Free Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) by Shauna Allen

stared at Micah’s words, my heart stumbling. There was nothing especially sweet or gentle about his message, but it still touched me. He was showing he cared in his own way.
    Could I believe in him?
    8 will work . . . thx
    OK see u in the morning . A long moment then, Goodnight.
    I texted him back a goodnight then rolled over to stare out my window and try to sleep.
    I woke with a start to someone pounding on my door. I squinted against the sunlight slanting into my room and checked the clock. 8:08.
    Shit.
    I leapt out of bed and ran to the door, bypassing my brother who was out cold on the couch.
    Micah’s eyes were wide and frantic, his fist raised to bang again. He slowly lowered his hand as he took me in.
    I glanced down at my thin cotton gown and bare feet as I ran a hand through the bird’s nest that was surely my hair. “I’m sorry. I overslept.”
    He nodded, his shoulders relaxing, a half-smile tilting up his mouth.
    I swung the door all the way open. “Come on in. It’ll just take me a couple minutes to throw on some clothes.”
    I spun away and heard the door click behind him. His presence in my apartment suddenly felt very intimate, even with my sleeping brother. I shut myself into my room and heaved a breath. Glancing at my bed, I realized I’d been dreaming of him. Hot, perfect dreams of slick skin sliding along slick skin, writhing, moans.
    I groaned and yanked off my nightie, threw on the first pair of clean jeans I found and a navy blue Baybridge PD polo. I ran a brush through my hair and scooped it into a ponytail as I slid my feet into my Nikes. I gargled some mouthwash, grabbed my purse, and met Micah back in my living room in four minutes flat. “Okay. Ready. Sorry about that.”
    He glanced at the couch. “Your brother?”
    “Yup. I’d introduce you, but he sleeps like a comatose person. No rousing him til he’s good and ready.”
    He nodded his understanding. “You sure you don’t need to do anything else? Breakfast?”
    I shook my head and moved to the door. “I’m fine.” I’d die before letting him see the Pop-Tarts or sugary cereal I would’ve eaten.
    Without a word, he led me out to his Jeep and we headed out. A couple blocks from the station, he pulled into a crowded fast food restaurant drive-thru.
    “What’re you doing?”
    He didn’t face me. “You’ve got to eat.”
    I was temporarily shocked into silence. No man had ever looked out for me other than my dad and brothers, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I studied his hard features. His high cheekbones. That aristocratic nose. Those sculpted lips that could bring me to my knees.
    He drove forward when it was our turn to order then glanced at me, his dark eyes hidden behind his aviators. “Eggs and sausage okay, or would you rather have a breakfast sandwich?”
    “Eggs are fine. But only if you eat with me.”
    The disembodied voice on the speaker crackled between us. He shifted back and ordered two breakfast platters then faced me again. “Milk or orange juice?”
    “Juice is fine.”
    He added two juices to the order and we inched forward.
    “Thank you.”
    He tipped his head. “No big deal.”
    It was to me, but I couldn’t find the words to voice that. Instead, I made a point to eat all my food and try to coax him into conversation as we sat idling in the parking lot of the station.
    “What time are you meeting your friend today?” I asked.
    “I’m waiting for him to call me when he gets into town.”
    I asked him about their time together in the military, but he shut down like I’d unplugged him. I changed tactics.
    “We’ve made some adjustments to the sketch of the rapist.”
    His head snapped around. “What does that mean?”
    I shrugged and toyed with the straw in my juice. “The last victim got the best look at him and her version was a little different than the other girls. We brought some of them back in and we revisited what they might’ve missed initially.”
    “Is it the same