Page 11 of 432 Hours

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Yes.

But if it was me or the statue, it was going to be me.

Besides, I had a feeling the war goddess would approve of using her to bash the skull in of a trespassing man.

“My name is Brock. I work at Sawyer Investigations.”

“You say that as if it should have some meaning to me. It doesn’t. And you need to get the ever-loving fuck out of my apartment.”

“Ever-loving fuck, huh?” he asked. And, damn him, that boyish smirk of his was really appealing.

It must be easier to be a criminal when you could make your marks blush and flutter with one smile.

“I don’t know if you are dense or what, but let me make this clear. This is a door,” I told him, gesturing toward it. “I want you on the other side of it before I call the police to do it for you.”

“Liking the image of me with handcuffs on, huh, honey?” he asked, smile even warmer as he took a step forward. “Go ahead and put that statue down. It probably costs more than I make in a year.”

“Ten,” I told him, and he just kept smiling at me, his eyes doing a crinkling thing around the edges that was far too appealing.

“If you’ll put that thing down, we can talk.”

“I don’t believe there is anything I wish to discuss with a man trespassing in my apartment.”

“That ice princess thing? It works for you, babe,” he told me as he took another step closer.

My fingers tightened around the statue, but my mind couldn’t help but think it would be a sin to bash in a face as pretty as his.

I was worse than the girls who went into basements in their panties to see where the weird noise came from in horror movies.

“Gee, I’m thrilled to impress a random criminal. Get out.”

Was it my imagination, or were my demands that he leave getting less and less forceful?

No, that was ridiculous.

Of course I wanted him to leave.

“Cam said you were a real ball-buster,” he told me.

And then it all fell into place.

Of course it came back to Cam.

I got a message out to him about the 5150. He immediately tried to look into it, likely found out about the faux suicide attempt, then went to a professional to try to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Oh,” I said on an exhale, feeling the weight fall from my shoulders, my muscles relaxing once again as I set down my statue. “Cam.”

“Yeah, he barged into our office and offered to pay our fee to help you out.”

“He will not be paying,” I insisted.

“I figured,” he agreed.

“Why are you in my apartment when I wasn’t here?” I asked.

“I was here a couple of days ago to look for clues. Today, I am here to talk to you. You got released later than we’d anticipated, so Cam had to get to the office and pretend to be you.”

“Pretend to be me?” I asked.


Tags: Jessica Gadziala Romance