“It’s fine. Meet me at eight in my office. The address is on the card.”
We all know the police arrive by their heavy shoes clumping down the stairs. When they reach the bottom, I hold up my hands to their raised weapons and glance down to the kid on the floor. “He’s subdued. I’m Jack Taylor, private security. I work for CJ Quinn. My registered gun is in my holster under my arm.”
The officer, a guy of about forty whistles under his breath. “You really work for him?”
“Yeah, his wife, Melanie, runs this group for abused women. She’s in the other room. I think it’d be good if you put away your weapons. The ladies are spooked enough.”
By the time I finish giving the police the lowdown, it’s almost closing. Mel, Dr. Smythe and me go upstairs and settle down at one of the outside tables. The air is sultry but at least it’s stopped raining.
“Hungry?” Emily sets down a double order of sweet potato fries.
I grab one of the crispy fritters and take a bite, eyeing the doctor who’s eyeing me. Then, Mel nudges Emily and they both leave us alone in the darkened area.
I have no idea how to talk to a shrink. She’s beautiful as hell but I really don’t need someone trying to analyze my fucked-up head.
No doubt, she senses my discomfort and starts up a conversation. “It’s surprisingly warm tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” I stink at small talk. Always have, always will but for her, I give it a try. “Emily has heaters out here until October.” I point to the metal aliens with the planter-like base and lampshade top.
“That must be nice.” She nods politely, nibbling on a fry.
“Yeah.” Damn. It’s my turn to talk so I clear my throat as I think of a suitable topic. “So, you’re a shrink?”
“Psychologist.” She gives me this pretty smile, catches my eye, and relaxes a bit into her chair.
Are you kidding me? The ball is in my court? Again?“I, ah, work for Mel.”
“I know. You’re her bodyguard, right?”
“Well, actually I work for her husband, CJ.”
“Why does CJ need protection?”
Oh shit. She doesn’t know New York’s most famous quarterback?I look to the bar, about ready to beg Mel to get me out of this awkward conversation. Sure, the doctor is pretty but we got nothing in common.
The shrink coughs, her face red, and she flicks up those incredible amethyst eyes. “I’m sorry. I usually can hold up my side of a conversation. The scene downstairs shook me up a bit.”
She sips on her drink and swallows hard. “You’re probably used to this kind of thing.”
I hold onto her gaze and refuse to let go. “I don’t think anyone ever gets used to it.”
Not many women can handle my intensity and I give her credit for doing so. We stare at each other for the longest time until she reaches her hand across the table and covers mine.
It doesn’t mean shit, I remind myself but still, her softness feels right. She glances down where we touch, then back into my eyes. “Thank you.”
My heart races a bit, probably leftover adrenaline from my flying acrobatics earlier. “For what?”
“Saving my life, the life of Rasha, probably all of our lives. Was it close?”
The local brew slides down my throat as I finish the bottle and place it on the table. “Do you really want the truth?”
She nods but before I can answer, my phone rings and my callerID displays an area code I don’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Hello, s-son.”
Shit.
“Where are you?” Mom is supposed to be tucked safely away in Arizona.
