“Pretty sure I’ll turn his case over to another attorney. After I have a chance to talk to him in private.”
Vincent grabbed her arm. “What?”
“In my office.”
“No,” he insisted. “That’s what phones are for.”
“And let him think he intimidated me enough to send me running with my tail tucked between my legs? Not a chance.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“I’m not.”
“I disagree. You’re so fucking stubborn, anything I say won’t change your mind.”
“Not this time,” she confirmed. “However, I do promise to be careful.”
Vincent caressed her cheek. “Regardless of the way things have gone for us…” He cleared his throat. “If that son of a bitch hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
Damn. She’d upset him. The calm look on his face vanished and he gritted his teeth, quiet rage building.
“Some things are better left to men like me. Not the police.”
It pained her to think he’d risk his freedom to defend her against a piece of shit like Kline. On probation for the next year, if Kline violated his conditions, he’d go to jail. That’s where he belonged, worrying about dropping the soap in the gang shower in county lockup.
“I promise to call if he shows up at my apartment or anywhere else I go. But I have to talk to him at work. Will that satisfy you?”
“It’s a start.” He nodded. “Let’s grab your things from inside, then I’ll follow you home. I’d feel better if I checked your apartment out before you slept there again.”
Hmmm. A chance to get him alone at her place? She liked the idea very much. “Okay.”
Forty-five minutes later, Tina unlocked her front door. Vincent stepped inside first. He walked down the short entry, which opened up into a combo dining/living area. Double glass doors graced the back wall, overlooking Oso Bay. She opened the drapes, letting sunshine flood the space.
“See?” she teased. “Perfectly safe.”
He disappeared down the hallway. “Clear in here.”
Tina walked to the breakfast bar, where she kept her cordless phone and dinosaur of an answering machine. Call her silly, but it was a gift from her dear grandmother the year she left for college. Twenty messages? She pressed play. The first couple were from her mother and Alicia in the Bahamas. But the next eighteen were a combination of hang-ups and crude comments from Kline.
“Guess playing hard to get is your style, Valentina. Fucking prick tease.” A beep cut him off, and the next message started. “Curious what your cunt tastes like. Maybe a whiskey sour?”
She groaned and shut the machine off. “I can’t believe him…” she mumbled to herself.
“Pack a bag,” Vincent growled. “You’re coming back to the clubhouse.”
She turned around. “No. I’m not going to let a few lewd phone calls scare me.”
“Goddamnit, woman.” Clearly frustrated, he smacked the nearby wall. “Then I’ll spend the night. You have a fully functional guest room, though the closet is jammed with dresses and shoes.”
“You checked the closets, too?”
“Even under your bed.”
The idea of him crawling around like he was trying to find monsters for a frightened kid made her happy. “I like clothes.”
“Apparently.” He rolled his eyes. “Have any good movies and popcorn?”
“You enjoy movies?”
He nodded.
“I’m in the mood for Scott Eastwood. How about The Longest Ride?”
“Nicholas Sparks flicks? Hell no.”
“You’ve seen his work before?” she teased.
“After two wives and sisters does it come as a big surprise? If you ask me to watch The Notebook, I’ll smack you.”
She laughed hard, considering what other titles she could torture him with. “Pride and Prejudice?”
He exhaled and stomped across the living room, stopping in front of her Blu-ray rack. “Star Wars. Rocky. Star Trek. Deadwood. Like classic stuff?” He twisted around. “Deadwood?”
“My favorite show ever.”
He gave her an approving look. “Deadwood marathon night,” he announced as he plucked the box from the shelf. “Better change into something comfortable.”
If she possessed half a brain, she’d slip into her latest purchase from Victoria’s Secret and give him a reason to forget about the television.
Chapter 8
The next morning Vincent knocked on Tina’s bedroom door. He’d cooked breakfast—mushroom, tomato, and cheese omelets, toast, and sausage. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the apartment. Getting no answer, he tapped again, listening through the door for signs of life.