If She Dares. Tanya Michaels
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for the future, this is the last time I help you move during monsoon season.”
“Technically, I don’t think Atlanta has a monsoon season.” It had been raining all week, though, and Jack was sick of it. Outside thunder rumbled, warning that this afternoon’s drizzle was building to a real storm. “But I don’t plan on relocating again anytime soon.” Moving had been a big enough pain that he almost wished he’d renewed his lease at the former apartment complex. He’d wanted a change of pace, though, not to mention the extra distance between himself and his increasingly erratic ex.
“Does it seem awfully convenient to you that Gardoza had barely shown up when his wife called with supposed labor pains?” Tony grumbled. “At least Burke made it a few hours before bailing.”
“You can have their share of the beer. Come back tomorrow to help me unpack, I’ll even spring for your favorite Scotch.”
“No dice. You know Sunday dinner with my family is mandatory. I could get shot on duty and Ma would still expect me to show. Which reminds me...”
“Oh, hell. That’s your I-need-a-favor face.”
“Hey, you asked me to sacrifice a Saturday afternoon, and I’m hoping you’ll reciprocate.”
“Are you planning a move I don’t know about?”
“Nah. My sister’s kid turns twelve the first Saturday in November. It’s my niece’s first birthday since the divorce, and Anita is trying to put together a big party on a budget. So we made a list of our most talented friends we could coerce into working for free. Any chance you’ll come do caricatures of the guests? Funny sketches these middle school kids can hang in their lockers? They’ll love it.”
Jack, an only child raised by a single mother, always had difficulty wrapping his head around Tony’s large family gatherings. “A Saturday afternoon surrounded by middle school kids? You owe me a bottle of Scotch.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
How could he say no after Tony’s help today? Smothering a groan, he nodded.
Tony saluted him with his beer bottle. “Knew I could count on you. Just promise me one thing—try not to smile at my sister. Or make eye contact with her. Or stand too close to her. Anita’s still vulnerable after that snake ex-husband broke her heart, and you know how you are.”
“How I am?” What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Women love you. It’s why every department wants you to talk to the female witnesses. Ladies access details they don’t even realize they saw just to impress you.”
“Oh, please.” Jack was uncomfortable with his friend’s assessment. “Women do not instantly and universally love me. Exhibit A... Celeste. You do remember the crazy woman who drove me out of my last home?” She’d lived on the first floor of his building. After the breakup, which had been far more dramatic than he’d expected, she’d taken to stalking him in the lobby, in the laundry room and in the resident gym.
“She loved you plenty. Which is why she went bonkers when you dumped her.”
And that, in a nutshell, was Jack’s problem with the mass delusion of “love.” People wielded the emotional excuse like a weapon, using love to justify bad behavior, desperate decisions and even heinous crimes.
“I’ll come to your niece’s party, but you should probably go before I change my—” Jack tilted his head, trying to better discern the sounds on the other side of the wall. Was the mysterious blonde in 4-C leaving the sanctuary of her apartment? As far as he could tell, she hadn’t poked her head outside since their encounter Wednesday night.
He’d been hoping to run into her again, to replace their first meeting with a less startling impression. As a sketch artist, Jack dealt with witnesses for a living. He’d seen his share of fearful, shell-shocked expressions—but not directed at him. It had disturbed him to know he was the cause of the raw emotions in her stricken gaze. He reasoned that she’d only been afraid because it had been dark and the rain had masked the sound of his footsteps, causing him to unintentionally sneak up on her. All he needed to rectify the situation was a brief, friendly exchange in the nonthreatening light of day.
“Hang on, Tony.” Jack cracked his door open and glanced down the hall.
His shapely new neighbor was shifting a box at her hip so that she had a free hand to press the elevator button. This was a perfect opportunity. Jack set down his beer and grabbed the nearest empty pizza box and a few other pieces of debris within easy reach. “Back in a sec!”
By the time he headed down the hallway, she was already in the elevator. The doors were starting to close, but Jack had long legs. He threw his arm between the sliding metal, and the doors obligingly rebounded.
He beamed at her. “Hello again.”
In return, she muttered a sharp expletive. Apparently, this particular female had missed the memo about how all women adored him. Her clear blue eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she ducked her gaze. Too bad. She had beautiful eyes. Beautiful everything. If anyone had asked his preference before now, he probably would have said he liked women with long hair. But his neighbor’s super-short style suited her. It gave her an edgy appearance while still highlighting delicate, feminine features.
And you’re staring. Not the best way to convince her he wasn’t some creepy parking-lot lurker.
“Sorry if my friends and I made a lot of noise with the furniture today,” he said as the elevator doors slid shut. “I’m mostly moved in, so it should be quiet from now on—although, I have been known to throw the occasional Halloween bash. As my neighbor, you would be invited, of course.”
She didn’t respond for a moment, and he wondered if she planned to ignore him for the entire descent. That would make for a paradoxically long four stories down.
But then she raised her head, glancing in his general direction while not quite meeting his eyes. “There’s actually a building-wide party, but I don’t—” The overhead lights flickered once, twice, before going out completely as the elevator dropped a few feet, then jerked to an abrupt halt.
THE LURCHING ELEVATOR knocked Riley into the wall, and she dropped her box of files and receipts. A gasp of surprise escaped her—a really loud gasp. Or, if she was being honest with herself, a shriek.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
The dark was so absolute that she couldn’t see him, and fear clutched her. She was trapped in here with him. Take a deep breath. He isn’t going to hurt you. Yet her fingers shook as she fumbled for her smartphone, and her heart didn’t slow from its breakneck gallop until the light of her phone’s screen pierced the blackness.
Jack was frowning at her with concern, probably because she’d squealed in terror at something as basic as a power outage. “Are you claustrophobic?” he asked. Despite his kind tone, the question made her defensive.
“No! I’m not afraid of small spaces.” Are you sure? Lately, she seemed to be afraid of everything. In a quieter voice, she admitted, “I’m not crazy about the dark.”
“No judgment here. We all have our phobias.”
As a kid at sleepovers, she’d been the one who always suggested killing the lights and telling scary stories. I miss that kid. After the night she’d walked in on her house being robbed, she’d spent the next few evenings with every possible light on, determined never again to be ambushed by a man from the shadows. How long would her makeshift flashlight last? She’d talked to a number of clients today and had planned to charge her cell phone while she was driving.
Glancing down, she checked the phone’s battery power. Almost to the red zone.
“Got