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“I am,” Cora said calmly.
Starla looked unconvinced. She pursed her cherry red lips, and said, “Girl, if you’re really a cop, you’re going to have to do something about your look.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cora said conversationally, keeping her gaze trained on Nero. “What do you suggest?”
“For starters, you gotta lose those ringlets.” Starla placed a hand on her hip and snapped her gum. She seemed to have forgotten that her unstable ex was standing just one swing away with a baseball bat. “The goldilocks thing isn’t going to win you any intimidation points. And, maybe drop the mascara. It makes your blue eyes look too big and, I don’t know. Blinky.”
“Blinky,” Cora repeated. “Got it. Thanks. Can you do me a favor, Starla, and stand just a little farther over there? I don’t want you to break any more nails when I take him down.”
Nero let out a bark of laughter. “You offering to go down on me, blondie? I’m game if you are.”
“Just stand over there, okay?” she said to Starla, ignoring him. “This will only take a minute.”
Starla glared at her broken fingernail again, then held her hands up with a look that said, It’s your funeral. She backed away toward the wall.
Nero slapped the aluminum bat into his beefy hand, leering at Cora. “What’s it gonna be, blondie? You want a piece of me?”
Cora’s muscles tensed, preparing for whatever came next. “I don’t suppose you’d do the smart thing and just toss the bat and come with me quietly?”
His oily gaze slid over her body, taking in her tennis shoes, dark denim jeans and fitted T-shirt. Up close, Cora could see his dilated pupils and the slight shake of his hands. Whatever Nero was on, it wasn’t weed. He licked his lips, leering at her chest. “Let Nero take you for a ride, doll. I guarantee you won’t be coming quietly.”
Starla let out a derisive snort. “Because she won’t be coming at all.”
Nero sent Starla a murderous glare. He tightened his grip on the bat, then spun and took out the windshield of her car.
Starla shrieked, spewing more profanities that mostly called his sexual stamina into question. Apparently, this was a hot button with Nero, because he roared, raised the bat and bolted toward Starla.
Cora burst into action. She blocked his path, falling back on her twelve years of karate and self-defense training.
He wound the bat, ready to swing. She shot forward, closing the distance between them, using a chop block on his arms before he could gain any momentum with the bat. Lightning fast, she slid her hand underneath his arm and grabbed the bat above his grip. Yanking back hard, she pulled it free and tossed it behind her.
Nero blinked in thunderous surprise.
Cora quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him down into a wrist lock, twisting with just the right amount of pressure. He yelped, his face contorting in pain as he dropped to his knees.
Cora grimaced. She had him now. “Down on the ground.”
He toppled face-first, his foul curses muffled in the gravel.
She drove her knee hard into his kidney, then pulled her cuffs from her back pocket and slapped them on his wrists. It was over in less than ten seconds.
Then Cora glanced at Starla, who was gaping at her as if she’d just grown a pair of horns. “Call 911,” Cora said calmly.
Starla swallowed visibly, then nodded. “Dang, girl. Never mind the ringlets. You’ve got moves.”
It was seven o’clock that evening when Cora found herself ordering another round of margaritas at a university pub. She’d been only half listening to Suzette gush over the new laser machine at the medical spa where she worked. She was obsessed with all the latest and greatest beauty trends, and even though Cora was interested in “fighting the good fight,” as Suzette put it, she could only take so much talk of skin care and facial treatments.
“But enough about injectables. I think I found you a roommate,” Suzette announced, licking residual salt from the rim of her glass. Her red hair was pulled back into an artfully messy bun, and with her hazel, kohl-rimmed bedroom eyes, she looked like she always did—over-the-top glamorous. “He’s one of Jimmy’s friends, and he needs a place to stay right away.”
Cora gave Suzette a look and stirred the slush in the bottom of her margarita glass. Her gut instinct was to turn away any friend associated with Jimmy, but she was in dire need of someone to help with the rent. Ever since her previous roommate decided to move to Sri Lanka, Cora had been struggling to cover all the bills. If she was ever going to save up enough money to put an offer on her dream house, she needed to find someone soon. “Is he an artist like Jimmy?”
“Well...” Suzette’s gaze slid sideways, which was never a good sign. “He’s definitely artistic, but he’s more like a musician.”
“Like a musician,” Cora repeated, growing suspicious. “What kind of musician are we talking? Symphony orchestra, or drummer in a band?” Her current rental house was in a cramped neighborhood where the homes were practically shoulder to shoulder. She could almost reach out her window and touch the house next door. If her new roommate was going to be a drummer in a band, she wouldn’t be winning any points with the neighbors when he practiced in the garage.
“He’s very talented,” Suzette said with too-wide eyes.
Cora leaned back and crossed her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
