shot and killed months ago. What could he have to do with Rory’s disappearance?”

“I was with the FBI at the time. I worked on the profile for the Latin Lothario. My profile ended up being completely wrong, or at least I thought it was.”

“I doubt that. You’re the most conscientious person I know. And shouldn’t there have been other people working on that profile as well?”

“There were. But everyone sort of went along with me, and when my profile turned out to be inaccurate I caught a lot of flak. I knew then that my time at the FBI was up.”

“That’s why you left?”

He wasn’t certain why she was telling him this right now.

“That, and I had another reason. Just before the last victim was taken, I started to receive love letters in the mail. Poems about how my lover was watching me.”

“He targeted you?” Okay, this was something she definitely should have told him. Why had she kept this all to herself? He’d thought they told each other everything. That there were no lies, no secrets. A sick feeling developed in his stomach.

“Yes. Only, he never used any Latin phrases. I told my supervisor at the FBI, and he kind of freaked. He wanted me to keep it quiet. He was all about preserving the public image of the FBI. He didn’t want us to seem vulnerable.”

“And you being targeted by a serial killer makes the FBI seem vulnerable?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. They set up surveillance around my place, but he stopped sending me letters and started sending flowers with notes instead. Paid for with stolen credit cards. It was a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do. I should have; I was an FBI agent. I should have felt confident and in charge. I tried to act that way but, on the inside, I was terrified.”

“What happened?” He didn’t like that she’d been so scared. But he also didn’t like that she’d kept this from him.

“I still thought my profile was correct. I never imagined I was wrong. Two weeks later, the Latin Lothario was shot and killed while dumping the body of his last victim. He was nothing like the man I had profiled, but I did know him. Every day, he used to run past my place when I was leaving for work. He’d call out ‘ciao bella,’ and I’d try not to get a secret thrill. I was desperate for any sort of affection, I guess. I messed up so badly. He was right there, under my nose, and I didn’t even see it because I was so sure I was right.”

“But he’s dead.”

“Yes. So, either this man is a copycat. Or the Latin Lothario had an accomplice. Someone who knew about me.”

“Who knew he sent you those letters?”

“My supervisor. His supervisor. The lead agents on the case. My cousins. Me.”

“That’s it?”