Free Born Wild by Julie Ann Walker

read whatever was written all over his face. But then he turned away, and the opportunity was lost. In the next instant, Billy and Mac were exiting the vehicle, and she had no recourse but to watch them jog across the dark street—Dale didn’t exactly live in the nicest part of town and most of the street lights weren’t functioning—and up the block.
    They looked very professional in their pseudo-SWAT team get-ups: black body armor, black cargo pants, black combat boots, just black on black. Not to mention the matte black guns they carried at the smalls of their backs. And yes, even though Billy had told her they were just coming here to watch Dale, the outfits emphasized the fact that he and Mac had both been banking on Dale giving them a reason to jump him. And talk about wowza . If Dale Pennyworth caught a glimpse of them following him, he wasn’t going to know what to do first, crap his pants or spill his guts. And, dangit! She was going to miss it!
    She was supposed to have grown a shiny set of brass ladyballs by now, but she’d caved to Billy’s domineering stay put decree after only five seconds. Which meant she hadn’t really grown that set of ladyballs after all.
    Crap.
    But just as she began mentally chastising herself, movement down the block snagged her attention.
    What the…?
    ***
    You shouldn’t have touched her, an annoying little voice whispered through Bill’s head as he slunk around the corner, quiet as a whisper, blending into the blackness of the shadows cast by the surrounding apartment buildings.
    Mac was across the street doing a pretty stellar job of disappearing into the darkness himself. Bill could only make out the whites of the man’s eyes and the motion of his hand as he tapped two fingers against his cheeks and pointed up the block, the signal for I’ve got a bead on the target .
    Bill nodded, advancing up the ill-lit street one silent step at a time, skirting around an overturned trashcan that smelled of dirty diapers, warm beer, and moldy Indian food. For a moment he wished he was back in the Hummer, breathing in Eve’s subtle scent. That is until that pesky voice spoke up again. Touching Eve always messes with your head, man.
    And, yeah, so the sonofabitching voice had a point. Although, the reality was, it wasn’t necessarily his head that got messed with. Unless, of course, one was talking about his little head.
    Damn, what a goatscrew.
    Okay, and that was more like it. That sentiment he could agree with. Because no matter how often he reminded himself of the hurt she’d caused him, no matter how many times he assured himself he was right in his assessment of her character, there’d inevitably be a moment, like the one back there in the Hummer when she looked up at him with such conviction, such tenaciousness, that he began to doubt anything and everything he’d held true about her these past dozen years.
    Uh-huh. Goatscrew about summed it up and—
    Whoa. What the hell?
    Farther up the block, the dark green door on a four-flat apartment building opened, and a young woman in scrubs stepped out. Bill watched in consternation as Eve’s stalker, heretofore referred to as Dale Fuckwad, jumped behind a lamp post.
    Uh, can you say Creepy McCreepster, boys and girls? And, just like that, his mission went from a simple tail and observe to a full-on apprehend and secure. Because that sick sonofabitch was obviously going to try to off another innocent woman.
    Instincts on high alert, Bill glanced across the street to find Mac’s eyes turned in his direction. He nodded— yeah, I’m seeing what you’re seeing— as a hard punch of adrenaline blasted through his veins, increasing his heart rate from a steady lub, dub into a fast-paced thumpety, thumpety, thumpety. The world around him snapped into crystalline focus, and the night was no longer so dark; the sounds of the city around him—a distant siren, a dog barking, and the bass of a nearby car stereo—no longer so