Page 72 of Fight for You

The little quiver in her voice kills me. I desperately want to pull her into my arms and tell her everything is okay, but I can't do that right now.

"Just stay in the car, January," I tell her, waiting for her to nod before I head for her front door.

It's locked, thank God.

"Oh, that stupid motherfucker," I growl when I realize two of her windows are shattered. Looks like someone threw rocks through them. The holes aren't big enough for anyone to have gotten inside, but I unlock the door and go in anyway, checking through each room carefully just to make sure.

Once I've cleared every room, I make my way back to the living room. The large rocks that were thrown through the windows are still on the floor. One knocked a hole in the wall across from the window. There's a piece of paper wrapped around the other. I kneel down beside it and use my gun to flip it over.

Ask him who he killed is scribbled across the paper in the same jagged scrawl as the little love letter on the brick that came through my window a few days ago.

"Son of a bitch," I swear and then rip the note off the rock. My pulse races, rage thumping through me like a drum. It hits so hard that my head aches as my blood pressure skyrockets. I take a deep breath and then another, trying to get myself under control.

"LAPD!" someone outside yells.

I quickly shove the note into my pocket and then rise to my feet. Shoving my gun into my waistband, I stride toward the front door to meet the officer.

"Are you Agent Kincaid?" he asks. The way his blue-eyed gaze rolls over me makes it clear he doesn't believe I'm a fucking cop. It's not the first time someone's looked at me and thought the same thing.

I know I don't fit the image. But when you do what I do, you learn quickly that people talk a lot more freely when you look like they do. Looking like a cop is the quickest way to get a knife in your back, but if it walks like a gangbanger and talks like a gangbanger…well, you get the point. I play the role I cast myself into and it opens the doors I need opened. I don't regret it, but that doesn't mean shit like this doesn't get old.

"That's me," I mutter, reaching for my badge.

He goes for his gun, grasping at his holster like he expects me to start shooting.

"Mind not fucking shooting me while I get my badge out of my pocket?" I bark at him.

He has the presence of mind to look embarrassed. His ruddy cheeks and the tips of his overly large ears flush bright red. He's young, way too young and clean-cut to be working this neighborhood after dark. He'll be chewed up and spit out in no time flat.

I hold my badge out to him.

He checks it over carefully before handing it back to me and asking what happened.

"My place is trashed, and they threw rocks through the windows here. Both houses are clear," I tell him, and then I stride outside. I don't give a rat's ass if he follows me or not. My girl is probably freaking out. I need to check on her. I also don't want her outside alone any longer than she has to be.

"What's going on?" she asks, hopping out of the car as soon as I step outside. She's as beautiful as ever. She's wearing a gray high-waisted skirt with a cute little bow on the front and a lacy white top tucked in. Her hair is completely straight. She's wearing a pair of sandals that wrap around her ankles and calves. They match her skirt. She wrings her hands together and worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she hurries toward me. That quiver is still in her voice, and her expression is tight.

I stalk over, pulling her into my arms, not giving a fuck if she wants me to touch her or not. She clearly needs a hug, and right now, so do I.

She doesn't fight me. Her body melts into mine, her arms going around my waist. She hugs me tightly.

I close my eyes briefly and revel in the peaceful feeling that settles over me. The rage I felt inside her house falls away, leaving nothing but her and the way every nerve ending in my body lights up when she's near me.

"Cade?" she whispers.

"Someone trashed my place," I mutter, tipping my head down to look at her.

Her eyes go wide.

"They broke a couple of your windows, too."

"Kaleo?" she asks.

I press my lips together and nod.

Her shoulders slump, defeat channeling through her expression.

"I'll take care of it," I promise her.