“Who’s in your bed, anyway?” she snapped, not really caring.
He took another drink. “Nobody. Just a nice lady I picked up at the grocery store in the fruit aisle.”
An unwilling smile tilted Tabi’s lips. “Fruit aisle? I’ll have to try that.” It had been way too long since she’d had a date. Her mind wandered instantly to the tall and sexy cop who wanted, for some reason, to save her. She sighed.
Raine cleared his throat. “I’m heading back to my nice fruit lady, considering she’s had an hour of sleep to rest up for round number four. If you’ve found a human male who can stop a demon mind attack, I’d keep that information to yourself. Otherwise, he’ll have a bullseye on his back. It wouldn’t be nice to do that to the kind cop who’s trying to help you.”
She gasped. “How did you know?”
“I’m not a moron.” Raine clicked off the phone.
She swallowed. Her questions had led to an obvious answer. She took her wine glass and went to her living room, peering out at the cop car parked by her curb with Evan O’Connell keeping watch over her.
What was she going to do with him?
* * * *
The engine quiet after an hour of being parked, Evan settled back in his Jeep, a cup of coffee next to him and an empty bag of chips on the passenger seat. He’d lost his appetite about a year ago and figured that eating junk food wasn’t going to kill him, considering he was already dying.
His cellphone buzzed, and he answered the call with a swipe of his finger.
“O’Connell?” came through, a little scratchy.
“Hey, Mabel,” he said, turning up the sound. “Did you get a hit?”
The eighty-year-old sighed loudly over the line. “Nope. Nothing on a Tabitha Rusko, Richard Goncharov, or anybody named Popov. Sorry, buddy.”
“No worries. I didn’t figure to get anything. Why are you working so late? This could’ve waited until morning,” he said.
“Oh, I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she cackled. “Besides, I’d rather get my hours in when the dumbass sheriff isn’t here.”
Evan snorted. “That kind of talk will get you fired, my friend.”
“I notice you didn’t disagree,” she chortled.
No. There was no disagreement. The sheriff was buddies with the mayor and was also related by marriage. It was one of the things Evan had hoped to change before he moved on, but time was getting too short. He looked down at his shaking left hand. The attacks were getting worse. “Regardless, make sure somebody walks you out to your car tonight,” Evan said.
“I will, if you promise to run for sheriff next fall,” she returned, ending the call before he could answer.
Yeah, he wasn’t going to be around in the fall. It was probably time to turn in his notice, but he wanted to wait until Tabi and his other friend, Abby, finished their anger management course and then got out of town. He might not be able to do much these days, but he could at least make sure both women were safe before quitting his job.
His head pounded, and he leaned back. The pain was becoming an odd reassurance to him that he was still alive. How weird was that?
A knock sounded on his window, and he jumped, reaching for his gun. “What in the world?” Anger replaced weakness, and he shoved open his door, standing and looming over the tiny blonde. “Never sneak up on an armed man,” he said, his teeth clenched.
Tabitha huffed out a breath. “It isn’t my fault you’re sleeping in your car. Speaking of which, why are you camped outside my house?” In the dim moonlight, her eyes glowed like the deepest coal, and in her dark leggings and loose-fitting top, she looked young and cute.
Cute slayed him. Always had. “I was making sure that wacko from earlier didn’t bother you,” he admitted.
She sighed, ducking her head to stare at her bare feet. “You can’t save everyone, Evan,” she whispered.
It was the first time she’d used his given name. Apparently sitting outside her home at night and trying to protect her had granted him some sort of a closeness. “I’m not trying to save everyone.” The itch between his shoulder blades wouldn’t abate. How had the interloper known of Evan’s illness earlier? Was it becoming that obvious? “I can still help you, Rusko.”
She looked up then, way up, her expression one that caused intrigue. “What makes you think I need help?”
It was a good question. “It’s my job,” he answered, knowing it was a cop out.
She smiled. “Have you always had this desperate need to protect and defend?”
