“Text me the address.”
Chapter 5
Hale leaned back on the sectional couch in his living room, watchingSportsCenteron his wide-screen TV. The commentator—some football Hall of Famer—was breaking down the most recent Cowboys game and attempting to explain what needed to happen to get the season turned around in time to make a serious run for the playoffs. Hale wasn’t paying much attention since he’d already heard this same report at least three times over the past several hours.
After getting back from the North Central Patrol station house a little before sunrise, Hale had showered, then put on shorts and a T-shirt, fully intending to jump into bed to get some sleep. But instead, he’d found himself sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV, two boxes of chocolate-covered donuts on the table in front of him for company. He’d told himself that he’d have a quick snack and catch up on the world of sports while he decompressed from the most unsettling evening he’d had in a long time.
That had been five hours ago, and he was no more ready to fall sleep than he had been when he’d gotten back to his apartment. With everything thathad happened last night blending together with memories from his high school years, his head was a muddled mess. And unfortunately, damn near all those memories involved Karissa Bonifay.
He’d thought that painful part of his past was gone, the echoes of any residual feelings silenced long ago. Turned out he was wrong about that. His chest hurt all over again, and it had nothing to do with the knife that had been shoved in there last night.
Deciding he should try to get at least an hour of sleep before heading back to the compound, Hale forced himself up off the couch. He reached for what was left of the chocolate donuts, realizing he’d demolished a box and a half of the things, when the doorbell rang.
Wishing for the thousandth time that his nose was good enough to let him know who’d shown up at his apartment, Hale padded barefoot across the carpeted floor of the living room and into the small tiled entryway. He was so used to his nose being pure crap that he’d learned to ignore whatever random scents occasionally popped up. Instead, he trusted his hearing to help him identify people. He had a detailed audio library of everyone in his pack and most of his neighbors, memorizing the tread of their footsteps and the particular way their heart sounded when it beat.
Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize any of thesounds coming from outside the door, which meant it was someone he probably didn’t know. Maybe it was someone selling Girl Scout cookies. He could really go for a half dozen boxes of Samoas.
Thoughts of cookies disappeared the moment he opened the door and saw Karissa standing there. Actually, he stopped thinking completely. Total PC shutdown.
“Well, I guess this answers my first question,” his unexpected visitor said with an unreadable expression as her gaze roamed up and down his body. “You’re still alive after getting stabbed last night.”
Hale stared, not sure what to say. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say anything. There was a part of him that wanted to say “duh,” then slam the door in her face. But at the last second, he stopped himself.
Karissa’s brown hair was hanging loose, bangs and feathered edges framing her heart-shaped face, the long, curling ends hanging down to brush the swell of her breasts. Those mesmerizing green eyes were even more vivid in the brighter light of the hallway, making it difficult to look at anything but them.
“It was only a glancing blow,” he finally managed to say, instinctively coming up with something to rationalize his rapid recovery. “It bled a lot, but there wasn’t much damage. The wound closed up within an hour. No stitches or anything.”
Karissa lifted a brow like she wanted to call him out on the lie, but she didn’t.
He took a step back.
“You coming inside?” he asked, wanting to avoid any more talk of the knife wound. If Karissa insisted on seeing whether he was telling the truth, there’d be hell to pay if she saw that it was completely healed with scar tissue that looked a week old.
Karissa hesitated for a moment and walked through the door, taking a few steps into the living room before stopping to look around. Hale watched as she took in everything, pausing for a long moment on the donuts before finally coming to rest on the framed photos of him with his pack mates mounted on the wall to either side of the TV. She moved closer to the collection of pictures, studying them, particularly the ones of him and his teammates in uniform.
“So you’re a cop now,” she said, not looking at him. “I have to admit, I never would have pegged you as the type, given the family you grew up in.”
The lightly veiled jab stung a little, mostly because it had come from Karissa. Not that Hale would ever admit it. He’d long ago gotten over the fact that he’d grown up in a family of criminals. Apparently, his ex was still hung up on that fact, though.
“Like I never would have pegged you to be running around Dallas in a trench coat, swinging asword, and playing the vigilante,” he responded in a tone as emotionless as hers.
When Karissa turned to shoot him a glare, Hale could tell he’d struck a nerve. But she quickly recovered, any trace of anger disappearing in a flash.
“It’s a five-hundred-dollar leather duster, not a trench coat,” she corrected, wandering across the living room to the coffee table, gazing down at the donuts. “Not that I’d expect you to know the difference.”
“You’re right. I don’t know the difference. But then again, you always were about the money, weren’t you?”
Hale felt a bit of shame at the harsh words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He might have thought he’d come to accept his past with Karissa, but he’d obviously been wrong about that. The sight of her standing there looking all chill while he was boiling with anger inside was too much.
He braced himself, waiting for the return volley in their game of matching insults, but instead Karissa took a deep breath and slowly let it out. If he wasn’t so mad at her, Hale would have smiled. She always had been good when it came to reining in her anger.
“So you’re still eating chocolate-covered donuts?” Karissa said.
Hale could tell that she trying hard to keep hervoice casual instead of blasting him in retaliation for his comment about her family having money when his never did.
“Yeah, I still love them.” He motioned at the box on the table and the three donuts inside. “You want one, or have you moved on from them, too?”
He regretted his words immediately, not sure why he continued to lash out like that. But it was too late to take them back. So instead, he picked up the box of donuts, holding it out to Karissa, hoping she’d take the delicious olive branch he was offering.
