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no one was around. Emotionally blocked, no doubt. Strong, silent types usually proved to be dull, stolid types, in her experience.
    She’d told him to get lost. He was too big, too strange, too serious for her. Too curious, too. She couldn’t trust him with her bizarre story.
    She should be furious. She was going to have to fake it. That took energy, and where the hell was she going to find it, under a rock?
    Rat-tat-tat-tat. Would you listen to that, his exalted Highness was getting impatient. That gave her the boost she needed to yank the door open and glare balefully out at him. “I said no, buddy.”
    Davy looked around her porch. “Is this where you found the dog?”
    Her fake anger evaporated into nothing. She gulped, and nodded.
    â€œAny other incidents?”
    There was a brisk, businesslike tone in his voice, as if he’d flipped a switch and a whole big mechanism was starting to crunch and grind.
    â€œHey.” She stuck her hand through the door and waved it in front of his face. “Did you hear what I said? Thanks, but no thanks. And how did you find me, anyhow? I’m not listed in the—oh. My. God.”
    He held up a big paper bag. Fragrant steam rose from it.
    â€œEnchiladas,” he said. “Tamales. Chile rellenos. Barbecued pork tacos. Chicken in mole sauce. Shrimp in butter and garlic. And…”—he lifted his other hand—“a six-pack of ice cold Dos Equis.”
    She clutched the doorjamb. The scent of rich, spicy food almost made her faint. But damn, she should have at least as much pride as her own dog. Mikey never compromised his principles for food.
    She swallowed, hard. “Uh…”
    Not quite a smile, just a teasing hint of one, changed the landscape of his lean face. “If you blow me off, I’ll toss it into the Dumpster while you watch,” he warned. “Just to spite you.”
    â€œThat’s sick and wrong,” she told him.
    â€œYeah, sure. I was counting on getting here before you had dinner. I know how I feel about dinner after teaching two classes in a row.”
    â€œFive, actually,” she said.
    His eyes widened. “Five? Wow. Intense.”
    â€œTwo gyms,” she admitted. “Five classes. Some days I do more. Hush up, Mikey. He’s got Mexican. Don’t bite him till we get some.”
    Mikey rose onto his hind legs and sniffed at the bag. He smelled McCloud’s shoes, his ankles, and yipped a shrill order.
    â€œMikey just invited you in,” Margot said. “He likes shrimp.”
    A slow grin spread over his face, activating a bunch of gorgeous smile lines and a startling flash of heated sensuality that sucked the air right out of her lungs. “Mikey’s invitation isn’t enough. I want yours.”
    She forced herself to drag in some air. She was outmaneuvered.
    â€œOh, come on in, already,” she grumbled.
    Â 
    Faris’s stomach rolled with anxiety as the door closed behind McCloud. He forced himself to exhale, to think clearly. He had to be patient, to remember how desperate she was, how defenseless and alone. Marcus had ordered him to search her house and tap her phone to monitor who she was in contact with, and so far, the answer had been no one. She’d been all alone in her dilapidated little rented house on Capitol Hill, waiting for him to complete her. Until tonight.
    He crept through the darkness to his vantage point, in the middle of the overgrown rhododendron near her kitchen window. He’d hacked out the hollow space in the center and removed the branches that blocked his view two weeks ago. This was not the first time Faris had noticed Davy McCloud. He’d seen the man watching Margaret leave the gym where she taught, his face disfigured by lust.
    But Faris couldn’t compromise his anonymity by charging into Margaret’s house and hacking McCloud into bloody pieces. Marcus would never forgive him if he lost control like