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distance shots, a picture of a gun and then he had a picture of the store clerk before everything went down. I had assumed he ’ d known the guy, had taken the before shot well before the shooting . When I found myself in the store, I had to start questioning some of my assumptions and if I ’ d made them because it was easier than admitting the truth.”
    “So you went to the D.A.”
    “I did.” She ’ d kicked herself the whole way there and back, too. She ’ d gone armed with her quick hand drawings for the guy ’ s tattoo and a video. What her walk-in hadn ’ t known was that she had video surveillance in her shop. Given her shop ’ s location, she ’ d had issues with break-ins and petty theft, so she ’ d kept a camera trained on the chair as well as the front. That camera meant she had dated before and after images. She ’ d made a phone call after finishing the cover up, because some things weren ’ t acceptable and her don ’ t get involved rule had to be suspended. Temporarily.
    “They convicted the guy and took him off the street in a big gang sting.” She shrugged. “He ’ d pretty much inked the proof that he ’ d been at the crime scene on his shoulder.”
    Mack cursed, a sentiment she shared, although probably for different reasons.
    “He got a life sentence.” She hadn ’ t been in the courtroom on the day the judge had handed down the sentence. She ’ d already been on the road to Strong and the bar that she ’ d inherited.
    Every time she imagined being forced to stay in one place for the rest of her life—and she wasn ’ t even the convicted guy, stuck in the eight feet by six feet of a jail cell—she got itchy feet. She ’ d never liked staying put. No. Scratch that. She ’ d always had a case of the wanders. She ’ d been the toddler who wandered off from the family picnic and who was happily exploring terra incognita when the frantic nanny found her, the teenager who took her car on joy rides that spanned a state and a half. When she ’ d had a working credit card, she ’ d gone to the airport once and bought a ticket on the next flight out to somewhere warm and tropical.
    The where hadn ’ t mattered, as long as it was not here and all aboard now .
    “He earned it.” Rough surety filled Mack ’ s voice. His world was a lot more black and white than hers. In fact, his world was all black and white. She was fairly certain he wouldn ’ t approve of many of the things she ’ d done. Where he saw two choices (right or wrong), she saw fifty shades of gray.
    She reached for her bag and her keys. She needed to go for a ride now, needed the Harley ’ s power beneath her, eating up the road. The problem was, she ’ d painted herself into a corner, hadn ’ t she? She could take the bike out, but she was like a hamster on a wheel, spinning endlessly in place despite all the forward motion.
    Mack ’ s big hand came down on hers, covering her fingers. That was a gentle stop sign right there if she ’ d ever seen one. Mack redefined inexorable.
    “I ’ m going for a ride.” She made the words a statement of intent, because she didn ’ t ask anyone for permission. Not anymore.
    “Got it.” He didn ’ t move his hand though. “You go to the D.A. by yourself?”
    “ I ’ m going for a ride is English for let go of my hand .”
    He shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you you ’ re stubborn?”
    Mack somehow always managed to make her smile. “I think you ’ ve said that one way or another every day I ’ ve known you.”
    She tilted her head back to look up at him. He ’ d snuck up behind her while they were talking—maybe that kind of Ninja stealthiness was a skill the military taught—so her head banged into his chest, which was as hard and unyielding as the rest of him. Of course, she ’ d also enjoyed the hell out of certain hard and unyielding parts. So maybe hard went into the plus column after all.
    “I ’ m a grown woman. It wasn ’ t difficult,” she