“Is somebody in here? I was sent by?—”
The room illuminated, and I had just enough time to register a crazed maniac lunging at me, hair sticking up wildly aroundtheir face, a heavy trench coat belted up to their neck, and, most notably, a gleaming weapon in their hand.
I stepped aside in plenty of time, flipped behind the attacker, and grabbed their wrists easily with one hand as the weapon clanged to the floor. In the same easy motion, I scooped the hapless criminal into a massive bear hug from behind, surprised to lift them a good foot off the ground effortlessly.
My hand cupped soft, round flesh where only a flat plane of chest was expected. The shock of the attacker being a woman caused my grip to slip and my steps to falter back.
“Let go of me, you big brute!” a woman shrieked. Hands, now released, flailed wildly, smacking me on various body parts. “I will cut you!”
Even though her smacks were about as effective as mosquitos on a windshield, they were annoying and at risk of poking me in the eye.
“Ouch.” There it was. “Would you—” I grunted, one injured eye shut, as I pinned her arms down to her side, this time careful not to accidentally brush a breast. “Stop squirming.”
“Get off me!”
“Stop attacking me, and I will,” I said. She was strong for a little thing. Her body wiggled and gyrated all around, making a good grip impossible.
“You attacked me.”
“You’re trespassing,” I gritted out.
“I have rights. I won’t let you manhandle me, you oaf!”
Something about her voice and size helped me put the pieces together. “Bee Perkins?” I asked in surprise.
She stilled. “Owen Campbell?” She wiggled to turn awkwardly in my arms and look at me. I swallowed as her big brown eyes moved over my face, squinting in confusion. “How are your folks?”
“They’re well, thank you. And how about yours?” I said, too stunned to do anything but speak on autopilot.
“On a cruise.”
“Wow. Where to?”
“Around Africa.” She jabbed an elbow. I grunted. “Can you loosen your grip? You’re giving me a wedgie.”
I loosened slightly but didn’t let her go.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Like everybody in this town, Bee and I had known each other most of our lives, especially as we were around the same age. I never knew what to feel about Bee. She was beautiful with gorgeous dark hair, often twisted up or braided in fancy styles. She had wide brown eyes and a sense of style that paired different loud patterns and were completely all her own.
I’d always been drawn to her in the way you’re drawn to watch a violent monsoon pass across the valley. She had been cute since school but closed off and shy. A few times, I almost worked up the nerve to go to the cat café, but ninety percent of me was intimidated by her and the quiet confidence she carried with her. She was smart, and I was an idiot who wouldn’t know the first thing to say to her.
The other nine percent feared her. Which was ironic since she, like most of this town, probably saw me as a violent bully.
The last one percent was because I was allergic to cats.
But she seemed edgy and unpredictable, just like those monsoons that swept through the sandy desert, quickly destructive and wild. She dressed like she was auditioning for a children’s show, but there was so much intense tenacity behind her eyes.
As evidenced by the way she launched herself at me, she didn’t seem afraid of much.
It took me a moment to realize I had been studying her face and wild hair without answering for a few beats too long.
“Benny Jr. sent me up to investigate a break-in.” I let her out of my arms, but she didn’t move all the way away.
“I knew it! A criminal! Where?” Her head whipped side to side.
“You, Bee. You are the criminal.”
