Page 7 of Cops and Robbers

“Will you listen to me now?” he asked in a heated tone, his shadow touching the metal air-conditioning unit between them. “Get on the ground.”

Taking a timid step backward, she eyed him from his white Vans and jeans to his black leather jacket that displayed his lean, agile form in a casual yet dangerously alluring way. His drawn eyes swept over her banged-up knees and her shoulder with concern. Not what I’d expect given the situation. Must be a caring guy to worry about a thief.

But she’d had worse injuries on some of her heists in her previous lives. Naomi had patched her up every time, so she owed it to her sister to fix her mistake. She walked another step backward, struggling to catch her breath. The exertion didn’t seem to faze him, body tense but composed. He took a few steps forward, mimicking her movements in a relaxed stance, as if believing he had her cornered. When her foot hit the ledge behind her, she stepped up onto the small outcropping without looking away from him.

He paled, arms spreading out. “I mean you no harm. Just come with me. Everything will be fine.”

She glanced down. The drop was long, but a glint of yellow from another fire escape had her grinning on the inside.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as if trying to keep her focus.

“Shouldn’t you know that before you go on the first date?”

His copper eyes gleamed with curious amusement. “Didn’t realize this was a date.”

“What is a date if not two people chasing each other?”

“And getting to know one another?”

“True…what have you learned about me?”

“You’re a risk-taker.”

“Bingo.” She grinned and stepped back off the ledge.

Something grasped her skintight top. Yanking her back, he caused her shirt threads to give way with a rip underneath the sequined bra. She gasped, her head whipping as she reached forward with her good arm and grabbed hold of his bulging, muscular bicep.

His knuckles pushed into her stomach as she leaned toward him to steady herself.

“You’re fast…” she whispered, out-of-breath. Warmth seeped through the leather in her grasp. Her heart throbbed with anticipation even through the pain.

“That was stupid,” he said, hot breath caressing her senses in a wave of mint.

“Not as much as you think.” She tilted her head to the side.

He grabbed her good arm and leaned over to scan the small fire escape ledge she had planned to drop to. Like he said, she was a risk-taker, and he’d given her no other option.

He shook his head. “Better luck next time. You’re under arrest.”

He walked backward, and she fell forward onto the roof without his support.

She landed a breath away from him. A sizzle caressed her skin again, and fire spread throughout her body. She came to just below his chin, and oh, how she wished to bite that strong jawline just to see his reaction. She gazed up at him from under her lashes. He had an attractive face: hard, masculine edges and predatory coppery eyes. She hadn’t felt attraction like this in, well…forever. This man was carnal energy hidden under a serious exterior—though he was willing to banter with her.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back. The cold handcuff clicked around her left wrist. He grasped her other arm and agony shot from her shoulder down her spine. She whimpered as tears stung her eyes. Gingerly, as if he didn’t want to hurt her, he moved her hands in front of her torso and handcuffed them.

The wail of incoming sirens accompanied him as he read the Miranda Rights. All the while, she watched him with interest and kept her inner mirth from reaching her face.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

“Hey baby,” Kate said into the phone to Clyde a few hours later. As her Coheart, Clyde was a friend she’d chosen to give immortality to so he could assist her from one reincarnated life to the next. She met the bemused gaze of the copper-eyed detective standing before her in the field office hallway.

Special Agent Raz Malone with the FBI.

His slicked-back, mahogany-brown hair refracted red in the warm fluorescent light above their heads. His casual closeness, arms crossed, and legs spread firmly, hypnotized her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her back to him and continued, “How many episodes of Scandalous in Miami am I missing?”

“Ichikawa-san, you are going to be the death of me,” Clyde snapped in Japanese. “Did you succeed?”