Running Into Love

  Watching her start to stomp past me to the bathroom, I grab hold of her wrist and drag her to stand between my spread thighs. “Are you done being mad?” I ask, grabbing her hips. She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m not mad, I’m annoyed.”

  “Why are you annoyed?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “I don’t know, I just am,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. I fight back a grin.

  “All right, then, where are you going?”

  “I have to take Muffin out.” She shrugs, then softly moves her fingers through my hair like she’s already forgotten she’s annoyed with me.

  “I’ll take her. It’s cold out, baby.” While she shakes her head, her face softens.

  “It’s okay. I want to go to Gino’s and get a bagel with smoked-salmon cream cheese while I’m out.”

  “All right, I’ll go with you.” I stand, forcing her back a step, then wrap my hand around her jaw, tilting her head back. Leaning down, I press a quick kiss to her upturned lips, then tap her bottom. “Go on—we’ll have to stop at my place so I can clean up.” I send her on her way to the bathroom. Putting on the clothes I wore over last night, I sit down to put on my sneakers, then stand when she comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

  “Time to get up,” she says toward the bed, where Muffin has now sprawled out across the entire surface. Lifting her fur-covered head, she looks at Fawn, tips her head to the side studying her, then lays it back down on her paws with a huff.

  “Baby, seriously, she needs some training, at least enough that she’ll listen to you. It’s not safe. She’s as big as you are, and I know for a fact she can drag you around.”

  “I know, I signed us up for doggie classes after the park incident,” she says, taking a seat on the edge of her bed to slip on a pair of sneakers. “Our first class is soon.”

  “Good. Has she ever done that before?”

  “No, but once when I took her out, I literally had to carry her home two blocks because she refused to walk home.”

  “How big was she then?” I ask, looking at Muffin, who probably weighs as much as Fawn does soaking wet.

  “Just about seventy pounds. That’s not even the worst part—it was pouring rain, so by the time we got home, I smelled like a wet dog. I didn’t even have time to shower before I had to get to work.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know. Thankfully, that only happened once, but it was so bad I don’t ever want it to happen again,” she says, then looks at Muffin as she stands.

  “Come on, girl, let’s go outside.” With a groan Muffin rolls over and stands on the bed before hopping off and walking to my side, leaning her weight into me. “You know most dogs like going outside?” I tell her, giving her head a rub.

  “Yeah, but she’s not like most dogs, if you haven’t noticed. I’m pretty sure she’s a human trapped in a dog’s body,” she says to my back as I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen.

  “She is stubborn. Then again, so is her owner.” I smile over my shoulder at Fawn as I grab Muffin’s leash from the counter.

  “Ha-ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes, and I grin, stopping at the door and wrapping my fist in her hoodie to pull her closer. I drop my mouth to hers in a quick touch before opening the door. Taking her hand, I lead her across the hall to my place, where I leave her in the living room with Muffin as I head for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take care of business. Stopping in my room on the way back to the living room, I grab a hoodie from my closet and holster my gun from the safe near my bed.

  “Ready?” I ask, finding Fawn studying me and the gun holstered under my arm before I put on my hoodie and down vest over it.

  “Yep.” She stands, and Muffin looks at her, then me, and lets out a huff before getting off the couch, obviously annoyed that she has to go somewhere else.

  “Are you expecting trouble while we’re out?” she asks softly as I open the door, letting her out ahead of me.

  “No, I always carry. Leaving my gun is like leaving my arm behind—impossible.”

  “Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. “You didn’t have a gun on you on Halloween.”

  “I did.”

  “You did? I didn’t notice.” She frowns while I attach Muffin’s leash to her collar.

  “You were flustered, baby.”

  I grin, and she mutters, “This is true,” stopping behind me while I lock up my apartment.

  “How do you feel about guns?” I ask, taking her hand in one of mine while holding Muffin’s leash with the other. After seeing the way Muffin was able to drag Fawn across the park, I worry about her walking her on her own.

  “I grew up in a house with guns.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of them.”

  “I guess you’re right. When I was fifteen, my dad took me to the shooting range. He wanted me to get comfortable holding and shooting one. I can’t say I will ever buy a gun myself, but because of that experience, I’m not fearful of them.”

  “Your dad’s a smart man.”

  “He is,” she agrees with a small smile as we push out of the building and step onto the sidewalk.

  “What way are we heading?” I ask, and she looks up at me, smiling.

  “The day we met, you asked me when we left the building at the same time what way I was heading. I asked what way you were going so that I could head the opposite direction to get away from you.”

  “I know.” I smile, watching her face soften.

  “I knew then that there was something about you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I just didn’t know I was going to like you as much as I do.”

  “Don’t say shit like that to me when we’re outside, baby.”

  “What?” She blinks, stepping back, but I don’t let her get far. I tug her hand, forcing her back into my space so I can get my arms around her.

  “When we’re outside”—I duck my head and nip her ear—“I can’t kiss you like I want to.”

  “Oh.” She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Thanks, gorgeous.” I lean back. “Now, what way are we heading?”

  “To the left.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we head down the sidewalk side by side. As soon as we reach the bagel shop, I pull a twenty from my wallet.

  “I’ll wait out here with Muffin. Can you get me a plain bagel with cream cheese and a coffee?”

  “Yes, but I have money.” She frowns at the twenty in my hand, and I shake my head. “I’m paying.”

  “No, you’re not,” I deny with a shake of my head, and she takes a step toward the door.

  “I am.”

  “Fawn,” I growl, and she shrugs.

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “Dammit,” I hiss as she walks into the shop, leaving me no choice but to stay out front with Muffin.

  Coming out a few minutes later with a paper bag and two cups of coffee, she hands me one, lowering her voice. “Don’t be mad.”

  “Baby, if we’re out, I pay for you and me, not the other way around.”

  “Is that some kind of rule?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? That’s stupid. I can pay for our breakfast.”

  “I’m a man and—”

  “This isn’t 1950,” she cuts me off. “If we are in a relationship, paying for things goes both ways.”

  “I don’t know what kind of men you have dated in the past—and I don’t want to know about the men you’ve dated,” I add quickly when it looks like she’s about to tell me about them. I know that would piss me off. “I’m the kind of man who takes care of a woman when I’m with her.”

  “Whatever. Can we go?”

  “Yeah, we can go once you tell me you won’t do that again.”

  “Fine,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. Giving up for now, I take her hand and head across the street to the dog park, where we find a bench
to sit on inside the closed-off area and unleash Muffin to play.

  “Miss Reed.” I hear a shout and turn my head to watch a girl, probably ten or eleven, running up to us in an oversize coat with her curly hair bouncing around her smiling face.

  “Hey, honey,” Fawn says, surprised, as she stands and greets the girl with a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “We came to the park to hang out for a while,” the girl says with a shy shrug, then looks over her shoulder when a man yells her name. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  “Is your mom here with you?” Fawn asks softly.

  The girl nods, then adds, “Yes, and Juan.”

  “Oh,” Fawn says, looking across the park. “Tell your mom I said hello.”

  “I will,” she agrees before taking off at a run across the grass toward a woman who’s not dressed for the cold but wearing a skimpy dress and short leather jacket and a man wearing a dark suit and wool overcoat. Studying the guy, I realize why he looks familiar. Juan Varges is the main suspect in the murder of the prostitute that happened Halloween night. He’s also a well-known pimp and all-around piece of shit.

  “Fuck.” My eyes meet his across the distance. I lift my chin toward him, letting him know I see him. He smirks, then lifts his chin in return before taking the girl’s shoulder and turning her away from us.

  “Who’s the girl?” I ask Fawn’s back as she stares off across the park, watching the couple and child as they walk away.

  “Tamara—she’s one of my students.”

  “Is that her dad?”

  “No, her mom’s new boyfriend,” she whispers, and I watch her hands ball into fists at her side. “I don’t like him.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Do you know him?” she asks quietly, turning around to look at me.

  “Come here.” I pat the bench next to me and wait until she’s seated, then wrap my arm around her shoulder. “He’s not a good guy. He’s also a pimp.”

  “Oh no,” she breathes, looking toward where the couple disappeared. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Baby.” I hold her tighter when it looks like she’s about to bolt.

  “He’s around her, he picks her up from school almost every day . . . What if he—”

  “Calm,” I command, cutting her off when I see she’s working herself up. “How long has her mom been with him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe a couple months.” She closes her eyes, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. Fuck. I press a kiss to the top of her head, fighting the urge to tell her that I’m investigating him. I can’t—I don’t want her involved any more than she already is, and if she accidentally slips up and mentions it to someone, it could blow my whole case. “It will be okay.”

  I rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while raging inside. Men like Juan Varges believe they are above the law. They have the means and the power to control the people around them and will do whatever’s necessary to stay out of jail. This case isn’t the first one Juan has been a suspect in. One other woman from his stable has been murdered in the last year that we know of. And I say know of because most women who work in the sex industry are forgotten by their families. So if they go missing, no one realizes it until it’s too late.

  “Can we go?” she asks, and my arm tightens.

  “Yeah, baby.” I stand, bringing her with me. Taking her hand, I lead her to a garbage can near the edge of the sidewalk and dump our trash before walking toward the dog area where Muffin is being chased by a small Yorkie. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, then shout, “Muffin.” Her head swings my way, and her tongue lolls out of her mouth before she starts to trot in our direction.

  “Did you have fun, girl?” Fawn asks, opening the gate and attaching the leash to Muffin’s collar before handing it to me. She bends down and sticks her hand through one of the slats in the fence to pet the Yorkie that followed Muffin across the play area. “Toby, you’ve gotten so big, look at you,” she coos to the small dog as he licks her fingers.

  “Fawn,” a man calls behind us, and she stands and turns with me to face a guy with messy hair and glasses. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a tee that has paint on the front of it, and a black jacket. Watching his eyes scan her as he gets close to us, I fight the urge to growl mine.

  “Hey, Hank.” She smiles warmly, leaning up to give him a one-armed hug, since there is no fucking way I’m letting go of her hand. “How have you been?”

  “Good, and you?” he asks, dropping his eyes to her hand in mine before he lifts his gaze my way.

  “Hank, this is my . . .”

  “Her man.” I stick out my free hand in his direction, and he takes it, squeezing a little too tight for someone who’s just a friend. “Levi,” I mutter, letting him go.

  “I didn’t know you were dating someone. I thought you said you were taking a break from dating?” Hank says, studying Fawn in a way that says she obviously told him that and he was disappointed by the news.

  “Oh.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I was . . . I mean, Levi and I, we live next door to each other, and this just kind of happened.” She raises our hands, laughing.

  “Hmm.” His eyes slide to me briefly. “Did you get the invitation I e-mailed you last week?” She nods.

  “Yeah, I’m going to see if Mac and Libby want to come to your showing with me.”

  “Good.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then runs his hand through his shaggy hair. “I’d love to see you there.”

  “Hank is an artist, and he has a showcase in SoHo after Thanksgiving,” she explains, tilting her head back to look at me. “He’s really very talented.”

  “Really. Maybe I’ll go with you to check it out,” I say, wondering where the fuck that statement came from. I’d rather pull my teeth out one by one than go to an art show.

  “It’s invite only,” Hank huffs, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

  Fawn frowns, then mutters, “Oh.” Smiling at that, I drop her hand and tuck her under my arm. My woman seriously has no fucking idea when a man is interested. “Well, we were just getting ready to leave. It was nice to see you, Hank.”

  “You, too.” He steps forward like he’s going to give her a hug, but Muffin steps in front of her to block the move. Hank’s eyes drop to the big wolfhound, and he visibly swallows. “I’ll see you at the showing.”

  “Yeah, see you then,” she agrees, as I give Muffin a scratch for being so good.

  “Nice meeting you, Hank. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I lift my chin to him, and his eyes narrow.

  “Yeah, see ya,” he mutters, walking to the gate and opening it, then bending down to pick up the Yorkie Muffin was playing with.

  “So you and Hank?” I ask as we head toward the park exit with Muffin walking in front of us.

  “Me and Hank?” she asks, and I drop my eyes to meet hers.

  “Yeah, have you ever dated that guy?”

  “Um, no.” She shakes her head, scrunching up her face. “He’s just a friend—well, we kind of know each other from the dog park.”

  “Has he asked you out?”

  “No. I mean, he’s asked me to coffee before, but that’s all, we’ve never dated.”

  “He’s into you.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Baby, I’m a man, and as a man, I can tell you that guy is interested in you and was definitely upset that you’re no longer available.”

  “Really?” She bites her lip, studying me.

  “Yeah, baby, really,” I say softly, and she frowns.

  “I had no idea,” she mumbles.

  “You wouldn’t know, because you’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” I state, rubbing my thumb over the pulse of her wrist, feeling it speed up.

  “I . . .”

  “You’re gorgeous, and this sweet, unassuming thing you’ve got going on is a breath of fresh air to men like me and Hank, who are surrounded by women who’ve got nothing more to offer
than a pretty face.”

  “Um . . .” She drops her gaze from mine, and I smile. Most women who look like Fawn does would be using that beauty to get their way, but not her. No, she doesn’t even understand the power she has or when a man is interested in her. For me that shit is priceless and the exact thing that has drawn me to her from the beginning.

  “Just so you know, you and Hank will never happen,” I inform her and feel her eyes on me, so I drop mine to look at her. “You’re mine, and I don’t share. He missed his chance when he didn’t step up to the plate like a man and straight up ask you out.”

  “I . . . I was never interested in him.”

  “Good to know, seeing how he’s going to try to convince you otherwise when you go to his showing.”

  “What?” she asks as we head down the block toward our building.

  “He made it pretty clear that I wasn’t invited to his showing—that right there tells me he plans on using that time alone with you as a way in.”

  “I’m not . . .” She pauses, shaking her head again. “I don’t even like him like that. I don’t even really know him.”

  “That’s good, considering you’re already in a relationship.” I smile, dropping her hand to press in the code for the door and holding it open for her to enter before me.

  “Remember when I told you this morning that you were frustrating?” she asks, stomping up the stairs, and my smile turns into a grin. “Well, that still stands, but you’re also annoying.” I’m chuckling at that as we stop outside her door and unhook Muffin’s leash while she unlocks the door and pushes it open. Going in behind her, I head to the kitchen to put down some fresh water for Muffin while she walks back into her bedroom, coming out a few minutes later with a bag of laundry that’s almost as big as she is and a jug of detergent.

  “I’m gonna run down and put this in the machine. I’ll be right back,” she says, muffled behind the bag, and I shake my head.

  “If you really think I’m going to let you carry that shit down four flights of stairs, you don’t know me at all. Drop it, babe. I’ll take it down for you while you feed Muffin.”

  “No,” she huffs moving to the door, not seeing that I’ve stepped in front of her because the damn bag in her arms is at least five inches over the top of her head.