"Did Greg also tell you that we don't accept walk-in visitors?" she asked.

"No. He said Ava Bixby was on the phone at the moment but she was around today and I'd be able to catch her if I hurried over."

Another sigh. They needed to have a meeting. The volunteers were getting careless about security, no doubt because everything had been going smoothly of late--no bomb threats, no altercations, no crank phone calls. Skye was so preoccupied with her family, she'd been spending less time at the office and wasn't as vigilant about reminding everyone of the safety issues as she used to be. Because Ava hadn't picked up where Skye had left off, she was faced with a potentially dangerous situation....

How should she handle it?

By being firm, she decided. "We're closed," she said again.

"Are you Ava, by any chance?"

Was it safe to admit that she was? She had to. It'd feel too sil y to deny it. "Yes."

"I only need a few minutes of your time," he said. "Please. I'm Captain Luke Trussell. You wanted to speak to me. You called me a few days ago."

"I know who you are. I also know that you're accused of rape, Captain Trussell."

His lips formed a straight, unhappy line. "Believe me, I'm well aware of that."

"What I mean is, I won't be alone with you."

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His forehead rumpled. "I didn't rape Sergeant Harter. I've never raped anyone, and I'm not going to hurt you. We could go somewhere public, if you want." He glanced up and down Watt Avenue as if searching for a solution. "I'm not that familiar with this street. But...name a place, any place, and I'l meet you there."

She would've been wil ing to meet with him had he set this up over the phone, so she could've made arrangements for Jonathan or someone else to join them. "Come back on Monday," she said. "First thing in the morning."

"Don't put me off," he pleaded. "I fought ninety minutes of traffic to get here." He lifted his hands, large hands that were callused enough to prove he'd done some hard work in his life. "I won't come within three feet of you, I swear."

"Not now. Not today."

"Please?"

Ava sighed once again, this time in resignation. Oh, hell...why not?

He was already here, wasn't he? And she probably had nothing to fear.

She'd been over and over his record. It was impeccable. Only Kalyna had anything negative to say about him. Even Jonathan believed in him, citing the fact that he'd been a popular, well-adjusted boy all the time he was growing up. Besides, she needed to hear what he had to say. It might put her uneasiness and indecision on this case to rest.

"Meet me at the Starbucks just down the street." She pointed to indicate the direction.

"Thanks." His scowl dissolved into an expression of relief, and Ava went back for her mace.

Chapter 13

Luke tried to relax as he waited for Ava Bixby to join him, but he couldn't. He had too much riding on this. At the very least, he hoped to talk the victims' advocate out of weighing in on Kalyna's side. At best, he hoped to solicit her help for himself. He doubted The Last Stand had ever come to the defense of someone who'd been wrongly accused. That wasn't really part of their definition of "victim." But it was worth a shot. His attorney had a great deal of respect for Ava and her partners, which meant others might listen to them, as well.

The door opened, and a blast of heat from outside entered the coffee shop, along with Ava. She was slightly taller than average--close to five-eight he guessed--and too thin, her face more interesting than pretty.

Rather angular, in fact. But the dramatic A-line cut of her blond hair suited it well. She carried herself a bit too stiffly, but there was confidence in her bearing and she had nice eyes. Clear and intelligent, they missed nothing.

He'd already brought her a drink. He tried to wave her over, but she stopped to order anyway, and, while her back was turned, he let himself take in the rest of her. He doubted she would've attracted his attention had he met her under different circumstances. He typically liked his women a little softer, in looks and manner, but her no-nonsense figure seemed to fit her personality.

He glanced away before she could catch him checking her out. He didn't want her to assume he was the sexual predator Kalyna accused him of being. But he was so curious about the kind of woman it would take to do her job--and what she already thought about this case--that it was difficult not to study her.

Leaning back in his chair, he drank one of the two iced mochas he'd ordered when he first came in, staring out at the passing cars while he waited.

Not until the chair opposite him scraped the floor did he allow himself to focus on Ava again. At that point, he found her eyeing the drinks he'd bought with smug suspicion.

"Was one of these intended for me?" she asked.

"I thought you might like it," he said with a shrug.

Her lips, just full enough to balance the abundance of angles everywhere else, curved into a smile. "Very polite, Captain."

"Anything wrong with polite, Ms. Bixby?"

"Of course not," she replied, but he got the impression that his attempt to be courteous had somehow backfired. She definitely wasn't impressed.

Someone behind the counter called her name, and she got up to retrieve a glass of iced tea. While she was gone, Luke tossed the mocha he'd purchased for her into the garbage.

When she returned, he waited for her to position her purse at her feet and place her drink on the table before speaking. Then he said, "So you can't accept a coffee drink from a suspected ra**st. Anything else I should know?"

Just the way she sat down--knees together, feet tucked under her chair, posture rigid--told him she was on guard. "I don't like iced mocha. I buy my own drinks. And, no offense, but I won't base your guilt or innocence on your looks or your charm."

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting that much out of a four-dollar drink."

He grinned, hoping to win her over, but her expression didn't change.

"Why are we here, Captain?" she asked.

He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. He typically got along well with everyone, especially women. But he could tell that Ava Bixby disliked him on sight. "You called me." He let his smile disappear. That approach clearly wasn't working.

"You took a while to respond to that call. May I ask why?"

"I have a lot on the line."

"And you don't trust me."

He folded his arms. "From what I can tell, the feeling's mutual."

"Just because I haven't melted at the sight of you?"




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