He stood by the door, close enough to feel the swell of danger on the breeze each time it swung open, as if it wanted to crush him. Every time someone passed, the door opened to let them enter, beckoning him to step into the danger zone. Seconds later, it would swish shut as the person disappeared inside. Through it all, he couldn’t move. Frozen. Suspended in time, as if his world had ended but everyone else still lived in the moment.

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Things should’ve been simple.

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They should’ve been so easy.

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Follow the evidence. Follow the leads, even as thin as they were.

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And he’d find his killer.

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The man who murdered his sister.

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The man he’d kill with his bare hands when he found him.

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It should’ve all been so, so easy.

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The door swished open again. A family of four passed by and stepped inside the building, chatting excitedly, anxious to get to their destination.

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He was anxious too. Only not in the omg-are-we-there-yet variety.

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The doors closed.

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Nobody had yet to approach him and ask him if he was okay. He wasn’t even sure how he’d answer that question. He was far from okay. He might never be okay again.

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A guy working with airport security stood to his right, eyeing him every few seconds. They made eye contact at least twice, but the guy didn’t make a move. Neither did he.

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Maybe he hadn’t gotten to the crazy, I’m-gonna-attack-you look. Though he felt crazy. An array of emotions circled his veins, filling him up, making him jittery and unsettled. He hated feeling unsettled. Being in control and organized kept him sane in a profession that was chaotic and disturbing every single day. He needed things to be orderly to survive.

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He couldn’t stand here all day. He either needed to step through the doors, get on the plane, and continue to track his killer…or he needed to go back.

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To her.

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To the one thing that could bring his entire world crumbling down.

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“Sir, can I help you with something?”

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He twitched his head to the right to find the security guard had finally decided to make a move. How would he respond? Answer with honesty or bullshit his way through until he found the nerve to take a step?

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“Sir?”

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Or he could stand here like an idiot, immobile, too paralyzed to answer a simple question. What was wrong with him? He never froze. He was always one step ahead of the game.

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Except today.

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“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you—”

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“He’s fine. He was waiting for me.” A smooth, soft hand slid into his.

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Slowly, not missing the distrust in the guard’s eyes, he met her gaze. The one woman who had turned his world upside down with one sweet, innocent look.

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She smiled. His knees nearly buckled. The gentle smile was aimed at the guard, of course. And it worked. Because the man nodded and walked away as she tugged on his hand. He finally found the strength to move. She guided him away from the door to the side of the building, out of the path of the other traveling passengers.

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“What are you doing?”

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Great question. He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

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“Tate…I know—”

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“I was not prepared…” The words came out clipped, then died on his lips.

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How could he have been prepared to hear the truth? Nothing would’ve prepared him as her words from earlier pelted his memory over and over. Like a vicious cycle, battering his heart every time he thought about it. He wished he didn’t know. He wished he could erase the last few hours.

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He didn’t want to say anything else, but she needed to know. “I’m going to kill him.”

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Her gaze drew toward the ground. “I should’ve never…told you.” Her hands tightened around his as she lifted her sorrowful eyes his way. “You’re a cop. You don’t kill people.”

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His eyes narrowed and glittered with hot rage as he squeezed her hand back a little harder than he should’ve. She winced. “I would’ve figured out the truth sooner or later.” He leaned closer. “And I will kill him.” He yanked his hand out of hers and stepped away before he caved in to the temptation to kiss her one last time. “Don’t try to stop me.”

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He turned around. With his strength fortified, he knew his end goal had to be completed regardless of the consequences.

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“He’s my brother!”

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His footsteps paused, but he didn’t turn her way. “And he killed my sister.”

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The doors swished open and his feet finally followed through, stepping over the threshold of no return. He had a plane to catch. A killer to take down.

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He might’ve fallen in love with the man’s sister a little too effortlessly, but he had to die. No one hurt his family and got away with it.

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Every choice had a consequence.

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Like falling in love with a woman he could never have.