“We were in the middle of something,” he told me, like I didn’t already know that and wasn’t trying my utmost to forget it.

“Yeah. I know. Sorry about that,” I said airily, like it was all the same to me (even though it was not) and his eyes flashed dangerously at my tone.

Um.

Yikes.

I decided to explain. “It’s probably for the best. We don’t want things to get complicated.”

He came closer. “We don’t want things to get complicated?” he repeated what I said.

“Um… yeah,” I replied.

“You think things aren’t already complicated?”

He had a point.

I remained silent.

He got even closer, his hands slid around my h*ps and at the very top of my behind he pressed my body into his. His head tilted so it was a hairbreadth from mine. I put my hands between us but this didn’t serve any purpose, at all, because Vance didn’t let it.

“I know about Cordova. I know he wants to get in your pants,” he told me.

My eyes narrowed at him. “If you knew, why did you ask?”

He ignored my question and said something that threw me right off balance. “Jules, listen to me. Since I intend to get in your pants, he’s gonna have to back off,” Vance announced, rocking my world. Then before I could process his words, he finished. “I’ll take care of Cordova.”

Oh crap.

“Vance,” I whispered, not sure what I intended to say but I intended to say something.

For some reason, this made him smile. It was a new smile to me, it made his eyes soft and sexy and I felt my breath catch so I didn’t say another word.

“I like that,” he said quietly, his voice back to silk.

“What?” I whispered.

“You sayin’ my name,” he told me. “I’ll like it better when you moan it, tonight, when I’m inside you.”

My stomach plummeted. You would think this was a terrible sensation but instead it was thrilling, like being on a roller coaster.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Tonight, at dinner, we’re gonna talk about what you’re doin’. After dinner, we’re gonna finish what we started this morning.”

“Vance,” I said, at that moment, wanting to have dinner with him like I wanted oxygen to remain present on the earth. And wanting to finish what we started like I’d wanted nothing else before in my life.

However, I knew this wasn’t smart and it was not going to happen.

He kept talking. “I’ll pick you up here, six thirty. You’re not here, I’ll find you.”

“Vance, listen to me,” I said.

“You feel like talkin’ now?” he asked, his head cocked and his eyes flashed again.

At his scary, threatening look, I forgot what I was going to say.

His mouth came to mine. “Six thirty, Jules. Be here.”

Then he kissed me, hard and deep.

After he kissed me, he let me go, walked away, grabbed his boots from the floor and walked down the hall.

I moved to look down the hall but he’d vanished.

I heard the backdoor open and shut and I knew he was gone.

Chapter Four

I Wanna Be You

I swung into King’s and knew immediately something was up.

King’s Shelter was a huge, ugly building off Evans close to I-25. It consisted of a big rec room with a pool table, television and bunches of couches and chairs; an enormous kitchen and dining area; six large bedrooms; a conference room where we did our family reunions; an open plan office; and three smaller rooms where we did counseling and tutoring.

There was a manager who ran the place and raised the money to keep it going, two full-time social workers, myself included, and one half-time tutor. We had two half-time professionals volunteering, one a social worker, one a tutor. Lastly, we had five volunteers who came and went as they pleased, three men and two women. They cooked, cleaned, spent time with the kids and stayed the night to let kids in or out and to keep an eye on things.

The place was packed when I walked in and everyone’s eyes swiveled to me and most everyone stared. Not good. King’s usually had a number of kids hanging around but this, in my experience, was an all-time record.

May saw me the minute I walked in and she approached me.

May was one of our daytime volunteers and did most of the cooking. She was well into her fifties. She was short, black, round, straightened her hair and then arranged it so she looked like a heavy-set, African American Jackie Kennedy circa the White House years.

“Hey hon,” she said when she made it to me.

“Hey May. Any sign of Sniff and Roam?” I asked.

“No, girl, but we gotta talk.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Before she could lead me away, Josefa, a thirteen year old Mexican-American girl who’d been on the streets for six months before I got her to King’s, approached us. She’d been reunited with her family a couple of weeks ago and they were in counseling. She wasn’t my kid, in other words, I wasn’t working her case, but I knew her all the same. I knew all the kids.

“Is it true?” she asked, a gaggle of her girlfriends were standing close and staring at me in awe, much like I stared at Crowe last night (and, possibly, this morning).

My heart stuttered, thinking she knew something about Sniff and Roam, and I asked her, “Is what true? And by the way, hello and how are you today?” I not-so-subtly reminded her of the pleasantries of conversation.

She ignored my reminder and said, “That you’ve partnered with Crowe. Is it true, you and Crowe are patrollin’ the street and takin’ down the dealers of Denver? A vendetta for Park?”

Oh crap.

“Mm hmm. This is what we gotta talk about,” May told me.

I looked from May, to Josefa, to her posse. “No. It’s not true,” I replied, and it wasn’t, exactly.

“But I heard you and him took down Shard last night,” Josefa said, looking disappointed.

I closed my eyes. Sniff and his big mouth.

Then I opened my eyes. “Josefa, I have not partnered with anyone. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. I hadn’t partnered with anyone and it wasn’t me who took down Shard, it was Vance. I wasn’t going to share this with Josefa however.

“But I heard –” Josefa went on.