Page 5 of No Perfect Love

“Yep.” Kennedy pops her lips. “And it’s about as much of Linc as I’ll ever see again, I think.”

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Kennedy Townsend and Lincoln Hayes were another couple who refuse to work out their problems. Just like Parker and Remy, they are stubborn and filled with pride. When Danny died overseas, I’d been in college across the country in California. Though even there, we’d felt it. I can’t even imagine losing one of my brothers, even if they are giant pains in the asses.

“I’m so glad I’m not gonna end up like that.” Kennedy nods toward her brother, who is still staring directly at Parker like someone has just kicked him in the gut.

I snort and then find myself laughing at the woman standing by my side. “You’re shittin’ me, right? You’re worse off than any of them.”

Kennedy stiffens and then elbows me in the sternum, even though it probably hurts her more than me. Bulletproof vests are part of the uniform, which she should have known because her brother is a cop.

“Take that back, Matthews.” She practically growls. “I’m nothing like them.”

“Two words,” I glance at her. “Lincoln Hayes.”

The way her eyes cloud over tells me I hit my intended mark.

“Low blow, Golden Boy.”

I shrug, watching a growing commotion on the other side of the yard. Deacon James, President of the local motorcycle club, is standing with Karen Zucker, and it looks like another woman isn’t too happy about it.

Small and curvy, with a mop of brown hair on her head, she is trying to get by a bigger man. One that isn’t wearing the leather jacket signifying he is in the club. Except my attention isn’t on him. The woman has my sole focus. Even with only a partial look at her, I can tell she is beautiful. With a fierce expression on her face and her hands on her hips, she doesn’t look like she is going to take shit from anyone.

Kennedy snickers at my side, but I choose to ignore her while I watch the woman who now glares at the man above her.

“She’d chew you up and spit you out without even trying.” Kennedy’s voice titters through my head. “I wouldn’t go there, Golden Boy. Not if your life means anything to you.”

When I finally tear my eyes off the woman long enough to ask Kennedy what in the hell she is talking about, she is gone.

The little spitfire appears to be arguing with the man in front of her. The sudden knife to my gut at the prospect of her already having a partner hits me harder than it should. I don’t know anything about this woman. Not her likes, dislikes, or even if she snores. Although, the passion in her eyes and the way she holds herself as she argues quietly with the man who stands over her far too threateningly for my taste is enough. Even when he puts his arm around her, she doesn’t just go along with whatever he wants either.

I should have been paying closer attention to their interaction and body language, though. Rather than thinking about the way she’d look naked in my bed. One moment everything between them seems fine, and in the next she has him by the wrist and the burly man clearly needs assistance.

Gone is the moon-eyed way I stared at her before. In its place is the hardened expression I’ve developed over years in law enforcement training. The crowd parts easily, not wanting to interfere with a cop on a mission.

“You shouldn’t ever touch a woman without her permission.”

Her voice hits me like a fuckin’ freight train, and I’m glad there is a pair of sunglasses on my face. I can’t take my eyes off her, and I can’t particularly find a reason to either. She drops him easily and steps away, directly into my chest.

Practically biting my lip to keep from smiling as her wide eyes take in my uniform, I struggle more than I’ll ever admit to keep the scowl on my face.

I expect tears, maybe even excuses, or apologies to the man I can see recovering behind her. Instead, she props one hand on her hip and almost brings me to my knees.

“The vodka made me do it.”

She slaps her other hand on her mouth, her face turning bright red with embarrassment or maybe shame. All she manages to do is turn me on, though, which makes what I am about to do even harder than it should be.

“Ma’am.” My voice grates, even to me.

She shrinks back immediately, and almost runs into the man behind her in the process.

Reaching out before I can stop myself, I grab her arm as gently as possible. She gasps as I keep her from falling over him, and turns even brighter when I practically lift her into the air to get her away from him.

“Drop her,” a malicious voice says from behind me.

Rather than drop the woman, I set her down gently while still keeping my hand around her arm, and turn to see Deacon James standing there with a glare the size of Texas on his face.

“Wha—” his jaw drops. “Holy shit. Carter Matthews. I didn’t realize you were back in town.”