They’d better be gentle, because Tripp knew this woman. She was his neighbor. Until tonight, he hadn’t known her name, only that she lived next door to him in Olde Town Alexandria. What a coincidence.
He’d noticed her eyeing him the few occasions they’d crossed paths in the hall, coming or going. Who could miss the light in her bright, intelligent, deep-blue eyes, or the long, silky black hair that shimmered down her back like an ebony waterfall when she’d walked by? She was his idea of the quintessential girl-next-door, a delightful vision in rich blue-blacks, with a bright strawberry-pink smile most days.
Ashley was petite, but well-endowed. Yet the few times he’d seen her, she’d disguised her feminine assets behind a dowdy uniform of plain gray pants and too-large, matching gray shirts. Men’s shirts that she didn’t tuck in, but let hang loose, like heavier women did. Her hair had been pulled back in a stifling bun or ponytail. But tonight, it glistened on her shoulders, like a living adornment he wanted to sink his nose into and run his fingers through. Tripp fought the zing that still rippled between Ashley and him. At the end of the day, he was no one’s angel. If anything, he was just another devil she needed to stay clear of.
Because of his late-night activities, he faced most Mondays and getting up at the butt-crack of dawn, like a half-dead zombie. But Ashley had always been bright-eyed and full of energy when he’d seen her. Which, until now, had been damned seldom.
Silently, Tripp watched the other officers attend to the asshat who’d hurt her. They worked just as efficiently with him as they had with Ashley. Just as kind. Tripp tracked them as they searched the scene for evidence. He stayed clear of their flashlights’ beams, then waited until the EMTs loaded the alleged woman-beater into the second ambulance that had arrived.
God, he hated that word. Alleged, nothing. These cops had solid evidence, damn it. They had solid proof that this guy had assaulted Ashley. They’d located and bagged the bastard’s knife, for God’s sake. It had her blood on it. He’d hurt Ashley, could’ve killed her. She had cuts and bruises from his hands on her arm and neck to prove it. What more did they need?
Alleged, my ass. In the end, Tripp knew it might still come down to her word against that bastard’s. And if he came from money, his crime could be dismissed; he might get a slap on the wrist or have to perform a few hours of community service—or less. How much leniency did men like him deserve? None, as far as Tripp was concerned. Who the fuck else sliced her neck?
It was the same story since the beginning of time. When money talked, assholes walked. Tripp’s tenderized knuckles stung, but he’d like another go at the guy. Someone needed to teach him a lesson.
Tripp didn’t fade to black until she was safely out of the public’s view and inside the ambulance. Until those two EMTs climbed in with her and closed the gate.
It was sheer dumb luck he’d even been there tonight. If not for his decision to intervene in what could’ve been the beating deaths of two college kids, he wouldn’t have come this far west. He usually stuck close to the pubs and boutique restaurants farther east on King Street, along the Potomac River.
Halloween and autumn decorations were everywhere, soon to be replaced by Thanksgiving and Christmas, then New Year’s Eve, décor. Tourists were easy marks, especially at this festive time of year. They were plentiful at the other end of this street. So were grifters and pickpockets. Tripp was glad he’d followed his heart and rescued those two young men tonight. If he hadn’t tracked them to the clinic...
A full-body cringe roared over him and shivered up the back of his neck at what would’ve happened. Ashley would’ve been a statistic come morning, a blip on the news channel. Which made him more certain of his calling. He was the sword of vengeance, by hell. His boss might send him overseas or across the country on company business, but wherever he went, Tripp would never stop protecting innocents like Ashley.
Pretty name for the tiny thing she was. He’d been plenty pissed with her at first. What had she been doing alone on the street after dark? Women, more than men, needed to learn how to protect themselves. The world had changed. It wasn’t safe, not that it ever had been. She should’ve been at home with some big, brooding hulk who would’ve protected her and held onto her…
Like me.
He shook his head at the stupidest notion he’d had in a long, damned time. Big and brooding, yeah, that was him all right. The Army had made sure he’d bulked up, and his sister had sure as hell given him enough to brood over.
But Tripp McClane was not the settling-down type, no sir. He didn’t do easy pick-ups, dates, or long-term relationships, either. Hell, no. He was focused, and he had one mission in life. It, not some woman, would always come first. He was like a priest. A monk. He’d pledged his life, his blood, and everything he owned, to Lady Justice. He was that last thin line between right and wrong on these streets, between evildoers and the righteous silent majority. He would dispense punishment, by God, in Seattle, Washington, DC., or wherever. Time and location didn’t matter. Wherever he
