Chapter Three

Andrew

The tantalizing aroma floating from between Michelle’s legs swam around my head the whole damn time I was talking to her. Focus. Focus. How could a human woman smell so fresh and ready? I literally employed breathing exercises to talk my prick into a state of compliance. Crashing waves. Crashing waves and blue sky. Crashing waves and blue sky and granny boobs. Chill out. Michelle’s trigger was so sensitive right now—and not in the good way—that she would probably get my case reassigned and move out of town if she saw me with an erection right now.

We piled into my truck and lurched back onto the street.

“I’m guessing you don’t live in a safe neighborhood,” I volunteered.

“I thought that I did,” Michelle replied. “The rent is expensive enough for it to be very safe. I live right next to a cop.”

“Do you make good money, doing what you do?” I asked, just to make polite conversation. “Defending the riff raff of the world?”

“You’re not riff raff,” Michelle asserted, avoiding my first question. “I’ve been giving you a hard time, but you were right when you called yourself a gentleman. I really can’t disagree, even if I might want to.”

I nodded. “So, the money sucks.”

Michelle actually laughed, a bright, tinkling sound I had never heard before. I liked it. I wanted to hear it more often. “Yes,” she confessed. “The money blows. Take a right up at the gate for Withers Community. That’s me.”

“Then this will be even easier,” I told her. “I live in Withers Community, too.”

Michelle’s mouth fell open, but she said nothing.

“Yep,” I went on, tempering the awkwardness with little success. “I’m in the gray rancher. It’s on the lake.”

“I’m at the bottom of the cul-de-sac on Mayhew,” Michelle replied. All the brightness and honey in her tone was gone now.

As we approached the cul-de-sac at the end of Mayhew, I reminded Michelle, “I meant what I said about forgetting... what happened in January.” I slid my hand through the air, pantomiming an erasure. “It never happened. Okay, Michelle?”

I slanted my eyes over at her, and she offered an uncertain smile as she buttoned the blouse she’d unfastened in the June heat. “Can’t be letting all the cops and robbers get a look at my goodies,” she informed me. We parked on the side of the street and she went on in a tiny voice, “There’s someone on the porch.”

My eyes followed hers to the masculine silhouette moving over the porch. I slid out of the driver’s seat and put my finger to my lips. Michelle widened her eyes and shook her head frantically—Don’t do it—but I let the door hang open and crept across the yard. My boots made a light click as I crossed the porch and the shadow twisted, but it all happened too quickly for him and I lunged. The momentum carried us both over the bannister and into the bushes, rolling out across the dark yard.

I got in one good punch before my eyes adjusted well enough to identify the stranger as Chet-motherfucking-Browntooth.

I live right next to a cop, Michelle’s voice rang in my mind.

Great. Perfect.

My grip popped off of Chet’s collar, and I sprang off of him as he bellowed, “Hands off, Ace!”

I held up my hands, just in case he was armed. Michelle came trundling out of the truck and onto the grass, still barefoot in stockings. She held the crowbar in the back of my truck high over her head.

Damn. Smart girl. My whole plan had been fists.

“What’s going on here?” Michelle asked, her light, musical voice suddenly becoming hard and firm. It was sweet. She was like a little Pitbull puppy.

Chet climbed off his ass and wiped at his bloody nose.

“I saw your front door hanging open, and I thought you might need some help,” Chet explained with a dramatic sniff, glaring at me the entire time. “I could tell that you weren’t home, and I let myself in to make sure nothing was happening. I heard voices in there, but I didn’t get anybody. I think they came back out the front while I was inside.”

“They?” Michelle’s brow furrowed and she shook her head slightly, unable to compute all the negative data she’d just been given. She looked at me, and then at Chet. “I’m sorry, but who the hell are you?”

“Your next door neighbor,” I answered in deflation, staring Chet down like I knew exactly what this meant. I knew Chet.

Browntooth stuck his hand out toward Michelle and she tentatively took it. “Chet,” he introduced himself with just a degree too much warmth for my taste. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I’ve been meaning to come by and introduce myself, but you’re such a busy little bee.” His eyes roved over her and I bristled. He was acting like I was invisible. “I never want to interrupt you.” I had just punched him in his bitch face, and the spirit moved me to do it again, but I resisted.

“Chet... Browntooth?” Michelle wondered next, swaying to look at Chet and then at me and then at Chet again.

“Deputy Browntooth,” Chet agreed coolly. “That’s correct.”

“Well, Deputy Browntooth, thank you for investigating the situation,” Michelle told him.

“Does anyone else think we should check out the house?” I asked, which neither of them seemed to be considering anymore. I plucked the crowbar from Michelle’s hands as I jogged past her.

“Wait! Andrew!”

I passed through the open door and strode into each room, flicking lights. No one was here. I traveled down the hallway, scrutinizing a dining room and a kitchen. There was one bedroom in the back of the house. I heard one set of light footfalls enter the house, and then another, heavier set.

“Andrew?” Michelle called to me. “Andrew?” Her voice was high with panic.

I flicked the light in the bedroom and made sure to check the closet for anyone. “I’m in here,” I called, poking at her dresses. There was no one in here. Whoever had broken in was gone now.

I heard the soft crush of stockinged feet on carpet and went to meet Michelle in the doorway. “All clear,” I announced but Michelle scowled up at me.

“You can’t just be in my bedroom by yourself with the lights on,” she hissed. “That should be part of our agreement.”

“All right,” I allowed, smoothing my palm over the switch and blanketing the room in darkness. “How about now?”

“That’s a little better,” Michelle whispered up to me.

Her eyes were especially bright in the darkness, and I thought I could hear her heartbeat. It must have been a phantom.

I stretched one curious hand up to brush my fingers over her jaw—just to see what she did, if she might stretch her neck open in welcome—and then Chet’s voice shattered our moment.

“Miss Harper, would you like to come down to the station with me and fill out an incident report?”

Michelle flinched away and yelled back to him, “N-no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I didn’t see anything missing.” She turned and left the room, and I deflated with a long exhale. Down, boy, I schooled myself. You have a pact with the lady. Nothing ever happened, and nothing ever will.

I heard their voices in the distance. As I approached down the hall, she thanked him for checking her out. As I passed into the living room, Chet said, “I’ve been trying not to,” with a bashful bullshit smile. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think it’s critical that you take a ride with me down to the station. We really do need to track this kind of thing.” And as much as I hated it, he was right.

“That is a good idea,” I agreed. Was my brow pinching up into a frown? Just because he was going to be alone with her? I smoothed myself out and tried again. “Do you want me to come with you?” Damnit, that was no good either.

“I’ll be fine, Andrew,” Michelle said. “But thanks.” Her eyes connected with mine and softened, warmed. Chet faded from the room. “I’ll call you—at your garage. For the total on my vehicle.”

“No, no,” I replied casually. This was simple common sense. “You can call me on my cell any time you’d like.” I gave her the numbers and watched her put them in. “Take care of her, Chet,” I said as I passed him with a firm pat on the shoulder. “You can text that number, too.”