Chapter 10

I turned on a dime. Behind me stood the scantily clad form of Olivia Rose. She was grinning seductively. At Ryan. I felt his arm tighten around me.

“Well, Agent Ryan, I didn't know you liked to come here. Is this your first time at La Skratch?”

Ryan didn't return the flirting. “Just came to speak with the manager, Ms. Rose.”

“Oh, Mr. Jackson. He's a nice man, really. Got me my first club job.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Rose, you don't seem too surprised to see us here.”

Olivia glared at me. I didn't understand her immediate hatred for me. “Doctor, I assumed at one point that your nosey, crack FBI team would do research and find out about my...after hours activities. Of course I'm not surprised. In fact, you were probably asking about me.”

The arm got a little bit tighter.

“Ms. Rose, there is no need to disrespect Katelyn.” Ryan said, quite protectively. I stifled a laugh. Olivia glanced at the arm the Ryan had curled around my waist.

“Ryan, I didn't know you and Katelyn were together.” She asked. I could hear anger and jealousy creep into her tone.

So much for not surprised.

“Actually,” Ryan began. My stomach jumped. Was he going to drop our cover story to flirt with Olivia again? “We're engaged.”

I knew there was a reason I worked with the man. Rose raised an eyebrow. “Engaged, huh? Where's your ring, Dr. Amos?”

D****t.

“She doesn't like wearing the ring on official visits. Shows an attachment, which shows weakness. Weakness gets people killed.” Ryan improvised. I smiled and nodded.

“Well then, congratulations. I'm sure the children are sure to follow.” She smiled. I could tell it was fake, her tone laced with malicious sarcasm.

“Ms. Rose, if you continue to speak to me in that tone, I will have to bring you downtown.” Ryan threatened. She snorted.

“On what grounds?”

“Verbal assault of a police officer.” He said, completely seriously. Olivia scoffed and turned, heading for the stage. Men cheered and hollered. I rolled my eyes and looked at Ryan.

“Good acting.”

“What can I say? I'm a natural. Unlike some people...”

I smacked his bicep. He laughed, “I'm just kidding!”

When we got to the parking lot, we searched for my car in the pitch black of night. We slid into the seats and Ryan started the car. The clock glowed on the dash. 12:03.

The drive home took less than ten minutes. We pulled into my parking garage, made our way to the elevator, and walked down the hall to my door. I slid the key into the lock and turned to look at Ryan.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked. Ryan smiled at me.

“Sure. We can talk about the evening.” I smiled back at him and led him into my apartment. He sat himself on the leather couch that sat in my living room. I made my way into my kitchen and pulled open the fridge.

“Care for a drink?” I called into the living room. I heard pages flipping.

“Sure. What've you got?”

I looked through the contents of the refrigerator. Coke, Sprite, Orange juice, Smirnoff. I called out the choices to him.

“Vodka on the rocks, please?”

I chuckled. “I'm not a bartender.” The laugh I heard made my heart glow. I grabbed the Smirnoff, two glasses, and the ice tray from the freezer. I poured the drinks, replaced the things back in the fridge and carried the alcohol back into the living room. I found Ryan flipping through a book. My book.

“You are not allowed tor read that.” I said, deadly serious. I sat down beside Ryan. He scooted away and held my book from my grasp.

“Why? It's good! I'm almost done the first page!” He said, just as seriously. I smacked him, “Katie, stop! I wanna read it! You're a good author!”

I stopped. “You are not reading this book.”

Ryan stopped and look me in the eyes. “So far, so good. You're a fantastic author, and I intend to take this book home tonight and read it.”

I used the five seconds after his speech was finished to tackle him onto the couch and pry the book from his grasp. I landed on his chest.

For some reason, I kept getting into these awkward positions.

Book in hand, I lay on Ryan's chest, staring into the green eyes that looked back at me. Our lips were centimetres apart. I could feel the beat of his heart underneath the button up, black polo. Somehow, I didn't see it coming when he kissed me.

Ryan's lips touched mine, hesitantly at first, then more passionately. I kissed back, pulling his body into me by the collar of his shirt. Seconds passed and we pulled back. I looked at him. He looked at me.

We looked at each other.

I abruptly sat up, lips red, face flushed, hair askew. Ryan did the same, grabbing his vodka and taking a long sip. I glanced at the clock. 12:49 in the morning. I looked to Ryan.

“Uh...you can stay the night if you want. It's not very smart to drink and drive, so...you can sleep on the couch, if you think you don't want to like, die, or anything.” I stuttered. I was looking like a complete idiot. Ryan nodded.

“Yeah. Sure, I'll stay.” He mumbled. I avoided eye contact.

“Okay, I'll, uh, get you some blankets and a pillow. Or whatever.”

He nodded and I went to my room to grab some spare blankets. The whole way there, I was mentally murdering myself. Kissing Ryan. What the hell had I been thinking?

When I entered the room, Ryan grabbed the pillows from me and threw them on the couch. He looked at me.

“Thanks for the couch, it's great,” He said. I watched him lean in and kiss my cheek. Deja vu? “Sleep well, Katie.”

I stood there in silence for a few seconds. “You too. Good night.”

“Night.”

I turned and padded to my bathroom, removing my contacts, brushing my teeth and hair, and washing my face. I grabbed pyjama pants and an oversized tee shirt, threw them on, and crawled into bed, mind gone completely psychotic.

What the hell had happened in my living room, not even five minutes earlier? What did it mean? Where were Ryan and I, relationship-wise. I stared at my dark ceiling, looking for an answer to was I was feeling for the man in my living room.

What had he been feeling? Surely something. I sighed. There was no way I was going to get any sleep whatsoever if I kept this up.

As predicted, sleep didn't come quickly. I thrashed about for maybe an hour, mind racing with thoughts of Ryan, Olivia Rose, and Colin Jackson. What did the latter two have to do with the case? Was there any way I could kill Olivia Rose without getting caught?

I rolled my eyes at my own thought.

Eventually, I fell into a light sleep. Of course, light sleeps are usually over as soon as something makes noise. Like the phone.

Groggily, I rolled over and grabbed my phone off of my night stand.

“What?”

“Ryan wasn't home, I didn't know who else to call.” Chaytor.

“It's fine, sorry. What can I do for you?” I apologized, rolling onto my back.

“Well, I just checked the other victim, Mr. Nichlson's, patient records, and according to them, he's been the appointed psychiatrist for both Olivia Rose and Colin Jackson for the past year. Up until now, of course.”

I almost dropped the phone. “So Olivia had a connection to Nichlson, too?”

“Seems to be. Sounded like a troublesome patient too. At least that's what Nichlson's secretary said.”

“Well, I'll see Will about a psychiatric profile on Rose tomorrow, and I think we'll need to talk to her again. And maybe Jackson. Thanks for the call.”

“No problem. Sorry for waking you up.” He apologized. I chuckled.

“No problem.”

After I hung up, I threw my blankets off of myself and speed walked to the living room. I stopped mid step. Ryan was sprawled out on my couch, one leg hanging off of it, one hand doing the same. His mouth was open just enough. He looked completely adorable. I smiled and walked over, kneeling down beside him. I shook him gently with a hand.

“Ryan, wake up,” I whispered. He didn't move. I nudged him again, “Ryan!”

His arm jerked and his eyes flew open. It took him moment to recognize me in the dark.

“What's the matter?”

I laughed. “Nothing. Kyle Chaytor called. He found out that Nichlson was the psychiatrist for both Olivia Rose and Colin Jackson.”

Ryan stretched and shifted and looked at me, “So she does have a connection to him. That's two of the victims, isn't it?”

I nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“4:13. We should go see Will.” I said. Ryan nodded.

“Okay. Give him a call, tell him we'll be at the FBI in ten,” He sighed, “Get dressed, I'll meet you in the car.”

It was going to be a very interesting day.