I nod, but say nothing.
“You saved his life, you know, from the fire.” The cop stands and tucks his notepad away. “He’s lucky you came along when you did. Gonna have to write you up as the local hero in my report.” He grins. “Gym owner pulls man from burning wreck. Has a nice ring to it.”
“I just happened to be there,” I say, standing and tossing my cold coffee in the trash. I’ve never been comfortable with praise. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“You’d be surprised,” he says. He reaches out to shake my hand. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Midnight. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
I watch him head for the exit, then take one last look at that creepy clown painting before I follow. I’ve done what I can here. The guy’s going to be fine. There’s no reason to stay.
The morning air hits my face when I push through the doors, cool and damp, the fog mostly burned off. Everything looks gray and ordinary, like nothing happened, like there wasn’t just a car smoldering somewhere on Harbor Road.
I climb into my BMW and start the engine, checking the rearview as I shift into reverse. The parking lot is mostly empty this early, just a few cars scattered near the entrance and an ambulance idling by the emergency bay.
I’m halfway out of the space when a silver sedan comes flying around the corner and screeches to a stop inches from my bumper. I slam on the brakes. Adrenaline spikes through me for the second time this morning, my heart rate rocketing from zero to a hundred in half a second. I just pulled a man out of a burning car. I do not have the patience for this.
I shove my door open and step out, leaving the engine running, already composing the verbal assault I’m about to deliver to whatever idiot nearly took out my car at six in the morning in a hospital parking lot.
“What thehelldo you think you’re?—”
The driver’s door of the sedan swings open and Brooke Bennett steps out.
The words die in my throat. Every single one of them. Gone.
It’s been almost fifteen years since I’ve seen her in person, and almost fifteen years since she wrote the article that destroyed my career. I’ve thought about what I’d say if I ever ran into her again and rehearsed it in my head more times than I’d ever admit. It was going to be scathing and devastating, the kind of verbal takedown that would leave her speechless for once in her life.
Instead I’m standing here in a hospital parking lot at six in the morning, smoke probably still clinging to my clothes, staring at her like I’ve forgotten how to form sentences.
She looks good. That’s the first thing I notice, and I resent every nerve ending that registered it. Long dark hair blowing in the morning breeze, olive skin that’s always made her look like she just came back from somewhere warm, and legs that go on for days in red heels.
I’ve spent years hoping she’d aged terribly, that karma would catch up with her in the form ofsomething. But no. New York has clearly been good to her.
Figures.
“Dominic,” she says, her voice cool as she steps toward me.
“Brooke.” I shut my door and cross my arms, leaning back against my car. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but we both know I’d be lying. Thanks for almost taking out my bumper, by the way.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “I had plenty of room.”
“You hadinches.”
“Inches are room.” She stops a few feet away, close enough that I catch the faint scent of her perfume. Tom Ford something, the same scent she’s worn since high school. For a split second I’m eighteen again, pressed against the bleachers in the dark, her breath warm against my neck.
I shove the memory down hard. “How did you even find me?” I ask. “My own family doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Relax, Dom. I didn’t bug your car.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “I was hoping to catch you early at the gym before the crowd of people showed up, and after a bit of digging they said you were here.”
“Sarah told you where I was?” I had in fact told Sarah where I was when I asked her to cover for me, but I find it hard to believe she’d tell someone she assumes is a stranger that her boss is at the hospital.
“Sarah wouldn’t give me the time of day.” There’s a flicker of irritation in her voice, and it sends a spark of satisfaction through me. Nice to know my operations manager can spot a snake when she sees one. “But your front desk kid was more helpful.”
Frankie. He’s just a high schooler and I’m not going to hold it against him. Brooke has a way of making people crumble when she wants something from them. It’s part of what makes her such an effective journalist, and such a dangerous person to have around.
“Well, you found me.” I don’t move from where I’m standing. “Congratulations. And I have zero interest in whatever story has you slumming it outside the big city these days. Now how about you move your damn car and go do your vulture thing somewhere else. I’m sure someone’s having a bad day you can profit off.”
Her eyes flash with annoyance, and it’s nice to know I can still get under her skin.
“Myvulture thing.” She lets out a short laugh. “I’m here to do a profile on Roman Kincaid, actually. Your hometown fighter is getting quite a bit of buzz, especially once people caught wind that his coach is the infamous Dominic Midnight.” She tilts her head, studying me. “I would think you’d want the coverage for your fighter’s sake at least. Unless you’ve got something to hide.”
