Page 24 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

What if he climbs into bed with you?a teasing voice echoes in my head.

My gaze lingers on the full-size bed. Need pulses through me at the thought of Grant lying beside me on the clean sheets.

Maybe this is a bad idea. But what choice do I have?

Chapter Nine

Grant

The haunting presenceof my uninvited guest-turned-murder-witness lingers like a weight on my shoulders as I step into the summer evening. After a quick word with Claude, I retreat from the one place I thought was my haven. The sun is finally drifting below the towering buildings, but the heat remains in the pavement, radiating up in waves as I amble down the street.

I can’t let this kid out of my sight. Whether she saw details or not, she’s a witness to a murder. I’ll have to jog her memory to see if any subconscious facts tumble free from that smart mouth.

She’s trouble with a capital T. If I were smart, I’d put her in a safe house and have a guard posted at her door round the clock. But I’m desperate, and that overrules my common sense right now. We need to catch this fucker before he strikes again.

I have no proof it’s the same person who killed those other people. All I have is a gut feeling and a hunch. But I can’t prove anything. Quinn’s the closest I’ve come to finding answers.

As I walk to the nearest bodega, I run through the information she gave me. She saw the killer, and he nearly took her down. She’s lucky. But this curious little kitten doesn’t have many lives left. If the killer figures out where she is, she’s done for. He’ll take her out just to cover his own ass.

When I step into the air-conditioned bodega, I grab a basket and start tossing in basics. Eggs, milk, bread, lunchmeat for sandwiches, cheese, a variety of junk food, chips, pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and some frozen meals. Chicken’s on sale, so I grab some thighs as well as a pound of ground beef. Cooking isn’t exactly my forte, but the kid deserves to eat better than a convict or a broke cop.

After I pay, I give the shop runner a five to deliver the stuff to my apartment. I’d take it myself, but honestly, I’m not ready to face her again. It’s tense between us...and not just because I’m a cop and she’s a hellcat with a kleptomaniac streak.

By the time I step back outside, darkness has stretched its arms around the city. I wander a few blocks, taking the long way home. I need to clear my head.

Quinn.

She’s a pistol with a hair trigger. In the short amount of time she’s been in my life, she has tainted everything. Her presence ruins the peace of my space, of my life. As pathetic as it was, it was mine. I didn’t have to worry about anyone or anything except the job.

Now she’s put her fingerprints all over my world, and I can’t say I’m upset about it. More like disconcerted. I’m not used to it. Not since the ex packed her shit and took off.

I like my dingy little apartment. It’s home, and it’s close to my brother. But now even that space isn’t relaxing. Fuck.

On a whim, I stop at a payphone and ask the operator to connect me to the precinct. Something’s nagging at me, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

The call connects. “Twenty-Fourth Precinct, this is Officer Jenkins. How may I help you?”

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