open his mouth and … and…
"Goodnight, Alex."
Say goodnight. Relief and something else less identifiable coursed through her, and she reached for the doorknob.
"Goodnight, Jack." Heart thudding in her ears, Alex pushed open the door, then froze, a scream dying at the back of her throat.
"What?" He was by her side immediately.
"There!" she shrieked, cowering against him. Across the room, the silhouette of a man stood out clearly against the light
pouring in from the windows.
Alex's heart jumped to her throat as Jack thrust her behind him. "Who's there?" he shouted.
The intruder didn't answer, didn't move.
"Go call the police," he barked.
She felt the muscles of his arm bunch beneath her death grip. When she realized he meant to confront the person, fear
paralyzed her. He lunged across the room, tackling the dark figure. Jack's grunt reverberated through the room as both men fell
to the floor. Horror descended when she heard the sound of a gunshot, and a corresponding groan from Jack.
"Jack!" she screamed. Police forgotten, she lunged for the light switch—she had to help him.
As light spilled into the room, she ran forward, then stopped at the scene before her, her hand to her open mouth.
Uncontrollable laughter bubbled out, so intense she had to bend at the waist.
Jack lay sprawled facedown on top of Lana's blow-up doll Harry, who had suffered a blowout when he'd been tackled. Jack
gingerly turned his head, blinking under the wattage of the row of track lighting running overhead, then pushed himself up,
staring down at the doll's half-inflated leering face. "What the hell?"
Alex could only shake her head and laugh harder.
He frowned and lumbered to his feet, feeling his ribcage. "I'm glad you find my pain so amusing."
She sobered a tiny bit, hiding her laughter behind her fist. "Are you injured?"
One side of his mouth pulled back in a wry grin. "Just my pride."
"If it makes you feel better," Alex said, laughing anew as she walked over to the victim sagging against the floor, the life
hissing out of him, "Harry got the brunt of it."
"Harry?"
"Er, Horny Harry, to be exact." She picked up the unfortunate rubber doll, glad his somewhat alarmingly anatomically
correct body was covered by a pair of baggy pajamas, although his hard plastic erection was obvious beneath the thin fabric.
Jack pursed his mouth. "And does Reddinger know he has such, um, stiff competition?"
Alex threw him a withering glance. "He's not mine."
His eyebrow quirked upward. "Reddinger, or Harry here?"
He maintained a teasing expression, but she had the strangest feeling he was half-serious. "I was talking about Harry," she
said lightly. "My neighbor Lana asked if she could bring some of her things over, but I didn't realize she meant him."
He emitted a low, rolling laugh. "Sounds like a lonely woman."
"It's a long story. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she stowed Harry safely in a chair.
He nodded. "On hindsight, I'm glad you didn't call the police."
She wet her lips, suppressing another smile. "Now I know why they call you Jack the Attack."
"Oh, now that's hilarious. And I was beginning to think you didn't have a sense of humor."
Alex warmed, realizing that in the past few hours they had gone from near-enemies to sharing a moment of laughter in her
apartment
"Nice place," he said, his head pivoting. He hesitated a second longer than necessary when his gaze passed over her bed in
the far corner.
Alex ignored the zing of electricity that barbed through her. "Thanks."
"Do you live alone?" His voice held only casual curiosity.
"Yes."
"Then you play?" He nodded toward the baby grand piano.
"Not really. It was my mother's."
"Was?"
"She died a few years ago."
His brow clouded. "I'm sorry. I know how tough it is to lose a parent."
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat at his earnest tone—they did have something
in common, she and this rebel.
Silence stretched
"Goodnight, Alex."
Say goodnight. Relief and something else less identifiable coursed through her, and she reached for the doorknob.
"Goodnight, Jack." Heart thudding in her ears, Alex pushed open the door, then froze, a scream dying at the back of her throat.
"What?" He was by her side immediately.
"There!" she shrieked, cowering against him. Across the room, the silhouette of a man stood out clearly against the light
pouring in from the windows.
Alex's heart jumped to her throat as Jack thrust her behind him. "Who's there?" he shouted.
The intruder didn't answer, didn't move.
"Go call the police," he barked.
She felt the muscles of his arm bunch beneath her death grip. When she realized he meant to confront the person, fear
paralyzed her. He lunged across the room, tackling the dark figure. Jack's grunt reverberated through the room as both men fell
to the floor. Horror descended when she heard the sound of a gunshot, and a corresponding groan from Jack.
"Jack!" she screamed. Police forgotten, she lunged for the light switch—she had to help him.
As light spilled into the room, she ran forward, then stopped at the scene before her, her hand to her open mouth.
Uncontrollable laughter bubbled out, so intense she had to bend at the waist.
Jack lay sprawled facedown on top of Lana's blow-up doll Harry, who had suffered a blowout when he'd been tackled. Jack
gingerly turned his head, blinking under the wattage of the row of track lighting running overhead, then pushed himself up,
staring down at the doll's half-inflated leering face. "What the hell?"
Alex could only shake her head and laugh harder.
He frowned and lumbered to his feet, feeling his ribcage. "I'm glad you find my pain so amusing."
She sobered a tiny bit, hiding her laughter behind her fist. "Are you injured?"
One side of his mouth pulled back in a wry grin. "Just my pride."
"If it makes you feel better," Alex said, laughing anew as she walked over to the victim sagging against the floor, the life
hissing out of him, "Harry got the brunt of it."
"Harry?"
"Er, Horny Harry, to be exact." She picked up the unfortunate rubber doll, glad his somewhat alarmingly anatomically
correct body was covered by a pair of baggy pajamas, although his hard plastic erection was obvious beneath the thin fabric.
Jack pursed his mouth. "And does Reddinger know he has such, um, stiff competition?"
Alex threw him a withering glance. "He's not mine."
His eyebrow quirked upward. "Reddinger, or Harry here?"
He maintained a teasing expression, but she had the strangest feeling he was half-serious. "I was talking about Harry," she
said lightly. "My neighbor Lana asked if she could bring some of her things over, but I didn't realize she meant him."
He emitted a low, rolling laugh. "Sounds like a lonely woman."
"It's a long story. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she stowed Harry safely in a chair.
He nodded. "On hindsight, I'm glad you didn't call the police."
She wet her lips, suppressing another smile. "Now I know why they call you Jack the Attack."
"Oh, now that's hilarious. And I was beginning to think you didn't have a sense of humor."
Alex warmed, realizing that in the past few hours they had gone from near-enemies to sharing a moment of laughter in her
apartment
"Nice place," he said, his head pivoting. He hesitated a second longer than necessary when his gaze passed over her bed in
the far corner.
Alex ignored the zing of electricity that barbed through her. "Thanks."
"Do you live alone?" His voice held only casual curiosity.
"Yes."
"Then you play?" He nodded toward the baby grand piano.
"Not really. It was my mother's."
"Was?"
"She died a few years ago."
His brow clouded. "I'm sorry. I know how tough it is to lose a parent."
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat at his earnest tone—they did have something
in common, she and this rebel.
Silence stretched
Similar Books
