Julie Walker: Born Wild

Watching her disappear down the long hall, he wondered how the hell he was going to handle the next few days when Mac looked over at him, heavy brow furrowed. “What’s that look for?” he demanded.

“You want to tell us why you turn into a total Neanderthal whenever she’s around?” Mac hooked a thumb in the general direction of the hallway.

“Now, why in the world would I do that? What are we? Girlfriends or something?”

Ace leaned across the table and patted Bill’s fingers, batting his blond lashes fervently. “Only if you want to be, handsome.”

Bill snatched his hand away but couldn’t quite control the smile that tugged at his lips. “Cut it out,” he grumbled, trying and failing to paste on a fierce frown. “Don’t you have bon-bons to eat and an episode of Glee to watch?”

“As a matter of fact…” Ace snatched up the box of chocolates, winking dramatically before sauntering over to the stairs leading to the living area on the third floor. But he stopped on the first tread, turning, his expression suddenly somber. “Seriously, though” he nodded, “if you guys need me for anything, you know where to find me. And Bill?”

Bill sighed, because he knew what was coming. It was written all over Ace’s face. “Yeah?”

“You be nice to Eve. That poor woman is starved for affection. So why don’t you try a little tenderness, huh?”

“And who the hell are you, now?” he groused. “Otis Redding?”

“No, I’m just saying from the way you amble around this place on all fours, you’re probably not one for a gentle touch.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bill asked. “Well, I’ve got some advice for you, too. I’ve written it down. It’s right here in my pocket.” He dug into the hip pocket of his jeans and came out with an empty fist and a raised middle finger.

Ace laughed, then immediately sobered. “Let me put it to you this way. If you’re mean to Eve, I might have to rearrange that pearly white smile of yours, capiche ?”

And the threat would’ve been funny except for the fact that Ace was a master at Muay Thai, the most brutal form of hand-to-hand combat in the world. The guy might come off as intimidating as a glitter unicorn sitting under a rainbow at a Justin Bieber concert, but Bill wouldn’t want to find himself on the man’s bad side.

“I’ll be nice to her,” he promised through clenched teeth, because as much as he hated to admit it, Ace was right. It was time to let bygones be bygones. For Christ’s sake, it’d been twelve years!

The Knights’ resident flyboy turned his head, eyeing Bill suspiciously.

“Look,” Bill huffed with exasperation, “the thing is, I’ve never been good when it comes to lobbing around sugar and spice and everything nice. But I’m telling you I’m going to try , okay?”

Ace’s smile was victorious as he nodded once before turning to clomp up the stairs.

Then Eve reappeared at the end of the hallway, looking as beautiful as he remembered—scratch that; looking even more beautiful than he remembered—and all the old hurts came rushing back with brutal force. It made him realize just how difficult it was going to be to keep his word.

Jeremy Buchanan’s Condo

5:33 p.m.

“I could keep you safe,” Jeremy declared, hugging her tightly, and Eve felt her lower lip quiver. “I could hire bodyguards. I could take some time off work. You name it, Cuz, and I’ll do it.”

“No,” she shook her head, stepping from Jeremy’s fierce embrace, taking comfort in the unwavering look of support on his face. “I’m going to go stay at Black Knights Inc. until we can either find out who’s doing this, or at the very least convince your associates in the police department that I’m not crazy. I promise you, I’ll be safer there.”

Jeremy snorted, glancing past her shoulder at Billy, who was standing sentry at the balcony door in faded jeans, clunky biker boots, and that skin-tight BKI T-shirt that emphasized his washboard belly and made her internal temperature jump about ten degrees.

Ten degrees? Okay, so it was more like ten thousand . But who was counting anyway? Not her. No, sir. No how. She was not counting.

All right, so maybe she was counting a little bit. It was hard not to when he was caught in a ray of sunlight, looking for all the world like something out of a Sons of Anarchy episode—just with far less facial hair and pinky rings, and a far more deadly determination gleaming in his dark eyes—as he scanned the street below.

“You’ll be safer with a bunch of bikers?” Jeremy’s incredulity was palpable. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Oh… that.

Okay, so she couldn’t very well tell him the truth about Black Knights Inc.; she’d been sworn to secrecy. Which meant she was left with no recourse but to give him just enough information to assuage his fears. “They have a ten-foot-high brick wall surrounding the place and twenty-four hour surveillance. It’s like a flippin’ fort there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not so worried about somebody breaking into the place,” Jeremy’s lips pursed. “I’m more worried about what you’ll have to put up with in regards to Mr. No-Neck over there.” He tilted his chin toward Billy. “I see the years haven’t improved his manners any.”

She shook her head. “You never liked him, did you?”

“He was never worthy of you, Eve.”

She searched her cousin’s eyes, so much like her own, and frowned. “You’ve been listening to Dad too much, Jeremy. Elitism doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s not elitism, Cuz. It’s pure, unadulterated fact. And I’d have known that with or without your father’s input. That man’s a grade-A prick. Pardon my language.”

“No pardon necessary,” Billy piped up from his position by the balcony door. Eve blushed from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. So much for what she’d thought was a private conversation. Note to self: Billy has the hearing of a bat. “Assuming,” Billy continued, “that you’re using grade-A prick as a technical term.”

“When I’m speaking of you,” Jeremy raised his voice, although it was apparent there was no need, “I most certainly am. And if you so much as look sideways at my cousin, I promise you I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy’s tone was bored. “You’ll beat me longer and harder than you beat that gherkin-sized dick of yours. I get it.”

Jeremy took a step in Billy’s direction, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Remember you insulted him first,” she whispered.

“He’s a dickwad,” Jeremy hissed.

“More technical terminology, I’m assuming,” Billy mused, brow raised, sardonic grin on his lips.

Eve decided it was time to get the heck out of Dodge. Which brought her around to the second reason why she’d stopped by Jeremy’s condo. “I, uh…” She hesitated. Because her dear, sweet cousin was already upset by her decision to leave his protection in favor of the Knights’ and she didn’t want to prick his ego further with her next request—he was big and cocky and all about playing the hero, which made it sort of funny that he and Billy didn’t get along because they were so very much alike—but she didn’t see any way around it. Jeremy had done everything he could to prove she wasn’t just being paranoid about her growing list of “accidents.” Now it was time to let someone else take a stab at it. “I need my case files,” she finally blurted.

Jeremy’s chin jerked back. “What? Why?”

“Because we’ve got an ex-FBI agent working for us,” Billy answered, still staring out the balcony door in narrow-eyed concentration. “And he might be able to see something in her files that you and your fellow CPD boys couldn’t.”