“But how’d you know I—”

“Promise, Crescent. As long as you’re in this house, no more crazy jumps.”

“But I won’t be hurt,” she explained earnestly, resisting the urge to snuggle into his arms. He was holding her like she weighed as much as a bag of feathers, like it was nothing. And the way he was scowling down at her—it should have been scary, but instead, she wanted to smooth out the frown lines with her fingertips. “Really! I’m sure I can do it.”

“Not in my house,” he said firmly. “Now promise.”

“Or what?” She wasn’t being sarcastic. She was curious.

“Or I won’t put you down.”

Now she did smooth out the frown line over his eyebrow. Weirdly—but nicely—he leaned down and nuzzled her nose. She felt her nipples tighten and fought the urge to squirm in his arms.

“You’re just going to carry me around all day?” she teased.

He smiled down at her. “It wouldn’t be much of a hardship.”

“Okay, okay. I promise. No more jumping off stuff in your house.” But I can’t promise I won’t jump anywhere else…

“All right, then.” He set her on her feet and gave her a warning smack on the ass that stung like hell—

“Hey!”

—and walked back to the kitchen.

Chapter 7

He heard her as she tiptoed past his room. Actually, he heard her when she opened her eyes and sat up in bed. He knew from her smell she hadn’t slept, and he made sure he didn’t, either.

When she stole out of his house like a thief in reverse, he was right behind her.

Bags were always in short supply at the shelter, so she just gathered a few changes of clothes to her chest and stole back outside. Unfortunately, she caught Maria’s eye on the way out. Well, it couldn’t be helped. The woman gobbled speed like it was Tic-Tacs, and she never slept.

Crescent crept down the alley behind the shelter, thinking she still had time to catch the Red Line back to the bus stop near Drake’s house, when she heard running footsteps and turned to see the Asshole Brigade.

“New crib?” Maria asked. She was one of those women who always smiled—who smiled when you knew they were screaming inside. “New man?”

“Yes, and no, and mind your own business.”

“Hold up, Cress.” That was Nick Moran, the leader of the incredibly lame group. “You got something for us?”