Apache Nights Read Online Free PDF Page B

and Mrs. Winkler.”
    He spun around. Joyce had managed to open her door without him knowing it. So much for his warrior skills. She was holding a pistol on him, too.
    Him and the skeleton.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” he asked.
    â€œAs if you don’t know.” She closed her door and came outside, instructing him to assume the frisk position.
    He couldn’t help but grin. “Is this a sexual thing?”
    â€œDon’t get cute.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” He decided it might be fun to let a lady cop pat him down. He hung the skeleton back on its nail, spread his legs and pressed his palms against her door. The only problem was that he’d lied about not being armed. He had his favorite SIG shoved in the waistband of his pants, aimed at the family jewels and covered by his shirt.
    Good thing the safety was on.
    She searched him, getting familiar in all the right places. “Just what I figured.” She confiscated the semiautomatic, grazing his abdomen in the process. “Where’s your CCW license, Kyle?”
    â€œI don’t have one.” He’d never bothered to apply for a permit to carry a concealed weapon. Mostly because he knew he’d never get one. California was stingy that way. He turned around, his stomach muscles jumping. Her hands on his body had felt damn good. “Are you going to bust me?”
    She motioned with the barrel of his gun. She’d already holstered hers. “Get inside.”
    He entered her apartment, wondering if she liked cartoons. Quick Draw McGraw had been one of his favorites when he was a kid.
    She followed him into the living room, closed the door and removed the magazine from his weapon. Then she retrieved a metal pistol box, put his unloaded SIG inside and locked it. Only then, did she return his now useless gun.
    He frowned at her. She hadn’t given him the key. Or the magazine. He set the locked box on a nearby table. “I ought to file a complaint against you. Illegal search and seizure. Or sexual harassment or something.”
    Her smile was brief. Faint. Barely there. By now, she’d stored her pistol, too, keeping it away from him. “You do have nice abs.”
    â€œOh, yeah?” He moved closer, attempting to touch her hair. As much as he hated to admit it, the pale yellow color fascinated him. “So it was a sexual thing.”
    She stepped out of range. “You wish.” Her TV played in the background. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œAside from annoying your neighbors and getting felt up by you? I came to—” he paused to wince “—apologize.”
    â€œAnd I can see that it hurts.”
    â€œGroveling is hard for me.”
    â€œThen you should do it more often.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” This time, he managed to get close enough to reach her hair, to let it slide through his fingers. “I’m not a bigot, Joyce. I swear, I’m not.”
    â€œThen what are you?” she asked, snaring his gaze, challenging him to delve into his soul.
    â€œA mixed-up mixed-blood, I guess.”
    After that, he quit touching her. He dropped his hand, trying to look more casual than he felt.
    She waited for him to continue. “Aren’t you going to tell me why you’re mixed up?”
    While she was staring at him? Hanging on his every word? “Maybe later.” He broke eye contact and glanced around her apartment.
    He noticed that she favored dark woods and feminine colors. Her floral-printed sofa reminded him of rainbow sherbet, and the ceramic bowl on her mahogany coffee table was mint green. Just as he’d suspected, she didn’t have any living plants, nothing to water or fuss over. The flowers on her dinette set were silk.
    He opened the sliding glass door in the living room and walked onto her balcony. It was nothing more than a slab of concrete, but she’d dressed it up with a café table. He envisioned her drinking