Page 66 of Color of Love

“Luckily The Police turned up and sorted him out.” he joked, and she snorted, rolling her eyes but the gleam in them said she loved it when he was silly. She listed some more duos, but he vetoed each one.

“Fine, duos are a no go for you. What about…” she trailed off, thinking again and he took the opportunity to glance around outside, not seeing anything except a raccoon on the prowl. He really needed to tell her the Trashcan Bandits weren’t real but he loved their stakeouts, this time she’d even brought binoculars, she was too cute. He turned back to Justine.

“Foreigner,” she said quietly, her demeanor changing slightly. She ducked her head, her fingers twisting in her lap.

“Foreigner?” he asked. He’d heard of them but couldn’t name any of their songs.

“They have this song, Waiting for a Girl Like You, it’s a rock ballad and such an amazing love song,” she sighed wistfully, lost in her thoughts and he studied her closely. “When I was a teenager, I dreamed I would be special enough for someone to sing it to me. In my opinion, serenading someone is the ultimate gesture of love.”

She usually didn’t reveal a lot about herself, it was normally him revealing all his deepest, darkest thoughts. He loved moments like this when he got a glimpse of her. He was always greedy for more so he could put the pieces of her together in his mind, creating the perfect picture.

“Did anyone sing it to you?” he asked, gently.

“Nope.” She seemed so lost in the past and a hint of sadness tinged their conversation, he wanted to put that beautiful smile back on her face, the one he found so hard to resist.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” he joked, her eyes flicked to his, shooting fire.

“Asshole!” she chided, slapping him playfully.

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “Singing in front of people is terrifying, it’s the scariest thing you could ever do. So, I’m not surprised no teenager wanted to do that. I’m surprised you can do it now. I don’t know how you manage it,” he said.

She gaped at him, “Seriously? You realize you’ve faced combat before, right? Multiple armed terrorists? Bombings?” she said incredulously.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “It was just a couple of terrorists. Anyway, it’s crowds that get me: all those people, and performing in front of them? It would take nothing short of a miracle to get me to do that. What a nightmare,” he shuddered, and drew her even closer. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him, nice and slow. Exploring his mouth just how he liked, and every time he tried to stroke against her tongue she drew it away, teasing him. They came up for air half an hour later.

“Back to yours?” she rasped, her eyes clouded with desire, her husky voice trailing along his skin and setting him alight with anticipation.

“Yep!” he replied, and she climbed off his lap. He tolerated the loss of her only because soon she would be in his bed, underneath him, gasping in pleasure in that way that he loved. The thought had him belting up and reaching for the ignition in record time. As he did, he looked up through the windshield and something caught his attention. There was a man hurrying along the street, he looked around furtively before getting into a waiting car. It was the same man Blake had noticed before.

“Blake?” Justine asked when he didn’t drive off. But he didn’t reply, he just watched as the car pulled away from the curb, coming towards them. His intuition pricked him, telling him something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, it was like déjà vu. He knew what he was seeing was important, but he didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until the car drove past them and he saw inside that the prickle became something more. He recognized the driver as his fellow deputy, Austin, and the passenger was one of the officers from the station. And now Blake had a feeling he knew where they were going. Once they were retreating in his rear-view mirror, he started the car and pulled away, following them at a distance.

“Blake?” Justine penetrated his thoughts. He glanced at her. Shit. He didn’t want to bring her with him, but her place was in the opposite direction.

“I’ve got a hunch that the men in that car are up to something. I can’t turn around or I could be too late to stop them and I’m obviously not going to leave you in the middle of the street. So, you need to stay in the vehicle, and everything will be fine,” he said.

He couldn’t help but think he was overreacting, and he didn’t want to scare her, but his instincts were rarely wrong. He’d relied on them to keep him safe in battle and on patrols with the sheriff’s department. He trusted his instincts more than anything else in the world, so if they told him something wasn’t right, then he was going to listen.

“What are you talking about? One moment we were kissing and planning to go back to yours and now we’re following someone? Is it to do with the Trashcan Bandits?” Her tone was gleeful, and he bit his cheek. Serves you right for lying about the stakeouts!

“The Trashcan Bandits aren’t real, honey. It’s just a bunch of raccoons, I spotted them that first night we did a stakeout.”

“What? But we’ve been doing stakeouts for weeks. Why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Because the more we got to know each other, the more we messed around and the more I looked forward to doing a fake stakeout with you,” he sighed, feeling like shit for lying to her.

“They weren’t fake to me,” she huffed. He could just imagine that sulky bottom lip sticking out. The car ahead turned down a dark road and he followed.

“So, who are we following then?” she asked, a tremor of uncertainty escaping.

“I’ve seen this car leave at the same time on a few of the occasions we’ve been on our stakeouts. I think it has something to do with Rebelle. She said someone’s been harassing her.”

“Rebelle? Is she in danger?”

“I hope not. I hope they’re just being idiots,” he said, then filled her in on his visit from Rebelle the other week. They followed the car down the main road out of town; further along that road was the turn off for the rescue center. Blake prayed the car in front drove right past it, and that it wasn’t what he thought.

But as they neared the turn off, the car spun sharply and headed down the dirt road to Rebelle’s shelter. Blake cursed. He turned off his lights, not wanting the car in front to notice him pulling down the same road and draw their suspicion. A sense of dread hit Blake’s stomach when he saw one of the men lean out the window and throw a beer bottle at the sign for the rescue center; glass showered down, glittering in the moonlight. His instincts were correct: they were about to make a big mistake.

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