I stalk through the lobby, pissed as all hell that I’ve severely fucked up this situation. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be difficult. The plan had been a straight line of simplicity. A fucking breeze.

Then she had happened. The distraction. The complication.

“Shit.” The curse bites through my clenched teeth, bitter and aggressive. “Such a fucking mess.”

I have a million different things to do tonight, and one of them shouldn’t have been the hot blonde with the sassy mouth. But that’s where I’ve been, in her apartment, ready to fuck her.

I move along the sidewalk, toward the streetlight, my neck craning as I focus on her window—third one up, last along the wall. She isn’t there. Not yet. So I stop, arms crossed, and wait.

Then I wait some fucking more, because she sure as shit isn’t in a hurry to return my gun.

I’m about to start searching the street for a rock when the glass pane slides upward and her grin comes into view.

She sticks her head out the window, light blonde hair cascading over slim shoulders, those perky tits looking lush and inviting from yet another angle.

Her eyes hold a wicked gleam, and that sexy mouth is a lip-lick away from begging to blow me. There’s no denying she still wants my dick. It’s written all over her seductive face. Problem is, I can’t ditch the stiffness in my pants to pretend I feel any different. My arms throb with my barely contained restraint. I can still feel her hair around my knuckles, can still smell the vanilla scent.

“Ready?” She dangles the gun, holding it lazily by the grip.

“Born ready.”

She smiles—she probably gives a sadistic chuckle, and I’m too far away to hear it—then drops my weapon. I watch her watching me until the split millisecond before the gun reaches my hands. Then I’m all business, loading, locking, and placing the P22 back into the ass of my waistband.

“Thanks for the memories,” she calls out, then ducks her head inside and slides the window shut.

I focus on the square of glass for longer than I should. Glaring, still seeing her even though she’s already gone. Damn that sassy mouth.

Who the fuck is she, anyway? Steph, the bartender called her. Stephanie. AKA The Whirlwind Who Became A Bigger Obstacle With Each Passing Second.

She’s a loose end, but I can’t convince myself to tie that knot tonight. I’ll see her again. I’ll resolve whatever we need to resolve soon enough. In the meantime, I will pave the way for resolution and return to the regular broadcast of my shit-show life.

I make for the bar, my softening cock leading the way across the deserted street. Behind me, I hear another slide of the window, then her authoritative, “Hey.”

I pause, my ego taking a few seconds to enjoy her continued interest, then shoot a glance over my shoulder.

“Do you want a tip for future conquests?” she asks.

A tip? This woman wants to give me a tip? There’s no denying we’re both hooked in this impromptu game, but it’s clear she has a misconception on what role she’s playing.

I shrug. “Sure.”

“The only thing a woman wants to find hard in a guy’s pants is his dick. Ditch the gun next time.”

I grin. I can’t fucking help it. That mouth of hers is going to get us both in trouble. Then again, maybe it saved her. “There’s going to be a next time?”

She laughs and slams the window closed again, but she’s still there, still watching, still holding my gaze with those bewitching eyes.

I shake my head, trying to shake her off, too, and continue across the road to the shitty bar with the catchy name. I don’t look back as I shove my way through the front door. I don’t need to. I know she’s watching. I can feel her stare at the base of my neck.

The same five people are inside. The two men playing cards, the couple in the far corner, and the bartender, who is eying me, probably trying to figure out if I hurt his girl or ended the night in a sexually premature fashion.

“She kicked me out,” I admit as I slide onto a bar seat.

His jaw is tight as he throws a bar coaster toward me, the flimsy cardboard skittering along the scuffed wood. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”

Funnily enough, neither had I. People rarely catch me off guard. Women never do. Until now.

“Want another drink?” The offer lacks kindness. I’m sure he’s annoyed at me for hurting her, and I appreciate his loyalty. It’s something I can exploit to get answers to my growing list of questions.

“Yeah. Whiskey.” I’d already had a taste for it on her tongue, and fuck me for needing more.

His eyes narrow as he grabs the liquor bottle and begins to pour. He tries to stare me down, and I oblige because it’s in my best interest to play the remorseful role.

“I know I messed up.” I focus on the coaster, fiddling with the edge like a remorseful motherfucker.

He places my drink in front of me and holds tight until I meet his gaze. “What’d you do?”

“It was nothing.”

“Obviously it was something to her.”

“Yeah.” I concede with a nod and decide to dive straight into the truth. “She found out I was carrying. It scared her off.”

He releases my glass and steps back. A clear retreat. “I don’t blame her.”

“Neither do I. But come on, man.” I play it cool. “I’m from the country, and when my sister calls to say this guy of hers is beating her and threatening her with a gun, how am I going to defend her and her kid? I’m not going to apologize for wanting to protect my family. I know how crazy you city people are.”

He holds my focus, reading me. “Oh, well.” He shrugs. “You can’t win ’em all.”

I nod. “I know, but she was different. Believe it or not, I actually like her. The woman’s a spitfire.”

He chuckles, eating up my attraction like a lovesick fool. “She sure is. If I was ten years younger…”

I force a laugh. “Any idea how I can get a second chance?” I raise my glass and take a sip. “She doesn’t seem the type to appreciate me waiting out in front of her building in an attempt to see her again.”

“Hmm.” He leans against the back counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s a tough one.”

I reach into my jacket, pull out my money clip, and flick over two fifty-dollar bills. “You can’t happen to tell me some of her usual hangouts, can you?” I place the money on the sticky bar and slide it over.

His eyes narrow on my hand, then my face. “You bribing me, son?”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get a second chance.”

His lips thin. His shoulders straighten. “Your money is no good to me.”

Bullshit. The guy might want to believe he’s above the incentive, but his darting eyes tell a whole different story.

“You sure?” I hide my growing annoyance behind a relaxed tone. I don’t have time for this shit. Not for him. Not for her. If Brent isn’t careful, I’ll lose my patience, and nobody wants that. “Come on. Just let me know where she hangs out.”

He sighs, the first sign of a slight buckle in his resolve. “I don’t know much about her. Only a few things I’ve learned here and there from regulars who talk a lot of shit. So, I’d suggest your money would be better spent getting a decent meal at the Hot Wok at the end of the street.” He glances away. “On a Thursday night…at around seven o’clock.”

I hide my smirk behind another sip of whiskey.

“And if you’re new to the area, you should check out the boxing club six blocks south of here. I think they have classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings.”

Wednesday—tomorrow.

I tilt my glass at him in appreciation. “Thanks.”

His gaze narrows. “If you fuck with her—”

“I know.” I should laugh. If the threat had come from anyone else, I would.

“You do right by her. Even if she isn’t interested in what you’ve got to offer.”

“I will.” The lies come easily. They always have.

I throw back the remaining liquid, then slide the glass toward him. “Thanks for the drink.” I stand, leaving the bills on the counter.

“Take the money with you. You left more than enough earlier.”

“Keep it for next time. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

He chuckles. “Only if you’re lucky.”

“Yeah.” Or more specifically, if she’s unlucky.

I walk outside, unable to help myself as I glance at the building across the street. The third-floor window. I expect to see her there, watching, waiting, and I’m ashamed to admit I’m disappointed she isn’t.

She thinks the game is over. That the hook-up failed, and we’ve gone our separate ways.

In reality, our time together has just begun. The two of us are going to get to know one another, whether she likes it or not. And that’s not my fault. It’s all on her—her decisions, her actions. Her damn sassy mouth.

I continue along the road, down the side street, to my car. I climb in and snatch my phone from the glove compartment.

Three missed calls, all from Decker, but he’s not the person I need to speak to first.

I dial Torian, and I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. The fucker would be sleeping like a baby while I worked. His voicemail cuts in, and the beep sounds without a welcome message.

“Hey, Torian. There’s been a complication.” I swallow over the bitter taste of temporary failure. “It means a slight delay in the timeline, but I’ll call once I’m done.”

I hang up, knowing he won’t give a shit about details, and call Decker.

“Where the fuck are you?” he demands in greeting. “You were supposed to check in over an hour ago.”

“There was a change of plan.”

“What change?”

“A snag with the job. I had to follow a lead.”

“You’re not a fucking detective. You do your job, get the hell out of there, then call me.”

I start the ignition and do a U-turn, going in the opposite direction of where I need to be. “You worried about me, pumpkin?”

“Stressed,” he growls. “I was stressed. Big difference.”

“That’s cute, Deck. Real cute.” I creep my car to the intersection and glance up at her building. Her window. She’s there, standing to the side of the frame, trying to remain out of view as she peers down at the bar.

My dick pulses, and I’m not sure I even know what I want from her anymore. I should go back up there and finish what I started. I should end this tonight.

But I can’t force this. For once, I don’t want to.

“Fuck you, Hunt.” He snaps my nickname, making it sound like a curse. “So, you’ve quit working for the night? Is this you calling to punch your card?”

“No. I haven’t started.” I shouldn’t give a shit that she’s up there waiting for a glimpse of me, but I do. I shouldn’t want to draw her attention, but I itch to do that, too. “I only called because I need you to do a background search on someone.”

“You haven’t started? You checked out hours ago. What the fuck is going on?”

“Focus.” It’s a warning to us both. I tear my gaze from her silhouette and turn onto her street, driving away from her building. “The name is Stephanie. She lives at apartment nineteen, level three, six-five-nine Belldore Street.” I pause, waiting for confirmation that doesn’t come. “Did you get all that?”

“All that? You haven’t given me much to go on.”

“It’s enough. Once you start digging, you’ll find more.” He always does.

“And what am I digging for, exactly?”

“Anything and everything.” I want it all. I need it all. “And make sure you get started right away.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“I mean tonight, Decker. Now. This is your main priority.”

“Why? What happened?”

She happened. Long hair, slim legs, sassy blue eyes, and ruby lips I want stretched around my dick. And they are only the physical attributes. I know once I delve into that mind of hers, the fucked-up shit I find will be even more impressive. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Right.” He huffs. “I don’t need to worry at all.”

“It’s just stress, remember?”

“You know, it’s no coincidence your nickname rhymes with cunt.”

I grin. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”