The Right Side Of The Law

“Sure you did.” Blu shifted his weight and ran his hand over her left hip. He felt her body tense.

“Please,” she pleaded, “don’t hurt me.”

Blu ignored her plea, reminded of how easy it had been for her to aim that .22 at him yesterday. Determined it wouldn’t happen again, his hand kept moving as he watched her. Her eyes were wide, her fear stealing her air. “Breathe, dammit, or you’re going to pass out,” he warned. “If that happens, you’ll wake up not knowing what I did to you.”

His words made her cry out, and the air rushed back into her lungs.

“The gun,” Blu insisted. “I want it.”

“Please! I—”

Blu got to his knees and flipped her over so quickly she didn’t have time to fight him. And that’s when he saw the bruises covering the backs of her arms. He’d seen hundreds of bruises, in all shapes and sizes; had been responsible for more than he cared to remember. Good at his past job, he knew just how much pressure to inflict to cause a man’s skin to discolor, and to what degree. There was no question about it, his little nun had been manhandled, and it had been fairly recent.

The small bulge in her back pocket caught his attention, and he shoved his hand inside and retrieved the derringer. Confident she would have better manners now that he had disarmed her, Blu shoved to his feet.

“Get up.”

She rolled over, scrambled to her feet and took several steps back. With shaky hands, she shoved her sleeveless blue blouse back into the waistband of her jeans, then brushed the length of her hair away from her face.

Blu watched as her fairy-tale hair drifted over her shoulders, then past her arms, then past her waist. Hell, he’d never seen hair that long or that satin-smooth in his life.

Yesterday, dressed in nun’s clothes, she’d pulled a gun on him and given him one huge headache. Today, dressed in street clothes, he’d caught her spying on him like a little pervert. What the hell was she after?

Blu waved the gun at her. “So we’ve established you’re not a nun. And you like skin.”

“Skin?”

“Yesterday you were ordering me to get naked.” Blu motioned to the wall. “Now I catch you copping a peek through a crack in my wall.”

Her cheeks heated. “You have it all wrong.”

“Then set it right.”

“I told you yesterday why I wanted your jeans. You couldn’t answer my questions, and I couldn’t trust you to just let me walk away. Today I wasn’t watching you. Well, I was, but I didn’t come here to do that. You were supposed to be at work.”

“And?”

“And I thought you were lying about knowing Salva. I came to see if I could find some proof.” She paused. “But when I got to your house—”

“This isn’t where I live. It’s just a place I own.”

“Oh…”

Blu gauged her expression. She looked genuinely surprised. “I told you the truth yesterday. I don’t know your friend. I’ve never heard of the Harris woman, either.”

“You have to know Salva.”

“What I know is, you’re beginning to annoy me.” Blu aimed the gun at her. “And just so you know how it feels to be on the receiving end, get naked.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Forget the shoes. Start with the blouse.”

Her big brown eyes turned huge. She shook her head. “Yesterday I was desperate,” she pleaded.

“Desperation has its price,” Blu countered. “Let’s see some skin.”

“No!”

Five feet, four and a half, Blu decided. She was a half inch taller than he’d told Ry. But he was right about her being young. Suddenly his curiosity made him ask, “How old are you?”

She jutted her chin. “Twenty-four.”

Blu pulled back the hammer as she’d done to him yesterday. “Let’s try that again. How old are you?”

“If you don’t like twenty-four, pick your own number.”

What he liked was her spunk. Hell, the whole package was a five-star winner. Her legs were slight, her breasts small but clearly visible. And all that damn hair was making him think of fairy princesses and peach-scented skin.

“My money’s on eighteen,” Blu offered. “Okay, Angel, come clean. Why are you stalking me?”

“I told you why already. I’m looking for information on Salvador Maland. Because you know him, I thought you would share what you know. Since you weren’t willing to cooperate yesterday, and you’re usually at work this time of day, I came to see what I could find out on my own.”

That she knew his schedule meant she’d been spying on him long enough to know his pattern. Why? Was she telling him the truth? He saw her glance at the open door, then back at him. He shook his head. “You won’t make it. Even with this limp, I’ll catch you.”

“Maybe not.”

Blu was staring at her mouth, recycling Maland’s name through his memory bank another time when she decided to bolt. Swearing, he raced after her, determined to stop her before she made it out the door. Too late, she was in the hall racing for the stairs before he knew it. Her hair was flying behind her like a wild mane, and he reached out to snare a hunk. Netting nothing but air, he swore again, then watched her leap onto the banister sidesaddle and slide to the bottom. Shocked, Blu roared out his protest, knowing that he’d seen the last of her.

She swung open the door and started through it. A moment later she darted back inside, slamming the door shut behind her. When she turned to face him, her cheeks were chalk-white and her brown eyes had grown to the size of silver dollars. “Please,” she pleaded, “you’ve got to hide me. Please, you can’t let him take me!”

She started to shake. Then she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to control her growing panic—at least that’s what it looked like to Blu. Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding, but that was the problem; he didn’t understand. But he damn well would, he vowed, as soon as he got rid of whoever was at the door.

He headed down the stairs and brushed past her to peer out the narrow window that aligned the door. Seeing Jackson Ward strolling up the sidewalk, Blu pulled back, shoved the derringer into his waistband, and reached for the doorknob.

“Please.” She gripped his arm. “He might be looking for me. Please don’t open that door.”

Her words painted a little clearer picture, but not nearly enough. He said, “Jackson’s a detective at the NOPD. He’s here to see me, not you.”

“The police!”

Instead of setting her mind at ease, she looked as if she was about to faint. “Oh, God! Oh-hh…!”

Blu glanced down to where her small hand clutched his forearm. Her tiny fingers were so small, her wrist as fragile as a twig.

The knock on the door gave her a jolt and she nearly jumped into his arms.

“I’ll do anything.” She was almost in tears. “Please, I promise. Just don’t mention me to him. Please!”