I pulled away from Broadrick's kiss, but there weren't many places to go since he had me boxed up against the end of the couch.

"B." His nickname slipped out, and I shook my head and swallowed heavily to stop tears from forming in the corners of my eyes.

"Vonnie, can't you feel that? You're willing to throw away what we have together?"

I jumped up, putting distance between us and sucking in air that didn't smell like his cologne and broken promises. "You already did."

How in the hell did he blame our breakup on me? I wasn't the one who sent a Dear Vonnie email.

He hung his head in shame, and I felt like a fucking bitch, even though I'd done nothing wrong. If Broadrick thought I was the kind of girl who'd run back into his arms after a shit apology and some pizza, he didn't know me at all.

"I don't know what else to say or do to make you realize how much I regret that choice, Vonnie."

I shrugged. "Me either."

Broadrick's chest rose with a big breath. I stared at it rather than his face.

"Can we just watch an episode of something on TV?" I asked. I didn't want to face the question-and-answer portion of our evening, but I could zone out with something funny and possibly even let myself pretend the last six months between us never happened.

**

Bacon?

My nose tickled, and I sucked in another breath, making sure I had the smell right.

Definitely bacon.

I peeled an eye open. Someone had to be cooking close by from the intensity of the odor. Since I was sleeping, that didn't leave many options.

"Morning, Von."

What the hell?

I lifted my head, finding myself lying on the couch rather than my bed. "What are you doing?" I asked the man in my kitchen.

Broadrick held up a plastic spatula. "Breakfast."

I opened my mouth to complain, but bacon sizzled on the stove, and I decided nothing was worth wasting bacon. Not if someone else was paying for it and cooking it. I'd argue with him later. If I pissed him off too much, he might leave and take the bacon with him.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked.

"Ummm..." my phone ringing cut off the answer I'd been forming. "Hang on."

I searched for my phone, finding it tucked into the corner of the couch. One episode of Law & Order turned into two and then three and apparently at some point I'd fallen asleep on the lumpy monstrosity. The question then became where did Broadrick sleep?

"Hello?" I answered the phone, not recognizing the number and crossing my fingers for a new client.

"Hey, Tabitha, it's Franco. I've got something I think you'll want to see. Meet me outside your office in twenty."

"I'm going to need more time -" I started, but he'd already disconnected the call. Shit.

I glanced at Broadrick as he flipped an egg, his ass wiggling to an imaginary beat as he stood in front of the stove. This was going to hurt. I'd never voluntarily left behind bacon.

Twenty-three minutes later, I shoved the last piece of to-go bacon in my mouth and stepped out of Rachel at my office parking lot. Antonio Franco's truck idled in one of the front spots. I lugged myself and Katy's freaking gigantic box-I swear it grew bigger every day-to the passenger side and waited for Antonio to unlock the door.

"What do you have for me, Tony?" I asked, settling into the seat with Samantha on my lap.

Tony's eyebrows rose and then furrowed. "Don't call me Tony."

"No?"

"No," he said with a headshake, as if he'd tasted something gross. "What's up with the box?"

I petted her side. "Samantha is another case. Very important stuff. Can't let her out of my sight."

"Right," he responded, not sounding positive. Tony-he'd always be Tony to me-adjusted his thick wool hat, ripped it off his head to reveal his closely shaved hair, and tossed it on the dash of his truck. "I met with Anderson this morning."

"Wait, you're actually working with Anderson?" I cut him off.

His face crinkled in annoyance. Like his entire face. Eyes, nose, lips. "Yeah, he's been helping me with a few tips."

"Why?" I wanted to figure out what Tony had for me, but Anderson didn't help people who weren't cops.

Tony's face did the weird crinkle thing again. "He knows I'm the only chance of bringing in my mark."

"Yeah, okay, but for real."

Tony barked out a laugh. "I guess he wants me to catch this guy before some Ridge dude can get his hands on him, and that's okay with me."

Ahh. That made more sense.

Tony dropped his cell phone on top of Samantha with a photo on the screen. It was a shipping label with Jalinda's name and address on it. Someone had typed it out on a computer and then taped the paper to the box.

"That's your victim, right?" Tony asked as I stared at the photo.

"Yup."

He tapped the box next to the phone. "Post marked in Las Vegas."

"How'd you get this?" I asked, running my hand over the photo and then snatching the phone to send a copy to myself.

"I told you. I had a meeting with Anderson this morning, and he had it on his desk. Figured you might be interested, so I snapped the shot."

I smiled up at him. "Ahh, thanks, Tony. You were thinking of me."

His face fell. "Not like that. Just looking out for one professional from another. Remember this because I might need a favor one day."

I nodded, but didn't comment. If we went off history, I'd be asking many more favors. It would be good luck to have a bulky helper in my corner. The man had no idea the Pandora's box he'd opened.

"What do you think? Helpful, right?" he asked, and his words sounded like he had a vested interest in my answer.

I handed back his phone after the picture dinged in my own messages. "Yeah, thanks."

I technically already knew the box of chocolates came from Las Vegas. There was no return address, but why a typed-out shipping label? If you were sending a box of chocolates to a friend, wouldn't you scribble on the address by hand? Were they trying to disguise their handwriting? Why?

Why not use a return address? If something happened the package, you'd get it back rather than letting the post office keep it forever.

Then a bigger question hit me as I stared out the window in thought. "How'd you get my phone number?"

"It's on your office door," he answered, looking at me like I was a moron.

Because I was.

Right.

The office door where I taped up my contact information for when I wasn't in the office, which honestly wasn't as much as I expected.

"Right. I forgot."

Guessing we finished our conversation, I left Tony's truck and carried Samantha with me into my office. I'd need time to process what this label meant.. Thankfully, the building was quiet, the new heavy metal band apparently preferring to destroy the peace at night rather than early morning.

Tony followed me into the small building, and I flipped on the light to my space after unlocking the door. The light cast shadows against the walls that should have been lit with morning sunshine as the sun peeked over the horizon.

It smelled like yesterday's coffee and I dropped the half empty take-away mug in the trash and tucked Samantha in her happy place under my desk. Tony followed me into the space, unzipping his coat looking like he wanted to stay awhile.

"Kind of dark in here. You should open the blinds."

I rolled my eyes. Just like a man to tell me to open the blinds like that thought never crossed my mind. "It won't do any good."

He acted as if he planned to walk past me and test the theory, but I threw my hand out, stopping him. "Seriously, dude."

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to read the text while Tony walked around my office space inspecting things.

BROADRICK: You left me to go see the asshole?