Born Wild

bereft? “Something more you want to say to me?” he asked.

“Oh, I figure you understand this expression well enough.” She pointed to her face, ignoring the tingling of her kneecap. “No reason to gild the lily.”

She thought she saw one corner of his mouth twitch, and her eyes narrowed further.

“Silence about a thing just magnifies it,” he murmured.

And where had she heard that phrase before? Where had she…Then it hit her. “Really? You’re quoting Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at me right now?”

“Payback’s a bitch,” he smiled, his big, square teeth blazing white in his tan face. “You used to love to sling literary quotes at my head.”

She had?

“I did?” She lifted a brow, thinking back. She had gone through a rather annoying pedantic phase at the end of her teens. “And did you find it as irritating then as I do right now?”

“Nah,” he lifted a muscled shoulder, and she could see he was biting the inside of his cheek. “I thought you were adorable. So full of love for books, head bursting with knowledge. It was quite endearing, really.”

All her hot air left her like his words were pins and she was a balloon. Because what did a girl say to something like that? Thank you for being nice to me…for once? Or maybe… please forgive me for not being stronger back then, for letting my dad push me around?

But no. That last one was sure to go over like a thunderstorm at an outdoor wedding. Because Billy and her father were as compatible as oil and water. And bringing up either one in front of the other usually resulted in muttered curses and questions regarding each other’s paternity.

So she said nothing. And the silence filling the Hummer grew more strained with each passing second…until Mac democratically cleared his throat. “If we’re gonna do this thing, the time is now,” he said. “Dale is turnin’ the corner up there, and we’re gonna lose him.”

Billy held her gaze for a moment longer, and she so wished she could read whatever was written all over his face. But then he turned away, and the opportunity was lost. In the next instant, Billy and Mac were exiting the vehicle, and she had no recourse but to watch them jog across the dark street—Dale didn’t exactly live in the nicest part of town and most of the street lights weren’t functioning—and up the block.

They looked very professional in their pseudo-SWAT team get-ups: black body armor, black cargo pants, black combat boots, just black on black. Not to mention the matte black guns they carried at the smalls of their backs. And yes, even though Billy had told her they were just coming here to watch Dale, the outfits emphasized the fact that he and Mac had both been banking on Dale giving them a reason to jump him. And talk about wowza. If Dale Pennyworth caught a glimpse of them following him, he wasn’t going to know what to do first, crap his pants or spill his guts. And, dangit! She was going to miss it!

She was supposed to have grown a shiny set of brass ladyballs by now, but she’d caved to Billy’s domineering stay put decree after only five seconds. Which meant she hadn’t really grown that set of ladyballs after all.

Crap.

But just as she began mentally chastising herself, movement down the block snagged her attention.

What the…?

* * *

You shouldn’t have touched her, an annoying little voice whispered through Bill’s head as he slunk around the corner, quiet as a whisper, blending into the blackness of the shadows cast by the surrounding apartment buildings.

Mac was across the street doing a pretty stellar job of disappearing into the darkness himself. Bill could only make out the whites of the man’s eyes and the motion of his hand as he tapped two fingers against his cheeks and pointed up the block, the signal for I’ve got a bead on the target.

Bill nodded, advancing up the ill-lit street one silent step at a time, skirting around an overturned trashcan that smelled of dirty diapers, warm beer, and moldy Indian food. For a moment he wished he was back in the Hummer, breathing in Eve’s subtle scent. That is until that pesky voice spoke up again. Touching Eve always messes with your head, man.

And, yeah, so the sonofabitching voice had a point. Although, the reality was, it wasn’t necessarily his head that got messed with. Unless, of course, one was talking about his little head.

Damn, what a goatscrew.

Okay, and that was more like it. That sentiment he could agree with. Because no matter how often he reminded himself of the hurt she’d caused him, no matter how many times he assured himself he was right in his assessment of her character, there’d inevitably be a moment, like the one back there in the Hummer when she looked up at him with such conviction, such tenaciousness, that he began to doubt anything and everything he’d held true about her these past dozen years.

Uh-huh. Goatscrew about summed it up and—

Whoa. What the hell?

Farther up the block, the dark green door on a four-flat apartment building opened, and a young woman in scrubs stepped out. Bill watched in consternation as Eve’s stalker, heretofore referred to as Dale Fuckwad, jumped behind a lamp post.

Uh, can you say Creepy McCreepster, boys and girls? And, just like that, his mission went from a simple tail and observe to a full-on apprehend and secure. Because that sick sonofabitch was obviously going to try to off another innocent woman.

Instincts on high alert, Bill glanced across the street to find Mac’s eyes turned in his direction. He nodded— yeah, I’m seeing what you’re seeing—as a hard punch of adrenaline blasted through his veins, increasing his heart rate from a steady lub, dub into a fast-paced thumpety, thumpety, thumpety. The world around him snapped into crystalline focus, and the night was no longer so dark; the sounds of the city around him—a distant siren, a dog barking, and the bass of a nearby car stereo—no longer so muffled.

Motioning with his hand, he silently indicated Mac should take a position farther up the street. And once his partner was in place, Bill moved in for the kill. Or, in this case, the capture.

His combat boots made no noise as he hurriedly advanced to the next corner, keeping low and sticking to the shadows, blending into his surroundings like a specter. Then, just as he reached to unsecure his weapon, the young woman—a nurse?—skipped down the stairs of her apartment building and started off toward the bus stop on the next block.

Dale Fuckwad waited a beat before following the woman, and Bill could almost feel the asshole’s neck in his hands as he silently stalked up behind the scumbag.

This man. This…vile, despicable man was responsible for nearly getting Eve killed not once, but three times.

And we’re gonna make the sonofabitch pay, that little voice whispered gleefully. Now Bill was more than happy to have the bugger banging around inside his head, because they were finally working in complete harmony. Yessir, he was going to do it. He was going to catch Eve’s would-be murderer in less than seven hours and, hell yeah, it was times like this he had the overwhelming desire to go all ape-man and beat his chest while yelling out victory.

Black Knights Inc. to the rescue! Hoo-ah!

Of course, it was an internal celebration because when the young nurse sat down on the bench at the bus stop, Fuckwad once more darted behind a light post and Bill saw his opportunity. He leapt forward the last foot, slapping a hand over Dale’s mouth while simultaneously shoving the scary end of his pistol into the dude’s squishy kidney with just enough force to make any future possibility of a transplant questionable.

“Don’t move, asshole,” he breathed in the man’s ear, ignoring the foul smell of unwashed armpits and greasy pepperoni pizza.

Dale instinctively struggled in his grip. That is until Mac materialized out of the darkness like the Grim Reaper himself. Then Dale went limp in Bill’s arms, and Bill wondered if the bastard had fainted. But soon, a pathetic whimper assured him the chubby psycho was still with them, and he sent a small prayer of thanks