I went inside and took a look around. The bar was nearly empty. They must have been closing up when the bike went up in flames. Everyone had taken off after that.

Everyone but the staff.

I saw Mason with his hand resting possessively on a girl’s shoulder. She sat at the bar, her arms wrapped around her protectively. I could only see her profile but even that was enough to stop me in my tracks.

All thoughts of murder flew from my head.

The girl was beautiful.

Not just a little bit pretty, or cute, or even sexy. She was fucking gorgeous. With long, wavy, light brown hair, and a delicate profile with a nose that was just the slightest bit turned upwards. Her figure looked slim and athletic, but with curves in all the right places.

She turned to look at me and my breath stopped. My heart seemed to pause, waiting for my mind to catch up with my eyeballs, which felt like they were bugging out of my damn head.

She was a Goddamned angel.

Even in this smokey juke joint, with the dim lights and neon beer signs, I could see her eyes.

They were the brightest, deepest blue I’d seen in my life. And I was a fan of staring at the sky, or I had been when I had less shit to worry about.

This was the blue of ten thousands skies.

She blinked and I came back to myself. The girl might have the face of an angel but right now she was part of a crime scene. If she worked here, she most likely knew the killer, or at least served him a bucket of wings.

Which meant under my rules, she was part of the problem. The fact that I had such a strong reaction to her only pissed me off. Why the hell work here with all the criminals when she could be plastered all over billboards and magazine covers?

Because she was one of them. The enemy. The ones who had killed Danny.

Remember that, Conn.

I forced myself to ignore the hot pulse of lust that was throbbing in my belly and crossed the bar. I flashed my badge and pulled out a tiny note pad. Yeah, I was old school in that way too.

“Name.”

“They already interviewed me.”

“Not you.”

They exchanged a glance and Mason stepped in front of her.

“She ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, DeWitt.”

I let myself steal another look at her. Her huge eyes were looking down at the ground. Her juicy bottom lip was caught between Chiclet white teeth. I squinted at Mason and asked again.

“Name.”

“It’s okay, Mase.”

She cleared her throat and Mason sighed heavily, stepping aside. I was once again struck by the girl’s absolute physical perfection. And the nervous look in her eyes.

Good.

She should be fucking nervous. I wasn’t going to go easy on her because she was stunningly beautiful. Or young. Or scared.

I realized belatedly that the girl looked more than scared. She was frightened out of her mind. That made me want to tell her that everything would be okay. That I would take care of everything for her.

I frowned, disquieted by the swirl of protective and animalistic urges that she was causing. Unwanted urges, dammit.

“Casey. Casey Jones.”

Her voice was soft and sweet, stirring something even warmer inside me. But something felt off. It felt like a lie. Maybe it wasn’t her real name. I leaned against the bar, musing over how young she looked.

Too young for me.

The thought caught me off guard. Now where the hell had that come from? Completely out of left field. Not only was it true, but I certainly didn’t date criminal trash.

I glanced at Mason who was frowning at me, a worried look on his face. He cared about the girl, that much was obvious. I had a moment of pure animal jealousy, wondering if he was screwing her.

Why I cared, I had no fucking idea.

But I did. I cared a lot.

I gave Mason a hard look.

“Is she your wife?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

He shook his head and some of the tension left my body. I felt a strange relief that made no sense at all. I should not give a damn one way or the other.

But I was almost friendly as I nodded to Mason.

“Then you have to step away, Mason. Sorry.”

“I’m responsible for her, dammit!”

Well, that was unexpected. Maybe she was his kid. I looked at her again. Hmm, no. He wasn’t that much older.

Unless he had a kid at fourteen.

“Is she your child? Relation?”

He shook his head. I glanced at the girl, my eyes skimming over her graceful curves. She really was perfect. She looked like one of those girls in those sexy bra commercials.

Lush and young and desirable.

And way too clean and innocent to be in a place like this. But she wasn’t innocent. At the very least, she was a prime witness.

“Is she underage?”

“I’m old enough to work here. I don’t serve drinks.”

I felt something hitch in my stomach at that. Damn, she was young. Not even twenty-one.

I definitely shouldn’t be having the sort of thoughts I was having. Thoughts about touching her. Kissing her. Taking her to my bed and tangling up the sheets.

No. I should not be thinking any of that, dammit. And not just because she was involved in a crime.

Not just because she was so young either.

She was one of them. The people who had killed my partner.

I’d just met the girl. Never before in my life had I taken one look at a female and thought- I would like to hold her all night.

Not just all night either. I had a crazy feeling I’d like to hold her a lot longer than that.

Well, fuck.