“Turner?” Spence speaks with the police on his phone while he stands with a foot on Aaron’s back. “I think maybe attempted assault? Murder? Fuck if I know the words you need. But you got a cheating bimbo with dark hair and double Ds, and an enraged soon-to-be ex-husband pencil dick who tried to smack her with a Slugger. Now everyone’s pissed, and they got kids at home, so someone better get over there, too.”
An hour after sitting in my truck teasing Spence about his summer fling, I climb back in with an ice-pack on my collarbone and orders to take my ass to the ER to get it looked at.
Tomorrow.
I’ll do it tomorrow, because for right now, I don’t wanna sit on cheap plastic for six hours while I pay out the ass to be ignored.
Kane Bishop is Checkmate Security’s founder and my boss, I guess, though it’s an odd dynamic. He’s younger than me, and back when we worked as federal agents at the same time, I was his superior. But now we’re all civilians, and he pays me a salary. I called him after Alex Turner finished taking statements and let him know where I was, but I omitted the bit about my busted shoulder and promised I was heading home for the night.
Job complete. Invoice is already paid. Everybody except Valerie and Aaron Scanlen go back to their beds tonight.
“Good work, Cap.” Spence stops beside my door with a crooked grin and twinkling eyes. Nobody loves a throwdown more than this guy. He was hoping for a baseball bat. Hell, he was hoping for a fully armored tank and a round of Battleship. “He was gonna beat that bitch to a pulp. Good job diving in.”
“Yeah, good job. Now I have a fuck ton of paperwork to finish and an ice pack to hold for the next seventy-two hours.”
“Stop bitching.” He taps the top of my truck and steps back. “The blond medic is cool, so if he says ice-pack, he means ice-pack. We all know you need an ER, so stop whining and just go do what you were already gonna do.”
And just like that,sheflashes through my mind. Shoulder blade-length midnight black hair. Red, red lips that look as juicy as an apple. Bright green eyes I find difficult to look away from. And an ass that has left me breathless on too many occasions.
But I try to act cool about the woman who makes up my every sex dream. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“No?” Stepping away, he turns his back to me and walks along the street to the black Hummer he drives. Speaking into his microphone so his voice crackles in the piece still in my ear, he chuckles. “Diner oughtta be closing in an hour or so. I wonder if she’s on shift?”
“She is.” I run a hand over my face in frustration. I’m frustrated because she’s addictive. I’m frustrated because she serves me every single day, but she has no fucking clue who I am. She serves me, but she doesn’tseeme. “She’s always there.”
“Oh, I know.” Turning and walking backwards, he flashes tattooed middle fingers and laughs. “Go beg the pretty girl to kiss your boo-boos better. Everyone knows that’s where you’re going, so you can quit with the shy girl act. We know you aren’t a virgin anymore.”
“Fuck you, Spencer. Mind your own business.”
“Eh, I’d rather not. Catch you tomorrow, Cap. Sweet dreams.” The gun in his holster reflects the streetlights as he turns back around and continues walking.
I have to remind myself every damn day that he’s my brother. He’s my friend. He’s my trusted coworker.
And it’s against company policy to shoot him because he’s annoying.
Switching on my ignition and thinking of Aaron Scanlen when I have to take extra care of my left arm, I pull out and pass two police cruisers as I head toward Main Street.
I should go home. I should lock my stupid ass away from the woman I can’t stop thinking about and leave her be. She’s beautiful, exotic in a ridiculously delicious way, and she absolutely doesn’t deserve me taking up a booth at Franky’s diner three times a day.
But I do. I go there.
She doesn’t see me, but I sure as hell can’t stop looking at her. But the thing is, I don’twantto stop looking. So even if she’s run off her feet and cussing up a storm because she can’t keep up, I sit my ass in her section and order up a meal I’m probably not hungry for. All because her smile is so pretty.
I plan my day around mealtimes like a total idiot, even though the most I get from her is a polite greeting and the waft of her perfume as she walks away. She introduces herself as Katrina Blair, my waitress, and nothing more. She brings my food and leaves her roses and sex scent lingering in my nose as she walks away. But that’s as far as it goes, because she’s a single mom to a teen who keeps her on her toes, and I’m a man with so much baggage it’s ridiculous. I’ve created this whole romance in my mind, despite the fact I don’t even know the woman. In my heart, I know she’s way out of my league and far too good to sully with a one-night stand.
But I can’t offer more.
Katrina Blair has shown absolutely no interest in the creep who continues to sit in her section, so really, I need to get my head on straight and stop visiting that place like she’s air and I’m suffocating.
There are six billion reasons why I shouldn’t go back there, two of whom are named Gemma and Callie. And yet, I signal before pulling into the parking space out front and yank my keys from the ignition.
Just one breath.
Just one look so I can get my hit, then I’ll walk away.