Page 67 of Bulletproof

“Fuck,” he snarled, grabbing me again, shaking me hard. “Cristo Liron is mad because he knows you fucked someone, but it wasn’t him, right?”

“I didn’t fuck anybody,” I told him, smiling up into his eyes. “I had you in my bed, Detective, and that’s always way more than fucking.”

He gave up and hugged me, arms around me, crushing me against his big, hard body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and as he bent to really hold me, I sighed deeply.

“You drive me nuts.”

I did it to everyone. “I want your ring back on.”

“I know. I figured that was coming.”

“When you’re a marshal⁠—”

“It won’t ever come off, I swear.”

I exhaled sharply. “When will you come home for good?”

“Soon, baby. Very soon.”

But I was already missing him.

TEN

Miles Brown had a temp in his office for the week that Celia was on vacation, and when the temp and I both showed up in the copy room the following morning, he asked me which machine I was going to use—Arnold or Bob.

“I’m sorry?” I asked him.

“I don’t care which one,” he said, shrugging.

“No, I mean, Arnold? Bob?”

“Oh.” He grinned at me. “Well, the one on the left there, every time I send a file over the network instead of just running copies off the glass, it kills the file.”

It terminated the file. I got it.

“And the other one is always jamming.”

Bob.

Oh, I liked him immediately.

I offered him my hand. “Jory Harcourt.”

“As in Dane Harcourt?” He smiled as we shook.

“As in brothers, yeah.”

“I’m Pedro. Pedro Blue.”

“Blue?”

“My dad’s from Texas, and my mom’s from El Salvador.”

He was definitely pretty, so I was all for the gene mixing that had produced him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Pedro.”

“So, what’re you doing here, brother?” he asked with a big grin that showed off a killer smile and deep dimples as he released my hand.