The Girl Next Door (Shadow Agents 6)

On her first day in the apartment, she’d baked him chocolate chip cookies. She had a thing about baking—it soothed her. So she’d strolled down with her cookies to say hello.

She’d gotten a good look at him, standing in the doorway, tall and sexy, and she’d almost dropped those cookies.

“Gabrielle?”

She shoved on her helmet and climbed onto the motorcycle behind Cooper.

He laughed. “You’re going to have to sit a little closer than that. And put your arms around me.”

She’d put her arms behind herself and was currently gripping the back of the seat.

He revved the engine. The bike kicked to life and when it shot forward, her hands flew up and wrapped around Cooper.

She gripped him as tightly as she could.

All muscle.

She could feel his rock-hard abs beneath her hands. No big surprise. She’d heard him working out before. Boxing. The guy loved to punch.

She’d seen him sporting an assortment of bruises since she’d met him, so she figured he must do more than just hit his punching bag. The guy probably fought at a local ring. The image of Cooper, bare-chested, fighting...well, that was an image that had sure floated in her mind before.

The motorcycle zoomed through the city, flying through intersections, cutting closely around corners. At one point, Gabrielle had to squeeze her eyes shut because she was pretty certain they were going to crash and become nothing but a mangled pile of limbs.

“We’re here.”

Her eyes cracked open. Sure enough, they’d made it to the brownstone. Located off the main streets and nestled in one of the few, quiet corners of D.C., the brownstone stood with its porch lights blazing.

She loved that place.

“You can...um, release that grip on me now,” Cooper told her.

Gabrielle realized that her nails were digging into his shirt—into him. “Sorry,” she muttered and jumped from the bike. “I’m not exactly a motorcycle fan.”

He shoved down the kickstand, and then took his time rising from the bike. “Really? And here I thought you liked to live on the wild side.”

What? Since when?

“Coming in at all hours of the night,” he murmured as he brushed past her and headed up the steps that would take them inside the brownstone. “Covering the most dangerous cases in the city. You sure seem like a woman who enjoys living on the edge.”

She wasn’t going to touch that one.

As they paused on the narrow porch, the wind chime that she’d hung up a few days before pealed softly. The sound soothed her, at least a little bit.

Gabrielle followed him inside. A large, curving bannister led to the apartment upstairs. Her place was up there. His apartment was downstairs, right below hers. They both had a key to the main door, and she watched as he secured that door.

He’d gotten her home, so this was where they should part ways. Only she found herself hesitant to leave him. Maybe it was the image she still had of poor Keith Lockwood. I can still smell the blood. No, she wasn’t in a hurry to rush up those stairs and spend the night all by herself.

Gabrielle already knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. She’d be too busy remembering the sight of that body.

So she lingered at the foot of the stairs, studying Cooper.

He turned toward her and cocked his head. Then his eyes, a shade of a blue that electrified her, narrowed. “You’re scared.” He stalked toward her.

Gabrielle stiffened at the accusation. “I’m a little shaken. I found a dead body. I get to be shaken.”

He stopped less than a foot from her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry that Mr. Lockwood is dead. Maybe if we’d met earlier, if I’d just gone by his place sooner instead of waiting for our meeting time—”