Page 7 of Keeping Ava

“Detective Ford?” she asks, and as those lips slightly pucker at the end, I know why I’ve been feeling off. Why I knew taking this assignment was a mistake…

All women. All young. They were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five with the same physical attributes: chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and short in stature.

Ava Perry is the physical embodiment of a delicate doll. A fucking danger to my psyche.

Moreover, it becomes crystal clear to me why he chose each victim.

They resemble her.

His muse.

Chapter 3

Elijah

“And you must be Miss Ava Perry,” I say, voice dropping into a husky cadence, tasting her name on my lips while a soft touch of pink grazes her cheeks.

“Yes.” Her pretty eyes close as her chest expands, rising and falling with each deep inhale. My eyes take in her body—posture—the way she cocks her hip on the right, and how her tiny hands clench.

She’s nervous. Maybe a tiny bit intimidated. Unsure.

However, that didn’t stop her from doing an exploration of her own first. Right before they shut, her eyes swept over my face and lower, down my broad chest and then stomach…

I couldn’t stop the clench of my abs, nor the way my cock gave a jerk beneath the confines of my pants, something she noticed, and the hint of longing that flashed through those baby blues is proof of how fucked we are.

It’s why she’s refusing to look at me now.

This sudden attraction is mutual. Palpable. Tempting me.

She needs my protection, not my dick.

Still, my feet carry me closer without permission, aching to touch her. Comfort her. Tell her that everything will be okay, but I stop just before the heat coming off her skin seeps into my pores. Before she can innocently test my control.

Instead, I bring her sweet scent into my lungs and then take two steps back. It rocks me. Makes my mouth water, and I swallow hard. Fight the pull. Son of a bitch, what is wrong with me?

After this is over, I’ll kill Captain Perez myself. Fuck old age getting to him.

She doesn’t move, not so much as a tiny shift, and it isn’t until I clear my throat a few times that she looks at me. “Where’s your luggage?”

“Down in my truck,” a male answers, coming toward us and stopping a few feet from a quiet Ava. At once, I move past her while reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of my pants, but the gleam from his badge stops me. He’s tall, muscular, and giving me a grin that borders on cocky as he tips his cowboy hat—as if he’s privy to information I’m not. “Nice to meet you, Detective Ford.”

“It’s Elijah, and likewise…” I trail off, knowing nothing of this man past the fact he’s been responsible for Ava up until this point. She’s my responsibility now.

Someone I’ll save from the lunatic stalking her. Nothing more.

It’s just another case. Another job.

Bullshit.

He extends a hand for me to shake, and I do so. “Weston, but my friends call me Wes.” A few seconds pass, and his eyes shift over to the woman now standing beside me. “And I believe you’ve already met Miss Ava.”

“Not exactly.”

“Why is that?” He arches a brow, looking between us.

“Better yet, why was she left alone on my doorstep?” Because that deserves an explanation, more so than my sudden attraction for my temporary ward. More than the conflicting thoughts running through my mind.

Ava holds a hand up, her cheeks still that delicious rose color. “Weston was just around the corner, answering a phone call from his wife. I wasn’t alone, Detect—”

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