Sure…she was suspected of murder. Multiple murders. Being a suspect had not been part of her original plan. And she was on the run. Again, not part of the big master plan. But…
She wasn’t in jail…yet. Wasn’t even in police custody. As long as she had her freedom, she still had a chance. This was the story of an absolute lifetime. She knew it. From the very beginning, her instincts had been screaming at her. Rose was not one to ignore screaming instincts. Well, generally, she didn’t ignore them.
The last time she had ignored her instincts, things had gone poorly. That experience had involved a devilishly handsome, ex special ops, alpha asshole named War. War. Seriously, as soon as she learned his nickname, she should have run.
She hadn’t. She’d…kinda hopped into bed with him. Mostly because she had a weakness for bad boys with muscles for days, deep rumbling voices…and smiles that had the tendency to make her panties melt.
She’d known War would be bad for her, but she’d still been pulled to him. They’d burned bright and hot…right up until the very, very bitter end.
If he didn’t currently hate her, she could certainly have used his sneaky skills to help her get out of her unfortunate situation. But the odds of War helping her—yeah, not so good. The man could hold a grudge. Then again, so could she.
She motioned toward the waitress for another round. At the waitress’s nod, Rose went back to studying the small restaurant. As far as she could tell, no one was giving her a second glance. She’d picked the shadowy corner deliberately. Her back was against the wall, so she could see everyone who entered the place, but the dim lightning meant that most folks there couldn’t see her. She had a meeting with one of her informants, and that meeting should have occurred thirty minutes ago.
Billy was late. Only Billy was never late. Her stomach tightened. He was one of the few people she trusted in the area. He’d promised to help her find some temporary housing while she worked the case. But with him being a no-show…
Clink. “Anything else?” The waitress had set the beer bottle down on the table.
Rose slid a twenty toward her. “Yeah. Is there a back way out of this place?”
With Billy being a no-show, she had to figure that something had come up. That meant their meeting spot could have been compromised. If it was compromised, she needed to find a way to slip out, fast.
The twenty vanished. “Sure thing. Go through that red door. Take a left, and you’ll be out back in thirty seconds.”
Perfect.
The waitress turned to walk away.
Once more, Rose’s gaze swept around the old restaurant. Darted toward the—
Oh, no.
A familiar figure had just slipped through the entrance doors. A big, muscled guy. Six-foot-three inches and two hundred pounds of corded strength. Rose knew all of these stats not because she was magically awesome at looking at a person and guessing…but because she knew him.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, War Channing stood inside the old restaurant. It was a small, out-of-the-way spot. Not on the main stretch of the beach, so it wasn’t a place that most tourists would visit. More for locals. War was a local, so perhaps it was a coincidence that he was there…
But as she studied him, Rose realized his body was hard with tension, and he seemed to be inspecting every face in that place. He was looking for someone, and the sinking sensation in Rose’s stomach told her that someone…it’s me.
No, it wasn’t a coincidence that War was there. He was hunting—her.
She eased out a slow breath. Her hand reached up to make certain that her wig was still in place. Tonight, she was blonde. Blonde and in the shadows and, surely, he wouldn’t be able to recognize her.
Maybe?
Get the hell out.
She eased from her chair. His gaze was currently on a woman who sat at the bar. The woman’s body shape was similar to Rose’s, and her dark hair was the color Rose usually sported. He seemed focused on that woman, so this was the perfect time for Rose to tip-toe out of there. Holding her breath, she sidled toward the red door. She pushed it open. Took a left.
Thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds and I will be free.
When she shoved open the back door, the scent of garbage hit her, and Rose’s nose wrinkled. But she hurriedly picked up her pace and shimmied around the side of the building so that she could get to her—
“Well, well. Funny running into you here.”
She nearly ran straight into War’s massive chest.
He was standing between her and the parking lot, and he should have still been inside, damn him. How the hell had he moved so fast?
But Rose pasted a bright smile on her face. There wasn’t much light on that side of the building. Most of the illumination came from the moon and the stars. “War!” Did that sound welcoming enough? “How are you?” She tried to sound normal. As if she hadn’t been trying to run from him.
“Pretty good. Can’t complain.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Aw, who the hell am I kidding? Right now, I am fucking fabulous.”
Uh, oh. “That’s great. Happy to hear that. Wonderful for you.” She backed up a step. Going through War wasn’t an option. He was an immovable force who substantially outweighed and outmuscled her. But running from him in the opposite direction?
She had been on the track team in high school. All-state, baby. She just needed a moment for him to be distracted. A few precious seconds that would give her a head start, and then she’d be gone.
“The blonde hair is new,” he noted.
Indeed, it was. New and temporary.
“Got to know, Rose…do blondes have more fun?”
Considering that she was having an extremely shitty time, the answer would be a resounding no. “So far, so good.” She cleared her throat. “What brings you to Finch’s tonight?” Finch’s…the hole-in-the-wall restaurant that should have been safe.
“I was looking for you, sweetheart.”
Two things happened right then. One, her spine snapped straight. I was looking for you. She took those words as the threat that they were. And two, her heart started a triple-time rhythm. He’d just said “sweetheart” in that low, rough, and ever-so-sexy way of his. The way he’d used to say it when he was thrusting deep inside her.
She would be lying if she said he wasn’t the best lover she’d ever had. He left the others in the dust.
She would also be lying if she said she wanted to ever get back with him again. She didn’t. War was trouble and pain. “Do not call me that.” So, yes, those were the words she snarled back at him. “Don’t use endearments that we both know you don’t mean.”
His head tilted to the left. His “thoughtful” pose. He had several different poses. Once upon a time, she’d cared deeply for him, so she’d learned his moves. His tells. When his head cocked to the left, he was thinking about something. When his head cocked to the right, it was game on. War was about to launch an attack.
He wasn’t about to attack—yet—so she had a few more moments to figure out her escape.
“Rose, you sound bitter. If I didn’t know better, I would think the breakup wasn’t your idea—”
“Wasn’t my—” Her nostrils flared, and she caught herself right before she lunged for him. No, going toward him would be a mistake. She needed to get away. But she also couldn’t let this point pass. Rose just didn’t have it in her. “I’m not the one who was an asshole with trust issues. That would be you.” Bam. Missile delivered.