When the alarm went off, Ryan hit the snooze button twice before hauling her tired butt out of bed. She hadn’t had nearly enough sleep, though she couldn’t regret her late night out. Spending time with Tiberius had been worth every yawn and grumble.

In the stark light of day, however, she couldn’t help wondering if that expensive drink she’d downed had colored her perception somewhat. Tiberius had been smart, funny, and gallant, not to mention handsome as sin. He just seemed too good to be true, and as her life experiences had often proven, things that seemed too good to be true often were.

No man had ever checked as many items off her “perfect guy” list as he had without having at least a few ticks in the “asshole” column, too. There had to be a catch. The question was: did she want to find out what that catch was? Or was it better to just live with the dream?

She opted for the latter.

For a little while, Tiberius had done something amazing. He had made her feel interesting and desirable. Why ruin the illusion?

Sure, he had said he wanted to see her again, but despite her penchant for paranormals and happily ever afters, she was essentially a realist. Chances were, their paths wouldn’t cross again. She had no intention of returning to Bait, and she definitely was not going to be one of those women who checked her phone every five minutes, making sure the thing was on. If he called, great. If not, well, c’est la vie.

Now all she had to do was convince herself she wouldn’t be disappointed if that happened.

Ryan dried her face with the soft terry towel then scowled at herself in the mirror. She was a thirty-two-year-old police detective. Was she actually crushing on a guy after a decent conversation, a slice of pie, and a knuckle brushing kiss?

She was at a loss to explain why he had even approached her in the first place, though it probably had something to do with the way she had looked. Fully made up and decked out in a sexy dress and killer shoes, she had looked pretty good. The problem was that wasn’t the real Ryan. She wasn’t sexy or glamorous or fashionable. She had tried to tell him that, but whether or not he believed her, she didn’t know.

“Gah!” She brushed her hair and yanked it into a ponytail. A fresh face stared back in the mirror, devoid of all the glitz and glam Betty had so painstakingly applied. Gone was the curve-hugging sheath dress, replaced by no-wrinkle pants, a simple blouse, and sensible shoes. What would her perfect Prince Charming think of her now?

Foregoing breakfast, she chugged a cup of coffee and grabbed a protein bar on her way out the door. Betty’s bakery was in the opposite direction from the precinct, and Ryan wanted to make sure she had enough time to do a drive-by. Though they had exchanged the obligatory “home safe” texts around dawn, Ryan felt compelled to double-check.

Betty said she worried too much, but in Betty’s case, Ryan wasn’t sure she worried enough.

As she cruised by, she was pleased to see the lights on, a good crowd, and the flash of bright red hair bopping around behind the counter. Satisfied that all was well, Ryan continued, her gaze landing on the now quiet Bait and her thoughts moving back to Tiberius.

Where was he now? Was he a morning person? How did he spend his days? Was he thinking about her like she was thinking about him?

“Enough!” she chastised herself when she pulled into her spot behind the station. She had a job to do, and hopefully, today’s cases wouldn’t include nude videos of senior citizens twerking or instances of small-time drug dealers being dropped off in fishing nets filled with crabs.

By the time lunch rolled around, Ryan was rethinking her earlier wish and hoping that something, anything interesting would happen. She rubbed her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep and the two hundred-plus pages of complaints concerning one Alfred P. Carmichael.

Mr. Carmichael, age fifty-four, lived with his eighty-two-year-old mother and was convinced that everyone in his neighborhood was spying on him. He had taken it upon himself to hide in the bushes near his home at all hours of the day and night to “obtain proof of the conspiracy.” Among the complainants were his own aunts, who had lived in the house next door since 1962 and said they were sick and tired of being ambushed every time they tried to leave the house.

When her phone rang, Ryan didn’t hesitate. “Detective Winslet.”

“Hey, girlfriend, you busy?”

Ryan smiled into the phone when she heard Betty’s voice. “Not even a little. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say thanks and sorry-not-sorry.”

Ryan sat back in her chair. “Okay. For what?”

“The thanks is for going out with me last night. I know clubbing is outside your comfort zone, and I appreciate that you’d do that for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The sorry-not-sorry is for abandoning you. I feel kind of bad about that, but it was so worth the guilt I’m feeling right now.”

“I take it that means you had a good time?”

“Girl, I can’t even. I swear, that man was put on this Earth just to butter my buns, you know what I’m saying?”

Ryan laughed, buoyed by Betty’s high spirits.

“I never realized I was an exhibitionist, but apparently I am. And you would not believe what they have in those private rooms on the second floor—”

“La la la la la, I can’t hear you, Betty,” Ryan sang into the phone. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“Right, I forgot how anal you are about that stuff. Oh, and speaking of, did you know that they make these special vibrating—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Fine! Be that way. I’m going to leave Rosie in charge and crash for a couple hours anyway. I’ll call you later and share all the kinky deets.”

“Please don’t.”

Still laughing, Ryan hung up the phone when the captain poked his head out of his office and barked, “Winslet! In my office.”

The appearance of her direct superior and his perpetual scowl put an immediate end to her laughter. For a moment, Ryan wondered if the captain had somehow overheard some of her conversation with Betty. Then she realized it was just a case of poor timing. The man always looked pissed off.

She closed the files she’d been reviewing and put them in her desk before heading over to see what the captain wanted.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

He waved her in. “Winslet, come in and close the door.”

Ryan did as he asked.

“Winslet, I wanted to give you a heads-up. We’ve received information that Atsa Nez is coming to town,” Captain Carter started without preamble.

Ryan’s head jerked back in surprise, the name ringing an all too familiar bell.

Atsa Nez, otherwise known by the street name Black Eagle, was the one black mark on her otherwise spotless record. She had been a rookie at the time, fresh out of the academy, but she had never forgotten or forgiven herself for letting him get away.

Nez was the worst of the worst, involved in everything from supplying opiates in the Southeastern region to abducting and smuggling young women as part of a human trafficking ring. He was as slippery and elusive as an eel, and worked through an extensive, complex network of bottom feeders that kept him just under the radar. That was why it was so important to take full advantage of those rare occasions when he did surface, and why her mistake cut so deeply.

“Count me in, Captain. Whatever you need. Nights, weekends—”

“Easy, Winslet. I’m only telling you this because I know you have a history with Nez. The Feds are whipping out their dicks on this one, claiming jurisdiction since Nez’s crimes cross state lines. Not to mention one of the girls they tried to snatch was a US Senator’s daughter vacationing with her college friends in the Keys.”

Ryan frowned. “There must be something we can do. Something I can do.”

Carter leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Well, the way I see it, these G-men might think they’re hot shit, but they don’t know the area or have the local contacts we do. If you happen to see or hear anything that might be helpful, bring it to me and I’ll pass it along. But,” he said, pinning her with a stern look, “you are not to interfere in the official investigation unless requested to do so. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, Captain.”

Ryan left her superior’s office, her head swimming. Carter’s words of warning were already fading to a dull white noise in the back of her mind. Why was Atsa Nez coming to Golden Beach? Why now? What was important enough for him to crawl out from whatever rock he was hiding under and make a personal appearance?

Hours later, she still didn’t have any answers, but her instincts told her Nez’s uncharacteristic resurfacing had something to do with the mysterious Shark that Drew had alluded to. If this Shark guy really had muscled in on some of Nez’s territory, then Nez might feel compelled to make a personal appearance to put a stop to it and discourage others from thinking they could do the same. Guys like him relied on fear and intimidation to stay on top, and anyone who presented a credible threat had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively. Cred was everything, and Nez’s was on the line. That meant whatever was going to go down was going to happen soon, and more likely than not, it was going to be big enough to get the message across.

Ryan sat back from her laptop and rubbed her eyes. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, and the dull ache at the back of her skull reminded her that she had forgotten to eat.

She closed her laptop, slipped it into her functional purse/tote, along with some hardcopy files, and stepped out into the dusky evening. First order of business was picking up some takeout on the way home. Then she was going to take a hot shower, slip into some comfy clothes, and eat said takeout while she tried to figure out what she was missing.

She had just settled on her couch when her phone chimed. She briefly considered not answering it. She had lots of information to wade through and wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to listen to Betty’s detailed account of last night’s sex-capades. When she looked at the caller ID, however, it wasn’t Betty, but an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ryan.”

Those two simple words, spoken in that deep, delicious voice, sent zinging tingles of awareness throughout her tired body. “Tiberius?”

“Yes. You sound surprised.”

“I am,” she answered honestly.

A soft chuckle. “Never doubt me, Ryan. Did you have a pleasant day?”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, looked at the screen, then blinked. When was the last time someone had asked about her day?

“It was okay,” she told him. “How was yours?”

“Long. I was thinking of you.”

“Oh,” she whispered as those tingles intensified.

“I would very much like to see you again.”

Yes, please, she thought, but decided it was best not to appear too eager.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Perhaps dinner?”

“I’d like that. When?”

“I suppose answering right now would not be appropriate.”

It was her turn to laugh. “No, probably not. I just got out of the shower.”

There was a slight pause, and then he said, “A stunning visual. You do know how to torture a man, Ryan Winslet.”

Warmth flowed through her. How did he manage to do that with just his voice?

A sudden, overwhelming desire to see him washed over her. “But I am free tomorrow night,” she told him.

“A veritable eternity,” he murmured. “Very well. I suppose I can wait that long, if I must.” Amusement colored his tone.

“Good. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

“I would prefer to send a car for you.”

Ryan hesitated. Everything about Tiberius seemed wonderful, but she was reluctant to divulge her home address just yet, at least not until she knew a little more about him. Having seen some of the stuff that could happen, she was probably more paranoid than most.

“There’s a bookstore not too far from my place. Would you mind picking me up there?”

“Of course. Your caution is commendable, though I assure you, unnecessary in this case. I would never harm a woman, and certainly not you, Ryan Winslet.”

She sincerely hoped that was true. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Until tomorrow then.”

“Oh, what shall I wear?”

“Something casual and comfortable.”

“Got it. Goodnight, Tiberius.”

“Goodnight, sweet Ryan.”

Ryan disconnected the call and sat back with a sigh. It was official. She was in crush.