Shane Dalton eased onto one hip and shook his head. The woman was staring down the barrel of his pistol and found the situation humorous. She was certifiably nuts.
Whatever her mental state, she had some wicked kicks. He’d planned to simply restrain her until he could find out who she was and what she was doing there. But those boots. They’d seemed to come out of nowhere. Getting her subdued without striking back had been a challenge. Managing it without bodily injury had been impossible.
He pressed a finger to his left nostril, trying to stem the trickle of blood that grew worse the longer he was upright. He needed a wet rag. An ice pack wouldn’t hurt, either. His head throbbed, with most of the pain concentrated in his nose. If he hadn’t turned when he had, she’d have broken it. The woman’s punches were as deadly as her kicks.
Without lowering his weapon, he pushed himself to his feet, trying not to wince. He was so going to pay for this tomorrow. And judging from her satisfied smirk, she knew exactly how much of a beating she had dished out.
“Well?” She still hadn’t answered his question. “What are you doing sneaking in here in the middle of the night?”
Except for two brief times when her gaze flicked to his weapon, her eyes never left his. Now that he was standing, at least as straight as his protesting body would allow, she was forced to look up, even with the killer platform boots she wore.
“This is my house.”
He cocked a disbelieving brow. “And do you regularly enter your house at two a.m. via a screwdriver?” He’d watched her. She’d made it look easy.
“When I don’t have a key.”
He took several steps back and, once out of reach of those lethal feet, lowered his weapon and leaned against the wall. He was starting to ache all over. “And I assume the Harmony Grove Police would confirm that?”
She raised her chin a little higher. His implied threat to call the police hadn’t rattled her in the slightest. Her eyes held a challenge, delivered with a confidence that bordered on cockiness. Her dark hair was cut in a bob, short and sassy, and a burgundy sweater and black jeans molded themselves to a body that was lithe and athletic. Of course, he’d already experienced some of that athleticism firsthand.
“Tell me your name.”
“Jess Parker. As I said, this is my house. At least, it’s my family’s house.”
“Priscilla’s sister.”
“Yes, and the Harmony Grove Police would confirm that.” She lifted one foot to rest it on the only piece of the coffee table frame that was still vertical, wedging its point in the arch of her boot. “And who are you?”
“Shane Dalton, your new neighbor.”
She gave him the same look he’d given her earlier, full of skepticism. “And you regularly follow single women into their homes in the middle of the night and accost them?”
“When they look suspicious enough.”
“If we’re neighbors, where do you live?”
“Right over there.” He pointed out the front window to the building across the street.
“That’s Yesteryear Antiques.”
“I know. There’s an apartment over the store. I just moved in today.”
“And the Harmony Grove Police would confirm that?”
He restrained the urge to laugh. She was a master at turning the tables. “I don’t know about the Harmony Grove Police. But I’m sure the Harrisons would, since they’re the ones who took my first month’s rent and security deposit.”
She dropped her foot to the floor and planted both hands on her hips. “That still doesn’t explain what you were doing here in the middle of the night. Armed, I might add.”
He gave her a half smile. “You’re not very trusting, are you?”
“Let’s just say I haven’t met many people who are deserving of trust. So answer my question.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I was looking out the window, saw you pull up and start looking for a way into the house. I figured I’d better check you out.” It was the truth. Just not the whole truth. “Not knowing your intentions, I decided to grab my gun. Turns out, I needed it.”
She lowered her fists from her hips, but gave no indication that she believed him. “Moving into a new neighborhood and accosting its women is a good way to get yourself killed.” Her tone was scolding.
“Somehow Harmony Grove doesn’t strike me as a dangerous kind of place. Besides, I didn’t accost you. If you’ll notice, you hardly have a hair out of place, while I’m the one trying to keep from bleeding all over my fancy leather jacket.”
One side of her mouth slid upward into a crooked grin, and she brushed past him on her way to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Are you bleeding anywhere else?”
“I haven’t taken inventory, but I think this is it. The rest is internal.”
“I’m sure you’ll live.” She lifted a towel from a folded stack on the counter and held it under a stream of cold water. “And the table? You didn’t get cut?”
“My jacket kept most of the glass out of my back.” He removed the item to inspect it. The leather had fared well. Other than a couple of small nicks, it had come through the ordeal unscathed. The glass was probably tempered.
Once he had hung the jacket on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, she pulled the chair out and pushed him into it.
“Hold still.” She set to work, wiping the blood from his nose and lip. Her touch was amazingly gentle, considering she had used him as a punching bag only moments earlier.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Six years of tae kwon do. I’m a second-degree black belt.”
“I see.” That would have been nice to know ahead of time.
But he hadn’t gotten any real intel yet. He’d been working an assignment in Lakeland, a plane that crashed in a field near the airport carrying seven hundred fifty pounds of cocaine. The pilot evidently escaped unharmed. There were no
