Royal Opposites Read Online Free Page B

dial. Before he could press the third number of 9-‐-1-‐-1, a man shoved her door open and stepped out on the porch. Joan’s jaw dropped when she recognized the man. It was the skinny guard who’d accosted them at the bank earlier.
    It seemed he recognized them at the same moment.
    “Hey!” He shouted and ran down the stairs after them.
    Tom grabbed her hand pulled her along as he ran away from her apartment. Shell-‐-shocked, it was all Joan could do to keep up with him. What in the world was going on here? Why was the man in her home? How did he know where she lived? Granted, the bank would have her information on file, but they didn’t know her by face, did they?
    While all those scary thoughts coursed through her mind, she paid no attention to which way they ran. She snapped out of it when Tom stopped in his tracks and looked back. There was no one chasing them so they slowed to a walk. An actual walk instead of their breakneck one before that had them giggling in fits. He pulled her into the shadows of a building and faced her. In the twilight, she could just make out the intensity in his gaze.
    “Are you in some kind of trouble, Joan? Why would a bank guard break into your apartment?” All she could do was shake her head. Tom gave her shoulders a little shake. “Look at me, Joan. Do you have something they want?”
    She shook her head again, and then stopped with a frown.
    She raised her wrist with the camera strap around it. “Just you.”
    “Me? You think that’s about me?”
    “What else could it be? My life was in perfect order until you threw that temper tantrum in there.”
    “In perfect order? Ha! You just got bilked out of sixteen thousand dollars. That’s not in perfect order.”
    She shoved his shoulder, pushing him out of the way to straighten her spine. “Yeah, well, I was paying them until you came along and mucked everything up. They were finished with me.”
    She glanced back the way they’d come. Her anger deflated and she fought tears. “Now they’re in my house.”
    Tom hooked a finger under her chin and lifted so she’d look at him. “We’ll work this out. C’mon. My place is just ahead. We’ll call the police from there. After all, this is America, right? These people have no right to break into your home no matter what claim they think they have over you.”
    Joan swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat.
    She needed to buck up and fight. “You’re right.”
    Tom gave her one of those devastating and handsome smiles that had her stomach doing flips in spite of the situation. “Come on.” He led her to a large house-‐-like building, which was an apartment complex in disguise. She followed him through the arched entrance into a well-‐-kept courtyard complete with a fountain at its center. They went inside the stucco building and up a couple short flights of stairs to the second floor. Tom readied his keys when they passed a couple doors in that section of the residence. Tom rounded a corner and stopped short.
    “What’s wrong?” Joan asked, peering around his shoulder.
    The door at the far end of the hall was open and gruff voices were spilling out. She got a bad feeling all of a sudden. “Tell me that’s not your place.”
    “Oh how I wish I could.” He spared a glance at her before looking back at his open door. “I think it’s fairly safe to assume that I’m the cause of this mess after all. They wouldn’t be here, too, otherwise.”
    She clutched at his arm. “Tom.” Both of them stared back at the open door. “We should go.”
    Just then, the beefy guard from the bank stepped out the door and slammed his hand against the jamb. Joan flinched like he’d hit her instead of the building. Tom pulled her out of sight around the corner.
    “I think our departure is a fabulous idea.” He laced his fingers through hers. “This way.”
    Tom led them back the way they’d come, but took a detour at the first corner they’d turned. He went to the