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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Clyde was intensively staring into Emma's eyes when her phone began to buzz, breaking the silence. She hissed, grabbing it. It was Allen again, and this time he sounded impatient.

“Emma, get to the department immediately. There’s a lead on the serial killer.”

“I ran into some difficulty. I’m coming.”

Allen ended the call.

Emma, shoved Clyde hard in the chest, not having any of his drama as he was wasting her time. He was a big boy, so her impact had little effect, but Clyde willingly moved out of the way for her to saunter to the wardrobe.

“You fucking cost me a button on my shirt,” she ranted, unbuttoning and shimmering out of the shirt. She didn’t care if the mountain of a man was still standing there.

She ran her fingers through the rack of clothes, choosing a blue top that went well with her pants and loafers.

Putting it on, “Clyde, I’m leaving her. Don’t try to stop me because it wouldn’t end well,” she warned with seriousness. “My job fucking needs me.”

Throwing up his hand in
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