Blind: Killer Instincts by Sidney Bristol Page A

doing anything except making a mess was a miracle. She was almost afraid to make a sudden movement, or he might bolt and leave it to her.
    She took the beer he offered her and sipped it. “Anything I can do to help?”
    “Um, not right now. I think I’ve got everything going.”
    “Aren’t you a Mr. Crocker, handling your meat so well?”
    “I handle meat just fine, thank you very much. You’ll like my meat.” He stroked the chicken while giving her that come-hither stare.
    She took a deep swig of the beer to keep from telling him what else she’d like him to do with his meat. What had gotten into her? Not him, but something. She was losing sight of why she was here, which was to hear about the TBK copycat case. Instead, she was starting to strategize how she could get into his pants.
    “It’s my way of getting stress and shit out after work.” Jacob glanced up at her once more, his expression a little sheepish.
    “What? Cooking?”
    “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’ve had anger issues.”
    “Anger issues? Like beating people?” The distrust crept back into her voice. What kind of a cop was he?
    “No. Never that. Cops like that...they wouldn’t want me on a jury of their peers. I deal with my issues.” Jacob drew in a deep breath, his knife poised above the chicken.
    “Yeah?” Emma’s voice broke through his thoughts.
    “What’s happening lately...in the news?” He shook his head and trimmed the meat. “It’s unacceptable. I took this job to protect people. I don’t care what color someone’s skin is, what side of the tracks they live on or whatever. As cops we’re supposed to protect people. I get so pissed off...”
    The knife slipped on the glass cutting board and he slammed the handle on the hard surface. This was an anger she could understand. And appreciate.
    Jacob shook his head and picked up the knife again. She could almost feel him refocusing his energy, pouring it out through the knife and into what he was doing. Here was a man self-aware of his shortcomings and how to handle them.
    “I took an anger management course a while back. They suggested finding a healthy way to work out frustrations.”
    “And cooking was it?”
    “No, my mother was it.”
    “No.” She laughed at the idea of an older, graceful woman with his eyes twisting Jacob’s ear and sitting him in a corner of the kitchen. Was it possible the cop was human after all?
    “Yeah. Dad had passed away and I was losing my shit. Snapping at people, I was rough with a suspect once, not physically. Verbally. It was a child molester. I hate those cases. I didn’t handle a situation the best. I was going downhill, and I started the classes as a way to show my LT that I was trying to get my act together. But as soon as I finished the classes I’d go get trashed at some dive. It started with her picking me up from a bar, totally wasted. She’d bring me home and make scrambled eggs to soak up the liquor. One night, I passed up the bar entirely and went to the kitchen. The rest is history.”
    “You must be really close with her.” Emma’s heart squeezed. Her mother had always been addicted to Daddy, and Daddy was addicted to the bottle. It hadn’t left much room for her.
    “Yeah, we are.”
    “She’s not jealous you’re passing up dinner with her tonight?”
    “Mom moved to Florida a few years ago. Just me now.”
    He slid the chicken into the oven and wiped his hands off while he studied her. She resisted the urge to fidget. God, she wanted to kiss that mouth again, but that wasn’t the reason he asked her over tonight. What did he see when he looked at her like that?

3.
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    od, she was beautiful.
    Jacob cleared his throat. He was staring when he needed to be talking.
    “The chief is bringing in the feds to handle the case tomorrow. They’re flying down tonight to take over,” he said as he washed his hands, trying to get his mind back on why he’d asked her over. Which was not to leer at her amazing