her gaze to his face.
“Look only at me,” he said gentling his tone.
Maybe it was the way he stroked her face or his soothing manner. Either way his calmness settled the swirling chaos of her mind.
“Good. Now breathe. In and out. That’s all. Just look at me and breathe.”
Her world narrowed to Street and she followed each inhale and exhale until the nausea subsided and her heart rate returned to normal. All the while he spoke soft encouragement and caressed her hair.
When the chime over the door jangled, Street shoved her behind him. She clutched his arm and buried her face in his shoulder. They were back.
He swung around, gun pointed at the newcomer.
“Geez Street!” Miles raised his hands. “What the hell are you doing in here? I told you to stay at the bar. This is a crime scene.”
Street tucked his weapon back in its holster and shifted Na’arah. There was something comforting about having her in his arms again. And they would have to talk about their earlier argument, but at least this way he knew she was alive. Safe.
His gaze strayed to the pair of shoes visible from the end of the counter. If he hadn’t seen her enter the shop. If she hadn’t hidden...He tamped down the thought and held her a little tighter enjoying the softness of her body molded to his. Slow heat trickled through his veins igniting lust and desires better left unexplored. But with her so close, her sweet scent of lavender and feminine heat beguiling him, his restraint weakened. Now was not the time to dwell on his libido, especially with so much left unsaid and a dead body barely out of sight.
One look into her amber green eyes and he knew he had to stay with her. He couldn’t leave her now, even if he wanted to.
“Na’arah was here. I had to make sure she was okay.” His voice cracked at the last and he cleared his throat. “As you can see, she is, but he isn’t.” What the hell had happened to get the man killed? Somehow the savageness of the stabbing led him to believe it was personal and nothing to do with the empty, broken cash register. Auggie may have been a woman stealer, but he didn’t deserve to die.
Na’arah lifted her head, but didn’t move from Street’s side. Despite Miles being his friend, the man was first and foremost a cop and wouldn’t hesitate to do as he threatened.
“You shouldn’t be here. I could have you arrested!” Miles snapped.
“I had to. Na’arah was here,” he continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
Miles blinked as if noticing the woman in Street’s arms for the first time. “Is she hurt? Arah! Are you hurt?”
Confusion wrinkled her brow, while her hands fluttered over her face and through her tousled ebony curls. Street followed her panicked gaze down to her clothes. Dried blood coated half her left shoe and leg. More tainted her hands and the front of his light blue polo. Fresh tears bubbled and spilled down her cheeks. He’d rather have her come at him with the nail file again than see her cry. Each sniffle tightened and gnawed at his gut.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and absently kneaded the tense muscles knotted there. The gesture seemed to calm her.
“I-no. Au—” her voice broke on his name. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Auggie made me hide under the counter.” She swayed. “I want to go home. Please.”
“We need your statement,” Miles said.
She flinched as if struck. He was going to make her stay in the shop. Na’arah wasn’t sure if she could. Her gaze bounced around the interior. The old-fashioned cash register lay on its side, the drawer busted and hanging by its hinges. Several bookshelves and tables had been overturned. The Tiffany lamp that once sat in the corner, casting light to an ancient arm chair was shattered, the chair reduced to rubble. And just beyond the counter’s edge were Auggie’s loafer clad feet, the green argyle socks peeking from beneath his khaki pants.
He really was dead. Gentle hands framed her face,
“Look only at me,” he said gentling his tone.
Maybe it was the way he stroked her face or his soothing manner. Either way his calmness settled the swirling chaos of her mind.
“Good. Now breathe. In and out. That’s all. Just look at me and breathe.”
Her world narrowed to Street and she followed each inhale and exhale until the nausea subsided and her heart rate returned to normal. All the while he spoke soft encouragement and caressed her hair.
When the chime over the door jangled, Street shoved her behind him. She clutched his arm and buried her face in his shoulder. They were back.
He swung around, gun pointed at the newcomer.
“Geez Street!” Miles raised his hands. “What the hell are you doing in here? I told you to stay at the bar. This is a crime scene.”
Street tucked his weapon back in its holster and shifted Na’arah. There was something comforting about having her in his arms again. And they would have to talk about their earlier argument, but at least this way he knew she was alive. Safe.
His gaze strayed to the pair of shoes visible from the end of the counter. If he hadn’t seen her enter the shop. If she hadn’t hidden...He tamped down the thought and held her a little tighter enjoying the softness of her body molded to his. Slow heat trickled through his veins igniting lust and desires better left unexplored. But with her so close, her sweet scent of lavender and feminine heat beguiling him, his restraint weakened. Now was not the time to dwell on his libido, especially with so much left unsaid and a dead body barely out of sight.
One look into her amber green eyes and he knew he had to stay with her. He couldn’t leave her now, even if he wanted to.
“Na’arah was here. I had to make sure she was okay.” His voice cracked at the last and he cleared his throat. “As you can see, she is, but he isn’t.” What the hell had happened to get the man killed? Somehow the savageness of the stabbing led him to believe it was personal and nothing to do with the empty, broken cash register. Auggie may have been a woman stealer, but he didn’t deserve to die.
Na’arah lifted her head, but didn’t move from Street’s side. Despite Miles being his friend, the man was first and foremost a cop and wouldn’t hesitate to do as he threatened.
“You shouldn’t be here. I could have you arrested!” Miles snapped.
“I had to. Na’arah was here,” he continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
Miles blinked as if noticing the woman in Street’s arms for the first time. “Is she hurt? Arah! Are you hurt?”
Confusion wrinkled her brow, while her hands fluttered over her face and through her tousled ebony curls. Street followed her panicked gaze down to her clothes. Dried blood coated half her left shoe and leg. More tainted her hands and the front of his light blue polo. Fresh tears bubbled and spilled down her cheeks. He’d rather have her come at him with the nail file again than see her cry. Each sniffle tightened and gnawed at his gut.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and absently kneaded the tense muscles knotted there. The gesture seemed to calm her.
“I-no. Au—” her voice broke on his name. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Auggie made me hide under the counter.” She swayed. “I want to go home. Please.”
“We need your statement,” Miles said.
She flinched as if struck. He was going to make her stay in the shop. Na’arah wasn’t sure if she could. Her gaze bounced around the interior. The old-fashioned cash register lay on its side, the drawer busted and hanging by its hinges. Several bookshelves and tables had been overturned. The Tiffany lamp that once sat in the corner, casting light to an ancient arm chair was shattered, the chair reduced to rubble. And just beyond the counter’s edge were Auggie’s loafer clad feet, the green argyle socks peeking from beneath his khaki pants.
He really was dead. Gentle hands framed her face,
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