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“It’s our job to know,” Mac said, acting annoyed.
Pageant looked as if she were ready to pound them both with a few dozen questions. Instead, she said, “Is it safe to go in?”
Randon waited for Mac’s response. He scoured the hills behind her house as if he expected the extortionist to show himself. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, man. If she were my old lady, I’d get the hell out of here.”
“Your old…wait a minute.” Her gaze hopped between them. “You surely don’t think I belong to him. We just met.”
“I’m not paid to think, lady. I’m paid for fast action.” Mac pounded his fist against the top of the vehicle and backed away. “Get inside, man. Lock the doors. We’ve gotcha covered out here.”
“I appreciate it, brother,” Randon said.
“I know you do.” Mac joined the others already standing post in Pageant’s front yard.
“Let’s go.” Randon grabbed her hand and pulled her across the bench-style seat before she could protest. Still, he could’ve sworn he detected a muted, “but” in there somewhere.
Less than a minute later, they were inside the front hall in her quaint, sparsely decorated home. He couldn’t help but absorb the interior. It was homey and unique. Built-in bookshelves lined the short hallway leading to the kitchen. He followed her there and stopped short when she whipped around like she’d suddenly caught her second wind. “What have you told them?”
“Who?”
“The guys out there.”
“Why does it matter?”
She shrugged. “In the broad scheme of things, it doesn’t. We’re working on a big case and petty, insignificant details like what you might have said about me to your biker pals shouldn’t be important.”
“Exactly.”
“But they are.” She dropped her purse on the table and placed her hands on her hips. “Enlighten me.”
His gaze drifted up and down her uniform-clad body. At five foot seven, she wasn’t exactly short, but her curvy form next to his six-foot-three muscular frame looked small and fragile. And as much as he’d like to “enlighten” her, he had better ideas about how he’d like to pass the time.
“Why do you feel comfortable with me?” He couldn’t help but ask. Surely she wouldn’t have opened up her home to a complete stranger if she hadn’t felt some sort of connection.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you entertain here often?” He glanced around the small breakfast nook and wondered how many men had woke up to a hot breakfast, perhaps even watched her with lust-ridden eyes as she’d whipped up some omelets or maybe flipped a few pancakes. When she didn’t respond, he added, “Let me rephrase.”
“Please do.” She stood her ground. “Because that’s none of your business.”
“I disagree.” He took a step forward. Then another. And then one more. “It’s my business now, Pageant.”
Her lips parted, but only a whimper escaped them. Her eyes softened and her tight facial muscles relaxed. “I don’t.”
“You don’t?” He released a deep breath, thankful he wouldn’t need to take names, ask for numbers, and kick of few asses. He didn’t want anyone to touch what belonged to him. He didn’t want her to have a past with other men. If she had one, she’d better damn well hide it because if he ran across a man who had touched what belonged only to him, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions.
“I don’t entertain men.” She forced a smile. “There’s a reason for that.”
“You work a lot.”
“You got it.” She clucked. “And I’m a lesbian, but I’m sure you already figured that one out on your own.”
He was unmoved. “Lesbian, are you?” Her scent was driving him mad. He stepped into her, looped his arms around her middle and pulled her against him.
“Where do you think I learned how to kiss so well? Men don’t take the time to kiss a woman like they should.”
“Then you’ve been kissing the wrong men.” He framed her face and stared into her eyes before he delivered one of many kisses to follow. He slipped his tongue through the seam of her lips and fluttered it across hers. When their mouths parted, he trailed another few kisses to her ear where he whispered, “And I’ll kick a woman’s ass as quickly as I will a man’s when it comes to you.”
