muscle tone and turned into pipe cleaners. His strength was such that he didn’t seem to notice the addition of her weight, and before she knew what she was doing, she put her arms around him, holding on as if he were the rope drawing her out of the cold, greedy lake she was drowning in.
As she fell into the weakness that claimed her, Jo turned her head to the side and put her ear against his heart. The strong, steady pump calmed her, and the scent of him was heaven in her nose, and the warmth emanating off of him revived her as nothing else could. So yes, even after she could feel her legs again and stand properly on her own, she didn’t step back.
It had been so long since she had felt safe.
Just a little longer.
She would stay… a little longer.
“Where can I take you?” he asked.
His voice vibrated through his chest, and she liked the feel of it. Hell, she liked the feel of all of him. And that cologne, dear God, the cologne.
But they couldn’t stay like this forever.
Prying her body off of his, she forced herself to step away from the warmth of him. Then with a quick tug, she pulled her jacket down and cleared her throat.
Like that would call her brain to order.
“Ah, nowhere,” she said. Because it was the right answer. “I’m good. I’m fine—”
“Have you eaten?”
Jo blinked. “Eaten?”
“Yes.” He mimed a fork going back and forth to his mouth. “Food?”
And that was when his expression registered. In spite of all his leather and his weapons, and the fact that he very calmly and deliberately had been about to shoot and kill someone with a bad muffler, he seemed… sheepish. Shy. Nervous.
Jo laughed in a burst. “Oh, my God. Are you asking me on a date?”
“I… ah…”
Alarm marked those hard features of his. In fact, he looked downright spooked.
“I, um, I thought you might be more comfortable in a public place,” he blurted. “You know. With public around. In a place. That serves… you know, dinner things.”
She started to smile. ’Cuz sometimes that was all you could do. “There’s a bar with bad fried food about two blocks from here. They also have a beer menu that’s three pages long.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Okay, like anything? Because that’s not compatible with life.”
“Alcohol.”
“Well, you can order a tap water and a straw then. How about that?” As he started to nod, she pointed at his gun. “But that stays in your pants. Or… yeah, that sounded dirty. But the point is, no shooting anything or anybody. I don’t care if the waiter drops a tray right behind you or a fight breaks out and you get beer splashed in your face. Agreed?”
The way the man nodded was like a Doberman who’d been schooled for piddling on the rug.
“All right,” she said. “Let me put my bag in my car—wait. One more thing. The bar is where most of the cops go to hang out. Are we going to have a problem with that?”
It was a test. Public places were one thing. But given this guy’s point-and-shoot proclivities, she wanted to go somewhere especially safe—and if he were a wanted man? A violent felon? He wasn’t going to volunteer to get ID’d. Oh, and as for herself and that helicopter from the night before? There were a thousand redheads in this city, and chasing an active suspect through the streets via spotlight was a very different proposition than identifying her in a bar twenty-four hours later.
Facial recognition was good. It wasn’t that good.
Besides, she’d had the hood of her windbreaker up most of the time.
“That’s not a problem for me,” he said without blinking.
Ignoring the relief she felt, Jo hefted her bag up on her shoulder and headed for the Golf. As she walked, she could sense him behind her, and she glanced back. He was scanning the parking lot, the lane, the buildings around them.
And he hadn’t put the gun away yet. It was down by his thigh—
As her phone went off, she put her palm up at him. “Just my cell. Don’t fill me full of holes.”
He shot her a no-shit-Sherlock look.
Whoever was calling wasn’t in her contacts, but she answered anyway. “Jo Early.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the man did a double take. But then she had to concentrate on what McCordle was saying.
“Wait, wait,” she interrupted. “So Frank Pappalardo’s definitely put a hit out on him?