Running into Love
Page 26
“I guess you’re right. When I was fifteen, my dad took me to the shooting range. He wanted me to get comfortable holding and shooting one. I can’t say I will ever buy a gun myself, but because of that experience, I’m not fearful of them.”
“Your dad’s a smart man.”
“He is,” she agrees with a small smile as we push out of the building and step onto the sidewalk.
“What way are we heading?” I ask, and she looks up at me, smiling.
“The day we met, you asked me when we left the building at the same time what way I was heading. I asked what way you were going so that I could head the opposite direction to get away from you.”
“I know.” I smile, watching her face soften.
“I knew then that there was something about you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I just didn’t know I was going to like you as much as I do.”
“Don’t say shit like that to me when we’re outside, baby.”
“What?” She blinks, stepping back, but I don’t let her get far. I tug her hand, forcing her back into my space so I can get my arms around her.
“When we’re outside”—I duck my head and nip her ear—“I can’t kiss you like I want to.”
“Oh.” She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” I lean back. “Now, what way are we heading?”
“To the left.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we head down the sidewalk side by side. As soon as we reach the bagel shop, I pull a twenty from my wallet.
“I’ll wait out here with Muffin. Can you get me a plain bagel with cream cheese and a coffee?”
“Yes, but I have money.” She frowns at the twenty in my hand, and I shake my head. “I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not,” I deny with a shake of my head, and she takes a step toward the door.
“I am.”
“Fawn,” I growl, and she shrugs.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Dammit,” I hiss as she walks into the shop, leaving me no choice but to stay out front with Muffin.
Coming out a few minutes later with a paper bag and two cups of coffee, she hands me one, lowering her voice. “Don’t be mad.”
“Baby, if we’re out, I pay for you and me, not the other way around.”
“Is that some kind of rule?”
“Yes.”
“Why? That’s stupid. I can pay for our breakfast.”
“I’m a man and—”
“This isn’t 1950,” she cuts me off. “If we are in a relationship, paying for things goes both ways.”
“I don’t know what kind of men you have dated in the past—and I don’t want to know about the men you’ve dated,” I add quickly when it looks like she’s about to tell me about them. I know that would piss me off. “I’m the kind of man who takes care of a woman when I’m with her.”
“Whatever. Can we go?”
“Yeah, we can go once you tell me you won’t do that again.”
“Fine,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. Giving up for now, I take her hand and head across the street to the dog park, where we find a bench to sit on inside the closed-off area and unleash Muffin to play.
“Miss Reed.” I hear a shout and turn my head to watch a girl, probably ten or eleven, running up to us in an oversize coat with her curly hair bouncing around her smiling face.
“Hey, honey,” Fawn says, surprised, as she stands and greets the girl with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to the park to hang out for a while,” the girl says with a shy shrug, then looks over her shoulder when a man yells her name. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Is your mom here with you?” Fawn asks softly.
The girl nods, then adds, “Yes, and Juan.”
“Oh,” Fawn says, looking across the park. “Tell your mom I said hello.”
“I will,” she agrees before taking off at a run across the grass toward a woman who’s not dressed for the cold but wearing a skimpy dress and short leather jacket and a man wearing a dark suit and wool overcoat. Studying the guy, I realize why he looks familiar. Juan Varges is the main suspect in the murder of the prostitute that happened Halloween night. He’s also a well-known pimp and all-around piece of shit.
“Fuck.” My eyes meet his across the distance. I lift my chin toward him, letting him know I see him. He smirks, then lifts his chin in return before taking the girl’s shoulder and turning her away from us.
“Who’s the girl?” I ask Fawn’s back as she stares off across the park, watching the couple and child as they walk away.
“Tamara—she’s one of my students.”
“Is that her dad?”
“No, her mom’s new boyfriend,” she whispers, and I watch her hands ball into fists at her side. “I don’t like him.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Do you know him?” she asks quietly, turning around to look at me.
“Come here.” I pat the bench next to me and wait until she’s seated, then wrap my arm around her shoulder. “He’s not a good guy. He’s also a pimp.”
“Oh no,” she breathes, looking toward where the couple disappeared. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Baby.” I hold her tighter when it looks like she’s about to bolt.
“He’s around her, he picks her up from school almost every day . . . What if he—”
“Calm,” I command, cutting her off when I see she’s working herself up. “How long has her mom been with him?”
“I don’t know, maybe a couple months.” She closes her eyes, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. Fuck. I press a kiss to the top of her head, fighting the urge to tell her that I’m investigating him. I can’t—I don’t want her involved any more than she already is, and if she accidentally slips up and mentions it to someone, it could blow my whole case. “It will be okay.”
I rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while raging inside. Men like Juan Varges believe they are above the law. They have the means and the power to control the people around them and will do whatever’s necessary to stay out of jail. This case isn’t the first one Juan has been a suspect in. One other woman from his stable has been murdered in the last year that we know of. And I say know of because most women who work in the sex industry are forgotten by their families. So if they go missing, no one realizes it until it’s too late.
“Can we go?” she asks, and my arm tightens.
“Yeah, baby.” I stand, bringing her with me. Taking her hand, I lead her to a garbage can near the edge of the sidewalk and dump our trash before walking toward the dog area where Muffin is being chased by a small Yorkie. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, then shout, “Muffin.” Her head swings my way, and her tongue lolls out of her mouth before she starts to trot in our direction.
“Did you have fun, girl?” Fawn asks, opening the gate and attaching the leash to Muffin’s collar before handing it to me. She bends down and sticks her hand through one of the slats in the fence to pet the Yorkie that followed Muffin across the play area. “Toby, you’ve gotten so big, look at you,” she coos to the small dog as he licks her fingers.
“Fawn,” a man calls behind us, and she stands and turns with me to face a guy with messy hair and glasses. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a tee that has paint on the front of it, and a black jacket. Watching his eyes scan her as he gets close to us, I fight the urge to growl mine.
“Hey, Hank.” She smiles warmly, leaning up to give him a one-armed hug, since there is no fucking way I’m letting go of her hand. “How have you been?”
“Good, and you?” he asks, dropping his eyes to her hand in mine before he lifts his gaze my way.
“Hank, this is my . . .”
“Her man.” I stick out my free hand in his direction, and he takes it, squeezing a little too tight for someone who’s just a friend. “Levi,” I mutter, letting him go.
“Your dad’s a smart man.”
“He is,” she agrees with a small smile as we push out of the building and step onto the sidewalk.
“What way are we heading?” I ask, and she looks up at me, smiling.
“The day we met, you asked me when we left the building at the same time what way I was heading. I asked what way you were going so that I could head the opposite direction to get away from you.”
“I know.” I smile, watching her face soften.
“I knew then that there was something about you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I just didn’t know I was going to like you as much as I do.”
“Don’t say shit like that to me when we’re outside, baby.”
“What?” She blinks, stepping back, but I don’t let her get far. I tug her hand, forcing her back into my space so I can get my arms around her.
“When we’re outside”—I duck my head and nip her ear—“I can’t kiss you like I want to.”
“Oh.” She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” I lean back. “Now, what way are we heading?”
“To the left.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we head down the sidewalk side by side. As soon as we reach the bagel shop, I pull a twenty from my wallet.
“I’ll wait out here with Muffin. Can you get me a plain bagel with cream cheese and a coffee?”
“Yes, but I have money.” She frowns at the twenty in my hand, and I shake my head. “I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not,” I deny with a shake of my head, and she takes a step toward the door.
“I am.”
“Fawn,” I growl, and she shrugs.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Dammit,” I hiss as she walks into the shop, leaving me no choice but to stay out front with Muffin.
Coming out a few minutes later with a paper bag and two cups of coffee, she hands me one, lowering her voice. “Don’t be mad.”
“Baby, if we’re out, I pay for you and me, not the other way around.”
“Is that some kind of rule?”
“Yes.”
“Why? That’s stupid. I can pay for our breakfast.”
“I’m a man and—”
“This isn’t 1950,” she cuts me off. “If we are in a relationship, paying for things goes both ways.”
“I don’t know what kind of men you have dated in the past—and I don’t want to know about the men you’ve dated,” I add quickly when it looks like she’s about to tell me about them. I know that would piss me off. “I’m the kind of man who takes care of a woman when I’m with her.”
“Whatever. Can we go?”
“Yeah, we can go once you tell me you won’t do that again.”
“Fine,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. Giving up for now, I take her hand and head across the street to the dog park, where we find a bench to sit on inside the closed-off area and unleash Muffin to play.
“Miss Reed.” I hear a shout and turn my head to watch a girl, probably ten or eleven, running up to us in an oversize coat with her curly hair bouncing around her smiling face.
“Hey, honey,” Fawn says, surprised, as she stands and greets the girl with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to the park to hang out for a while,” the girl says with a shy shrug, then looks over her shoulder when a man yells her name. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Is your mom here with you?” Fawn asks softly.
The girl nods, then adds, “Yes, and Juan.”
“Oh,” Fawn says, looking across the park. “Tell your mom I said hello.”
“I will,” she agrees before taking off at a run across the grass toward a woman who’s not dressed for the cold but wearing a skimpy dress and short leather jacket and a man wearing a dark suit and wool overcoat. Studying the guy, I realize why he looks familiar. Juan Varges is the main suspect in the murder of the prostitute that happened Halloween night. He’s also a well-known pimp and all-around piece of shit.
“Fuck.” My eyes meet his across the distance. I lift my chin toward him, letting him know I see him. He smirks, then lifts his chin in return before taking the girl’s shoulder and turning her away from us.
“Who’s the girl?” I ask Fawn’s back as she stares off across the park, watching the couple and child as they walk away.
“Tamara—she’s one of my students.”
“Is that her dad?”
“No, her mom’s new boyfriend,” she whispers, and I watch her hands ball into fists at her side. “I don’t like him.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Do you know him?” she asks quietly, turning around to look at me.
“Come here.” I pat the bench next to me and wait until she’s seated, then wrap my arm around her shoulder. “He’s not a good guy. He’s also a pimp.”
“Oh no,” she breathes, looking toward where the couple disappeared. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Baby.” I hold her tighter when it looks like she’s about to bolt.
“He’s around her, he picks her up from school almost every day . . . What if he—”
“Calm,” I command, cutting her off when I see she’s working herself up. “How long has her mom been with him?”
“I don’t know, maybe a couple months.” She closes her eyes, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. Fuck. I press a kiss to the top of her head, fighting the urge to tell her that I’m investigating him. I can’t—I don’t want her involved any more than she already is, and if she accidentally slips up and mentions it to someone, it could blow my whole case. “It will be okay.”
I rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while raging inside. Men like Juan Varges believe they are above the law. They have the means and the power to control the people around them and will do whatever’s necessary to stay out of jail. This case isn’t the first one Juan has been a suspect in. One other woman from his stable has been murdered in the last year that we know of. And I say know of because most women who work in the sex industry are forgotten by their families. So if they go missing, no one realizes it until it’s too late.
“Can we go?” she asks, and my arm tightens.
“Yeah, baby.” I stand, bringing her with me. Taking her hand, I lead her to a garbage can near the edge of the sidewalk and dump our trash before walking toward the dog area where Muffin is being chased by a small Yorkie. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, then shout, “Muffin.” Her head swings my way, and her tongue lolls out of her mouth before she starts to trot in our direction.
“Did you have fun, girl?” Fawn asks, opening the gate and attaching the leash to Muffin’s collar before handing it to me. She bends down and sticks her hand through one of the slats in the fence to pet the Yorkie that followed Muffin across the play area. “Toby, you’ve gotten so big, look at you,” she coos to the small dog as he licks her fingers.
“Fawn,” a man calls behind us, and she stands and turns with me to face a guy with messy hair and glasses. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a tee that has paint on the front of it, and a black jacket. Watching his eyes scan her as he gets close to us, I fight the urge to growl mine.
“Hey, Hank.” She smiles warmly, leaning up to give him a one-armed hug, since there is no fucking way I’m letting go of her hand. “How have you been?”
“Good, and you?” he asks, dropping his eyes to her hand in mine before he lifts his gaze my way.
“Hank, this is my . . .”
“Her man.” I stick out my free hand in his direction, and he takes it, squeezing a little too tight for someone who’s just a friend. “Levi,” I mutter, letting him go.
