Paul half-pulled, half-dragged Deven’s body from the porch, taking care to dodge her flailing arms. Through the raging sheath of red that clouded her vision, Deven watched Deuce blow smoke into the air, then pucker his lips in a kiss, before leaning back and slamming the door.

She stopped fighting and snatched from Paul’s grasp. “I got it, damn,” she snapped, stomping to her car. She was fuming, but even more so embarrassed at how she had behaved. And Paul certainly hadn’t helped the situation pulling at her like some controlling boyfriend. The gesture, albeit thoughtful and perhaps a little protective, had only served as provocation.

Deven slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. She was about to drive off when Paul climbed in next to her and she sat back against the leather. “That bastard is lying,” she mumbled, almost to herself.

Paul sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “But what were you going to do? Beat the truth out of him?”

He was right, and as much as she wanted to, her reaction would’ve done nothing but embarrass her further. Not to mention garner a possible assault charge. It was the adrenaline hyping her up. Deuce looked like he could’ve taken some punches, and probably thrown a few of his own.

They sat in silence and Deven felt herself calming down. She shut her eyes, willing the frustrated tears not to come. Satisfied she was back in control, Deven chanced a sideways look at Paul. “Do you think we need to bring the police back?”

“I don’t think it will help.”

“He knows something, Paul.”

“Yeah, but what can the police do?” Paul countered with a frown. “He’s not guilty of anything. Hell, he’s not even suspected of anything. We’re going on the word of some drunk that lives next door to an address Kennedy gave me but there’s not even a record of her being there. You tell the cops that, they’ll probably laugh in your face.” His eyes flicked out the window and narrowed on something. Then he pulled out his phone and began typing.

Deven watched his fingers. “What is it?”

“License plate,” he said, his attention preoccupied with his text. “I may have someone who can look it up for me. It may be nothing but . . .”

“What do we have to lose?” Deven let him finish the message before she spoke again. “I think he was stalking us,” she revealed. Paul gave her a look, vying for her to elaborate so she did, relaying how she’d observed Deuce following her and Kennedy at the mall months ago. “I didn’t think anything of it,” she explained. “But then, not too long after, Kennedy had someone try to grab her in the parking lot of her apartment. Then she mentioned something about an ex she had to get a restraining order on . . .”