Page 20 of Taking Care of the Target

“Who says I’m playing?” he asked.

She stepped closer and looked him over. He watched her with a quirked eyebrow, and she decided hands-on looking was better. She removed his hat, shook the glass into the trash, and set it aside. His dark hair was longer on top and slightly mussed. She wanted to run her fingers through it, but resisted because she knew he had to have some scrapes, too.

She cupped his chin and turned his head one way and then the other, studying the dark stubble and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. A scrape marred his shoulder where he’d landed on the pavement—a very well-defined shoulder, she couldn’t help noticing as she pushed aside the torn fabric. She wet a fresh washrag, cleaned him up—he didn’t hiss like she had—and then applied a bandage.

“I assume your hip is sore on that side, too.” Hands-on was fun and all, but she didn’t think they were quite to lifting-each-other’s-shirts level. He pulled his up a few inches and studied his hip. The carved muscles were impossible to look away from, and the heat from her belly rose up and claimed her chest.

“It’s not bleeding. Just bruised. How’re yours?”

She tugged her shirt up and studied the two spots of red on her hipbones that’d definitely be black and blue by morning. “Not too bad.”

Vince skimmed his fingers across the right hip, where the top half of her ugly yellow bruise remained, and her breath lodged in her throat. “From the accident?”

She licked her lips and swore his eyes tracked the gesture. “Yeah.” She dropped her shirt and busied herself cleaning up. When she finished, she turned to face him. “Thank you. For saving me back there.”

He stepped close, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. He brushed her hair off her face and slid his hand behind her neck. For one exquisite moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he tensed and dropped his hand.

“You want a drink?” she asked. “I think you earned it.”

“Hell yeah.” A cocky grin spread across his face. “I knew I’d get invited in, by the way.”

With a laugh, she pulled out a bottle of wine and filled two glasses nearly to the brim.

“Wow,” he said when they moved to the living room. “That is a really pink couch.”

“It’s my favorite thing in my whole apartment.” That and the quilt Mom made, but since they’d already talked about their dads and topped that off by being shot at, she didn’t want to add another heavy item to the pile. That’d be aFor Laterconversation, if there was a later. “On the days I’m off work early enough, I can sit here and watch the sun set.”

She set her glass of wine on the coffee table. “So, should we call the cops now?”

Vince let out a long exhale. “Honestly, they’re not going to be able to do anything tonight. The car’s long gone, and they’ll keep us at the station forever asking a ton of questions. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get the license.”

Cassie shook her head. “I couldn’t even tell you the color of the car.”

“I can give the cops that information. It was probably just a random crime. A bunch of idiots trying to prove they were gangsters.”

That made sense, she supposed. Why would anyone come after her with so much firepower? Then again, it seemed like too big of a coincidence after the unsettling feeling she’d had all week. Unless her mind was spinning it into this.

Vince cupped her cheek. “I’ll take care of it. Okay?”

The way he said it, with absolute certainty, made her want to cry all over again. She’d have no idea how to handle it, and honestly, she didn’t want to leave her apartment. She wanted to be tucked safe inside it… with him.

“Okay,” she said, wrapping her hand around his wrist. Part of her still couldn’t believe she was here with this guy, who didn’t seem even close to a stranger anymore. Funny how near-death experiences gave you a solidarity that weeks of knowing someone couldn’t touch. “I bet this is the weirdest first date you’ve ever been on.”

He cracked a smile. “Yes, actually. Probably the same goes for you—that you remember anyway.”

Amazing that she could feel this much happiness after everything. He tucked her next to him, and they drank wine and talked until just after midnight.

Vince glanced at his phone. “It’s getting late, and I don’t want to impose.”

“You saved my life,” Cassie said. “You’re not imposing.” It hit her that he was probably trying to politely leave. “But you’re right. It is getting late.” She stood and followed Vince to the door.

He paused with his hand on the knob and cast her one more glance that made a tight band form around her chest. As soon as he walked out, she had no doubt their near-death experience would hit her. She thought of the hours alone in her apartment, listening to every sound, and how she’d want to hide under her covers. But then she’d worry she wouldn’t hear or see if anyone broke in. Completely irrational, she knew, but there it was anyway.

“Don’t go,” she blurted out. “I’m used to being alone in theory, but…I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Embarrassment crested and she almost took it back, but she couldn’t force any more words past her tight throat.

Vince spun around, his dark eyes locking on to hers. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Her lower lip trembled, and she told it to stop, but like with the rest of her body, she didn’t seem in control anymore. “Sorry. It’s weird. You barely know me. If you need to go—”

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