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features already drawn into a deep scowl by nature, it appeared, which meant the frown made him look like an angry lunatic. Tall and big in a way most men weren’t in my area of Massachusetts, he had a beer gut but arms and legs that were normal, a bit muscular but mostly gone to pasture. Coloring like mine, but the blue eyes were a rheumy and yellowed, faded like something that spent too much time in beer-soaked sun. He was older than us – maybe thirty? – and the adrenaline that fear had pumped through me receded like his hairline, fading into a bald calm.
    “Get some clothes on, man,” he sputtered, turning away.
    “I can’t,” I answered honestly, reaching for the blanket, which I wrapped around me. It felt like a lifeline, to finally have something that I could use to cover myself. Simple pleasures. Stripped down to nothing, I was finding myself more than I ever had while I was surrounded by so many riches. Seriously – give me Darla, pants, a good burger and some condoms and I had found the meaning of life.
    “What do you mean, you can’t?” he bellowed, marching toward me. The way he walked told me a great deal; I could outrun him easily, and this was going to be more about using our wits than any brawn.
    Except for the wild card of his shotgun.
    “Davey, get the fuck out of here,” Darla charged. From the way she used her voice and the arm that stretched out, pointing to his car, it was clear she had no fear for the cop, and a part of me cringed in horror as I rose up in awe. Hot damn, she was one tough, determined woman. No sickly, gym-toned BU girl would defy a cop like that. She might call Daddy and get his lawyers to chase like yippy dogs after the police force, after the fact, but face-to-face confrontation like this, no holds barred? No fucking way .
    I was charmed, and another piece of me – not the erect rod that pushed against the thin blanket, either, though it was completely under Darla’s spell – fell a little further for this amazingly open, completely real chick in front of me.
    A half grin tugged at my mouth and I tried to suppress it, feeling an alternating current of sappy lust and protective anger, the two feelings like oil and water. Stepping closer to her, I made sure Davey knew I was here, and I wasn’t backing down.
    And that’s when I got a good look at his badge.
    “Security? You’re a mall cop ?” I barked. Laughter poured out of me. “Since when do mall cops get shotguns?”
    His face screwed up in anger and Darla shot me a look that screamed shut up . Oops. “Since I’m off duty and carry it around for protection. And I’m the one who should be laughing,” he protested, shining the light up and down my body, the reflection off the Mylar nearly blinding. “I’m not the naked man going down on the ex-girlfriend of the guy with the shotgun, Mr. Alien Man.”
    Fuck. My mouth got me in trouble again.
    Wait. Ex-girlfriend?
    Darla’s eyes widened and she shook her head tightly at me. “Ex-girlfriend?” I mouthed.
    She shrugged. “Slim pickings,” she whispered.
    No shit .
    “What I do is none of your business, Davey,” she shouted back, blowing air out of her mouth to push a loose batch of curls off her forehead. She reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the car.
    “It’s my business when I find some naked stranger attacking you,” he protested, fumbling after us and already panting after 200 yards of fast walking. My legs barely felt the near-run she was pulling me at, her body fueled by sheer anger.
    “The fact that you cannot tell the difference between attacking and making love is one of the many reasons I dumped you!” she screamed back.
    I came to a dead halt. “Huh?” What the hell did that mean, and why did it make me want to punch him? Clearly not watching, he bumped into me from behind, then ricocheted back a few feet, nearly falling on his ass. “Darla,” I said in a low voice. “Did this guy hurt you?”
    “Me?” he