It had been a long time since any man had gotten me interested—interested enough that I’d spent the weekend thinking about him. I saw him going in and out of his house, and Aria too. I even almost got tempted to go over a few times, but I decided not to.

Ryan 101…it was tempting—oh so tempting—but I knew better than to go down that rabbit hole.

I didn’t know how that man had managed to get me from thinking of him as Officer Asshole to loosely agreeing to be in Ryan 101. Maybe it was because I was captivated by the way he cared for Aria.

No…that wasn’t it at all. It was him. Something about him interested me in a way I hadn’t felt in a while, not since Craig.

It was a sad thought on my part but it was true, and I didn’t know why I was thinking about that now or relationships when I had so much on my plate.

Business—I was in Wilmington for business, not learning Ryan 101, much as I wanted to allow myself to be tempted by a gorgeous detective, and business was the first order of the day on Monday morning.

When I walked into the conservatory, Sally was perched in her chair, waiting for me. She was dressed in full black with her hair piled on top of her head in a loose ponytail. Her skin looked pale, and I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she’d been crying.

If I hadn’t known of her intense dislike for me, I would have asked her if she was okay.

“Clock’s ticking, so make this quick—I have a hair appointment in an hour,” she cautioned, eyeing me with a sharp gaze.

“Thank you for allowing me to come back.” I thought I would be gracious.

“Yes yes, skip past the pleasantries. Here’s your chance to fix the bad impression I have of you.”

God help me. I said a silent prayer as it looked like I would need the good Lord today.

I sat opposite her and opened my folder. Over the weekend, I’d actually managed to do some more prep work, but what had also helped was Bob sending over the questions he’d used for his interview with her. I couldn’t ask the very same questions, but I thought I could adapt them.

“I wanted to get an idea of your schedule so I could plan with you better. Can you let me know what days work best for you?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You know I don’t work, right? It is you who should tell me the schedule and I will fall in line. I’ve got this time with you booked out for the next eight months.”

She might have said that the other day. “Okay, I would like for us to meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from eight to twelve.”

“Only four hours? What could possibly be achieved with four hours?” She frowned.

“I thought we could start with that then increase the time prior to the the marathon.”

“No. We work full days. If you are writing about me for this exclusive, you need to spend enough time with me. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. You would know if you had more experience.”

Fuck.

I was so sick of her saying that. I had enough damn experience for this job. There was actually nothing to it if only she wouldn’t be so abrasive towards me.

“Okay, we work full days.” I glanced down at my folder, deciding it was best to move past this hurdle. At least we’d agreed on me being there. “I’m going to write a preliminary article for the website. I have my own monthly spot, and I thought it would be cool to update it with things you’re doing now, almost like a teaser. We can have seven features that would then lead to the full-on exclusive. We could maybe do different things each month.”

I thought it was an amazing idea. I was going to call the features Running with Sally. Some of the ideas I’d come up with so far were a charity event at the children’s home, hanging out at her favorite local attractions, and maybe burying a time capsule. She’d done something similar at the end of the summer Olympics three seasons ago.

“I hate that idea,” she snapped, crushing me.

“Oh…okay. We don’t have to do it then.” Shit, that was actually my main plan. So much for that.

“What is the point of that? People will get the full exclusive in the end. If they see me every month they’ll probably get bored by the end.”

“I really doubt that. People love reading about you, and I didn’t want to do anything long, just something of around five hundred or so words.”

“No. I don’t think so.” She let out a harsh breath.

“Okay. Well maybe we could prep for the pre-marathon article then.” That was supposed to kick-start the exclusive, almost like an introductory article.

“What are the questions?”

I flicked through my folder for the list of questions I’d adapted but I couldn’t find it. I found Bob’s list I’d printed off; mine, however, was not there.

Shit, shit. I must have left it.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, um…the first question I have is…” I’d adapt what I had now. “What was the best thing about competing in the last Olympic games?”

“I didn’t compete in the last games.” She eyed me dangerously.

I knew I’d said that wrong. “Oh, I meant your last Olympic games.”

“Nothing was good. That was when I was first diagnosed with cancer and I felt my career would be over.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I was digging a hole for myself. “We’ll move on to the next question. Are you looking forward to competing again?”

She pressed her fingers together and gazed at me. “Competing in what? Every event is different. They mean different things to me. It’s not just running.”

“Sure. How are you feeling about competing in the next Olympics? I know it must be tough not competing this year, but I’m sure you’ll be awesome next Olympics.”

“You’re asking me how I feel about something that’ll take place four years from now? Really?” She tensed her shoulders.

Sure, these weren’t from my list, and she was making me seriously nervous—so nervous I was making mistakes I didn’t usually make—but I didn’t see anything wrong with that question. There were people prepping for the next games as we spoke.

“I know a lot of athletes preparing now so I figured someone as notable as you would be too.”

No, that was the wrong answer, just like everything else I’d said.

“This meeting is over. I’m done with you. It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing, not at all.”

“I’m trying here, but you won’t even meet me halfway.”

She opened her mouth to speak but started coughing, almost like she was choking. She pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and coughed into it. Her maid rushed in with a cup of water, which she drank quickly.

“Are you okay?” I asked, looking her over. Somehow her skin had grown paler.

Then my gaze landed on the tissue and I caught sight of the small droplets of blood.

“Just leave. Get out. Get out!” she hollered when she noticed me looking at the tissue in her hand.

I grabbed my stuff and left, completely embarrassed but also concerned.

She was sick, very sick. A person didn’t just cough up blood for no reason.

I was definitely concerned for her and even thought about going back to her house later to check on her.

However, before I even reached my place, Perry called me.

He was pulling me from the assignment.

Bad luck.

Fucking bad luck.

Had to be that. Definitely had to be that.

What else could it be?

“Can I have your strongest drink please?” I asked the bartender.

He smiled and walked over to the counter to mix my drink. It wasn’t even five and I was drinking. I was drinking in the middle of the day.

That was never a good sign. I’d always been told the day that happened was a signal to take a stock of everything, time to see what had gone wrong and fix it.

Except this couldn’t be fixed. I’d driven mindlessly around town for an hour after after speaking to Perry. I found this sports bar a few hours ago. I came in and sat in the corner by the TV at first then I just thought fuck it. I needed to get drunk.

Wasted. Wasted like I’d have to spend a week trying to remember what happened today.

I’d been in town for a little over a week and I’d lost the assignment that was supposed to take me to the next level in my career.

I didn’t know what the hell to do anymore, especially since I didn’t know where I’d gone wrong.

The bartender came back with a blue drink and smiled. “This is for you pretty lady.” He winked at me.

“Thank you.” I took it and knocked back the whole thing.

Darn, I shouldn’t have done that. It had vodka in it and it seared my throat.

“You’re gonna need a lot of water with that,” the bartender cooed.

All I could do was nod. God, I certainly knew how to make a bad situation worse.

He grabbed the water for me and came over with it. I downed that too, and thankfully the ice cooled my throat.

“Do you have anything a little milder? I’m going to need a few.” To go in for the kill I didn’t want to reach that buzz too quickly and have a mere hanover in the morning. I needed to do this properly if I was going to do it.

A few hours later, I was nearly there, nearly as drunk as I wanted to be.

A few more drinks and I’d be in a coma of intoxication.

Right now, I was aware of my surroundings and had a buzz that had that lackadaisical effect I craved. It lured me into thinking I didn’t have a care in the world.

I’d spotted a few guys playing pool and joined in their game. I couldn’t even play pool, but somehow it felt like I should just play.

I literally let my hair down and decided to have fun.

I set my drink on the bar and leaned over the pool table to line up my cue then I took a shot. I could feel eyes on my ass as I did so, but I didn’t care. For tonight, I didn’t care about anything. Everything was shit and I was most likely going home in a few days—why should I give a shit about anything?

Except when a large hand landed firmly on my ass, something snapped in my brain and brought me back to reality.

I whirled around to face a trucker with a crude smile. All of him was muscle, thick muscle, and he looked like a pit bull.

“I’m taking you home with me tonight, angel doll.” He looked me over with satisfaction and licked his lips when he looked at my breasts.

“Asshole, how dare you touch me?” I pushed him.

Of course he didn’t move. He was solid as a rock. I also might have pushed him a little harder if I wasn’t drunk. I actually did more harm to myself than him because my wrist hurt.

“Come on, baby.” He grabbed me and tried to pull me through the crowd that had now formed in the bar.

I pulled back, much to his annoyance. “Let go of me. Who do you think you are?”

My luck just had to get worse, didn’t it?

“The man who’s going to show you a good time.” He went to grab me again but a hand landed hard on his shoulder, stopping him.

I thanked God and all his heavenly host of angels when I saw Ryan standing behind the man. I prayed like hell my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

“Doesn’t look like she wants to go with you, man,” Ryan said, glaring at him with authority. Yup, that was Ryan all right, in full cop mode.

Dressed in a casual white button-up shirt with his hair slightly ruffled, he could have easily passed for a college guy.

“Keep your nose out of it, Donovon. This doesn’t concern you.”

So they knew each other.

“Looks like it does to me,” Ryan contended. “Come over here, Brooke.” He beckoned for me.

I moved toward him but the meathead caught me around my waist and yanked me back to his chest so hard I saw stars, and I felt like I would throw up from the horrid smell of him.

“Let me go.” I tried to kick him to free myself but it wasn’t happening.

“Let her go now, Jackson,” Ryan barked.

“No.” He lifted me higher like I weighed nothing, like I was a rag doll.

Ryan reached for him just as he was about to turn away then Jackson dropped me and landed a punch right between Ryan’s eyes.

I screamed when he staggered backwards. I thought he was going to fall over, but he didn’t. He lunged forward and knocked Jackson to the ground.

Jackson, however, was up before anyone could register he was down. He went for Ryan again but Ryan dodged the attack and used the momentum to take him down once more.

“Ryan!” I cried when he got hit again.

The two were then on the floor throwing punches. Jackson may have been bigger in thickness, but Ryan had lean muscle. I could see he was good in a fight, and he was winning.

With a headbutt, Ryan knocked Jackson out.

A guy I’d never seen before rushed up to them and started asking Ryan if he was okay. Ryan jumped up and wiped blood away from the corner of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” I rushed over to him.

“I’m fine. Aaron, put his ass in a cell,” he said to the guy who had come up to us. Then he turned back to me. “You okay?”

Was I okay?

Somehow I didn’t feel like being the strong woman he’d seen since he met me. I shook my head.

“Come on, let me get you home.” He gave me a small smile and surprised me by taking my hand as he led me out.