I may never like guns, but I was learning to love Parker’s instruction.
“Okay,” Parker said, taking the gun and unloading the magazine. “That’s enough for tonight. You’re doing a lot better.”
My arms felt like jelly and shots kept exploding in my head. “Are you less worried about my safety now?”
Parker jabbed at a button, and the paper target came sailing toward us. He held it up to me, and I could see four tiny gunshot holes near the bottom right corner of the paper.
“Not exactly,” he said.
I squinted. “I got it on the paper though. That’s got to count for something, right?”
Parker chuckled, his smile chocolate-chip-cookie warm and relaxed. “Yeah. Whatever you say, Lawson.”
Chapter Eleven
It was dark by the time we left the shooting range, and my stomach rumbled angrily as Parker pushed the key into the ignition. I blushed, feeling the heat rise to my ears.
“Sorry,” I said, as a flint of panic washed over Parker’s face. “I guess I’m just a little bit hungry.”
“Man.” Parker’s eyes dropped to my stomach. “I thought you were growing a baby dinosaur in there.”
“Geez, Parker. You’re a real gem. I can’t believe a woman hasn’t snapped you up yet.” I crossed my arms and sunk into my car seat. “Let’s just go.”
Parker shrugged, turning the key, a hint of smile playing on his lips. “You know what they say: The Lone Ranger rides—”
“Alone?” I finished.
“Come on,” Parker said, backing out of the lot, “you’re buying me a pizza.”
“Is that so?”
Parker ignored me, his grin knee-melting and annoyingly smug. “Yup. Training fee. You should have read the fine print.”
I dug into my purse and handed Parker a twenty-dollar bill. “How about you buy your own pizza and we call it a night. I’m exhausted.” And frankly, not so sure I could spend another hour alone with Parker Hayes without jumping those alternately frustrating and super-hot bones.
“Don’t worry,” Parker said as he maneuvered the car through traffic. “We’ll eat it at your house. You have cable, right?”
My stomach dropped into my groin, and I clamped my knees together.
This was not going to be good.
Twenty minutes later I was balancing a pizza box on my thighs and directing Parker to my apartment. My blood was pulsing, and as astoundingly hot or not Parker Hayes may have been, I had just determined to move him firmly to the Never in a Thousand Years pile. Especially since he really did make me buy the pizza (and a six-pack of beer, to boot). I was slumped in my seat, ticking off Hayes’s annoying attributes—sexist, demonist, thinks every woman wants him—when I heard him mutter, “Holy shit.”
My head snapped up, and I squinted at the glare from the police lights flashing red and blue into our car.
“Is that your building?”
I nodded, my mouth hanging open, my stomach immediately souring. “Uh-huh. I wonder what happened?”
There was a line of squad cars snaking into the street, and the police were filing in and out of my building, radios squawking.
“Nina,” I whispered, gulping. “I have to get in there. Something could have happened to Nina or Vlad.” I began to stand, my hand on the door handle, the pizza box burning a warm trail as it slid down my legs.
“Wait.” Parker’s voice was stern, his hand soft on my knee. “Let me find out what happened first.” Parker turned to me, his grip tightening on my thigh, his eyes firm and dark. “You wait right here.”
“No, no, I can’t wait.” I kicked the car door open and followed Parker, zigzagging into the line of squad cars, weaving around the officers.
Parker found an officer, and I found them both, angling myself closer to Parker. “What happened? I live here,” I demanded.
“Break-in.” Parker said, looking down at me.
I looked at the other officer, who nodded. “Break-in,” he agreed.
I gripped my heart and blew out a long sigh. “That’s not too bad.” I looked at both the officers, at their hard eyes, both their mouths set in stern, thin lines. “Is there something else?” I asked in a whisper.
Parker took my arm just above the elbow and eyed me. “Do you know a Thomas Howard?”
“He broke in? He wouldn’t break in. He lives here,” I said.
“The break-in was 6B.”
“That’s me.” I thumped my chest. “I’m 6B. Mr. Howard is 9B. He wouldn’t rob me. He’s a nice old man. Kind of a dirty old man, but really nice.” I blinked. “Right?”
Parker lowered his voice. “Lawson, Mr. Howard is dead.”