"What is it?"
"I checked with the phone company. That call the other night came from a pay phone in Oak Park."
Oak Park was a rough section of Sacramento, about as rough as California's capital got. But it wasn't San Quen-tin. "So it couldn't have been Oliver."
"No, but we already knew that."
"Thanks for checking." She started to move off again, but he closed the distance between them.
"Skye."
Stopping, she turned. "What?"
He said nothing. She could tell it was just more of the same old attraction. And the same old refusal to act on that attraction.
"It'd probably be best if you called when you need to talk to me," she said.
"You don't want to see me?" He said it as if he knew it was a lie.
"Not particularly."
She walked off again, and he caught her arm, only this time when she turned he didn't say anything. Pulling her to him, he slid his hand into her hair and glared down at her. The conflict inside him made his eyes darker than usual, gave his features a slightly harsh edge.
She parted her lips, determined to tell him to release her. But then his mouth found hers.
Skye had wanted this for so long she didn't hesitate. Closing her eyes, she clung to him, greedily accepting what he offered. His tongue moved 72
over hers, tasting, touching, giving--as his kiss said everything he never would.
It wasn't until another car entered the parking lot that they finally broke apart.
"God, you make me crazy," he muttered.
Winded, she gazed up at him. "Is that really so bad?"
He raked a hand through his hair. "Yes!"
"Why?"
"Because it's turning me into someone I'd rather not be."
"Human, David? Is it so bad to want someone?"
"When that desire means giving in to the easy thing, the most selfish thing, yes."
She pressed her fingers to both temples. She knew she should continue to her car, but that kiss had brought hope roaring back to life. "I need a date for Saturday night."
"You're asking me out?" The strain in his face eased into a half-hearted grin. "That kiss must've been even better than I thought."
"I'm not exactly weak in the knees," she lied. "Anyway, it's not an invitation to stay the night. It's business."
The grin disappeared. "What kind of business?"
"A fund-raiser for The Last Stand."
He shook his head. "Leave me out of it. In my opinion, you're already too involved. Someone called you last night to say he's going to slit your throat. Do you think I want you out there making more enemies?"
"I'm helping the little guy. If that makes enemies, so be it."
"So be it? Listen to yourself! You're making it impossible for me to protect you!"
"I'm ready for anyone who comes after me."
He stepped closer but didn't touch her. "Then God forbid you ever shoot someone you don't mean to kill."
"Maybe you don't like what I'm doing, but what's my other choice?"
she said. "Should I sit back and do nothing? Call you every time I get scared? Leave the battle to others? We have to fight back."
"That's what I do every day. That's what police are for!"
She didn't want to say they were falling short, not when he worked so hard. But they were falling short. Look at Sean Regan. Before class, she'd contacted the detective assigned to his case, a guy by the name of Fitzer.
She'd told him of her experience with Sean and her suspicions about Tasha Regan, but he didn't seem concerned. He'd brushed her off, said, "I'm checking into it," but gave her the impression that he was either so 73
overworked or so incompetent he hadn't done in the entire past week what he should've done the first day.
It was a good thing she'd hired Jonathan. He'd already reported that Sean's wife was likely seeing someone else, as Sean had said. And she'd gone on a spending spree, as if she was celebrating something. Those were hardly the actions of a traumatized wife.
Briefly covering her eyes with her hand, Skye struggled to rein in her emotions, to put the situation in perspective. She almost wished she didn't feel so passionate about
"I checked with the phone company. That call the other night came from a pay phone in Oak Park."
Oak Park was a rough section of Sacramento, about as rough as California's capital got. But it wasn't San Quen-tin. "So it couldn't have been Oliver."
"No, but we already knew that."
"Thanks for checking." She started to move off again, but he closed the distance between them.
"Skye."
Stopping, she turned. "What?"
He said nothing. She could tell it was just more of the same old attraction. And the same old refusal to act on that attraction.
"It'd probably be best if you called when you need to talk to me," she said.
"You don't want to see me?" He said it as if he knew it was a lie.
"Not particularly."
She walked off again, and he caught her arm, only this time when she turned he didn't say anything. Pulling her to him, he slid his hand into her hair and glared down at her. The conflict inside him made his eyes darker than usual, gave his features a slightly harsh edge.
She parted her lips, determined to tell him to release her. But then his mouth found hers.
Skye had wanted this for so long she didn't hesitate. Closing her eyes, she clung to him, greedily accepting what he offered. His tongue moved 72
over hers, tasting, touching, giving--as his kiss said everything he never would.
It wasn't until another car entered the parking lot that they finally broke apart.
"God, you make me crazy," he muttered.
Winded, she gazed up at him. "Is that really so bad?"
He raked a hand through his hair. "Yes!"
"Why?"
"Because it's turning me into someone I'd rather not be."
"Human, David? Is it so bad to want someone?"
"When that desire means giving in to the easy thing, the most selfish thing, yes."
She pressed her fingers to both temples. She knew she should continue to her car, but that kiss had brought hope roaring back to life. "I need a date for Saturday night."
"You're asking me out?" The strain in his face eased into a half-hearted grin. "That kiss must've been even better than I thought."
"I'm not exactly weak in the knees," she lied. "Anyway, it's not an invitation to stay the night. It's business."
The grin disappeared. "What kind of business?"
"A fund-raiser for The Last Stand."
He shook his head. "Leave me out of it. In my opinion, you're already too involved. Someone called you last night to say he's going to slit your throat. Do you think I want you out there making more enemies?"
"I'm helping the little guy. If that makes enemies, so be it."
"So be it? Listen to yourself! You're making it impossible for me to protect you!"
"I'm ready for anyone who comes after me."
He stepped closer but didn't touch her. "Then God forbid you ever shoot someone you don't mean to kill."
"Maybe you don't like what I'm doing, but what's my other choice?"
she said. "Should I sit back and do nothing? Call you every time I get scared? Leave the battle to others? We have to fight back."
"That's what I do every day. That's what police are for!"
She didn't want to say they were falling short, not when he worked so hard. But they were falling short. Look at Sean Regan. Before class, she'd contacted the detective assigned to his case, a guy by the name of Fitzer.
She'd told him of her experience with Sean and her suspicions about Tasha Regan, but he didn't seem concerned. He'd brushed her off, said, "I'm checking into it," but gave her the impression that he was either so 73
overworked or so incompetent he hadn't done in the entire past week what he should've done the first day.
It was a good thing she'd hired Jonathan. He'd already reported that Sean's wife was likely seeing someone else, as Sean had said. And she'd gone on a spending spree, as if she was celebrating something. Those were hardly the actions of a traumatized wife.
Briefly covering her eyes with her hand, Skye struggled to rein in her emotions, to put the situation in perspective. She almost wished she didn't feel so passionate about
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