Helikedher.
He was sexually attracted to her,andhe liked her.
He’d worked for a decade protecting some of the most beautiful women in Hollywood—models, and actresses whose faces graced magazine covers, stars whose fake tits and asses earned them millions—and he’d felt nothing. Now, here in weird little Scarlet Springs, he’d finally crossed the line and grown attached to the victim in one of his cases.
What. The. Fuck?
Even as he hated himself for it, he understood. Sasha was nothing like any of the women whose cases he’d taken while at the LAPD.
She was warm and genuine, not a conceited bone in her body. Rather than designer gowns, silk bathrobes, and high heels, she wore leggings, T-shirts, and running shoes, no makeup on her face. More than that, she had an air of innocence about her, something pure and kind that life hadn’t yet beaten out of her. It showed in her smile, in those blue eyes, in the sweetness of her voice.
And she needed his help.
What she needs is for you to put away the bastards who hurt her.
Darius ought to remove himself from the case. He ought to demand that Irving give this assignment to someone else.
There is no one else.
There was no one else at DPD with his skill set or experience. That meant he needed to get his mind off Sasha and focus on the job.
He glanced through the data the program had captured. Forensics had uploaded its report from yesterday this morning. They had been able to identify a few of the haters, but none of them lived in Colorado. Some came from overseas bots—Russia, China, Belarus—while others came from actual accounts. So far, nothing pointed to Riggs or Watts, but they were just getting started.
Having done what he’d come here to do, Darius left Sasha’s office and headed back down the hallway. He’d asked Sheriff Pella for some space at the sheriff’s substation so he could set up an office. Since he didn’t yet have a keycard to the building, Marcs had agreed to meet him there even though it was her day off. He was used to working with a desk and a whiteboard and felt disorganized without it. The Inn was comfortable and had adequate Internet, but sorting through documents set in piles all over his suite seemed like a great way to miss something. He hoped to get set up today so he could think through the case before Monday.
He opened his mouth to tell Sasha he was leaving, but the words died on his lips. Sasha had fallen asleep in a recliner, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders, her bruised face peaceful.
Shit.
He didn’t want to wake her, but he had no choice.
He knelt beside the chair, touched her arm. “Sasha?”
Her eyes opened, and she smiled, a sweet sleepy smile. “Darius.”
“Sorry to wake you. I have to head out now. I didn’t want to leave you alone and asleep with the door unlocked.”
“Oh. Right.” Fully awake now, she took the hand he offered and got carefully to her feet. “Are you coming back today? Just in case I fall asleep again.”
So, she wanted him to come back.
“I’ll be back Monday—unless something comes up. I’m going to spend the weekend going through the evidence and the forensic data from your social media.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Was that disappointment on her face?
He opened the door, stepped out into a cold wind. “Stay warm and get some rest.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
As he walked down her front steps, he heard the door lock behind him.
The sheriff’s substation was a short drive away, and he found Deputy Marcs waiting for him, a parka over a pink T-shirt and jeans, her hair out of its ponytail.
The moment Marcs saw him, she burst out laughing. “You’re wearing a suit on a Saturday! Oh, my God. This is too good. Wait. I need to get a photo.”
Darius reached out to block her phone’s camera. “Knock it off.”
“Oh, come on!” She snapped a photo. “I won’t put it online, but the girls at the bar at Knockers will love this. They’re used to men in plaid, T-shirts, and jeans, and here you are—Mr. GQ in his polyester slacks.”
