“Good. Wanna fix that? I’m kidding…. Actually, no. I’m not.” He chuckled.
Heat crawled up my neck. I’d never been good with overly confident people, but he was… appealing. Especially when he rescued me. I bit my lip and stared at his broad shoulders. “We’re going to be flooded with people at the shelter this afternoon, plenty who I’ll have to turn away, and no one will want to sleep outside after this.” I nodded toward the dead man. “I don’t suppose you could catch the killer today?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s rough. Doubtful. I’ve learned on this job you can only save the people who want to be saved. Some people are meant to go through the shredder and nothing you can do will stop it.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged and didn’t really explain himself.
Anger simmered in my chest, making me warmer. “Isn’t that a bad attitude from a cop?”
He hummed and crossed his arms, staring up at the sky. A dire expression, nearly frightening, crossed his face and vanished so fast I thought maybe I’d imagined it. “I’m a detective, not a cop. My only function is to hunt down bad guys and toss their asses in jail. I don’t have a heart, I have a win record.” He dropped his gaze to me again and flashed a cheerful smile.
“You stopped for me.”
“I did,” he murmured.
My face scalded as Detective Walker stared and didn’t look away.
I didn’t, either. “Oh.”
“I’m going to swing by your place at seven thirty tonight. There are reports from me and Nilsson about Enoch attacking you, but I want a detailed statement from your perspective. Very detailed. It might take us all night to nail down every last moment on paper.” A dark and dangerous look entered his eyes, and this time it stayed. I liked seeing it there.
“Don’t things like that normally happen at the police station?” My pulse thudded as he reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze. His palm was scorching compared to the wintery air.
“Maybe. But I’m free at seven thirty.”
“I… I don’t think I am.” There was something about him I did like, but I was also a bit afraid. Was that just me being a bad person because of the way he looked? I actually had to crane my neck and stare up. He scared me a little. I hated people judging me based on physical appearances. For good fucking reason. Was I doing the same thing? My stomach knotted in guilt. I opened my mouth, but before I could make myself take anything back, he patted my shoulder lightly.
“Sure. Okay, that’s fine. No worries. Meet me at the station in the morning before ten. Have a nice day,” he said gruffly and turned away. He was obviously not pleased. Disappointment clawed at me. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d lost an opportunity. I was an ass. Normally I was let down by people, not the other way around.
I fought with myself as I turned to look for Journey. I waved at him, and he nodded back but didn’t come over to meet me because one of the men was rambling at him. Even though he was sometimes stuck-up, Journey was kind to the core. He’d stand there until the old man was done conversing. I trudged toward him.
As I passed a garbage can with a decorative black wrought iron holder that matched the fence and gate around the park, I saw something sticking out from under the raised bottom, next to a black metal curlicue. Gold glinted red and then brighter as it reflected the swirling emergency lights from the vehicles parked nearby.
Curious, I crouched and tugged at a thick necklace chain. The metal uncoiled and caught, and after a few seconds I pulled out a muddy, familiar detective shield. I’d seen something like it the other night while I was literally being saved. I couldn’t forget it. I flipped over the black leather holder the badge was mounted on. On the back a small silver bar had the name Abraham Walker engraved on it.
Detective Walker was talking to someone not too far away; maybe it was his partner because he seemed familiar. Detective Walker gestured widely. He was massive, and yeah, he had a scary-looking scar on his face, but he was also handsome in a potent way.
Maybe I did want to get to know the man who would stop his car in traffic to be a hero.
My stomach warmed as I glanced down at the badge in my hand. This was fate, right? Somehow he’d lost this badge when he was what? Looking around for clues? It felt cheesy to think that, but what else did detectives do? And now I’d found his badge, and he needed it…. I was being given a second chance. I’d be a moron not to take it.
Attempting to hang on to a scary swell of courage, I tucked the chain into my hand along with the badge holder and rushed over to Detective Walker.
“Excuse me? Detective?” I tried to make my voice big, and it came out scratchy and husky instead.
“We call him Tyler. Your bunny wasn’t chased off after all.” The blond man laughed and sauntered away toward a group of cops in uniform.
I frowned after the man, but Detective Walker—Tyler—spun on the spot, his dark eyebrows flying high.
“You must have dropped this… though, is it yours? This says Abraham.”
He laughed, and what I thought might be relief loosened some of the tightness around his eyes. “Yeah, Tyler’s my… uh, nickname.”
“Is it your middle name?”
“Sure.” He winced but held out his hand with a smile. I carefully settled the badge into his palm and lingered over his warm skin with my fingertips. He glanced up, eyes wide.
