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Back The Runaway Heiress Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
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  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

“All hopeful, like I’m some kind of goddamned hero. I’m not. I’m an asshole through and through, and you’d be wise to remember that.”

But instead of scaring her off and creating some distance, her expression just softened even more. “Sure,” she said. “You’re a big, tough guy. I know.” And then she smiled the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Made his knees feel weak, made him grateful to be seated.

Then, as if by mutual agreement, they both tucked in to their food, surrounded by the comforting noises of the restaurant and the rain pounding down outside.

27

Kevin entered the grocery store and glanced around. There was a skinny, dark-eyed kid wearing a green apron restocking the lettuce section in produce. Couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old. His attempt to grow a mustache was not meeting with much success. He was working conscientiously, was a pleaser, easy to intimidate. Kevin strode over, flipped open his badge wallet, and flashed his shield at the kid. Did it quick, with his thumb across the city designation and department. “Lieutenant Hawkins, LAPD.” Mentioning he was actually NYPD would open a can of worms.

The kid’s eyes widened and then darted to the side, as if he was considering making a break for it. “I . . .” The kid’s voice came out high and reedy, and then he flushed to the roots of his hairline and swallowed hard.

A coworker, female, midforties appeared next to the kid. “Carlos,” she said, her eyes half-shuttered, mouth a straight line. “Miguel needs you up front.”

The kid turned toward her, his hand rising like a limp fish in Kevin’s direction. “But he—” The flush that had suffused his face was rapidly fading, leaving his skin with a chalky look to it. Pretty clear he was an illegal immigrant, working without documentation.

“I’ll take care of it. Go on.” The woman clapped her hands. “Quick, quick. He’s in a bad mood. You know how he gets.” The kid scurried away, shooting a grateful glance over his shoulder at his savior, who now stood, feet apart, arms crossed.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m Lieutenant Hawkins from the Los Angeles Police Department.”

She nodded. “Figured as much.”

“We have reason to believe a person of interest was in your store yesterday.” Her face was a mask, but he could see her shoulders relax slightly. Chances were she was undocumented, too. He was mildly tempted to toy with her. What kind of compensation would she be willing to forfeit to convince him to look the other way with regards to her and/or the kid working in produce?