When She's Bad Read Online Free Page A

The unsettling noise echoed from just two car rows away from her in the underground garage of her high-rise condo and reminded her of a different time in her life when she’d lived in a different, less safe neighborhood. She wished she could turn the other way. After her crappy day at work, every fiber of her was begging for a little peace.
    Muggings weren’t supposed to happen here. This garage had video security surveillance. She glanced toward a camera and shook her fist, wondering who was sleeping in front of the monitor right now.
    She heard a groan of pain, and helplessness shot through her. One step away from becoming a basket case, she couldn’t bear the idea of death. She glanced heaven-ward in dismay and whispered, “Don’t you know I’m not a good choice for this duty?”
    If only she wasn’t plagued with this damned belief in responsibility. There was a reason she was here at this minute, and she’d better not screw it up or she would be paying for it forever.
    Her stomach turned as she felt the unwelcome noose of responsibility tighten around her neck. Her mind whirled with crazy possibilities. She wasn’t packing a pistol and she wasn’t Superwoman. She glanced down at herself in a futile search for a weapon. In her short designer skirt and high heels, she was dressed to slay men—metaphorically speaking—and inspire women, not kill thugs. What was she supposed to do? Stab the bad guys with one of her heels? Her mind wandered. There had actually been that time when she’d had to stomp the instep of an over amorous client. She thought about her thong underwear. Thongs were usually a very effective distraction for men, but—
    She heard another punch and couldn’t stand it. Time for a lie. Ducking behind a car, she covered her eyes and at the top of her lungs screamed, “Fire! Fire! Thank God there’s the police! Fire! Fire! Officer, over here! Help!”
    When she took a breath, she inhaled with her pulse pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of three hoodlums scurrying out the far exit of the parking garage. She tentatively stepped forward and peeked around the corner, spotting a man slumped on the ground.
    She scrambled toward him, praying no thugs remained and swearing under her breath. “Are you okay?” she asked, poking gingerly at his shoulder. “Please be alive. Are you conscious?”
    He gazed up at her and grimaced. “I think,” he said in a slurred voice. “Who—”
    “We’ve got to get out of here. Be quiet and get in the elevator,” she said, dragging his tall frame to his feet and trying to support him as she urged him to the elevator. She felt muscles bunch beneath the tweed wool jacket he wore and she wondered if he had tried to defend himself.
    She clumsily shoved him against the side of the elevator and punched the button for the floor to her condo. She would figure out what to do with him later. Now, she just needed to get them away.
    She stepped closer to peer at his wounds, touching his face, half of which was unmarked. Strong jaw, chiseled bones, he looked about thirty with dark hair and the one eye that was open seemed to look right through her. A good soul, she instantly concluded with the confidence of a woman who’d graduated with a PhD from the school of hard knocks. Her ability to read a man through his eyes had saved her butt more times than she could count. Her heart still hammering a mile a minute, she bit her lip as she took inventory. She started to chatter and couldn’t make herself stop. “Your left eye looks terrible. Swollen shut and red already. What’s your name?”
    “Benjamin, Benjamin Hu—”
    She made a tsk ing sound. “Oh, Benjamin, your mouth is bleeding. And your cheek—”
    Benjamin didn’t know which was making his head spin more—the throbbing in his brain or the woman’s nervous talk. Just after his assailants had fled, he’d wondered if he was going to die. The next thing he remembered was spotting