Page 1 of Chase's Kind of Trouble
ONE
Chase
Two Months Ago
It’s nearly eleven. The clock on the dash says she’ll be out in five. Always on time. My girl runs on a schedule like she’s on a SEAL Team mission.
It’s dangerous. Someone should warn her not to be so damned predictable.
But it sure as hell won’t be me. If I get close to the twenty-four year old waitress... I won’t stay in control. And Ican’tlose control around her.
Celeste Ricci deserves better than me.
Right on cue, the back door of Kenneth’s Grill swings open. Like every night she works, the five-foot three brunette steps out, keys in one hand.
“Look, Tice, I gotta go,” I say into the speakerphone on the truck, “I’m working a case.”
“Night maneuvers, huh?”
“Yep. Like I said, gotta go. My primary’s about to move.”
“Copy. Call me tomorrow, I want to go over some information on that missing person case I’m working.”
“Sure,” I rasp absently and hit the button to end the call because I can’t concentrate on anything else when she’s in my sights.
The object of my observation waves at the busboy with a tired smile below her rain jacket hood, then heads for the parking lot. I track her movement, waiting for the moment when her feminine shape is outlined by the single bulb on the side of the building.
My pulse kicks. Hard.
There’s something broken inside me when it comes to this girl. Something raw. Dangerous, like old dynamite.
I want her so bad, it fucking hurts.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel of my new truck, leather creaking under my hands. Surprisingly, the wheel doesn’t have two divots in it, but if I keep this up it will.
She doesn’t know I’m here tonight. Has no idea I’ve been watching her for months. Will never know I paid off the parking ticket she got for staying over at the library on her day off.
Doesn’t know I slipped the shelter enough cash to keep the old man she feeds warm for the winter.
And the flowers I send every week to the café addressed to the staff…the ones with no signature, are for her. Just beautiful things to brighten her day.
Celeste deserves that.
She deserves everything. If I was a different man, I’d snatch her out of her life and deposit her in mine where she’d be treated like a queen.
Myqueen.
I scrub a hand over my face, raking the callouses down to my mouth. Jaw hinged open, a growl rumbles out into silence of my truck.
There’s so much I want to do for her. With her.
To her.
My body answers without permission. Thick, hot lust floods my veins like a swirl of gasoline and lava.
Fuck.
I might be thirty-six. I might have a roadmap of scars on my body and be saddled with enough ghosts to fill a semi truck, but I want her.
