Vixen Healed (Vintage Vixen 2) - Page 6

“About three weeks?”

“Have you ever seen him near your house?”

“I think so … you think it’s him?” Her eyebrows arched. The pulse in her slender neck went wild.

“Yes, they have a history of pulling this. You need to come with me right now.”

“Wait! What? I can’t do that. I need to handle the break-in at my store, talk to my co-owners—”

He wrapped his hands around her forearms, marveling at the strength he felt. Small, but not so weak. A sharp jolt of desire ignited and burned in his belly. Her skin was velvet soft and silky. “You’re in danger. We need to get you someplace safe now. There’s no time for anything else.”

“It all checks out.” Ramirez’s deep voice interrupted their heated conversation. He ripped his notes out of his pad and handed them over. “We’ll head on over to the store, see what we can salvage there, and let you take care of Ms. Reading.”

“I appreciate it, Officers,” Claire said.

“The pleasure was all ours.” Simmons tipped his hat, and they turned to exit. He took her hand.

“Wait, where are we going?” she asked.

“My car, he could be watching right now.” His words silenced her protest, and fear flickered in the depths of her brown eyes. Good, she should be scared right now. He glanced down. “What happened to your shoes?”

“I kicked them off. Running in heels is the first don’t in a horror movie or a thriller. I hate the things, but my best friends made me watch enough to know that.”

“Somehow I think you’d be the girl who survived in the end.”

She gave a sad smile. “Story of my life, isn’t it?”

They reached the car, and he opened her door, helping her step in. What could he say to that? He slipped into his car and turned on the ignition. “I want you to place a call to a friend you trust to get the word out about you going underground, then I want you to turn off your cell phone. We’ll get you a prepaid one tomorrow, but I’m not taking any chances. He’s a scumbag, but he’s not stupid. You don’t get away with the things these two have without smarts.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, listening as she placed her call. Her voice wavered as she explained what was going on with her friend and she promised to call her as soon as he said it was safe. Fuck! The circumstances sacked him like a three hundred pound linebacker. She was going to be glued to his side for the next month. The first woman who made him want to get his dick wet for more than just pleasure in the past few years, and she was off limits. Only for a month, and even then it wouldn’t be the first time things got heavy while someone was under custody. He rolled down the window, grateful for the air that cooled down the lava his blood had become. She needed closure so she could make a clean break. Not an old man who swore like a sailor, drank whiskey like water, and had a bad habit of putting his career first. Sure, he was only in his early forties, but in cop years that was like sixty. He’d seen too much evil in this world not to be affected. She still had a chance to step back into the light. That’s what he needed to focus on.

Chapter Three

Blood, on her hands, her clothes. She wiped them on her shirt, tried to get the sticky residue off, but it wouldn’t budge. Not again, please not again. I just need sleep. She didn’t want to look! Regardless of the mental screams going off she glanced down. The rotted, bloated, and discolored corpse of Campbell greeted her. A shrill shriek rent the air, jerked her from her unrest, and rescued her from the reoccurring nightmare. The door to the bedroom swung open, and Quinn emerged on one knee. His nine millimeter ready and aimed as he scanned the perimeter with his gaze.

“Clear?” he asked.

“Clear. I’m sorry. It was a nightmare again.”

He stood, and her breath caught. The white wife beater he paired with gray sweat pants outlined his broad shoulders, slim waist, and an impressive six-pack. Hell of a time for my hormones to come to life. He looked good with a bit of nighttime scruff on his face and messy hair. They’d been living together for about two weeks, and she couldn’t shake the sense of intimacy that came from sharing the same space. He de-cocked his gun, set it on the table in front of her, and sat on the edge of the couch next to her.

“It’s okay. What are you doing out here on the couch instead of in the guest room?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d watch some TV, instead it ended up watching me.”

He snorted, ran a hand through his hair and over his face before he turned his gray gaze on her full force.

“You have to sleep, C. You know you’re safe here. Anyone coming through that door will have to get through me first, and that’d be after they even found you. We’ve been careful. No trips back to your house or work. Hell, we didn’t even put you in the witness housing because we were afraid of trickle down, and knew the last thing anyone would expect from us is to be here.”

“I know, and I appreciate it, but this isn’t about fear.” She toyed with the soft, brown blanket on her lap. His hand came down and covered hers, stilled the motion and sent tingles through her body and down to her throbbing clit. Her nipples went stiff. Please don’t let him notice. Kelly Quinn was a sexy man who made her feel safe. Her libido worked overtime as the lines blurred between protector and friend. He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face to meet his stare.

“Then what is it about?” A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed around it.

“Guilt.”

“Why?” His gruff voice was gentle and softened. It did funny things to her tummy.

“Because I’m still here, and the men who killed him are still out there … I don’t know. Usually I have a better handle on things.” She shrugged.

Tags: Shyla Colt Vintage Vixen Erotic
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