By six o’clock the next day, Joe was exhausted after fourteen hours on the job. Still, and against his better judgment, he met Kylie at the courtyard as she’d insisted by text.

She had her huge bag over her shoulder and Vinnie in her arms, who snorted in excitement at the sight of him. Kind of how Joe felt like doing at the sight of Kylie. Instead, he ruffled the top of Vinn’s head. “Hey, little man. Whatcha up to?”

“He’s been very busy,” Kylie said. “He ate one of my socks. And in other not so surprising news, he’s constipated.”

As if on cue, Vinnie farted audibly.

“Nice one,” Joe told him on a laugh. “Bet you feel better now.”

“Sorry.” Kylie grimaced and fanned the air with her hand. “I don’t dare leave him at home alone. What’s our plan?”

Joe ignored the “our.” “I’ve a lead on two more of the apprentices. Jayden and Jamal Williams.”

“Yes, they’re brothers,” she said. “They’re the ones I told you left the country. They went to England a few years ago.”

“They’re back and in business together, right here in San Francisco. I’m going to go check out their warehouse.”

She looked surprised, but nodded. “Then let’s go.”

He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “There’s no ‘let’s,’” he said. “I’ll go. You and Vinnie can wait in the comfort of your place and—”

“I’m not good at waiting, Joe. I probably should’ve warned you about that.”

He didn’t bother sighing. Or trying to stop her as she turned to walk through the alleyway, stopping to talk to Old Man Eddie, the homeless man sitting on an upside crate near the Dumpster.

An original hippie, Eddie looked like Doc from Back to the Future. He wore a tie-dyed shirt and board shorts that he’d probably had since the sixties. He’d lived in the alley forever, and in spite of many people’s loving efforts to get him into a place of his own, he’d held firm.

He said he was meant for the great outdoors.

Playing a game on the phone that Spence, his grandson, had forced on him last year, Eddie looked up and winked at Kylie. “Hey, darlin’.”

“How are you? You warm enough out here? The nights have been pretty cool.”

“Well, I sure wouldn’t complain about having the dough to buy a new sweatshirt,” he said wistfully.

Kylie patted Old Man Eddie on the hand, a sweet smile on her face as she reached into her bag. Joe started to open his mouth to stop the cutest pushover he’d ever seen from giving away her own hard-earned cash because one, he knew Spence made sure Eddie had everything he could ever need, and two, Eddie’s usual MO was to con money out of the cute ladies he charmed—and he could charm a snake—and then use the money for the weed he liked to bake into his homemade brownies.

But Kylie surprised both men by saying, “I gave you a twenty last week, which we both know you used to buy pot, so this time I have something better than cash . . .” She pulled a black hoodie from her backpack. It had a peace sign in the colors of the rainbow on the front. “Got it in your size too.”

Sweet, but not a pushover, Joe revised with a shake of his head, impressed in spite of himself.

Eddie put on the sweatshirt and stood to give Kylie a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, dudette. Come by later in the week. I’ll have my mistletoe packs on deep discount since the season is over.”

Mistletoe, Joe’s ass. Undoubtedly, it’d be weed.

Kylie started walking before turning back to Joe to give him a what’s keeping you? look.

Yep. Sweet, not a pushover, and . . . also a tyrant.

Once in his truck, she pulled a wig from her apparently bottomless bag and set it on her head so that suddenly she had long, dark brunette waves. “Okay,” she said, tucking in some stragglers. “Ready to do this.”

Joe stared at her as she applied a dark gloss to her lips, which, combined with the wig, had him spinning. “Kylie—”

“Ready,” she said.

Yes, but the question was, ready for what? Shaking his head to clear it, he navigated the roads without speaking again, which he knew drove her nuts. Good. She could join his club because she drove him nuts too. Especially as she used the ride to add horn-rimmed glasses to her ensemble so that now from the neck up she looked like a naughty librarian while from the neck down she was the girl next door. It was like Christmas for his eyes so he forced himself to stop looking at her as he drove into Hunter’s Point, a district by the water and the ballpark in the southeast corner of San Francisco.

“Interesting neighborhood,” she murmured.

He parked, going still when she leaned in to him to look up and down the street. He nodded, speechless, because her breast was pressing into his bicep and killing his concentration as he attempted to keep an eye on their surroundings at the same time.

Usually he multitasked with no problem in his work zone. But Kylie had shot his zone straight to hell. She looked so different in that wig it was startling. Different and damn sexy. Not that she wasn’t always sexy. She was, incredibly so. But it was messing with his head a little—or a lot—to see her looking like herself and yet not.

“So?” she asked. “What’s next?”

Right. What was next—beyond wanting to haul her into his lap so that she could straddle him and grind them both to an earth-shattering finish? He cleared his throat. “Jayden and Jamal work here in Hunter’s Point. I want to get a look at their inventory and see if we find anything resembling the workmanship of that table or bench you’re supposed to authenticate.”

She pushed some of the brunette strands off her face and he told himself to be careful. If the woman had enough skills to hide her identity, she could just as easily hide other things—like his dead body.

Although the truth was that though he did have to be careful around Kylie, it wasn’t his life he was worried about but his damn heart, an organ he’d thought long dead. She was an irresistible dichotomy of sweet charm and heart-stopping sexy, and she threw him off guard with every look, be it a smile or a glare. In fact, he kinda liked when she gave him dirty looks, which meant he was seriously losing his shit. And he never lost his shit.

Never.

Yeah. He was royally screwed and the thing was, even knowing that, he didn’t want to walk away because he enjoyed her so much. How crazy was that?

“I’m going to go try to get a look inside,” he said. “Trust me, I know this area. It’s not good, so you should—”

She held up a finger. “Let me stop you right there. If you’re about to let out your inner caveman and say ‘stay in the truck,’ I’m going to sic Vinnie on you.”

Joe took in the sight of Vinnie snoring and snorting in his sleep from his perch in her lap. “Yeah, you’re right. That five-pound rat is terrifying.”

“I’ll have you know that he’s seven pounds. And fine, I’ll find some other form of payback.”

“Payback away,” he murmured, enjoying the blush that lit up her cheeks. It suitably distracted him from the reason he had a ball of dread low in his gut—that they were, literally, parked in his past, in his old neighborhood, and it was every bit as rough and ugly as he remembered.

Although undoubtedly it was mostly his own memories making it so. Still, Hunter’s Point had always been San Francisco’s radioactive basement. It was dirty and dangerous, and he’d have really liked for Kylie to have stayed as far away as possible.

“I’ve never been here,” she said quietly, as if sensing his mood change. “Have you?”

“Yeah.”

He felt her turn to face him and he met her gaze. “Grew up here,” he said.

He could feel the weight of her concern. But he didn’t want or need it. Instead he concentrated on the night and any trouble that was most certainly lurking in it. The decommissioned naval shipyard up the street was quiet. Still. Too still.

There’d been efforts to clean up the area, including redevelopment projects two decades back. In some areas, such as the former navy shipyard waterfront property, they’d been fairly successful. In others areas, not so much. Drug and gang activity was high, as was the murder rate.

“Not exactly warm and cozy,” Kylie said.

She had no idea. They were parked across and down the street from the warehouse. On the northeast corner in front of them, he’d once been confronted by a few of his friends who’d turned into gangbanger wannabes. In order for them to get into the gang they wanted, they’d been challenged to steal a car—except none of them had known how to hot-wire a car, so they’d tried to get Joe to do it.

When he’d refused, they’d stolen something of his to hold over him and force his hand.

Molly.

They’d held his sister for nearly three full days before he was able to get to her. He’d retaliated by nearly killing the guys who’d kidnapped her. A judge had then forced Joe to decide between jail and the military for his restitution.

He’d chosen the military, and though he’d hated it at the time, with dubious maturity he’d come to see it as the best thing that could’ve happened to him. It’d been a way out of here, a lifeline he hadn’t realized he’d needed. Granted, the army hadn’t been easy. In fact, they’d practically beaten discipline and temper management into him.

But there was no doubt he’d grown up. He was different now, slower to rile for one thing, and yet not so different that he couldn’t remember what it’d felt like to be trapped here in Hunter’s Point, thinking there was no way out.

Kylie slipped her hand in his, bringing him back to the present. Which thankfully was very different than his past. Although he was still armed and dangerous, so maybe not all that different after all.

“Do you have a specific plan of action here?” she asked quietly. “For getting a look inside the warehouse?”

He did. He always did, and had ever since that long-ago day when he’d pulled Molly out of the rat hole they’d held her in. There was a plan A, and a plan B, C, and Z too.

First, he wanted to stake the place out from right here for a little bit, get a feel for the layout and make sure they were really alone. No way was he getting Kylie into something that he wasn’t prepared for. He knew she’d think he was being overprotective, and hell, given the fact that they were seeking a three-inch piece of carved wood—excuse him, a penguin—maybe he was.

But his instincts had saved his life more than a few times and they were screaming now. It felt like the threat to Kylie was escalating and he wasn’t going to ignore that no matter what she thought. This whole thing had gone from a way to amuse himself to something far more serious.

And yeah, maybe his life experiences had jaded him, made him cynical. After all, he spent a lot of time knee-deep in the scum of the earth, seeing the worst humanity had to offer—everything from abusive and cheating spouses, to criminal and civil crimes, to far worse. But he could live with being cynical and jaded. He couldn’t live with something happening to Kylie because he didn’t take this seriously enough.

“The brothers close up their shop by five or six every night,” he said. “There’re windows in their warehouse. I should be able to keep to the shadows and get a good look inside without any trouble.”

“How?” she asked.

“I grew up here. I know every nook and cranny like the back of my hand.”

“That’s good,” she murmured, clearly trying to hide the horror in her voice as she looked around at the decayed buildings and dirty streets that symbolized his very ugly past. “Maybe . . . maybe it wasn’t so rough back then, when you were a kid?” she asked with sweet hope.

He gazed out the windshield, trying to see the neighborhood from her point of view. “This is cleaned up. It was far rougher back then.”

She squeezed his hand. Comforting him, he realized, and felt something in his chest tighten.

“Where did you live?” she asked softly.

“Right down that street.” He gestured with a jerk of his chin rather than take his hand from hers. “This used to be a navy base. In and around all the gangbangers’ hideouts and graffiti are old Victorian homes that once upon a time were captains’ or generals’ homes.”

She nodded. “I love the architecture of the time,” she said. “All the ornate woodworkings on the bevels and crown moldings, and the attention to detail. Would’ve liked to see it back then in its height of glory.”

Trust her to imagine the forgotten beauty in a place like this.

“You should be proud,” she said. “You came from here and made something of yourself.”

His chest tightened again. Emotion, he realized, which he couldn’t afford. Not now, not ever. But still, in spite of himself, he turned his hand over and entwined their fingers.

She gave him a small smile with those dark lips he wanted wrapped around his—

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

Definitely not act out the X-rated porno playing in my mind. “Watch a little bit longer and get a feel for things.”

She nodded her agreement, but not ten minutes in she began to squirm.

He slid a questioning look her way, making her grimace. “It turns out that stakeouts are kind of boring,” she said.

“I like boring. It means nothing has gone fubar.”

Yet.

“I’m just wondering about you,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of secrets.”

“So do you.”

“Me?” she asked. “I’m an open book.”

He had to laugh. “If that’s true, then why don’t you tell me what this scavenger hunt is really about? Why does that carving mean so much to you?”

She looked out the window and didn’t speak for a while. “I’m guessing you don’t usually get a lot of quiet time like this on the job,” she finally said.

“No.” He didn’t call her out on the change of subject. She wanted her secrets? Fine. That would keep his own safe as well.

“Your job can be pretty dangerous,” she said.

“Only if I get stupid.”

She looked at him. “I can’t imagine you doing anything stupid on the job. You’re sharp and focused, and the very best at what you do.”

He was pretty sure the words weren’t supposed to turn him on. “And you know this how?” he asked.

“Archer speaks highly of you. So does Spence. A lot of people talk about you, actually. Like Molly.”

“Molly’s my sister. She’s not going to talk shit.”

“Oh, she talks shit,” Kylie said on a laugh. “Just not about your work skills.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “And what shit might that be?”

She smiled and bit her lower lip, looking away.

Oh hell no. Leaning in, he cupped her jaw and turned her face back to his. As he studied her, he realized she was blushing again. “Okay,” he said. “I definitely want to hear this story.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Try me,” he said.

“It was last week. Girls’ night out. We were going to the pub, but we had to go for a walk first because half of us needed money from the ATM down the street. We were laughing because Haley didn’t want her receipt. She said that sometimes you have to hit no on getting a receipt because you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.”

Joe laughed. “Let me guess. At which both Elle and Molly had heart failure.”

“Yes.” Kylie smiled in memory. “Anyway, once we got back to the pub and had a few drinks, Haley said that if she didn’t bat for the other team, she’d want to ride you like a bronco all night long and that though she’s never really been sure if she believes in monogamy or not, she’d want to keep you.”

Not much surprised Joe, but he felt his brows vanish into the hair falling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” Kylie said. “And then Molly said that Haley would have to get in line for the bronco riding part because you usually had women on the line. But as for the keeping you part, many have tried, yet none of have succeeded.”

Joe snorted.

“So it’s true,” she said.

“She’s talking about my feral early years,” he said. “But I’m an old man now. I’ve slowed down some.”

“You think thirty is old?” she asked.

“Not for normal people, but I put a lot of living in my first thirty years, so yeah, sometimes I feel ancient.”

He’d meant it as a joke but her gaze was serious, her tone quiet. “I knew you grew up rough even before you brought me here,” she said.

“How? And if you say another girls’ night, I might have to muzzle my sister.”

She laughed softly. “Not a girls’ night, no. But a couple of months ago, a few of us went with Molly to your mom’s grave site and left some flowers.” She broke the eye contact and looked down at her hands. “Molly told us how she died when you were young and how your dad suffers from PTSD so badly that there were long stretches of time when he couldn’t work. She said that you took care of the both of them.”

Joe shook his head. “Molly did plenty of taking care of me too,” he said and paused. “I wasn’t easy.”

“Well, that’s a shock.”

He met her gaze across the dark interior of the car. Clearly she was trying to lighten the mood for him. Her mouth was curved but her eyes were still serious. “Your life might have been ugly and hard, Joe,” she said, “but from the outside looking in, you had all the important things.”

“Such as?”

“Acceptance,” she said. “Love.”

There were few people who could wade through the bullshit that life had to offer and find the small, necessary kernels of truth. Kylie had been through her own sort of hell, far different than his but hell nevertheless, and yet she was still the optimist to his cynic.

The light to his dark, he realized with not a little shock.

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers to bring them up to his mouth. He brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then got out of the car and had to clench his jaw in order to not let out a litany of warnings as Kylie got out as well.

“I can take care of myself,” she said reminded him quietly.

Yeah, and that’s exactly what Molly said all those years ago, right before the nightmare that had followed. He looked into Kylie’s fierce, adventure-seeking face and swore to himself. Maybe she could take care of herself, but he still wasn’t going to take that chance. “Stick close.”

“Of course,” she said with a bright smile in spite of the fact that he’d practically growled the two words at her. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

And with that, she pierced his fierce concentration, making him laugh. “If only that was really true,” he said and had the pleasure of seeing her blush again.