His dark brows draw together, as if he’s questioning my story. “It attacked you?”
Flustered at the line of questioning, I snap, “It was stationary. Look, I wasn’t breaking the law.”
“You were trespassing on Paula Case’s yard.”
My jaw drops. “You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to spy on people.”
“You were in plain sight.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, muscles rippling. I can’t help but stare. The tattoos on his biceps and at the top of his hips don’t help things. “My eyes are up here, gorgeous.”
My mouth opens and closes a couple of times even as my gaze snaps to his face. “I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Yeah, I totally was. “Don’t call me gorgeous.”
“Wouldn’t have to, if you’d give me your real name.”
I flush hot. “You already know who I am.”
“Fine.” His lips flatten. “My eyes are up here, angel.”
That was not the response I was expecting. Actually, I don’t know what to expect at all. I don’t know how to act around men anymore.
“My name’s not angel.”
“It was either that or demon.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Uncrossing his arms, he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Pretty hard to make demon out of the name Evangeline, but not for lack of trying.”
“You—you…arg!” I can’t say anything to that. I don’t know why I’ve engaged in conversation this long with him as it is. “Stay on your side of the street, Hunter.”
A slow grin appears on his face. It’s both sexy and infuriating. “Yes, ma’am.”
With a little growl, I check both ways before storming across the street.
“You forgot to look right again,” he calls out. “That’s not very safe, angel.”
“I got your angel.” I flip him off, uncaring who sees me. Uncaring that he’s a cop who could probably find a reason to arrest me for being a jerk to him.
His laughter follows me almost all the way back home.
Chapter 3
Hunter
I head in to work that afternoon with Evangeline on my mind. Once she stormed off, I didn’t see her again. Not that I expected to, but her car didn’t move all day. There was no movement within her apartment, either. To be fair, we don’t share a wall, and besides that, our apartments have thick-ass walls with extra insulation between them so that they’re extremely energy efficient and keep our electric bill down.
Keeping my bills down is what spoke to me the most when I decided on moving to Rose Haven. The name reminds me of an old folks’ home, but the manager of the place insisted it was named for the large rose garden in the back.
Regardless of the lower utility bills or the name of the place, I screwed up this morning by touching that beautiful woman. Pure panic had entered her gaze a beat before she ordered me to not touch her.
I won’t make that mistake again.
Besides, I’d rather have her telling me off. Or even better, flipping me off. That show of sass was damn hot. Almost as hot as when I caught her staring at me. Again.
Earlier, I thought she was staring to show me she wasn’t frightened or intimidated by me. But now I know she likes what she sees.
Not that it will do me any good.
“Sloan, Holcomb, get in here,” the captain calls from his office.
Dwight shoots me a look and I shake my head in response. “Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights,” my partner says as we make our way to the captain’s office.
“Shut the door behind you,” he says as we walk inside.
Yeah, it’s really going to be one of those nights.
—
When I was a kid, my father liked to take me to underground fight clubs. He liked to put me in the ring with guys who were twice my size. I was a scrapper, he’d say with pride. Of course, he never went into the ring, preferring to beat up on my mom and me when we pissed him off for breathing or some shit like that. I used to hope and pray that he’d go into the ring, that he’d start taking his first-world problems out on men his own size, but that never happened. That kind of thing never does.
Back then, underground fighting was strictly illegal. But now…
I dodge a left hook and nail my opponent in the face with a quick jab.
Now it’s popular. A thing, if you will.
He gets me with a sharp blow to the side of the head, and I see stars. The crowd boos and hisses as the stars fade away. Apparently, I’m the popular one tonight.
Shaking off the pain and dizziness, I dig in deep to finish off this punk.
Dude’s got a long reach, but mine’s longer. I pull back my left arm and let it fly, clipping him square in the chin. He goes down like a ton of bricks, landing on his side. Blood flies from his mouth, spattering on the floor in a grotesque half halo.
The ref grabs my hand, yanking my arm in the air while I suck in all the oxygen I can get. Blood and sweat run down my body, my side hurts like a son of a bitch, and I think I broke one of my toes.
All in all, not a bad night.