Chapter One
Lisa Pasqualone knew very little about guns. She was pretty sure the one pointing at her at the moment was real. She tried to scream, but instead of a scream, what she uttered sounded more like a squeak. Her throat seized in panic at her imminent death.
"Where is Albert Hitchcock!" the perpetrator demanded. She almost giggled at both of the ridiculous occurrences. First, the name of the person he asked for, and second, the fact that she thought of him as a perp. Hell she'd watched enough CSI shows to know that's what the cops were going to call him after he killed her.
She stood next to her car in the parking lot in front of her apartment building. After leaving work and a quick stop at the gym her plans had consisted of reheated leftovers and a hot bath. She gripped her purse and a jammed packed tote in front of her chest, to shield her body as much as possible. If only she'd stayed at the gym and worked out, this scenario would not be happening. Yes she'd stopped by the gym. Not to work out, but to run in and get her favorite sneakers out of her locker. Tomorrow was dress down day at the office and she planned to wear her lime green t-shirt, which matched her sneakers perfectly. Of course if she died, that was a moot matter.
Although it was barely six in the evening, the sun was already low on the horizon making the area dark enough for an assault.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Her body shook when she lifted her shoulders. "Isn't Alfred Hitchcock dead?"
The perp had the gall to look incredulous. "Lady I know what I saw. You stole him right out of my Jeep, You took the cat. It took me two days to find you. Thanks to your ugly ride, you were easy to spot."
“Cat?” Oh God, the tabby she'd rescued from black Jeep. Her eyes rounded and she gulped nodding. "It was a hot day. He could have died of heat exhaustion. I only took him because you abandoned him in the Jeep," she finished weakly.
The tall solidly built criminal didn't reply, instead he used the gun to push up his baseball cap. He seemed to realize what he did and lowered it back. At least he stopped pointing the huge weapon at her. "It was cloudy and...just give me my cat."
Although Lisa was a tall woman standing five foot ten, he seemed larger than life. All right so maybe he was only a couple of inches taller than her. But she figured being armed made him look taller. Lisa straightened her shoulders. "My car is not ugly." She scrutinized his weapon and his dark eyes narrowed at her inspection
Just then a door across the parking lot opened. A woman with heavily made up eyes stuck her head out and scanned the street, looking at them only for a second. It was her apartment manager, Norma Starkly. Lisa opened her mouth to call when the woman ducked back inside and slammed the door. Obviously Norma had the instincts of a brick.
"My cat?" The perp insisted.
"Fine, you stay here. I'll go up to my apartment and get him." Lisa motioned for him to stay where he was. She turned and prepared to run only to freeze when his hand wrapped around her upper arm.
"Why don't I go with you?" He'd read her mind. She had no intention of returning to the parking lot. As a matter of fact she'd been reciting 9-1-1 over and over in her mind since he'd appeared.
As they walked to her apartment door, she visualized her death. They'd find her laid out on the floor in a pool of blood. Hopefully he'd shoot her someplace other than her face. She'd just had her eyebrows and upper lip waxed. It reassured her to know that her corpse would look good. At least that was one positive.
Her hands shook but she managed to get the key into the lock. The perp reached around her and threw the door open. At that precise moment, the cat ran between their legs racing toward the street.
The perp dropped the gun. Lisa dove for it and grabbed it with both hands. She rolled on to her back and somehow managed to fire a round, which hit the perp right in the crack of his butt.
A huge red stain oozed between his ass cheeks, and down the center of his legs. When he turned to face her, Lisa screamed and shot him a second time, this time right above his groin.
"Ouch." His hands covered his private area and his eyes rounded at her. "Don't shoot me again."
"A paintball gun?" Lisa shrieked. "You assaulted me with a paintball gun?" She scrambled to her feet and stalked toward him. When she slapped him, the sound of her palm against his face was louder than the paintball shot. "You could have given me a heart attack!"
The perp kept one hand on his crotch and lifted the other to the newly affected area. She almost felt bad at the angry red mark she'd left on his cheek.
"I was holding it when I got out of the car, I didn't point it at you." He insisted and backed up toward the door.
"Yes you did," Lisa insisted. "Now, you lost the cat."
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before she could react, he grabbed the paintball gun from her hand. "If the cat gets run over, it will be your fault for stealing him in the first place."
"I didn't steal him," Lisa snapped, "I rescued him from certain death."
She raced after him back to the parking lot. For such a bulky guy, carrying a weapon, he moved fast. When he dropped to the ground, she followed suit. She wasn’t sure if someone else had mistaken the paintball gun for a real one and was about to shoot at them.
"Hey Alfred Hitchcock. Come here boy," the perp's soft high-pitched voice sounded ridiculous.
Lisa shuffled to where his paint stained butt stuck up in the air and looked under the van with him and lowered to all fours. The yellow cat sat under the vehicle, one leg up licking his naughty bits ignoring them. "Here kitty cat," Lisa cooed and stretched out her hand toward the cat. "Come here pretty boy."
Perp boy rolled his eyes. "Seriously, would you just go away?" He snatched the cat's leg and dragged the hissing animal toward him. He grabbed the now frantic cat by the scruff of his neck and stalked back to his black Jeep. Before Lisa could catch up to him, he'd stashed the cat into the carrier. Its sad meows told of Mr. Hitchcock's annoyance at being locked up again.
"Was that necessary?" Lisa stood before him with her fists on her hips. "You could have injured him."
After a loud exhale, he met her eyes and for the first time she noticed how handsome the perp was. His Long-lashed dark brown eyes narrowed as he looked down his perfect nose at her. "Look, it's my baby sister's cat. She's in the hospital and insisted I take the cat home with me to look after. She's pretty sick, so the last thing I want to do is lose her cat." He looked toward the Jeep when Mr. Hitchcock let out an angry growl. "She demands pictures every so often just to make sure I am taking good care of him."
"Oh." Lisa's ire was completely gone at his words. The combination of him putting the paint gun into his Jeep and giving her a view of his well-formed butt didn't hurt either. "Well, I can see why you were upset." She eyed his Jeep and realized that the back was open; the cat was never in any danger of overheating. Her cheeks however, did.
She stuck out her hand. "My name is Lisa Pasqualone. Would you like to come in for a beer? It's the least I can do for putting you through all this."
"Max Collins, he replied and shook her hand." She gave him what she hoped was her most genuine smile. Surely he wouldn't notice the drool that formed when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
Holy six-pack batman!
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