Chapter One

Law

Well, I guessed eventually it would come to this. It wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting it. I knew when I started this crusade that something like this could happen, probably would happen, and here I was, in a dead end alley, facing down Vance Crowe.

Shit, Lee Nightingale’s tracker.

Of all the f**king bad luck.

Rumor on the street, Crowe was third in command at Nightingale Investigations, after Lee and Lee’s right hand man, Luke Stark.

This was saying a lot, considering all the men employed by Nightingale Investigations were the crème de la crème of private investigations, security, surveillance, bond skip tracing with a small dose of head-cracking thrown in for shits and giggles. In fact, Nightingale, Stark and Crowe had a guns-drawn, facedown with some low-life drug dealer at a society party just a month ago. Crowe had blown off the guy’s hand.

Rumor had a lot of things about Vance Crowe, in fact, I knew two women who’d had a couple of things from Crowe, by their reports, very good things, though he didn’t stick around to give them more than a couple very good things, much to their dismay.

“Put your gun down,” Crowe said to me.

“Back off,” I returned, keeping my gun aimed at him.

I wasn’t going to shoot him, of course. I was anti-violence that was one of the reasons why I was in this mess in the first place.

He kept walking toward me, unarmed and apparently unafraid.

I took aim at his Harley. It would kill me to harm the Harley but I’d do it.

“Shoot my bike, there’ll be consequences,” Crowe warned in a voice that said he meant it.

Fuck.

I aimed at him again.

“Back off,” I repeated as he kept advancing.

“You’re Law,” he told me.

Damn, he knew who I was.

“Stop moving,” I said, ignoring what he said.

He got about a foot away from the barrel of my gun, which was pointed at his chest, and he stopped.

“I work for Lee Nightingale.”

“I know who you work for and I know who you are,” I said to him.

Then I stared at him.

Damn, but he was good-looking. Native American coloring, straight, black hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his neck. He was about three inches taller than me, fantastic body, dark brown eyes, thick lashes, unbelievable bone structure, high cheekbones, square jaw. It should be a crime to be that hot.

“Put the gun down, Law,” he said, using my street name.

My street name was kind of a joke; the kids gave it to me. My real name was Juliet Lawler. Most everyone called me Jules but the kids called me Law because, at the Shelter, what I said was “law”. It had taken on a life of its own these past four months and now I wished they’d never given it to me.

“Step back, Crowe. I’ll just get in the car and go. I have no argument with you.”

And I didn’t. I had a lot of arguments with a lot of people but not with anyone at Nightingale Investigations. From what I heard (which was a lot), they weren’t exactly lily white but any fool would be crazy to go head-to-head with a Nightingale Man. I was a fool but I was pretty sure I wasn’t crazy.

“I’ll say it one more time,” Crowe informed me quietly. “Put the gun down.”

“Step back,” I returned.

He moved faster than I’d seen anyone move and, before I knew it, I no longer had the gun.

Not only that, he had my arm twisted behind my back and he had slammed my front up against his hard body.

I struggled.

This was not a good choice. I’d had a free hand and some of my pride left. In seconds, he shoved my gun in the back waistband of his jeans, had my other arm twisted behind me and he moved me, shuffling me back until I hit the side of my car. Then he pressed into me full body.

I tilted my head back and shouted in his face, “Let go and step away!”

“Two cops were standing in Fortnum’s when you had your showdown with Cordova. They saw the whole thing. You got a permit for that gun?” he asked.

“Yes.” This was true. Zip got it for me. Zip was a benefactor. Zip supported my crusade. Zip taught me how to shoot and Zip was a good shot, therefore, so was I.

Though, it was a little worrying that two cops saw me face down Sal Cordova. However, I didn’t figure Sal was going to run to the police and tell on me, considering he was a criminal and a total jackass to boot.

“I’m takin’ you into the offices. We’re gonna have a talk,” Vance said to me.

Oh crap.

I didn’t know what he thought we had to talk about but I was having no part of it. Lee Nightingale’s brother and father were cops and so was his best friend. No way was I going to any offices with Crowe.

I kept staring him straight in the eye. It was kind of hard, since he was so hot, I was beginning to feel weird about it, especially with him pressed up against me. I kept at it all the same.

“I haven’t done anything to you. Just let me be on my way,” I said.

He got closer. If you’d asked me the second before if he could, I would have said no. But his face came within an inch of mine and his body pressed deeper into me.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playin’, Law. Vigilante justice,” he told me.

I knew that, though I didn’t say.

When I didn’t speak, he went on. “You’ve got the attention of Darius and Marcus. This is not a good thing. Do you know what I’m sayin’ to you?”

I felt a little thrill go through me and not the kind that was going through me with just his body pressed against mine.

Darius Tucker and Marcus Sloan were the two biggest crime heads in Denver, Colorado. I was happy they knew who I was. I didn’t figure they were scared, but I intended them to be.

Well, maybe, one day.

Crowe must have seen something on my face because his eyes flashed.

“I should take you to the offices, lock you in the safe room and keep you there until you’ve had some goddamned sense talked into you.”

He said “should”. This I decided to treat as a good thing. I didn’t know what the safe room was but I didn’t want any part of that either.

I kept staring at him and kept my mouth shut thinking maybe he’d let me go.

He stared right back.

We were both silent, staring, his body pressed against mine.

I kept my chin up and hoped I kept my face blank.

“Jesus, you think you’re f**kin’ Catwoman,” he muttered.

“I do not. Catwoman wore a leotard and stupid ears and fake claws. That’s just silly.”