Edge of the Enforcer by Cherise Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

had honestly found her sexy to desire. Had liked her enough to want to be with her. Totally awesome. He likes me.
    She tied the robe closed. Didn’t it just figure that now she had someone over who might appreciate hot lingerie, she couldn’t afford any? Her life sure had changed in the blink of an eye—from a Texas ranch, to college, to Victor’s fancy San Antonio house, to being on the run and broke.
    She bit her lip. She couldn’t live like this the rest of her life. Not only for herself, but for everyone else being hurt. Victor’s brother, Travis, wouldn’t have shut down the smuggling operation. Guns, drugs, slavery. Travis had to be stopped. Somehow.
    The last time she’d talked to a cop, she’d almost died.
    Her cheerful mood was broken as a chill swept over her. She’d slept like an exhausted puppy with deVries in her bed. Not worrying about whether Travis Parnell might have found her and sent someone to silence her.
    She glanced back at the shower and headed for the kitchen.
    A few minutes later, she set the small café table in front of the bay window. Pretty convenient she’d baked quiche the day before—it made a great ready-made breakfast. He’d probably think her an idiot to feed him, but Mama had exacting notions about hospitality.
    Of course, her mama would consider deVries more of a devil than a guest, and she’d be right. Be that as it may, if Lindsey fed the man, maybe he’d mellow and actually talk to her. Breakfast with the Enforcer. God.
    On the way back to the kitchen, her gaze fell on the antique rolltop desk. And the newspaper clippings showing Craig’s body, his police uniform stained with blood. More articles were there about the hunt for Lindsey Rayburn Parnell who had apparently shot her husband, Victor, then murdered a cop to escape. Lies, damn them.
    Footsteps reminded her of her guest. Breath catching, she shoved the rolltop down to cover everything even as deVries walked out of the bedroom. Her voice shook as she said, “Good morning.”
    “Morning.” His gaze ran from the desk up to her face.
    “I have some breakfast for you.” She hurried over to the kitchen island, picked up the plates, and carried them to the table. Be cool. Be cool. After a calming breath, she turned and gave him a bright smile. “I hope you like quiche.”
    He hesitated, obviously surprised. “Long as eggs are cooked, I’m good.” He joined her, nodding when she lifted the coffeepot. “Thanks.”
    While he ate, she burbled about the weather, the club, anything she could think of. She’d never had trouble talking with people. Psychology and social work degrees had perfected her ability to plow through the most awkward of moments.
    If only he would stop looking around the room. The worry she might have left something else out made her squirm. Even worse, every time his eyes met hers, her brain emptied of thoughts like water swirling down the drain.
    As he took his last bite and leaned back with coffee in hand, she finally asked, “So, what do you do for a living?” Aw heck, she sounded dumb. Nonetheless, she was dying to know where those scars came from. “Are you a cop?” Her fingers tensed on her cup.
    His eyes were more green than gray in the morning light, and she could have sworn amusement lurked in the depths. “I work for Simon.”
    Right. Rona’s husband owned a security and investigations firm. “Is it that dangerous?” Oh shit, she’d blurted her question out.
    “What?” He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth.
    Her gaze dropped to where his leathers covered the stitches on his hip.
    “Happened during my time off. A buddy tripped—the clumsy bastard—and I ended up with this.”
    Jeez, was his buddy playing with a knife or something? “Oh. That’s a crappy thing to happen on a holiday.”
    “Guess so.” Although his eyes had somehow darkened, his lips twitched.
    She eyed him suspiciously. Sometimes she got the definite impression he thought she was funny, even that