Deadly Past. Kris Rafferty

forever in her head, and every decision she’d made since the accident somehow could be tracked back to that day. “You know what I mean,” she said.

      “Yeah, I do.” And his grimace told her he wasn’t happy about it. The traffic began to move again, thankfully.

      “You have to admit that suddenly informing everyone we’re best friends will put us in the spotlight, and prompt questions,” she said. “I’m on the cusp of being implicated in a murder case, Charlie, and you’re the department’s forensic pathologist. It will look suspicious.”

      “But I am your best friend, Cynthia. It’s the truth.” He shook his head, grimacing. “I shouldn’t be touching this case with a ten-foot pole, and neither should you. Why don’t you take a medical leave? Your head injury is perfect cover. I’ll take some time off, hand this off to a substitute M.E. Benton and the team can field this case without us. Sooner or later we’ll be kicked to the curb anyway. They’ll find your prints, your DNA, and even a half decent prosecutor will use that to crucify you during evidentiary proceedings. Add suspected tampering with evidence? They’ll fry you.”

      “You’re right,” she said. The right thing to do was to leave this case, her future, her freedom, in the hands of Benton and the team.

      He glanced at her. “But that’s not what we’re going to do, is it?” he said. No, because she was innocent, and she needed to know what happened last night. That didn’t mean Charlie had to be involved. In fact, his idea of taking time off and leaving town sounded perfect. “Our involvement could kill whatever case Benton builds,” he said. “We’re officially radioactive.”

      “I know.” If she was guilty. Which she wasn’t. Hello? Wasn’t it his job as best friend to keep pointing that out?

      “So, we help Benton. Make sure we don’t ruin his case.” There he went using that “we” word again.

      “Not we, Charlie. That would mean putting your career on the line,” she said. “I can’t allow it. Why don’t you take some—”

      “Your life is on the line.” He glanced at her, his eyes intense. “You witnessed murders. There is no scenario that doesn’t include me watching your back.”

      “I blacked out. I don’t know anything.”

      “The killer doesn’t know that.” His hands gripped the wheel like he was strangling it, though his speed stayed steady, and his eyes were firmly on the road.

      “Then why did he leave me alive if he thought I could ID him?”

      “I don’t know. Believe me, I wish I did.” He visibly reined in his jacked emotions, inhaling sharply. “And until I do, I need you protected, or I can’t function.” He glanced at her. “Let’s make a deal. When you’re not buddied up with one of your FBI team members, you’re with me.”

      “I can’t—” She ran her fingers through her drying hair, feeling the flyaway strands, feeling harassed.

      “Your instinct is always to push me away. I’m protecting you, even if you don’t want it.”

      “Of course I want you!” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed, because yeah, she did want him, more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life. “I meant to say it.” She sank deep in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. “I want it.”

      The silence in the car pressed down on her until she couldn’t resist glancing at him, only to see that a calm had settled over his features. His shoulders were relaxed, and when he took the turn at the stoplight, Charlie almost seemed his old self again as their car approached the hustle and bustle of the crime scene. He seemed confident, indomitable.

      “We tell Benton nothing until we clear you, solidify your alibi best we can. Hopefully we can get that done today,” he said. “And then we work the case. You stay with me or with one of your team at all times. We clear?” He glanced at her until she nodded.

      She’d nodded, because she was afraid, and he’d convinced her his way was the safest way to protect Charlie and the FBI task force’s careers.

      “We work the case,” she said. “Find this killer.”

      “Yeah. That means we need to protect ourselves,” he said, glancing between her and the road. “Do this right.” She arched a brow, having lost the thread of his point. “This.” He used his right hand to indicate her and then him. “Technically, this is collusion, and that’s an avenue the DA can pursue to create a conspiracy case against us, maybe even implicate Benton and the team. Not good.” His expression gave her no indication of where his mind was at.

      “What are you saying?”

      “We need to get married, Cynthia.”