To her shock, Jonah spoke up, even as he continued to cradle his jaw. “That bachelorette party tonight. A couple of ’em were causing trouble, and she took care of it.”

Coop looked ready to explode. “Everybody get the hell out of here!”

She was more than willing to do that.

“Except you.” His finger aimed at her temple. “Stay right where you are.”

He kept her waiting until all three men had hastily driven away, and then he grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward his car.

She tried to dig in her heels. “It would probably be better if I went to my apartment now.”

“You’re going to my place.” He planted his hand on top of her head as if he were a cop and shoved her into the Tesla’s passenger seat. “I don’t want Jada and Karah to hear you scream.”

Not good at all.

He took off down the alley, tires spitting gravel. Even when he was calm, he was an aggressive driver, and since he wasn’t calm now, he was hell on wheels. As she breathed in the scent of his brown suede jacket, she ticked off all the ways she’d failed them both. She’d been juvenile, unprofessional, and hotheaded—dangerous qualities in an investigator. And all because she hadn’t been enough of a grown woman to put her leftover childhood insecurities behind her. Coop had every right to be furious with her.

The area around his garage was mercifully free of predators, except for him. When she didn’t get out of the car quickly enough—and why should she hurry?—he extracted her. As soon as her feet hit the cement, he pressed her against the car and ran his hands over her body, touching pretty much whatever he wanted to touch, his jaw set like tempered steel. “Not armed?”

“I wanted to teach him a lesson, not kill him.”

His hands slid up the insides of her thighs, then moved from her butt to her waist. When he was satisfied, he led her from the garage. “Let’s go.”

“Look, Coop... I understand you’re pissed, and I don’t blame—”

“Oh, no. I’m not pissed. I’m way beyond pissed.” He clasped her upper arm again, not hurting her, but holding her in a lock she’d have trouble breaking.

They were inside his condo much too soon, but now that he had her there, he didn’t seem certain what to do with her. A perfect time to make a dash toward the kitchen. “Hungry? I’ll fix you an omelet.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m trying to decide whether I want to do this rough or easy.”

She held up her hand. “I vote for easy.”

“You don’t have a vote.” He tossed his suede jacket over the back of the couch. “So I’m clear... You started the fight, right?”

“Technically.”

“Technically?”