Free Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) by Brandace Morrow

anxious that they will.”
    “How do you process that?”  I stare at her until she elaborates.  “What do you do when you get home?  Do you go for a walk on the beach?  Eat ice cream?  Take a bubble bath?”
    Well, shit.  Imma try that whole list next Sunday, because I sure as hell am not bringing back my caped friend.
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I do that.”  The doc’s eyebrows raise.
    “Which one?”
    I shrug and look at the clock.  “All of ‘em.”
    Her shoulder’s wilt, and she sits back in her chair.  “You’re lying.”
    I slap my hands down onto my bare legs.  “Welp!  Looks like time’s up.  See ya next week.”  And I get the hell out of there.  Somehow I doubt fucking a stranger is what she wants to hear, and Popper shouldn’t give a fuck, didn’t until two weeks ago.  Now I’ve got this chick in white on my other shoulder telling me that Dr. Pentir is genuinely trying to help me. And let’s face it, not a lot of people give two shits about me.

 
     
     
     
    I park my car and pull the e-brake roughly.  I’m ready for war.  As I walk to the elevators, my knee high boots ring out sharply on the concrete. 
    Where does he get off coming into my house?  Touching my things?  He violated my privacy, while I was asleep upstairs and didn’t even come up to get in the bed?  Fuck him.  Well he’s about to get his ass kicked because I’m over it.  He—
    My internal tirade is cut off when I’m jerked hard from behind.  My eyes get big, and I squeak in shock.  Who in the fuck would dare touch me tonight of all nights?  A hand goes around my mouth about the time I raise both of my stilettos and jam them into his feet, lifting them again to get his knees this time.
    I hear a muffled curse as I’m pushed toward my car in the empty garage.  I stumble for a few steps, quickly coming up and wrapping my hand around the strap of my purse.  That’s when I take in the black mask, black cape, and black jeans.
    “You,” I say through clenched teeth and take a swing with my overloaded purse.  Batty dodges it easily, leaning back as it whizzes by his head like the fucking Matrix .
    “Will you stop it?  I knew you were going to come in here hotter than hell.”  Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about how I look.
    “You broke into my house!” I yell, advancing on him with my finger raised.
    He snatches it before I poke at his chest.  “I was doing you a fucking favor.  I think what you meant to say is thank you .”
    “So you went back to the hospital and got my shit.”  I shrug.  “You still took my spare key, turned off my alarm, and went into my house!  You could have knocked.  You could have left it on the fucking porch.”
    He takes a step toward me and lowers his voice.  “I put the key back.  I locked the goddamned door.  I set the fucking alarm.”
    Our breath mixes as we pant against each other.  When did he get so close?  One second we’re staring daggers at each other, the next our masks are gone and our mouths are fused together.  We battle with our tongues, lashing at each other with teeth.  His hands go under my shirt and mold around my breasts.  My hands do the same, but I use my nails to scrape down his ribs.  Batty groans and yanks me hard to him.  My breath gusts out from the force of hitting his chest.  As fast as he brought us together he’s arching his hips away from mine to put a hand over where I’m hottest, between my legs.
    He curls his fingers in and rubs, making me desperate.  When he pulls his lips from mine to work on the button of my jeans I ask, “How do you do this to me?”  Seriously, I was set to skin him alive, now I just want his skin to touch mine.
    “I ask myself that every fucking day.  Bend over.”
    I look around to where I’m supposed to be bending, almost doing it right there with the order in his tone.  That’s not Popper.  She doesn’t take orders.  Sadie must, because when he turns me to the hood