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I stareat the gorgeous girl standing barely six feet from us. She can’t see us. We’re hidden by shadows around the corner of the wraparound porch. But if she did, I know damn well she’d see fierce, hungry lust on both of our faces.
The girl stretches up and runs the towel over her back. She bends over again, and I groan.
“Look away,” Bishop grunts at me quietly.
I glance at him and smirk. “Fuck you, you look away.” I slide my eyes back to her and let my breath out slowly. Bishop groans too.
“Well, not what I was expecting,” I whisper.
“No shit, but she’s still breaking and entering.”
I frown. He’s right. Gorgeous or not, and making me hard as fuck or not, this is not Loretta Kenner. I pull Bishop back and nod at the sliding door to the master bedroom. It’s even ajar, too. He nods, we slowly slide it open and ease inside.
“Stay out here,” he hisses.
“Not happening.”
My friend glares at me. “This is now officially police business.”
“Didn’t you get shot last time you had a gun out on the job?”
“You really want to go there?”
Last time Bishop had a gun out on the force was the last day I was on the force. That was the night I shot…well, that’s the night I learned how justice really works.
Bishop glares at me. But I’m the forever-smart-ass. So just grin. “What, you did. Just watching your back, buddy.”
“And your client’s house.”
“That also.”
He sighs. “Fuck it. Fine, let’s go.”
We slide inside and approach the open bathroom door. Bishop glances at me.
“One, two,” he whispers and raises his gun. “Three. Police!”
She screams when he yells it, really fucking loudly, too.
“Santa Marina police!” Bishop roars around the corner. “Miss, I need you to step out nice and slowly with your hands in—”
The glass next to us explodes.
“Motherfucker!” I roar and hit the ground. So does Bishop. For a second, I think our naked burglar shot at us. Though fuck knows where she’d have been hiding a gun. But no, it’s coming from outside by the pool house. More shots bang out, shattering the windows and raking the room with holes. The girl is screaming, and we’re both up at the same time.
Bishop and I charge through the door, and we both grab her at the same time. She’s barely got a towel around her, but we both tackle her behind the vanity. She’s screaming, but we cover her with our bodies as more bullets smash into the room.
Hell, I don’t even know why—heroism? Just second nature, I guess. I mean Bishop’s the cop, I’m the former cop, and we’re both former Marines. When the shooting starts, this is just what we do.
Bishop glares at me as another hail of bullets shatters through the bathroom windows.
“Far side of the pool”, he growls. “I’m guessing behind the pool house.”
“You distract?”
