“That’s me and that’s Eddie,” he replied.

“You don’t see gray,” I told him.

His hand let go of mine.

“Sorry?”

“You see black and white, you don’t see gray,” I said.

“No. I don’t see gray, it’s not my job, it’s the judge’s job to see gray,” he said it and he meant it. I could tel because his face went hard and kinda scary.

I stared at him. He was the boy-next-door, the boy-next-door with an edge.

“You’re scary too,” I said.

He grinned, taking us out of the moment.

“I’m the good guy.”

“You’re the scary good guy,” I said.

He motioned to the waitress. Our conversation was over.

“Let’s get you home.”

* * * * *

By “home” Hank meant Eddie’s. He parked on the street, I let us in using my key for the first time. He sat down and immediately found a bal game on TV.

(Why was there always a bal game on TV? Didn’t these sports people take a night off?)

I got Hank and myself a beer and cal ed Mom and Lottie.

They were playing Trivial Pursuit with Tex. I cal ed Daisy.

She was waiting in the Denver Castle for Marcus to get home and giving herself a do-it-yourself facial. I cal ed Al y.

She was shouting to me over the crowd at Brother’s. I cal ed Indy. She was watching Chowleena while Tod and Stevie were flying off to God-knew-where (Indy’s words) and making cookies to bring into Fortnum’s the next day.

I ran out of people to cal so I took off my shoes, put my feet up on the table, sat back on the couch and took a pul on my beer.

I watched the game for about five seconds.

It was boring.

“I’m bored,” I told Hank.

Hank’s eyes slid to me, then back to the game.

“Not sure I can pul off your brand of excitement,” he said.

“What brand is that?”

“Stun-gunning, running for your life, bar brawls. We could go out and try to rustle something up but I think Eddie’d frown on that.”

“You got any perps to stake out?” I asked hopeful y, sounding depressingly like Ada. It wouldn’t be a great deal of fun, but it’d be something. “I’l make a thermos of coffee.” His lips turned up. “I’m off-duty tonight.” Hmm.

“You know how to play poker?” I tried.

His eyes slid to me again. “You play poker?” he asked.

“No, I thought you could teach me.”

His eyes went that lazy-flirty again. I immediately thought it was a bad idea, but it was too late. He clicked off the TV, got up, grabbed my hand and pul ed me up.

“Let’s see if Eddie’s got some cards.”

* * * * *

“Shit, Hank. Seriously?”

I was dreaming, Eddie was speaking and Eddie sounded kinda pissed off.

“She fel asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.” That was confusing, now Hank was speaking and he sounded kinda amused.

I was used to dreaming of Eddie, I hadn’t dreamt of Hank yet. Dreaming of Hank and Eddie was probably not a good thing.

I tried opening my eyes.

They opened al right and I could see down a long leg, at the end of which was a foot wearing a brown boot that was sitting on a coffee table. Beyond the coffee table was another pair of legs in faded jeans. I looked up the jeans to see Eddie’s belt, then Eddie’s abs, then Eddie’s chest, then Eddie.

“Hey,” I said to Eddie, stil half-asleep.

He was staring down at me and I was right, he was kinda pissed off.

I blinked.

“What?” I asked.

“You wanna get your head out of Hank’s lap?” I shot up and twisted around and I did it so fast, I became dizzy and had to throw my hand out to steady myself. It landed on Hank’s thigh. I pul ed it away like it burned and stared at Hank.

He was grinning at me.

My f**king luck.

Definitely the boy-next-door with an edge.

His hand came out and he wrapped it around my head.

Then he leaned forward, kissed my forehead, pul ed back and looked in my eyes.

“Fun night, Jet,” he said.

Then he got up and grinned at Eddie too and said, “We had dinner, we played poker, we didn’t get shot at and she fel asleep watching a movie. You should be thanking me.” Eddie just stared at him, obviously not feeling thankful.

This made Hank’s grin turn into a ful -on smile.

“I’l let myself out,” Hank offered, the smile firmly in place.

He thought this was hilarious.

I stood up and looked from Eddie to Hank. Eddie was also not feeling in the mood to be polite, so I fol owed Hank to the door.

“Thanks Hank,” I said, when he’d cleared the door.

He turned, winked and he was gone.

I locked up behind him, started to turn back into the room and my shoulder bumped into Eddie.

I looked up at him.

Uh-oh.

“Have fun?” he asked.

Actual y, I did. Hank beat the shit out of me hand after hand in poker, but since we were playing for pretzel sticks, I didn’t mind too much. He also flirted with me outrageously, which, at first, freaked me right, the hel , out. Then I realized he was just playing with me and I found that kinda fun too.

I didn’t tel Eddie any of that.

I was reading loud and clear that Eddie wouldn’t have thought any of that was fun.

“Eddie—”

He didn’t let me finish, his hands came to my waist and he pul ed me to him, and then they came up and with them came my t-shirt. Then it was gone.

“Eddie…”

“Sat down with Marcus tonight,” Eddie said, walking backwards and taking me with him, “Marcus who runs guns, drugs and whores. Dabbles in drugs, mainly focuses on flesh and sel ing shit that tears through it.” Eek!

We cleared the coffee table and couch and I thought we were heading to the bedroom but I was wrong. Instead, he turned, my back came up against the wal and Eddie pressed into me.

“Made a deal with him. He finds Vince, Slick or your Dad, he hands them over to me. Since he’s lookin’ for al of them, mostly for Daisy, this wouldn’t be so bad, ‘cept he has to hand them over to me.”

His hands were at my jeans, he undid my belt and then my jeans while he was talking. When he stopped, he bent low to pul them down, snagging my underwear with them and keeping me against the wal with his other hand at my bel y.

Dear Lord.

“Eddie…” I said.

He came up and both of his hands went to my bottom and he yanked me up. I threw my arms and legs around him to hold on and he pressed me tight against the wal . My stomach pitched in a not altogether unpleasant way (in fact, it was altogether pleasant).