Assassin P.I. by Elizabeth Janette

jealous, she’d succeeded, but she didn’t have to lie about her marital status to accomplish that.
    He took another drink and then set the bottle down on the flat roof. Leaning back, he tucked an arm behind his head and peered up at the dense fog that rolled off the shore, blotting out any inkling of stars and celestial bodies.
    Down below, the office door opened and closed again as Deluca left. “I hope you’re giving some serious thought to what I said,” he called out. “She’s no good for you, Jack. Walk away while you still can.”
    Jack didn’t respond. What did Deluca know? Until recently, the man had had it all: a wonderful wife he didn’t appreciate, two fabulous children, and a new promotion to boot. Jack would give his eyeteeth to have an ounce of what his best friend had, yet Deluca blindly insisted on throwing it all away by being a workaholic. A mistake Jack wouldn’t make if given half the chance. His friend had no idea how good he’d had it in life.
    Not like Angie. Now there was a woman who’d had to fight her way through life. She wasn’t but a day over eighteen when they’d first met. He’d been a beat cop back then, chomping at the bit to move up in rank, and she’d been a runaway, sleeping on the streets.
    The call came in around eleven o’clock in the evening. What started out as a drunk and disorderly disturbance had quickly escalated into a knife fight. By the time he and Deluca had rolled up on the scene, they’d found this scrappy young girl swearing like a sailor, swiping her ivory-handled dagger at anyone who threatened to get within five feet of her.
    Nearby, a man was trying to reason with her. By the looks of his unzipped pants, talking wasn’t the only thing he’d been trying to do. “I just wanna talk to you, baby, that’s all.” With each slurred word, the man stepped closer. “Come home. Your mama misses you.”
    She spat at him, slicing an arc through the air. “Leave me alone!” she screamed. Beneath the fury was fear. Like a caged animal, she paced, slashing the air with the blade.
    “Ma’am. Drop the knife,” Jack had ordered. She’d turned on him then, jabbing the blade to within millimeters of his manhood, leaving a nick in his uniform pants. He held his ground. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want to help.”
    Her gaze darted between Jack and the two men standing behind him. Pain twisted her face as she reached to clutch her thigh. A grimace marred her otherwise pretty face. Blood oozed between her fingers.
    Behind him, Deluca had subdued and cuffed the drunken man and was taking his statement. Watching this, the girl had started shaking.
    “You’re bleeding.” Taking a gamble, hoping he’d read the situation correctly, he said softly, “Did your father hurt you? Or did you cut yourself?”
    “He’s not my father!” she screamed. “He’s my step-father and he likes to screw little girls!”
    Her sudden admission rocked Jack to the core. He’d seen horrible things during his time as an officer of the law, but this was by far the worse. “What’s your name?”
    She peered up at him, a wary glint in her eye, as if mentally debating whether he could be trusted.
    “Angie,” she’d finally said.
    “Hi, Angie.” He’d tested the waters and took a step closer. When she didn’t jab him with her dagger, he’d taken that as a good sign and closed the gap between them. “I’m Jack.”
    Then she’d collapsed into his arms, and he’d carried her to safety. She’d stolen his heart that night and he’d never gotten it back.
    Jack shook his head to clear the memory. Some things were best left forgotten. He sat back up, downed the rest of the scotch, and chucked the empty bottle into the Dumpster below.

Chapter 6
    Angie groaned. One last number until her shift was over. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a warm bed. Seeing Jack again had ripped open old wounds, wounds she thought had healed, leaving her emotions raw and tender