“Gotta go. Nitey-nite.” Breaking the connection, I tailgate the car in front of me into the yard, and pray my instincts are right when the armed man exits his vehicle.
“Police. Drop your gun and raise your hands. Do it.” As I suspected, the guy has no business being there and bolts.
My wound reopens, I give chase and lose him at a six-foot wooden fence. If I was home, I’d call for backup. Instead, like a fucking puppy, I return to the girls’ porch with my tail between my legs.
“Don’t move.” The oldest points a pistol to my chest and because I’ve reached my monthly quota of bullets, I freeze.
Ten fingers out, I put up my hands. “I’m going to lower my weapon and put it down real slow-like. Okay?”
After she nods, I bend at the waist, place my pistol on the ground, and gaze over at hers. “How about you do the same?”
“How about you shut the fuck up. What the hell are you doing out here?” Arms straight, feet braced, I find no fault in her form.
In spite of, or because of my precarious situation, my cock jumps to attention. Perhaps I do need my head examined.
“That man followed you from the beach, had a weapon, and entered your key code. I confronted him and he ran off. If it walks like a duck and quacks…”
She rolls her eyes. “What if I wanted to talk to said mallard?”
“Do you always chit-chat with a gun aimed at a person’s heart?” When I glower at the Glock in her hand, she lowers it below my belly button.
“I might. What business is it of yours?” The intense fire in her brown eyes, I find dangerous and attractive.
Clearly, my near-death experience tainted my judgement because I have this incredible, nonsensical urge to kiss her. What I wouldn’t give to delve deep and solve her mysteries. My jeans, already tight behind the fly, become more painful as she bites down on her lower lip.
What are you hiding? “Let me call the police. I’m sure the locals can sort this out.” The instant the phrase leaves my mouth, she scowls and points her weapon back at my chest.
“You have two choices. Leave, or I shoot you and claim you were an intruder.”
“Seriously?” For a moment, I consider flashing my badge, but getting shot sucks big-time.
Our eyes meet, and I use all my training to make her understand I’m trying to help. “Before I go, tell me. Are you two in trouble?”
Unwavering, she holds my gaze. “Our father has many enemies. He’s counting on me to keep her safe.”
“You’re lying. Why?” Despite my attempts to appear nonthreatening, her eyes widen, and she gasps.
“Who the hell are you?” When she backs into the doorframe, I take a deep breath, lock onto her beautiful brown irises, and lower my butt to my heels.
“Someone you can trust.” Once my fingers latch onto the weapon, I flip the safety on, and hold it forth. “Go ahead. Take it.”
She snatches it from my open palm, our forearms brush together, and a bolt of lust shoots between us. The dark centers on her gorgeous chocolate orbs grow larger, her mouth forms into a perfect O, then her cool façade slips back in place.
“As much as I would love to shoot you, the ensuing chaos would draw attention. Just go, please. And forget you ever met us.”
“Whatever you wish, princess.” Careful not to disturb the prints she left on my weapon, I slip it in my jacket pocket next to a smooth plastic pen.
Taking a risk, I grab her wrist, and scribble on her palm. “In case you change your mind, this is my number.”
Chapter 4
Sky
I am so fucked.In my humble opinion, people walk around with a weapon for three reasons. They’re criminals, good guys, or scared shitless. The way-too perceptive Mr. Buttinsky has an authoritative air way beyond his years. What if the FBI sent him to check up on me? Could this assignment be a test to see how I handle pressure?
Hmm, perhaps he’s CIA. Brownstone said they always stick their noses where they don’t belong. Holy fuck, what if he’s one of Tommy’s evil chameleon competitors?
Whoever he is, he needs to vacate my premises.
