people who come into my place are night people—or those who want to remember when they were. Most have jobs now, the kind of jobs that pay well and make them responsible citizens.”
She took the water bottle from his hand, drank. “Your job pays well.”
He grinned. That quick jab was just one of the things that attracted him to her. “You saying I’m not a responsible citizen? My lawyers and accountants would disagree. However, my point is that people come in here to forget about their responsibilities for a while. To forget the clock’s ticking and they have to punch in at 9:00 a.m. I give them a place without clocks—at least till last call.”
“And this means?” She passed the bottle back to him.
“Forget about the facts a minute. Look at the shadows. You’re hunting night people.”
And he was one of them, she thought. Very much one of the night people, with his black mane of hair and cool cat’s eyes. “I’m not arguing with that.”
“But are you thinking like them? They’ve picked their prey, and when they move, they move fast. It would be less risky, give them more time to study the lay of the land, if they waited to make the hit during the day. Stake out the mark, learn their patterns—when do they leave for the office, when do they get back? These guys could probably nail it down in a couple of days.”
He lifted the bottle, drank. “That would be more efficient. Why don’t they play it that way?”
“Because they’re arrogant.”
“Yeah, but that’s only the top layer. Go down.”
“They like the kick, the rush.”
“Exactly. They’re hungry, and they like the thrill of working in the dark.”
It irked almost as much as it intrigued her that his thought process so closely followed her own. “You think that hasn’t occurred to me before?”
“I figure it has, but I wonder if you’ve factored in that people who live at night are always more dangerous than people who live during the day.”
“Does that include you?”
“Damn right.”
“So warned.” She started to turn away, then stopped, stared down at the hand he’d shot out to grip her arm. “What’s your problem, Blackhawk?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet. Why didn’t you send a uniform over here to pick up the tapes?”
“Because it’s my case.”
“No.”
“No, it’s not my case?”
“No, that’s not the reason. I’m crowding you.” He edged forward to prove it. “Why haven’t you decked me?”
“I don’t make a habit of punching out civilians.” She angled her chin when he nudged her back against the doorjamb. “But I can make an exception.”
“Your pulse is jumping.”
“It tends to when I’m irritated.” Aroused, she’d nearly said aroused because that was the word that came into her head. That was the sensation sliding through her body. And enough was enough.
She shifted, a smooth move that should have planted her elbow in his gut and moved him aside. But he countered, just as smoothly, and changed his grip so that his fingers wrapped tight around her wrist. Instinctively she pivoted, started to hook her foot behind his to take him down.
He adjusted his weight, used it to plaster her back against the door. She told herself it was annoyance that quickened her breathing, and not the way the lines of his body pressed against the lines of hers.
She bunched the hand at her side into a fist, calculated the wisdom of using it for one short-armed punch to the face and decided sarcasm was a more potent weapon against him.
“Next time, ask me if I want to dance. I’m not in the mood to—” She broke off when she saw something sharp come into his eyes, something reckless that had her already-rapid pulse tripping to a faster rate.
She forgot self-defense, forgot the fist she still held ready. “Damn it, Blackhawk, back off. What do you want from me?”
“The hell with it.” He forgot the rules, forgot the consequences of breaking them. All he could see was her. “The
She took the water bottle from his hand, drank. “Your job pays well.”
He grinned. That quick jab was just one of the things that attracted him to her. “You saying I’m not a responsible citizen? My lawyers and accountants would disagree. However, my point is that people come in here to forget about their responsibilities for a while. To forget the clock’s ticking and they have to punch in at 9:00 a.m. I give them a place without clocks—at least till last call.”
“And this means?” She passed the bottle back to him.
“Forget about the facts a minute. Look at the shadows. You’re hunting night people.”
And he was one of them, she thought. Very much one of the night people, with his black mane of hair and cool cat’s eyes. “I’m not arguing with that.”
“But are you thinking like them? They’ve picked their prey, and when they move, they move fast. It would be less risky, give them more time to study the lay of the land, if they waited to make the hit during the day. Stake out the mark, learn their patterns—when do they leave for the office, when do they get back? These guys could probably nail it down in a couple of days.”
He lifted the bottle, drank. “That would be more efficient. Why don’t they play it that way?”
“Because they’re arrogant.”
“Yeah, but that’s only the top layer. Go down.”
“They like the kick, the rush.”
“Exactly. They’re hungry, and they like the thrill of working in the dark.”
It irked almost as much as it intrigued her that his thought process so closely followed her own. “You think that hasn’t occurred to me before?”
“I figure it has, but I wonder if you’ve factored in that people who live at night are always more dangerous than people who live during the day.”
“Does that include you?”
“Damn right.”
“So warned.” She started to turn away, then stopped, stared down at the hand he’d shot out to grip her arm. “What’s your problem, Blackhawk?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet. Why didn’t you send a uniform over here to pick up the tapes?”
“Because it’s my case.”
“No.”
“No, it’s not my case?”
“No, that’s not the reason. I’m crowding you.” He edged forward to prove it. “Why haven’t you decked me?”
“I don’t make a habit of punching out civilians.” She angled her chin when he nudged her back against the doorjamb. “But I can make an exception.”
“Your pulse is jumping.”
“It tends to when I’m irritated.” Aroused, she’d nearly said aroused because that was the word that came into her head. That was the sensation sliding through her body. And enough was enough.
She shifted, a smooth move that should have planted her elbow in his gut and moved him aside. But he countered, just as smoothly, and changed his grip so that his fingers wrapped tight around her wrist. Instinctively she pivoted, started to hook her foot behind his to take him down.
He adjusted his weight, used it to plaster her back against the door. She told herself it was annoyance that quickened her breathing, and not the way the lines of his body pressed against the lines of hers.
She bunched the hand at her side into a fist, calculated the wisdom of using it for one short-armed punch to the face and decided sarcasm was a more potent weapon against him.
“Next time, ask me if I want to dance. I’m not in the mood to—” She broke off when she saw something sharp come into his eyes, something reckless that had her already-rapid pulse tripping to a faster rate.
She forgot self-defense, forgot the fist she still held ready. “Damn it, Blackhawk, back off. What do you want from me?”
“The hell with it.” He forgot the rules, forgot the consequences of breaking them. All he could see was her. “The
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