Sinner Saint Box Set: Sinner-Saint Series, #2

By Roxie Odell

A slightly tarnished knight in shiny armor comes to the rescue of a damsel ready to undress for this smoking, hot knight. If only he'd give her his name!

A Steamy Bad-Boy Romance Series 

On the way to work, Cheri Holt encounters two events she certainly didn't expect and isn't at all prepared for. First, she's robbed at gunpoint, and second, a good Samaritan by the name of Thomas Graham—the hottest man she's ever seen in her life—literally bursts out of the darkness and saves her from the bad guy.

Though her knight's armor is slightly tarnished Cheri is completely smitten, a damsel ready to undress.

Unfortunately, her impromptu bodyguard disappears, and so does the only witness who can back up her version of what happened during the robbery. The gunman is destined to walk free without any corroborating testimony, giving Cheri yet another reason to continue stalking her gorgeous mystery man. In a chance encounter and a passionate exchange, Cheri asks Thomas for his help, but this time the answer is no. He's a man with a past, which prevents him from being there to rescue her again.

He tells her to turn and walk away, but Cheri finds that an impossible thing to do. Their attraction is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling, and they both know it. In the end, it's Thomas who can't let her go.

Just when it looks like they might be heading for a white picket fence future, his old ways revisit him, threatening to destroy the best thing that's ever happened to him…and to her.

Can Thomas and Cheri find the strength to love each other and share a future that might be tainted by the past?

Sinner-Saint Series includes:
Strength
Passion
Endure

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is a complete story in a full-length bundle, with a happy ever after ending. 
Recommended for 18+ readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Apr 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386951506

Roxie Odell

Steamy Romance author Roxie Odell brings you heat, steam and romance in her stories. Be ready to sweat! Find her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RoxieOdell/?ref=hl Follow her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b9G7JX Twitter @roxieodellauthor

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Roxie Odell LogobannerSinnerSaint

Sinner-Saint Series

Book 1: Strength

Book 2: Passion

Book 3: Endure

Box Set: Now Available !

Strength

Sinner-Saint Series Book #1

By

Roxie Odell

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

StrenthbannerSinnerSaint

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

Strenth

Strength Description

On the way to work , Cheri Holt encounters two events she certainly didn’t expect and isn’t at all prepared for. First, she’s robbed at gunpoint, and second, a good Samaritan by the name of Thomas Graham—the hottest man she’s ever seen in her life—literally bursts out of the darkness and saves her from the bad guy.

Though her knight’s armor is slightly tarnished Cheri is completely smitten, a damsel ready to undress.

Unfortunately, her impromptu bodyguard disappears, and so does the only witness who can back up her version of what happened during the robbery. The gunman is destined to walk free without any corroborating testimony, giving Cheri yet another reason to continue stalking her gorgeous mystery man. In a chance encounter and a passionate exchange, Cheri asks Thomas for his help, but this time the answer is no. He’s a man with a past, which prevents him from being there to rescue her again.

He tells her to turn and walk away, but Cheri finds that an impossible thing to do. Their attraction is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling, and they both know it. In the end, it’s Thomas who can’t let her go.

Just when it looks like they might be heading for a white picket fence future, his old ways revisit him, threatening to destroy the best thing that’s ever happened to him...and to her.

Can Thomas and Cheri find the strength to love each other and share a future that might be tainted by the past?

Chapter 1

The granite of the metro bench was a welcoming cool from the sweltering D.C. heat. Cheri leaned back against it, enjoying the chill as the summer heat drained from her body. Her cotton sweater was wadded up in her backpack. It was ridiculous she even had to wear it in the office at this time of year, but her slip dress was a dress- code violation without it. Sleeveless attire was deemed too hot by the higher-ups, and temperature had nothing to do with it. Rather, management was afraid the high-earning nerds and computer geeks would have trouble focusing on their data entry and IT problems if Cheri and the other girls in the office dressed too comfortably.

Her train was late. The transit system for the nation’s capital was going through a major makeover, and the schedule was beyond unpredictable. This time it left her waiting at Forest Glen, the deepest metro station in the system.

Something about being alone and waiting nineteen stories underground made her feel vulnerable, so she remained vigilant. Every little scuff on the pavers that gridded the metro deck made her jump a little. After the first few false starts, though, she became desensitized to the potential danger and stopped paying the noise any mind.

Unfortunately, she let her guard down a bit too soon; the one time she should have paid attention, she only looked too late. She didn’t know if she felt him first or saw him first, but eventually she was doing both simultaneously. The next thing she knew she was looking up into the barrel of a gun, held in the shaky hand of a very tense man.

Gimme your purse, he demanded in a growl. He was dripping with sweat, and dark patches of wetness blotched his shirt. His face was shiny with oil, and his hair matted. He was a disgusting example of humanity, filthy and smelly from head to toe, rotten from the inside out. His breath reeked of liquor and desperation and she didn’t want him to touch anything of hers, not even so much as the strap of her bag.

Fear made everything move in slow motion, paralyzing her for too long. Apparently, she didn’t move quickly enough to comply with his orders, because before she could even pull the strap off her shoulder he cold-cocked her upside the head with his free hand.

Incapacitated she froze, hunched over, helpless. At that point he could have taken anything he wanted, as all her belongings were easily within his reach, but she was horrified to discover that there was more to his criminal agenda than that.

On your back, he said, licking his lips.

Before the meaning behind that nasty command even registered in her terrified mind, Cheri heard another voice.

On your knees! the order came in a baritone that was soothing and insistent at the same time.

Cheri had no idea who it was or what was going on, but she dared not look. She kept her eyes on her feet, right beside the feet of the would-be savior. Boots? In this heat? Cowboy shit-kickers, in the D.C. metro, of all places... She then felt a tinge of courage and stole a peek at the wearer of those boots, just in time to see who was coming to her rescue.

Like an archangel rising from vapor of the train, there he was, holding a weapon of his own on the gunman.

I-I didn’t take nothing, the terrified robber stuttered, gawking at the firearm that was much larger than his. You can put that away, mister.

The cowboy chuckled, and even his laugh sounded like that of a professional narrator, like someone who was someday going to put Morgan Freeman out of business, a voice and a laugh that wrapped around Cheri like a cozy blanket. Drop it now, pal, or I’ll shoot it away from you. The shot’ll take your hand with it.

Cheri didn’t know if the gunman believed him, but she sure did. In fact, she had all the confidence in the world that she was as good as saved and the gunman good as dead.

You know I can’t do that, panicked the gunman. I’m fucked if I do.

You’ve already fucked yourself either way, the booted man said. Now, it’s up to you whether you wanna take it in all orifices.

What’s so wrong about that? she wondered, still in such a panic that she didn’t even realize she’d muttered the dirty remark aloud. She only had an inclination of that little faux pas when both men looked down at her, their mouths hanging open.

It was just the distraction the Lone Ranger needed to elbow the perpetrator in the ribs and snatch his gun away. He then wrenched the man’s arm behind his back and roughly pinned him against the wall. While the captive groaned, complained, and sputtered more curse words than a person with Tourette’s, the good guy reached around and produced a pair of handcuffs from some mystery location.

A cop? Cheri stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. Damn, he can protect and serve me anytime. Wait. I’m scared, yet I can let that thought pass through my head?

Gimme the gun back! It’s mine! The criminal fought against the restraints.

Not anymore, the cowboy replied. He then turned to look at Cheri. I’ve gotta get outta here. Wait ten minutes, then call the cops. Not a minute before.

At the mention of the police, the gunman flipped out. He yanked his arm violently, nearly tearing his shoulder out of its socket as he tried to break free of the railing he was chained to. You stupid bitch! I’m gonna kill you when I get out of this!

With one harsh glare, the man in the boots subdued him.

Cheri stood, now a quivering mess. The full weight of the incident engulfed her, to the point where she found herself unable to focus, almost unable to remain conscious. It was like some scene out of a horrible action movie, and she didn’t want the role she’d been given to play.

Super-cowboy-without-a-cape pulled her to her feet while she fought the wave of nausea building inside of her. He walked her around the corner of the still-vacant metro platform, trying to get her to snap out of it. His deep, penetrating gaze had worked well on the gunman, but it didn’t work any wonders for her in that moment, not that she minded him trying. As much as she wanted to regain her composure and her senses, she simply couldn’t, and all he could think to do was take drastic measures.

In a blur, her rescuing stranger grasped her by the shoulders and held her in place as he lowered his smooth-talking mouth to hers. Cheri wasn’t in the habit of letting strangers even touch her, let alone kiss her, but it seemed inevitable; truly, she was powerless to stop it, and she didn’t want to anyway. As she gazed up into those incredible hazel eyes, fringed with thick lashes, inset in that perfect face framed with slightly long hair, she was a goner. An electric rush pushed through her, like the rush of a slamming tidal wave that no one could control.

She staggered from the force of the touch of his lips, and tingles washed through her limbs, up her neck and to the very tips of her nipples. She had to break the kiss just to catch her breath, which was also storming like the sea. She stepped back and collected herself, then took a deep breath and stared at him for an exaggerated and awkward but wonderful moment. The second time they came together was all her doing.

Cheri was completely focused, present in the moment, and everything she did from that moment forward was on purpose. She gently wriggled her head this way and that while pressing on his soft lips. He boldly penetrated her mouth with his tongue, but they both realized it was too much too fast. Momentarily, they both paused, but neither wanted to relinquish the charge electrifying them.

Intoxicating chemistry left Cheri feeling all doped up. With the gunman as their witness she swept her tongue greedily, exploring the wet heat of his mouth. The scent of him, somewhere between the deep woods and succulent steak, filled her nostrils, an aroma she would never forget. She moaned as he filled her nostrils, filled her mouth with his tongue, and filled her senses with just his presence.

Then they were simultaneously struck with a moment of clarity that they were getting carried away, and they broke apart from each other abruptly.

You...kissed me, Cheri announced, batting her eyelashes at him as if she was taken aback.

I’m aware, he murmured. It was strictly for medicinal purposes.

Are you a doctor? she asked.

No. I’m just...a humanitarian, he replied.

Hmm. Well, you’re the hottest humanitarian I’ve ever seen, Cowboy Boots. She laughed.

What did you call me? he asked, as if he was deeply offended.

Um, Cowboy Boots, she murmured, a bit embarrassed about the inadvertent insult.

Oh, that. Well, if it’s any consolation, I hate these fuckin’ things, he cursed, scuffing the heels around on the asphalt.

For a man she didn’t know Cheri felt like she could read him well, and she could tell he was frustrated by something far worse than inappropriate footwear. Oh. Sorry.

Not your fault, he said. Look, you’ll be okay now. That asshole can’t get free, but I just need to... I can’t be here when the cops come to haul this garbage downtown, and people are coming down the escalator, he said, looking around nervously.

At least tell me your name, she begged hurriedly.

He turned on his heel and sauntered off, completely ignoring the request.

Please! she shouted, but that seemed to make him walk even faster.

A crowd quickly gathered around the trapped gunman, and he did his best to convince them that he had been victimized. He was a good liar, and his false side of the story was not difficult to believe since there was no gun in sight.

A few minutes later, some officers parted the crowd and began taking statements. They freed the man from the railing, and one gave Cheri a stern look. What’s going on here? he asked.

You should keep him cuffed, Officer. I was waiting for the train and he pulled a gun on me, she said.

I did no such thing! the vile man spat then started sobbing, garnering sympathy from the onlookers, some of whom were busy recording the whole thing for YouTube.

Miss, are you sure it wasn’t you who—

Cheri stomped her foot and interrupted, Seriously? Look at me and look at him, she demanded.

She has a point, one of the officers said to the other, and they agreed it was unlikely she could have gotten the jump on him, as petite as she was, while he was built like an action figure.

Just as they were about to take Cheri and the man downtown for questioning, another officer approached. Metro cameras didn’t catch any footage, he said. Guess it’s he said, she said.

The sergeant sighed. I’m sorry, Miss, he said, but without any evidence or a weapon at the scene... Well, we’ve gotta let you both walk.

What?! But he—

It’s really your word against his, the police officer said, more firmly this time, and since we don’t have any evidence as to a crime being committed—or even who handcuffed him to that rail—we have no charges to file against anyone. You didn’t see any witnesses, did you?

No! the gunman shouted. There were no witnesses because she wanted to rob me while no one else was around!

Sir, I was asking her, the officer said, scowling at the filthy stranger. With all due respect, I don’t see anything you’ve got that she’d want, but we’re gonna have to drop it either way with no witnesses or evidence.

Cheri stared at the man and the police officers with disbelief in her eyes. She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on, so to speak, because there was no one to vouch for her. No one but...Cowboy Boots. He was the only witness, not to mention the most magnificent kisser she had ever met, but he had vanished as quickly as he had appeared. For a moment she almost wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, but he’d left his handcuffs and his kiss behind. He was long gone, but his heroic gesture and that smoldering kiss would never be forgotten.

Chapter 2

Those frightening moments in the subway were like a strong dream Cheri Holt couldn’t get out of her head, and it wasn’t just because her life was on the line. The last part, that interlude with her mysterious street warrior, was one part of the dream she didn’t want to wake from. From the first foot she put forward to carry her to work, away from the dramatic, adrenaline-packed scene, she knew it would be forever etched in her mind.

Even when she was not purposely thinking about it, she felt her reluctant cowboy on all levels. She recalled the sound of his voice, the feel of his body, and the taste of his lips in vivid detail, but it wasn’t real enough. It was almost torturous for her, as if he was just in the next room, but completely unattainable. She’d had no idea he even existed before that morning, but now that she knew he did he was part of her.

As she relayed her story to her boss and a few of her coworkers, telling them she had been robbed at gunpoint but rescued by a handsome stranger, it sounded like a fairytale, like some sort of drummed-up Facebook trending story celebrities would use to stay at the top of the news ticker. It sounded even more absurd and imaginary when she explained that the gunman who had tried to rob her didn’t even get arrested.

Why didn’t they take him downtown? one of her coworkers asked, a rather plump and nosy woman named Marlene, the office gossip, who always insisted on wearing too-small kitten heels that emphasized the girth of her pudgy ankles.

Well, Cheri said, the cop took a police report on the incident, but when they arrived the gunman was cuffed to the railing, and I was...okay. I told them about the gun, but like I said, the guy who saved me took it with him. There were no witnesses and no camera footage to back me up.

Oh, right, Marlene said, then cast a very noticeable eye-roll to a man named Jim before she took a big gulp of coffee from her oversized mug that was the same ugly green as her shoes.

Cheri couldn’t blame them for feeling that way, because it sounded ridiculous. Although she had a good reputation at work, she wasn’t terribly social with everyone. Most of the people in the office thought she was way too mousy for a gorgeous guy to calm her with kiss, but her immediate reluctance to take the subway, opting for the bus instead, backed her up; no one with half a brain would add forty minutes to their commute each way just to make herself look good.

In time, people began to accept that Cheri’s fantastic story was the truth and not just some fabrication for attention or some other motive. Even Marlene seemed to come around, though she did continue to interrogate her with the same questions time and time again, as if trying to catch her in a fib. Their acceptance of it, however, only confirmed for her that the rare chemistry she had shared with the man who kissed her to make her feel so much better was also very real, not just a figment of her fantasies.

After a week of bus commutes, Cheri decided it was a far better option to bike to the office. While the weather was still quite muggy and hot, it was also clear and sunny, so she didn’t have to worry about rain ruining her hair or her mascara on the way.

On the first day of her bicycling adventure, she left home extra early so she could stop at the coffee shop and still make it in on time.

She wheeled her bike into the shop without objection from anyone. As she stood in line waiting for her hazelnut latte, she glanced through the newspaper and was shocked to read that someone else claimed to have been attacked at the same station where she was almost done for. As silly as she felt, and as hard as she tried to fight the feeling, she couldn’t help being a bit jealous, wondering if her cowboy had rescued the latest victim, too.

Your order’s up, came a slightly-familiar, intoxicating baritone.

She whipped around and looked straight into those green-brown eyes she’d been dreaming about. There was Cowboy Boots, gazing down on her, the features of his face, somewhat sad, upturned with a slight smile.

Whatever’s in there, he said, nodding toward the paper in her hand, it must be good. We were trying to get your attention, the barista and I, Sherry.

She was embarrassed to correct him, but she wanted him to know who she was. "It’s pronounced Cherry, like the fruit. She grinned. And... how do you say your name?"

Again, he carefully avoided introducing himself and only offered her a slightly broader smile. He might as well have patted her on the head and sent her on her way.

Not sure whether to be crushed or to take it as a challenge, Cheri stared at him for a moment, until a thought occurred to her: When they call his order, they’ll say his name. She took her latte to the side and leaned on her bike coolly, sipping it as she continued to spy and eavesdrop.

Here ya go, the barista said, since the cowboy insisted on hovering near the counter.

Frustrated, Cheri stopped him in his tracks and glanced at the cup in his hand. Thomas, huh?

"Yeah. It’s pronounced Tom-us," he teased with a wink.

Very funny, she said. It’s nice seeing you again, though. Cheri Holt, she said quite formally, then offered him her hand for a shake.

His grinned from ear to ear, giving Cheri her first view of his full smile. Well done, he said, spying on my cup.

Did your mama and daddy give you a last name? she asked, with all the charm she could muster. Or do I have to wait for another opportunity to find that one out?

They did, and I see yours gave you quite the Southern drawl, he answered.

Very smooth, Mr., uh...Thomas. Way to change the subject.

Just getting to know you, that’s all, he said.

Well, since you asked, I’m from Virginia.

Nice place.

Yep, and speaking of nice places, which one can I take you to for dinner, to pay you back for saving me the other day? she pushed. She couldn’t believe she was asking—no, insisting.

Not necessary, he said firmly, an unexpected edge in his tone.

Hmm. Maybe I’m being too forward, Cheri worried. Maybe he’s just not available. Sure, he kissed me like he was half-starved after saving my life, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She looked at him curiously and continued, Your wife and kids are invited, too, of course, she cleverly pried, even though there was no sign of a ring on his finger. As soon as she said the words, though, she knew she had gone too far.

No thank you, he said coldly, his face turning to stone and a swarm of darkness seeping into his eyes.

Stubborn as she was, Cheri didn’t want to take no for an answer. Look, you can’t just... You saved my life, Thomas. Plus... Well, you can’t just kiss a woman like that and walk away. She knew she was blushing, but she ignored it. I also owe you an apology, if you thought I made fun of your shoes.

If? he said, arching his brow.

Is that really the issue? I didn’t mean it the way you took it, she insisted. Please.

You already apologized for that back there. That’s not the issue.

What’s the issue then?

You act like I owe it to you, he said softly, when, in fact, I do not.

No, she said. I owe you, just like I’ve been trying to say.

The way I see it, sweet Cheri, neither of us owes anyone anything. It’s probably best we part ways. His hazel eyes bore into her blue ones, and she was mesmerized by their beautiful colors.

Cheri sighed, aware she had lost the battle. Before he took off, she took the opportunity to remember exact what he looked like. She knew he was cool on his feet and that he was the best kisser she’d ever met, but this was the first time she actually got a good look at how gorgeous he was. He was tall and perfectly proportioned. Despite the softness of his ribbed t-shirt, his body looked as hard as a rock, conjuring up pictures of a mountainside in Cheri’s head. Despite all that, though, she knew she had to back off.

Well, thanks again, she said, finally. Even if you say it isn’t necessary.

At the sugar and creamer station, she opened the cup to add sugar. In the process she knocked it over, and a puddle of hazelnut stickiness went everywhere: all over the marble slab, down the front of her, and splattering all over her shins. She was glad she was wearing her bike shorts and not her full-length spandex, or it would have made for some very uncomfortable, sticky riding for the rest of the way to work.

Cheri did her best to stamp down her utter frustration. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d lost her latte, that gourmet, caffeinated bliss made to perfection—not to mention $3.95 a cup—but she was also angry that the man had flat-out rejected her. He didn’t even do her the courtesy of being subtle about it, and that embarrassed and angered her.

Worst of all, Thomas’s nonchalant dismissal of her attempts to be hospitable brought to the forefront all the horrible truths about her lackluster love life. When was the last time I had a date anyway? I can’t even remember having sex. When will I have someone in my life, someone who means something, someone who thinks I mean something? She usually kept too busy to think about any of those things, but they were certainly on her mind now.

Thomas quietly moved beside her. He calmly grabbed a pile of paper towels and mopped up the counter. He had ensconced her with his body, making her the middle of the sandwich between the counter and him. Heat emanated off him and warmed her, head to toe. She sensed him lowering, just like an elevator car, and then she felt him press the napkins around her bare legs. Hold still, he ordered.

His voice was so rich, so deep, it sounded like tones more than words. He used that same delicious voice when he walked over to the counter to ask for hot water. The next thing she knew, Thomas was pressing lovely warm napkins on her skin, practically bathing the milky, sugared coffee off her. For a guy who wouldn’t even tell her his name himself and couldn’t accept thanks from her for an act of heroism, he was awfully bold and intimate at the drop of a hat. Cheri quickly decided that as soon as she got back to her office, she was going to make a note on her calendar: A guy touched my calf today.

There you go. Thomas’ eyes bore into hers.

Here, said the woman at the counter. We made you another, on the house.

"Let them pour it in your container for you," Thomas suggested, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Cheri couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore. He had managed to break her heart, and she didn’t even know the man. Good idea, she mumbled when she could finally bear to lift her eyes to look at him, still sulking.

He arched his brow slightly, admonishing her. It’ll be okay, he promised.

Cheri let the coffee shop fill her travelling mug with the latte she no longer wanted. She walked out, not even turning to thank Thomas or cast one more glance his way. She was done.

She rode to work, hating with every turn of her pedal, wishing she’d never met that stupid cowboy who refused to allow her to apologize, the one whose kiss she couldn’t forget.

Chapter 3

It didn’t take long for the cycling commute to get old. Or just too wet on the rainy days, too cold on the cool days, too hot on the warm days, too sweaty on all days. Cheri decided to go back to taking the subway. This time armed with a can of Mace—just in case. She followed the story of the second metro attack, but there was little to report; authorities were still looking for the perpetrator. In her opinion, they didn’t seem to be looking too hard.

She felt surprisingly calm as she waited for the train, until someone sat next to her and nudged her. Her body shook with the memory of the bad moment that had caused her to stop riding the metro in the first place. She looked down at her elbow and focused on a hand holding a piece of paper. She looked away quickly, focusing hard to ignore him.

Take it, said the guy, maybe in his mid-twenties.

Um, no thanks, she said, shying away again and refusing to look him in the eye.

The man dropped the paper at her feet and shrugged. Either way, you’ve been served, he said triumphantly, then moved away from her.

A process server? Seriously? He didn’t even ask my damn name! Cheri rolled her eyes and picked up the document.

Her hands began to shake as she read it and discovered that she was being sued by the gunman, who insisted on capitalizing on the fact that the cops didn’t arrest him. The guy who had tried to take her purse, pulled a gun on her, was now unbelievably bringing a civil suit against her because he knew she couldn’t make her case against him.

As soon as she got a cell phone signal, she called the cop who had taken her report but refused to arrest her mugger. Of course the call went straight to voicemail, but after the beep, she let him have it, ranting for a good full minute into her phone. The echoes of her message rolled down into the train tunnel, garnering distasteful looks from other commuters.

She tossed the phone into her purse. Scared, frustrated, and wishing luck would finally come her way.

To her horror, the cop she’d just called was in the metro station. Working his freakin’ beat, probably.

She recognized him as he stalked toward her, his cell at his ear. In spite of her annoyance with him, he really was quite handsome. She might have felt some attraction if she wasn’t so ticked off by the fact that he blatantly refused to arrest her attacker.

There’s nothing I can do without a corroborating witness, said the cop defensively.

Do the math, she fired back.

I did! No gun, no corroborating witness, and a crowd of people who only saw the two of you, plus no sign of this mysterious cowboy you said you saw. It equals no grounds to haul anyone down to the station.

He’s suing me now! responded Cheri. "He’s suing me! You saw that guy. Tell me how the hell could I have managed to cuff him to that rail, when his arms are twice the size of my thighs? Besides, do you think I just walk around with handcuffs in my purse?"

The cop gave her a salacious look that turned her stomach, then patiently reiterated, It’s not...impossible. We have no video footage, and there are no witnesses, and... Look, do I need to keep repeating this? Personally, I’m inclined to believe you, but I’ve gotta go by the book or the case would be thrown out anyway.

Meanwhile, he can bring a case against me based on his word against mine, she said.

Out of my hands, he said with a shrug. That’s a civil issue, and I’m just on the executive, criminal end of the law.

Damn straight you are, she snapped, because it’s criminal that you let the guy go after what he did to me!

If you can track down this cowboy of yours, that would solve everything.

Cheri sighed, knowing he was right. She had no choice but to find Thomas and beg him to back her up. If she had to, she could hire a lawyer to subpoena him and make him talk; she was truly that desperate for his cooperation at this point. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure Perry Mason himself could find the man in the boots.

Besides the chance encounter at the coffee shop, every so often she thought she spied his glorious head of hair above the crowd once or twice, but she had no idea where to locate him. Cheri had never even noticed Thomas before and had never seen him before that fateful day. Her only solace was that they seemed to live and travel on similar schedules, so she knew bumping into him again wasn’t a total impossibility.

Based on what little she knew about him, she assumed he lived somewhere in her neighborhood or near it. The northeast part of Washington, D.C. was undergoing major renovations. The low-rent district had become the cool place to live and work, and housing was still affordable, though prices were on the rise. Cheri had gotten a great deal on an old house a couple of years prior, and she wondered if he’d found a cozy, affordable place to kick off his boots too.

Companies were also taking advantage of the cheap real estate. Cheri’s employer