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between anger and…he wasn’t sure.
    He hadn’t wanted her to be homeless. He’d hoped that she was down on her luck and needed the free meal, but that she had a place to live, protection from the cold. Refuge from the streets that took lives every single day.
    What about this woman fired such a response in him? In his job, he saw all manners of people. The hungry, the homeless, the abused. There were plenty of young women in need, but none had infused a soul-stirring desire to help and protect.
    It was presumptuous of him. She might not need him. She might be just fine on her own, but something in her eyes told him that wasn’t so. She needed someone, and he wanted to be that person.
    Crazy talk. He wondered now if that bullet had hit him in the head. But that didn’t stop him from walking with determined steps toward the boxes at the end of the alley.
    When he was close enough to see the top of her head over the edge of one of the boxes, he saw that she was sitting cross-legged on what looked to be old towels, and she was absorbed in a tattered paperback book. After every page, she moved one of her hands from the book and held it to her mouth while she blew to warm it and then she returned to the book to turn another page.
    His chest clenched and he moved a step closer. His foot glanced off a discarded Styrofoam cup, and her head jerked up. Alarm flashed in her eyes when she saw him, and she scrambled to her feet like a doe poised for flight.
    In a lightning-fast move, he snagged her wrist just when she would have bolted. He was careful not to hurt her, only prevent her from fleeing.
    A small cry of fright escaped her lips, and her eyes widened as she stared up at him.
    “I’m sorry. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, I swear it. Do you remember me from Margie’s Place? I just served you an hour ago.”
    Though she didn’t relax, she nodded, her eyes still solidly trained on his face as if judging the validity of his promise not to hurt her.
    “If I let you go, will you promise not to run?”
    She looked at him like he was crazy.
    He held up his other hand in surrender. “Let me amend that. Do you promise not to run as long as I don’t do anything to further scare you?”
    For a moment she studied him, and then slowly, she nodded again. He relaxed his grip, carefully easing his fingers away, studying her body language for any sign that she meant to flee. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him, but suddenly it was the most important thing in the world for her to do just that.
    “What do you want?” she asked quietly.
    The shock of her voice floated over him. It was pleasing. An electrical sensation that nipped at his neck and snaked through his body like a river current. He wanted her to talk again. To say his name.
    “I…” What did he want? And how to say it? He laughed softly and shook his head. “You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
    She smiled then and it made her so lovely that he ached.
    “I might already think you’re crazy. You stared at me so funny in the line. I worried I’d somehow made you angry.”
    “No. No, of course not,” he rushed out. “Look, will you go somewhere with me?” At her look of surprise he hurried to amend his statement. “There’s a diner down the street. It’s warm and we can sit and talk there.”
    She gave him a confused look. “But I just ate. So did you.”
    “Do you like coffee? Hot chocolate?”
    “I love hot chocolate,” she said wistfully.
    He latched onto that like a dying man struggling for one more breath. “Then walk with me to the diner. We can have hot chocolate and you can talk to me. What do you say?”
    Puzzlement still shone in her blue eyes. She nibbled at her bottom lip as she clearly couldn’t decide whether to accept or decline.
    “I’m a police officer,” he said. He rummaged in his pocket for his badge. “You’re completely safe with me.”
    She stared at the shield, and he could swear tears flashed for a single