Page 15 of Sinful Justice

“Minka!” Archer’s voice is annoyingly dark and delicious. An intimidating combination at first, but soul-destroying when he chuckles. “Come back and do that thing you did!”

I swing the door open and sprint through without looking back. Into the hall, then down two flights of concrete stairs. I shove through the front door and… groan when I step out into the cold and slide on the icy sidewalk.

The storm calmed overnight, but that doesn’t mean December isn’t still freezing. It doesn’t nullify the icy cold tendrils clawing through my thin sweater and biting at my skin like savage little piranhas.

I stop on the sidewalk in front of Archer’s building and look both ways to orient myself, then turning left, I drop my hands into my pockets, duck my head low, then plow forward and pray for the wind to stop.

“Goodbye, Minka!”

I jump at his voice, swivel my head around, then whimper at the sight of Archer and his friend standing on a steel fire escape on the side of the apartment building.

Fletcher stands tall, smiling, with his hands in his pockets, while Archer wears jeans—unbuttoned, of course—and absolutely nothing else but a beanie pulled over his hair and down to cover his brows.

When our eyes meet and I flatten my lips in displeasure, his quirk into a devious grin.

He’s trouble, and I’m officially past theyesterdayof my life. Nasty sex with a mysterious stranger is old news.

Today is about new beginnings.

It’s about a new apartment. And a new life.

So, turning away from Archer and his friend, I keep my eyes down and my shoulders pushed high in defense of the wind.

It’s too cold to loiter outside. But as I take out my phone and check the time, I realize it’s not even seven-thirty yet. I can’t get into my apartment for another ninety minutes.

“Shit.”

If I stay outside for that long, I’ll die of exposure.

If I go back to Archer’s to wait, I’ll die of… something nasty.

Which means, as I approach my apartment and come upon a now-dark sign that reads‘Tim’s’, I stop by the windows and plaster my face to the glass.

“Hello?” I knock as hard as I can manage without damaging the not-secure pane. “Tim? Hello! Are you in there?”

Silence greets me. Silence, except for the biting wind intent on ruining my life.

“Hello?” I move to the door and bang harder. “Tim! Open the door and let me in. It’s freezing out here, and I haven’t got enough clothes. You have my debit card, so I can’t go somewhere to get coffee, and I—”

The door swings wide to reveal a shirtless bartender whose eyes declare he may be moments away from committing murder.

“Oh, great.” I push past the muscular man and hate how he smells good too.

What is it with this city and men’s cologne? Was there a sale? Dammit to hell and back.

Yesterday was about dirty sex and one-time entanglements. But now I’m facing an angry and shirtless Tim, and he’s… well… as I paste on a smile and he closes the door to block out the cold, I suspect he mightn’t be a morning person.

“Thanks. It’s so cold out there. I was hoping you’d be in.”

“What.” He stalks closer to me, all rippling abs and throbbing muscles. “The.” He stops close enough to make me look up. “Fuck?” Stepping around me with a shake of his head, he overcomes his clear desire to strangle me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“It’s cold out there.”

“Ya think?” He shoves behind the bar and drapes his upper body across the mahogany top. “It’s the middle of the fucking night!”

I step closer and attempt to stifle my grin when he closes his eyes. “It’s morning. It’s actually after seven. That’s pretty late to most.”

“Yeah, most who don’t run a fucking bar.” He smacks his lips and genuinely seems to power nap between sentences. “I’m sleepy. Go away.”

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