Bang: B-Squad Book Two Read Online Free PDF

safe was starting to make her nuts. Well, that and the fact that Isaac Camacho kept popping up in her thoughts and in real life enough that everyone on the B-Squad was starting to make comments. The reminder of the evil that people could do was enough to drag her back to what mattered; not the pain in her neck or the cabin fever, but keeping Jarrod away from Essie. For that, she could endure whatever it took. Tolerating the danger wasn't enough though. She had to make sure that the bounty hunter was really as out of her life as it seemed before she could go home again and figure out whether Essie was safe in Colorado or if it was time to relocate.
    Stopping in front of the wall of video screens in the hall outside her office, she scanned the twenty-three different views of the Devil's Dip Gym building, both inside and out. No Prius matching the one registered to Archie Wolczyk on the street. No bounty hunter hanging around. He'd driven off forty-eight hours ago after a car-side conference with Isaac—wouldn't she just love to know what that little tit for tat had been about—and hadn't been seen since.
    "Isn't that sweet, you just couldn't wait for me to get here today could you?" Isaac's voice boomed across the empty space between the elevator and the monitors that she knew was anything but unobserved.
    Oh no. Ever since she'd hightailed it out of Taz's and Bianca's engagement party, everyone in the office seemed to be keeping tabs on her and tracking just how much the freelance investigator had been appearing at the B-Squad's headquarters. She'd barely noticed, of course. Isaac Camacho and his overabundance of sex appeal was just another thing she didn't have time for.
    So why is you belly doing that triple-flip thing as you watch that handsome hunk of hotness in tight jeans head straight toward you?
    Stapling her inner hussy's lips shut, she forced her gaze back to the monitors. "I suppose you’re just in the neighborhood. Again."
    "Something like that. I come bearing churros." He held up a brown paper bag, drawing her attention back where it had no business being. "They're still hot from my kitchen."
    God save her thighs. Living a life of culinary denial for the past thirty years had given her a sweet tooth that couldn't be denied—just the kind of thing that called for friend dough rolled in cinnamon sugar.
    Sure. Blame your fascination on the churros. Not Isaac's biceps and pecs shown off to perfection in a black T-shirt or his confident strut or his tempting mouth that you imagined all over you while you circled your clit until you came last night.
    "You made them?" Yeah, more like someone angling for a second night over at Casa Camacho had whipped them up while probably naked except for a frilly pink apron.
    Not liking the sizzle of jealousy that thought caused, she turned and headed back down the hall toward her office and away from the man who seemed determined to drag her off task.
    "You doubt my prowess?" he asked, ignoring her brush off and following a few steps behind her.
    "In the kitchen?" she scoffed.
    "Trust me, darlin', I've got skills for every room in the house. Your kitchen, however, has shoes in the stove."
    She jerked to a stop just inside her office and spun around to face him, heat beating at her cheeks. "What do you mean my kitchen? What were you doing in my house?"
    The smug bastard didn't even have the smarts to look embarrassed. He looked pleased. And like everything else, it looked good on him. It wasn't fair.
    "I was beefing up Lash's security measures." He leaned one broad shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed one booted foot over the other—the picture of a man at home no matter where he was. "It seems you weren't exactly honest with him about your needs in that department."
    Pushing away any question of what it would be like to be that comfortable anywhere while buying herself some time to figure out what to say next, she walked to her desk and sat down. Her heart was still