Page 26 of Shadows of Justice

“Leo?”

“I didn’t intend to scare you.” His deep timbre washes over me. “I didn’t realize how long I’d been standing there. I guess it’s gotten very dark in here.”

He releases me and I back up a step, close enough now to lean over and flip on the kitchen light switch. Leo is illuminated by the overhead track lighting, his expression apologetic. The longest parts of his hair are pulled back away from his face in a small knot and his clothes look dirty, like he’s been working on a car.

My stomach warms. He looks . . . amazing. What is it about this man that puts these thoughts in my head?

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” I ask breathlessly, my hands still trembling.

“Well, if you had been home, I would have just knocked,” he says, like that’s a good enough explanation for a home invasion. “I couldn’t wait outside forever. This is a rough neighborhood, you know?”

I roll my eyes. The criminal wary of the sketchy part of town. That’s a new one.

“So I’m told,” I mutter, setting the knife down and crossing my arms. “How’d you get past my security system?”

“Security system?” He looks puzzled for a moment. “Oh, your landlord? Very sweet lady. She let me in, actually.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “What?”

“I explained that I was a friend of yours from work, that we work on cases together,” he says, and his lips quirk in that way that makes my toes curl. “It wasn’t a complete lie. And besides, I can be very persuasive.”

I picture Mrs. Gonzalez trying not to trip over her own jaw at the sight of Leo on my doorstep. Of course she let him in. He’s the furthest thing possible from Tim.

I scoff and scrub a hand down my face. “Wow.”

“I left a note taped to your door so you wouldn’t freak out. You didn’t notice it?”

“I’m a little distracted,” I say, the room suddenly spinning.

I should sit down.

“Well, I came here because I need your help,” he says, bending to rest his arms on the countertops and look up at me sincerely. Some of the strands of his hair have fallen out of the knot on his head, the chocolate tendrils curling around his face.

Damn, I’d forgotten how dark his eyes are. They’re almost black. My breath stutters and I bite my lip so that I don’t open my mouth and embarrass myself. The veins in his scarred arms flex as he shifts his weight and I stare, mesmerized for a moment.

“Viv?”

“Hmm? Help?” I blink at him. “You need my help?”

“Yes. I need someone that I can trust with some information.”

“You trust me?”

“We’re getting there,” he says, smirking. “You put the knife down, didn’t you?” I scoff again, turning my face to conceal my smile.

“You ever seen War Dogs?” he asks, and I face him, my brows coming together.

“The Jonah Hill movie? Sure, I think so. Why?”

“Well, obviously the story was embellished for Hollywood thrills, but the plot was basically true,” he begins. “They sold weapons to military groups at ridiculous prices and made millions overnight, but the moral issues of funding a war is really the running theme of the film. I’m paraphrasing, because you look a little drunk.”

I can think of nothing smart to say, but I huff a laugh, slightly embarrassed. I opt to lean against the counter to not fall over and prove him right.

“Well, I’ve involved myself in similar deals with the US military, one recently pertaining to a design of sorts,” he says.

I blink again, slower this time, bewildered.

His thick accent is lulling my brain into a haze. I think that could listen to this man recite the dictionary and it would make my panties wet.

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