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CHAPTERONE
Blueand red lights reflected in the wet pavement and against the surrounding buildings as Officer Ophelia Barr turned onto the street leading to her house. She slowed as she approached the people who’d gathered, curiosity getting the better of them, and the suspects in custody—one on the ground, the other pressed against the hood of the police cruiser, his hands cuffed behind his well-muscled back.
She strained to see the man’s face, but it was hidden by the police officer. Then she felt it, a sudden, unexpected awareness that made the hair on her damp nape rise. Shaking her head, she let out her breath in a soft rush and told herself to get a grip. It’s not like this was the first time she’d arrived at a crime scene. Although they weren’t usually so close to home.
She parked in her driveway and spied Mrs. Ketchum, her next-door neighbor, railing at one of the officers who was trying to handle the crowd and fend off the persistent woman. Her neighbor was in her sixties, spry and fearless with iron-gray hair and large, black-rimmed glasses and obviously distressed.
Ophelia walked toward the group and tried unsuccessfully to get Mrs. Ketchum’s attention. She was too intent on waving her arms around, pointing at the guy in handcuffs pushed over the cruiser and then at the man on the ground.
The closer Ophelia got, the more her nerves went a bit haywire. What the hell was the matter with her? She was a cop. A SWAT cop.
She hadn’t felt this kind of nervous jitters since the summer after eighth grade when she was a teen and told her parents she’d had enough with being a debutante and had no intention of staying in a private school with no diversity, where everyone looked, talked and walked the same way. She wanted to attend her local public high school. Which appalled her parents.
The thought of burying herself in shopping, parties, finding a rich husband or going to any college that would aid her in finding said husband disgusted her. It had been a bitter battle, and Ophelia had gotten her way after promising to go through all the coming out parties and ceremonies associated with being a debutante. But once that was all finished, she’d made it clear when she turned eighteen, she was done with it.
There had been many more battles in the years that followed, some she won and others she lost. Her parents still harbored their disappointment in her, and she still harbored some angry feelings. Eventually, she followed her dreams, went to the LAPD academy, and graduated at the top of her class. Ophelia was now part of an elite SWAT team. So why were her nerves out of control as she approached the scene?
“Ray, what’s going on here?”
“Oh, thank God. Will you tell this officer that he’s made a mistake?”
“Lady—”
“I told you! It’s not him,” Mrs. Ketchum said, her tone of voice suggesting Ray give her his undivided attention until they worked this out. “He saved me out of nowhere. You need to uncuff him immediately.”
Ophelia set her hand against Mrs. Ketchum’s arm. She was trembling, and that made Ophelia angry. Mrs. Ketchum wasn’t prone to hysterics or getting confused. Her neighbor was incensed, and it could be because of the trauma of the attack. “Who saved you?”
She turned and pointed to the suspect bent over the hood of the car. “Him. I was leaving my house for my walk and this…thug…” She pointed to the man on the ground. “…tried to take my purse, but I held on. He had a knife.” She clutched at her throat. “My goodness. I thought he was going to kill me. He pushed me down, and the next thing I know, that young man in the white T-shirt is fighting him. Quite well, I might add. Then the police came and arrested them both.”
Ray’s attention snapped from the little old lady to the crowd where several reporters had breached the police line, the officer holding them back momentarily distracted by other breaches down the line. “Step back,” he said firmly.
“Give me the keys,” Ophelia said as Ray headed toward the encroachers. He gave them to her absently.
“I’m sure he’s a very competent officer, but he made a mistake.”
Ophelia nodded as she headed for the hood of Ray’s cruiser, Mrs. Ketchum hop-stepping beside her. As she approached, the man didn’t move, but there was coiled readiness in every line of muscle. His hair was dark, close-cropped. He wore a white T-shirt folded into a pair of snug black pants that molded to quite a gorgeous backside, the legs tucked into short black military style boots.
As she approached, suddenly—oh, quite suddenly—all she wanted to do was turn around and move in the opposite direction. Ophelia Barr didn’t hightail it for anyone.
The man’s back muscles contracted, his broad shoulders spanning the hood as he raised his head like a predator smelling the wind.
The familiar strong line of his jaw, dark with stubble, made her already jumping heart accelerate.Really. It couldn’t be him, she thought, trying to keep her teeth from clenching, trying to hold back the first faint teasing of a headache. LA was scorching from the sudden heat wave, tempers rising with the temperature and pushing people into acts of violence they wouldn’t normally commit. She’d had a long, hot day and the night wasn’t setting up to be much better…especially with this man.
So, it was her imagination, she assured herself. That man couldn’t possibly be who she’d thought. A teenage hellraiser, the son of a motorcycle club member, The Black Hearts. He couldn’t possibly be wandering around LA saving old ladies from muggers. He’d gone into the Navy, become a SEAL, was busy door kicking, completing missions and leading his team, being the best of the best for the benefit of them all. In front of her bungalow was the last place he would show up, right? The last place on earth he would be.
But for a moment, just a moment, her heart raced, and she remembered how it had been on another hot summer night in LA. She’d been seventeen, a little crazy, rebellious, a lot in love, and scared senseless by the intensity of living so far out on the edge she wasn’t sure she’d ever get back to familiar ground. The boy had been sweet, gorgeous, dangerous, and even though she had loved him, she’d broken them in two on purpose…because of the situation, more so than anything else.
He was destined for his own fate, as was she, as dedicated to getting out of his worse family situation than she could ever imagine.
Although, he would never tell her what or why, she just knew that it was as bad as it could be.
It couldn’t be him.
When she got to him, she reached out and captured his cuffs, the metal warm from his skin.
“They’re going to let you go. I finally got someone to listen to reason,” Mrs. Ketchum said.
“Thank you, ma’am. Are you all right?”
