Everyone told me running a bookstore would be boring. But on this side of town it was anything but. I had bars on the windows and doors and routinely heard gunfire as soon as the sun went down. Running crackheads out of the shop was a daily occurrence and I’d even been robbed at gunpoint, the masked asshole making off with five hundred hard-earned dollars. Losing that money tipped me completely off balance, leading directly to me getting evicted from my apartment. I now slept on a creaky foldout cot in the rear storage room. I’d sold most of what I owned to keep this shop open, and even lost my long term boyfriend Chris in the deal. So, boring? Not even a little. Tragic was more like it.

I walked down the street in the dark, moving quickly to get to my shop. I hated this neighborhood but now I was trapped here. I was barely making ends meet in the bookstore. I couldn’t scrape the money together for a security deposit on another place when I barely had enough to money to buy food. Thank god Chris had forgotten to drop me from his gym membership or I’d have no place to get a good shower. I tossed my wet hair over my shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in my damp t-shirt. I might have been broke and nearly homeless, but at least I was clean.

The streetlight right across from the bookshop was out—had been for weeks—so I didn’t notice until I was right in front of it that something was wrong. It looked like someone had kicked in the door. The frame was splintered and the glass beneath the bars was cracked.

I drew in a sharp breath and glanced up and down the street, but I didn’t see anyone loitering besides the usual suspects—a drug dealer on the far corner who always whistled when I went by and a few ladies of the night pacing on the other corner. Smart people stayed off this street after dark. Really smart people stayed off of it during the day too. Hence, my struggling book sales.

I pushed the door all the way open with trembling fingers. “Hello?” I called into the bluish dark. This was stupid. I shouldn’t go in. I should wait out on the street… for what?

“I have a gun!” I blurted. Without thinking, I made the shape of a gun with my hand and stuck it out in front of me before realizing just how fucking stupid this was. I dropped my hand and backed out onto the street. Sad thing was, I was no safer out here.

I dug into my shoulder bag and pulled out a handful of crap, hoping my phone was in there somewhere. My keys hit the sidewalk along with my stick of deodorant, but I managed to keep hold of the phone. I dialed 911 while I crouched to collect my things. I couldn’t afford to lose either one, even if the door to the bookshop was now permanently unlocked from the outside.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a disembodied, professional voice asked, seemingly from a long, safe distance away.

“Someone broke into my shop,” I whispered, eyes still darting up and down the street.

“Hello? I can’t hear you.”

“Someone broke into my shop,” I repeated in a louder voice. Hadn’t I just been screaming into the dark like an idiot about having a gun? If someone was in there, they’d already heard me.

“Where are you located, ma’am?”

I gave the professional voice the address to my shop.

“I’ve dispatched a unit to your location. Stay outside and wait for the officer to arrive.”

“Great, thank you. I—” but the calm, disembodied voice was gone, leaving me alone on the street. Well, mostly alone. There was the drug dealer and the prostitutes. One of them was climbing into an idling car as I watched. I found myself wondering, and not for the first time since losing my apartment, just how much they made a night.

I pressed against the barred front window—which had been broken twice before I finally put the bars up—rubbed the gooseflesh from my arms, and waited. A few minutes later, a cop car was speeding down the street, its lights on but sirens muted. It pulled to a stop on the curb in front of me, bathing me and the street in red and blue blinding light before they died along with the engine. I expected two officers to spring from the vehicle, guns drawn, using complicated hand signals to communicate as they rushed single file into my shop. But a single officer climbed out of the driver’s side in no hurry at all. He adjusted his hat, then his belt, before striding up to me, getting a little taller with each step. By the time he reached me I had to crane my neck to look into his shadowed face. He had to be six three, easy. His shoulders were enormous, the arms sticking out from his short-sleeved uniform, muscly and solid.

“Someone broke into my shop!” I said, pointing, hoping the urgency in my voice would get his ass moving. But he merely looked at me, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he pulled a pad of paper from his back pocket.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked.

“Angela Stevens.”

He wrote it down then put the pad back in his pocket. “Wait out here, Mrs. Stevens.” He turned away without another word and went to the open door of the shop. He stuck his head inside. “Where are the lights?” he asked.

“Along the far wall,” I said, creeping closer to him. He smelled just like you’d expect a man of his size to smell—musky and solid.

He stepped into the darkness while I watched from the street. He turned on a flashlight as he walked up the center aisle, pointing the beam everywhere, his free hand dropping to rest on the butt of his gun. He stopped at the short hallway that led to the back storeroom and the toilet.

“Is there an exit back here?” he called out to me.

“No,” I said.

He turned on the lights, illuminating piles of books on the ground and the front counter, which was empty. Everything had been thrown onto the floor in a mess of broken glass and books.

“Shit,” I muttered, looking around at the chaos. It all looked ruined. If I lost this bookstore, I was out on my ass.

“I take it the store didn’t look like this when you left tonight?” the cop asked, his gruff voice sounding amused.

I glared at him, getting my first good look at his face in the light. He was older than I’d expected. Somewhere in his early to mid-forties. But his uniform was just tight enough to see how sculpted and muscly his chest and legs were. He kept himself in good shape. I definitely appreciated the view despite his salty, unhelpful attitude.

“No, it didn’t, Officer…” I squinted to see the nameplate on his bulky chest. “Scott.”

He walked over to where I was standing in the middle of the carnage, his dark eyes never leaving my face as his lips pressed into a slim line. He had the whole tall, dark, and smoldering thing going on, that was for damned sure. His thick black hair was pushed back under his hat, short around his ears and neck, but longer on top. Long enough to hold onto. His eyes were blazing. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. His flat stare stole the air from the room. And the dark stubble on his strong jaw was making my knees weak. It could’ve just been the excitement from the break-in, but it felt hotter than hell in here all of a sudden.

He checked his watch. “Why are you here at nine-thirty at night when you close at…” His eyes drifted to the sign on the front door of my shop. “Seven?” His steady eyes settled on me again, so dark they looked black. Was that possible?

“I…” I started, but what could I really say to that? I lived here? I’d run up to the gym in the nicer part of town near where I used to live so I could hang out for a few hours without the sound of gunshots ringing in the air? “I forgot something here. I needed to come get it.”

He lifted his bushy, jet black eyebrows, but I didn’t go on with the bullshit lie. His mouth curled at the ends into a sexy, knowing grin. “You jumped out of the shower and came straight here?”

I shrugged, my cheeks blazing. Not just from the question, but from how hard he was staring at me, his eyes leaving my face to drift down the entire length of my body, stopping pointedly at my breasts, the shape of them outlined perfectly by my damp t-shirt and shallow breathing.

“I’m going to take another look around,” he said to my boobs.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked. “The person is obviously gone.”

Officer Scott looked me in the face this time, his dark eyes sizzling hot, and I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. My lungs stopped working. He didn’t even bother with a response, just walked off, stepping on books and broken glass as he scanned the bookcases and overturned shelves. I scurried along behind him on my tiptoes to keep from stepping on anything, not that it wasn’t already ruined, but a girl could hope. I ran to block the entrance to the back area and restroom when he walked that way.

“No one’s back there,” I said. “I already told you there’s no rear entrance to this place.”

He dropped one hand to the butt of his gun again as a stormy expression moved over his face. I held my breath, ready for him to take me into custody. Would he have to frisk me first? I sure hoped so. Jesus, it had been a long time since I’d fucked someone. Maybe I could call Chris after this. Not that he answered my calls very often anymore, but I needed to do something to release this sudden buildup of sexual tension.

“Move aside, ma’am,” he said, but didn’t wait for me to do what he’d asked. He put his big hand on my shoulder and moved me himself. I could feel the heat of his skin through the flimsy, wet fabric of my shirt. And he left his hand on me for much longer than seemed necessary, his gaze never leaving mine, the intensity of that stare making me squeeze my legs together because the insistent itch between them was driving me crazy. Just looking up into this cop’s eyes was getting my panties damp. I definitely needed to call Chris after this. I had to fuck somebody. Tonight. I hadn’t been this ready to go in months, which was another reason Chris gave for ending our relationship.

He slid his hand from my shoulder, his thick fingers trailing down my arm as he turned to go into the darkened back area of the shop. The bathroom was straight down the short hallway to the right. The storage room was across from it, filled with boxes of books I couldn’t sell stacked around my sad, unmade cot. The door was closed, but I was sure the cop would want to check it out.

I followed him, sliding in front of the closed storeroom door as he turned on the light in the tiny bathroom and glanced inside. He turned to face me and I leaned back against the door, trying and I was sure failing to look casual.

“I need to see what’s in there,” he said, his voice sounding even deeper back here than it had out front.

“I left the door closed just like this when I left earlier. It looks like some kids just broke in and made a mess. Can you please just write a report and go?” I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I’d secured the door and gotten this shit picked up. I had a stale bagel in my purse that I wanted to munch on as well. I hadn’t eaten since that morning. One thing this whole losing everything had been good for was my diet plan. The gym’s scales told me I’d lost twenty pounds in the last month.

“Mrs. Stevens—”

“Miss Stevens.”

His eyebrows lifted at that, and he seemed pleased. “Miss Stevens, I’m not going to ask you again to stop obstructing this investigation.” He stepped closer to me, too close, forcing me to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. My back was flat against the closed door and he was less than two inches from pressing right into me. I breathed in the deep, musky scent of him, my legs getting even weaker. I could feel his hot breath on my face. It smelled like coffee and peppermints, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Is this an investigation?” I asked, unable to speak above a whisper. “You don’t look like a detective.”

His mouth curled into a dangerous grin. Instead of answering me, he dropped his hands to my waist, squeezing a little too hard as I inhaled a sharp breath at the feel of his thick fingers on me. He never broke eye contact, his heat soaking into my skin, as he slowly moved me out of his way. I wilted against the wall, catching my breath as he opened the door and turned on the light. I waited in the hallway while he did whatever cursory search he seemed to feel was necessary. As hot as he was—and he was fine as hell—I just wanted to get this place secured and cleaned up enough so I could go to bed. I hadn’t slept well the night before, or any night since I’d started sleeping on the cot. I was exhausted.

He came back out into the hallway, looming over me, grinning wolfishly like he was about to blow my house down or something.

“Are you sleeping here?” he asked, sounding more amused than he looked. And he looked pretty damned amused, like he’d seen something he really liked in that sad little storage room full of broken dreams and despair.

“Is that really pertinent to this investigation?” I asked. I didn’t lift my hands to use air quotes, but the way I’d said investigation did a great job of implying them.

“What’s your permanent address?” he asked.

I bit my bottom lip.

“Do you have a permanent address?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I snapped, feeling my cheeks burn.

His grin deepened. “It’s a code violation if you’re sleeping here,” he said, not perturbed in the least by my saucy tone. I, on the other hand, was all kinds of perturbed by the way he was staring at me.

“Well if you promise not to tell on me, I won’t tell on you.”

“Tell on me for what?” he asked, his smile even more amused than it had been before, his dark eyes flashing in the yellow light from the bathroom.

“All the sexual harassment.” I lifted my chin and staring up at him with bald defiance. “You touching me all the time. Standing too close. Undressing me with your eyes.”

The expression on his face hardened, but his smile only widened, those hot eyes burning me alive. And, goddamn, was I happy to burn.

“Trust me, if I wanted to undress you, I’d do it the old fashioned way.”

A flush rocked up my neck and my whole face tingled. He’d inched closer again, his body so close I could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I said in a strangled tone.

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound rumbling in the air between us. “This looks like a straightforward smash and grab.” But he was telling me all of this in a low, erotic tone that was making my cheeks tingle even harder. Other places were tingling too. As soon as he left, I was going to have to ring out the panties I had on. If Chris wasn’t available for some fun tonight, I’d just picture Officer Scott standing here shirtless and get myself off. I had to find some way to relieve the crushing stress I was under, didn’t I?

“I’ll write up a report that you can pick up from the station in the next day or so to give to your insurance company.” He lifted a bushy eyebrow, dark amusement coloring his features. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I tried to snap, but it came out more weakly than I’d planned. And I did have insurance. For now. After the bump in premiums that yet another claim would bring, I doubted if I’d have it for long.

“Well then you should be all set.” His steamy eyes moved past me to the storage room and the sad shape of the cot just beyond the door, surrounded by boxes of books, one of which I’d been using as a makeshift night table. “I’d secure that door before you settle in for the night.” His grin expanded and I wanted to sink through the floor.

He walked back into the main area of the shop and I followed at a safe distance, not wanting to get caught up in the spicy smell of him and what his eyes could do to me up close. With all that had happened over the last shitty month and now this, the cherry on top of a rancid sundae, I was in a dark, needy place. The last thing I needed was Officer Hot Stuff injecting his smolder into my already mixed up life. Something wasn’t quite right with him. I didn’t want more trouble than I already had.

He turned in the open doorway. “I’d get this secured first.”

Before I could gather enough of my shattered wits to come up with a snappy response, he was gone, disappearing into the night the same way he’d come, leaving only his deep, masculine scent behind. My entire body unclenched at once and I nearly slid to the ground. I hadn’t noticed how tense I’d been since the cop had arrived.

I went to the door in time to see him drive off, no lights this time, and pulled the door shut. I’d installed a few more locks on the inside so it would be extra secure once I had to start crashing here every night. So I actually could lock this place up for the night and worry about getting someone out here to help me with the broken lock in the morning. I turned over the three locks and tested how well they would hold with the splintered door frame. It seemed good enough for tonight.

I pulled my phone out of my purse. Before I could think better of it, I dialed Chris. He answered after the fourth ring.

“What?”

I was too stunned to respond at first. He hadn’t answered my calls in days. In his defense, I asked for money a lot. He’d felt sorry for me for a good solid two weeks after we broke up, but that deep well of tens and twenties had dried up quickly. I got a meal or two out of him the following week. After that, I couldn’t even get him to answer the phone when I called.

“The store got broken into,” I said. “Can I come over?” He knew I lived here now. I’d made that perfectly clear the last time he took me out for a pity lunch. I’d been angling for an overnight—or two, or three, or permanently—but all I’d gotten was a to-go box full of both our uneaten entrees. And I’d eaten both of them—mine for dinner that night and his for lunch the following day.

He sighed long and low into the phone. “Angie, we can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t feel safe here tonight, Chris. They kicked the door open. I can’t lock it.”

He stayed quiet for a long time. I could hear a television on in the background. Must be nice to have a TV. I wondered what he was wearing. As I waited for him to answer, I started picking up the shit all over the floor. It didn’t look like anything had been stolen. Someone just decided to come in here and fuck this place over. Well two birds, one stone, right? Because it had royally fucked me over at the same time.

“I have someone over here right now,” he said finally, and sounded kind of ashamed about it. He clearly hadn’t wanted me to know.

My eyes burned and I swiped at them angrily before my tears started. We weren’t dating anymore. He could do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. So could I, come to think of it. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Officer Tall, Dark, and Dangerous leave earlier.

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else. A solid lump had lodged itself into the back of my throat and I was still too close to bawling my eyes out. I didn’t want him to hear me break down. Again. I focused on getting the books off the floor, taking them one by one to the counter. Whoever had broken in had thrown everything behind the counter all over the ground too, probably searching for cash. Too bad I didn’t keep money in the store anymore. Most customers paid with a credit card, and I used a Square Card reader for that. If they paid cash, the minute they walked out of the door, I closed the store and walked my happy ass down to the bank three streets over. I wasn’t going to risk losing another damned dollar after getting robbed blind seven weeks ago. Losing that five hundred bucks had dropped my life into such a deep hole, I was still falling to the bottom of it.

“Maybe we can get lunch or something tomorrow,” Chris said.

“Sure,” I replied. The threat of tears was over. So many shitty things had happened to me. What was one more? And, besides, if he felt sorry for me, he might take me someplace nice. I could turn up the pathetic—not that I’d need to turn it up very far—and get some cash out of the deal. I was under no illusions about getting back together with Chris, but I was all for riding the fuck out of that gravy train while I still had a viable ticket.

“Okay.” He sounded relieved. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

I hung up and dropped the phone onto the counter so I could gather up the rest of the books. By the time I swept the glass from the floor and put all the books away, it was nearly one in the morning. I was deadbeat tired. I turned off the lights up front and dragged my sorry ass back to my makeshift bedroom. I stripped off my jeans and shirt, dropped my cellphone onto the cardboard box I’d repurposed into a bedside table, and got into the cot in just my bra and panties, pulling the blanket and sheets up to my chin. I closed my eyes, laying there for a long time, my thoughts turning in the racetrack of my mind, roaring so loud I couldn’t fall asleep. After a few more minutes of trying to plunge into the sweet forgetfulness of dreams, I gave up. Groaning, I reached for my phone. I still had Chris’s Netflix password, so I could finish the movie I’d started last night. The nail shop next door had unsecured Wi-Fi. If they’d had an unsecured refrigerator, that would have been great. But I’d take what I could get.

I was about to click on my Netflix app but went for the browser instead. I ran a search on Officer Scott and was rewarded with way too many hits. I narrowed it down by adding the city name, and clicked on the first article which was dated from January of this year, just over seven months ago.

Detective Brandon Scott Put on Administrative Leave Pending Investigation in East Park Slaying.

His official headshot was right below the headline. It was definitely him. Intrigued, I read on. There’d been some kind of high profile arrest of a drug kingpin late last fall. A few confidential informants were willing to turn state’s evidence, but the prosecution’s real jewel had been the kingpin’s sister, who was ready to snitch on her powerful brother. She’d been placed under protective custody and hidden in a safe house until the trial. Apparently, our dear Officer, then Detective, Scott started fucking her on the side at some point in the investigation. I could believe it. I’d seen how smoking hot he was and I swore the air sizzled around him. If he’d leaned in to kiss me, I’m not sure I’d have pushed him away. Well, maybe at first…

I shook my head, dislodging the thoughts about doing nasty things to Officer Scott back into the ether so I could read the rest of the article.

One of the kingpin’s loyal thugs followed Officer, then Detective, Scott as he drove to the safe house for a little late night booty call. Said thug waited patiently while the sister and the detective fucked each other’s brains out. As soon as the detective left, the thug called in some reinforcements. They went upstairs, kicked the door to the place open, blew away the officer on guard duty, and beat the kingpin’s sister to death for daring to testify against her brother. But the officer on guard managed to live through the attack. As soon as he regained consciousness, he relayed his sorry tale about Scott’s visit to the sister and the ambush that followed shortly after. Without the sister’s testimony, the case fell apart.

I went back to the search results and read a few more articles about my friendly neighborhood policeman. After the worst of the shit storm died down a little, Brandon Scott managed to avoid being fired outright, but he was demoted considerably, going from detective to uniformed beat cop. Apparently, this hadn’t been the first time his dick and an informant crossed paths. There were other incidents too. A local reporter had written an awful lot about this cop. He was a bad boy, and he just couldn’t keep it in his pants.

I smiled in the dark. It was nice to see someone else whose life sucked as hard as mine.

I curled up with my phone and found that, finally, I was able to sleep.