The sound of her voice saved a cop's life...and put a target on her back.
Zoe White's got a voice to die for and the full-figured body to match it. Sad that it's taken another officer's near tragedy to spur Detective Frank Ludwig into finally making his move. Now that he has, Frank's determined to be Zoe's hero when her unselfish act skylines her to a killer. It doesn't take him long to realize Zoe doesn't need a hero. She's a survivor, perfectly able to defend herself...and Frank, too, when the chips are down.
Then he learns just how much Zoe has sacrificed to recover from past demons, and how determined those same demons are to destroy her again. He realizes there's more to being a hero than fighting bad guys. A true hero helps the woman he loves retrieve the final fragments of her shattered life. Yes, Zoe can clearly defend herself. Now he's depending on her staying alive long enough so he can be the hero she needs.
Fear clawed at Zoe’s gut, fighting its way to the surface. Prickles of the
monster she’d buried zinged beneath her skin, searching for a way out.
People. She had to be around people. If she went home, another monster might
be waiting. Zoe wouldn’t risk it—not until she had control firmly in her hands,
not until she could face whatever hell awaited her with dignity and strength.
Having her .38 in ready reach wouldn’t be bad either.
Gun trumped knife every time. Too bad she’d gotten out of the habit of
carrying the weapon. Zoe would rectify that once she got home. Being without
threat had made her careless. If she wasn’t diligent…
Dead. She’d be dead.
No. That was why she had the black belt—to protect herself.
Could she keep her wits about her and remember how to use those skills?
Besides, all the martial arts moves in the world couldn’t win over a gun. She
needed that weapon in her possession.
Zoe gasped for breath, fighting hyperventilation.
Burt’s Diner. That was where she could go. Open all night. Always someone
there. A favorite place for cops. She’d grab a bite and order her thoughts—make
a game plan.
Zoe scanned the jumble of signs, looking for that familiar red one. Have
I passed it? She’d been so upset that she barely remembered leaving the
station. Where the hell am I? Certainly not pointed toward home. She
nearly wept with relief when she spied her beacon a block ahead. A Holiday Inn
Express was across the street from it. That was an option she hadn’t considered.
She’d check in for a night—maybe two—get a room on the top floor and hole up
until this was over.
She snorted at her foolishness. This was never going to be over—not
until one of them was dead. Zoe didn’t plan on that being her.
She eased into the parking lot and found a spot next to the restaurant.
Maybe luck was on her side tonight. Pulling in slow breaths to calm her
shattered nerves, she cut the engine. Xavier didn’t know where she lived.
Chances were slim he’d recognize her on the street—as long as she kept her
mouth shut. The encounter had been an isolated incident. Why would Xavier care?
He was rattling her to show he was a big man, nothing more. Old fears ran deep,
though. Too deep.
He knows where you work now.
True. Zoe wondered if her subconscious had steered her to take an alternate
Silly. The shooting was across town. There’s no way he could—
She cut off the thought. There was always a way for a determined person, and
he’d sounded damned determined. Thank goodness, her parents were vacationing in
Maui and her sister visiting friends in New York. They were safe from him.
Xavier couldn’t have picked a better time to make his move. For another
panicked moment, Zoe wondered if he’d planned this. Just as quickly, she
dismissed the idea. Xavier never planned anything. He was volatile, driven by
rage and a very short temper.
Damn it all. She’d thought this was in the past. Now she’d
inadvertently crossed paths with him. His threat wasn’t an idle one. Xavier
would hunt her down. It was only a matter of time.
Not if the cops get him first.
Zoe was counting on that. Talk about determination. Xavier had killed a
police officer tonight, seriously wounding another. He was a marked
man. She prayed they got to him before he got to her.
A thorough look around the parking lot confirmed her safety. Still, she
didn’t let her gaze or attention wander as she looped her purse strap over her
shoulder, clutched the hobo bag against her side and stepped from her F-150
truck. Her rubber-soled ankle boots thunked on the sidewalk. Zoe wasted little
time getting inside. Once the doors closed behind her, she let the hostess’s
smile scatter the dark shadows lingering in her mind…at least for the moment.
The woman’s nametag identified her as Jennifer.
“One?” she asked.
“Yes, just one,” Zoe said.
Jennifer plucked a menu from the box attached to the pedestal behind her.
“Table or booth?”
Under normal circumstances, her answer would be ‘table,’ but Zoe didn’t want
to be that exposed tonight. “Booth. Away from the window.” Her back against the
wall with a clear view of the entrance.
“Right this way.” Jennifer led her down the aisle, nodding to other diners
as she took Zoe into the bowels of the restaurant.
Zoe saw the men and women too late. Twelve police officers and detectives
occupied a large section of tables in the back room where Jennifer intended to
seat her. Zoe plucked at the woman’s long white sleeve in a vain effort to
subtly catch her attention. Again, too late. One by one, the men and women
stopped what they were doing, all gazes latching on to Zoe. Chairs slid over
the carpet as they stood and applauded her.
She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. The only thing that kept
her feet rooted in place was the pride on Frank Ludwig’s face. Zoe’s heartbeat
“Come join us.” Officer Joanie Robertson yanked over a chair from a nearby
table, while Frank’s partner, Theo Garcia, waved Zoe toward them.
Only that morning, Robertson had gone out of her way to avoid her. Zoe was
their hero tonight. Tomorrow, things would go back to how they had been. Zoe
didn’t want to muddy the waters by socializing.
She’d heard what some of her coworkers said behind her back. A few even said
it to her face. Some of them meant well, but others didn’t. Zoe’d learned to
live with scathing remarks, dirty looks and kindhearted suggestions.
After all, she had only herself to blame for the way she looked. She wasn’t a
small girl. But Frank—hot Frank who shared her bed in Zoe’s nightly
fantasies—accepted her with no questions, no attempts to change her. Their
friendship was unconditional.
“No, thank you.” She combined her refusal with a polite smile she didn’t
truly feel. “It’s been a long shift. I need to decompress.”
Jennifer motioned to a booth just inside the room. “How’s this?”
“Perfect.” She could sit with her back to them and still have a clear view
of the front door. She slid onto the narrow seat and accepted the menu from
“Anything to drink?”
A bottle of your cheapest wine—and put a straw in it. “Iced tea, no
“Coming right up.”
Zoe stared at the menu. Conversation behind her fell to whispers. Words swam
before her eyes. Damn. She was going to start bawling right here. A
shadow blocked the light. The second she glanced up, Frank slid in beside her.
“Scoot over.” He butted his hip against hers.
“What are you doing?” Zoe refused to budge.
“I’m sitting with you. What does it look like?”
She flicked her fingers toward the opposite seat. “Then sit there.”
“You know I can’t sit with my back to the door.”
“It looked to me like that’s what you were doing over there.” She motioned
to the party behind them.
Frank shrugged. “I lost the toss. Only fair way to determine seating when
you have a table of cops.” He nudged again. “Scoot.”
It occurred to Zoe that she could move to the other seat, but that meant
depriving herself of the brief joy of having Frank next to her. The man made
her feel all kinds of crazy happy inside—safe and sheltered, small and
feminine. Worry and fear didn’t dare bother her with Frank by her side. His
sheer personality warned them away. She wanted to lean into his solid body and
cry her heart out.
“How nice you ran into your husband.” Jennifer put down a tall glass of iced
Reality slapped Zoe’s daydreams to bits. “Oh, he’s not my husband.”
Frank plopped his hand over hers and squeezed. “Not yet.”
Jennifer’s smile drained the power grid. “When’s the wedding?”
“We’re not engaged, either.” Zoe slipped her hand from under his and grabbed
“Not yet.” Frank dropped his hand to her thigh, shocking Zoe senseless. Her
clit cheered at how near he was to it. Juices flowed in anticipation of more.
“I’m still trying to get her to notice me.”
Jennifer’s gaze ping-ponged between them. Her smile dimmed while she
probably pondered a response—or planned how she could get Frank for herself.
Although he was a bit old for her. Hell, he was a bit old for Zoe, too, but
that didn’t stop her from lusting after him. She’d calculated around a ten-year
age gap. Her fantasies of him pressing her to the nearest wall and fucking her
senseless didn’t care. A thread of jealousy twined its way to the surface. If
Jennifer started flirting—
“Then I’m guessing this will all be on one ticket?” Jennifer finally asked.
“Absolutely.” This time Frank draped his arm around Zoe’s shoulders and
Zoe steeled herself against the rush of emotion. What the hell is he up
to? She was going to have to stock up on batteries before she went home
tonight—if she went home—and she just might send the bill to Frank.
“We still need a few minutes,” he told Jennifer.
“I’ll make sure your server knows.”
Zoe waited until Jennifer’s back was turned then shrugged his arm away.
“Quit joking. I’m not in the mood to be played with.”
A lie. Most nights, she wanted nothing more than for Frank to play with her.
She stabbed her straw amid the ice cubes then took a long sip. Although at the
rate her horniness was building, dumping the glass into her lap might be a
Frank rested his forearms on the table, body half-turned her way—which was
quite a feat since he took up as much space as Zoe. “I’m not joking or playing.
Consider this our first date.”
She stirred the ice, refusing to meet the gaze burning a hole through the
side of her face. Tolliver’s death was going to have long-term repercussions.
“Look. It’s been a long day. I know how grateful you are that—”
“It’s got nothing to do with gratitude.” He leaned closer, his warmth
surrounding her. “Open your eyes, honey.”
She was clueless and didn’t feel like dancing around whatever he was hinting
at, so she let her silence build a wall between them.
Frank eased away, taking that warmth with him. Zoe’s heart cried for the
“I don’t think she could’ve seated us at a smaller booth.” Frank planted his
feet on the floor and pushed the booth back. “That’s better.”
“Is that even allowed?” she whispered.
“What’s she going to do? Lock me up? I’m the poe-lease.” He thumbed his
Zoe snickered. She knew she shouldn’t encourage him, especially when she was
still displeased over his previous antics. She pretended her tea held more
interest, which earned her his body bracketing hers once more. This was how
it’d feel if they had sex—Frank looming over her, taking charge of their
pleasure. God, she ached.
“Sure you don’t want something a little stronger than tea?” he asked.
“Driving.” Zoe drew her finger through the moisture beading her glass.
“I’ll see you get home safe and sound. After what you did today, you deserve
a drink…or two.” His arm brushed hers. She’d rather have it around her again,
even if he’d meant it as a joke.
“I’ll either make sure it gets to your house or I’ll pick you up in the
morning.” He traced his long fingers over hers. “You’re shaking.”
Fear coupled with a looming adrenaline crash does that to a person.
“What can I get you two cuddlebugs tonight?”
Zoe and Frank jumped at the server’s appearance. Norma hovered at the table,
pad in hand, gray hair combed back in a tight ponytail that dangled in its mesh
bag, making it resemble something pulled from a bathroom-sink drain. Zoe didn’t
bother to correct Norma’s assumption they were a couple. What harm could
come from pretending?
“The lady would like a glass of merlot. We’ll have patty melts with fries.”
He glanced at Zoe for confirmation. At her nod, he told their server, “And an
order of onion rings.”
“Coming right up.” Norma shot off.
Zoe had never seen anyone move so fast.
“I’m going to need the wine to scrub my veins from this high cholesterol
meal.” She pushed her tea aside.
Frank took it for himself. “It’s comfort food, and we damn well deserve
it—you, especially. We’re alive. It’s time we started taking advantage of
He’d closed her in again, his body nearly surrounding her. Zoe didn’t give
an inch. This was what it felt like to be near the man. She soaked it all in
for her fantasies later.
“You saved a man’s life tonight, Zoe. That sweet voice of yours gave DiCarlo
hope to hang on. Because of you, he’ll see his wife and kids again. There isn’t
a cop on the force who hasn’t heard about it or listened to it play out over
Did they also hear Tolliver’s last gasping breath? She hadn’t been
able to save him. It had been a miracle she’d stopped Xavier when she had—a
quirk of fate. Him hearing her voice had intrigued him enough to spare
DiCarlo…and made her his new target.
‘Ay, chica…such a pretty voice, like an angel in the night.
Maybe I come see you, eh? Clip those wings again. Your friend here… He ain’t
gonna last. I cut him deep. Try, bitch. You’re next, and I’m gonna make it
“I’ll bet the sound clip’s already gone viral,” Frank said. “You know the
newshounds have glommed on to it.”
Yes, they’d already started swarming the station for information as I
was leaving work.
Zoe grabbed the merlot when the glass appeared and gulped down half.
“Easy, honey.” Frank put his arm around her, fingers tracing soothing
circles on her shoulder. “The guys are on it. They’ll figure out who this
asshole is and put him behind bars.”
Oh God. “They don’t know who he is?” A drop of wine splashed on the
back of her hand. She was shaking, but she couldn’t loosen her death grip on
“Not yet. He wore gloves, had on a ski mask. Took the knife with him. Left
Shit. Now what? She stared at that drop of wine, frozen on her skin
as if time itself had stopped waiting for her to woman-up.
“I… I know who he is.” Zoe barely heard the words herself, so surely Frank
hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she could dredge the courage to say them again.
Her pride took a nosedive, but it was a small price to pay for taking a cop
killer off the streets.
“Xavier Sanchez. We lived together years ago. I’m the reason he was sent to
prison in the first place. That threat he made to me over the radio was real.”
She drained the glass and signaled Norma for another.