Page 14 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“No problem.” Rob heads down the stairs and out into the night.

I close the door and slide the deadbolt into place. When I return to the bedroom, she’s still out cold. I rake my hand over my face.

What the hell did I do to deserve this? A beautiful problem dropped right in my lap. Her delicate lashes lay against her pale cheek. In sleep, she almost looks like an angel. But I know the inferno beneath that innocent exterior. She’s a firecracker, and I’m not interested in getting burned.

With a sigh, I retreat to the bathroom to take a shower, rinsing her blood down the drain. Once I put on fresh clothes and get some rest, things will calm down.

I just hope I did the right thing by making her problem mine.

Chapter Six

Quinn

He found me. How didhe find me?

The tantalizing scent of coffee pulls me from my dark, twisting dreams. The madness of nightmares slowly lifts as I open my eyes. Sunshine streams in through the window, illuminating the unfamiliar space.

I wince and groan as pain shoots down my arm and across my shoulder. Memories rush over me in a flood. The mansion. The murder. Running. Pain. The Black Penny. A familiar face. Detective Richards.

I can’t be sure any of it is real. I know for certain I’m not dead. When I sit up, the blanket slips to my waist.

Shit. Where are my clothes? I’m wearing my bra and underwear, but my uniform is gone. I wince at the pull of my skin and the ache in my arm and shoulder. My hand drifts over a spot on the back of my arm.Bandages.

My gaze drifts to the floor where the torn remnants of my uniform lay in a dirty heap.The knife. Whoever attacked me left a mark. A hazy memory resurfaces, and I bite back a wave of nausea. Desperate for something to cover myself, I slowly rise, careful of my aching arms, and spot a man’s robe hanging from the back of the door. As I tie it around me, the warm, spicy scent of aftershave drifts up from the fabric. It’s comforting in a way.

I take inventory of the room. Two dressers littered with clothes and papers. A messy full-size bed. Drab, dark blue curtains framing a single window. On the other side of the room is a doorway. I glimpse yellowing tile and a sink pedestal in the shadows. It’s messy and simple. Certainly no woman’s touch that I can see.

My hand rests on the doorknob. Even though the door is cracked, I can’t hear anything. This must lead to the living room. Is that where I’ll find him? The lingering scent of coffee and bacon teases my hunger to life.

I take a deep breath and open the door. The apartment is smaller than I anticipated. A combined kitchen and living room with a table and two chairs against the far wall.

A tall, broad figure hunches over the stove. With every step I take, domestic sounds fill the space around me. The clatter of dishes. The sizzle of bacon. The occasional scrape of a spatula against metal.

When I reach the place where the frayed edge of the carpet meets the worn linoleum, I pause. My attention remains fixed on the gentle sway of his body as he moves, the flex of his shoulders beneath his plaid shirt. A breath catches in my throat when I catch a glimpse of his strong profile.

The detective is even more handsome than I remember. I push aside this strange attraction and clasp my hands together. “Good morning.”

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