Pinto assumed it was probably too late to avoid the latter scenario. Once the asshole learned who he was—and he seemed like the type to do a little digging to find out—he’d have his buddies in the department pull him over every time he ventured into his jurisdiction, which meant he needed to stay the hell out of Avalon Springs for a while.
Still, he had no intention of turning his back on his neighbor. Not because she was hot, or because he expected anything in return, but because he wasn’t some sort of scumbag who left people in need of help twisting in the wind. His parents raised him better than that. If he walked away and something bad happened to her, he’d never be able to live with himself. “If you’re not going to take him to court, then I want you to call me if he comes back.”
Wariness clouded her eyes. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to get caught up in the middle—”
“Look, if I didn’t want to get involved, I’d be downstairs watching the game. We’re neighbors. We’re supposed to help each other, right?” He stepped closer and held out his hand. “Give me your phone, and I’ll give you my number. Whether or not you call is totally up to you.”
For a few long moments, she watched him from the open doorway, indecision plain on her face. At last, she handed over the phone, and he tried not to think about the zing of awareness that came with the brush of his fingers against hers.
It took less than a minute for him to add his number to her list of contacts, and then he sent a text to his phone so he’d have her number as well. Finished, he handed it back.
She glanced at the screen. “Your name is Pinto?”
“That’s what everybody calls me.” His mouth curved up. “And you are?”
A blush rose in her cheeks. “Fiona Perkins. I’m sorry; I should have introduced myself earlier.”
Pinto waved a hand in dismissal. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’ve been in this building for nearly a year, and I still don’t know the names of most of the people who live in it.”
Now that he thought about it, the only neighbor he knew by name was Meredith, the old lady who lived in the apartment next to his. At eighty-two, she was pretty damn spry, but every so often she knocked on his door to ask him for help with a stubborn lid, or to have him kill a cockroach that found its way inside her home. He’d given everyone else a nickname, like Yappy Dog Lady or Stoner Dude, people he knew in passing but not well enough to get invested in their lives.
Fiona’s features visibly relaxed, and it made him happy to see the frown lines between her eyes fade away. “You said Pinto is what everybody calls you. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your actual name?”
“Pinto’s my last name. First name’s Joseph, but the folks back home call me Joey. I’ll let you decide which one you want to use.”
Her mouth seemed on the verge of a smile as she tilted her head to the right. “Pinto doesn’t feel right, but you don’t look like a Joey. Would you mind if I called you Joe?”
“Not at all.” He ignored how much he liked the way his name sounded on her lips. There was a very good reason for his dating moratorium, and he had no intention of breaking it now, especially with a neighbor. That could get all sorts of complicated.
Pinto stepped back toward the stairwell. The game awaited and his pizza was getting cold. At least, that was what he told himself. “I meant what I said earlier. If that jackass shows his face again, give me a call, and I’ll be here faster than Domino’s.”
“That’s a lot to promise.”
He winked. “Trust me. I’m good for it.”
Chapter 3
“Andwhatvaluablelessondid we learn this afternoon?” Pinto asked Dorian, one of the new recruits at Six Points, as he finished wrapping the guy’s ankle. Thankfully, it was only a bad sprain and wouldn’t require a trip to the hospital.
The recruit had been doing well on the obstacle course, until he decided to shave a few seconds off his time by jumping down from one of the walls instead of using the rope ladder to aid his descent. With the help of his partner, he’d managed to complete the course within the allotted time—barely—so he wouldn’t have to run it again. Tomorrow marked the beginning of firearms training, which would give the newbies time to recuperate from the various minor injuries they’d suffered during what Pinto considered basic training on steroids.
Dorian’s pale brows snapped down over his eyes. “Um…be careful?”
Their boss, Ryan Flint, dressed in camo from neck to toes, made a buzzing sound from where he stood a couple of feet away. “The correct answer is: Don’t throw caution to the wind just because the clock is ticking. Keep your wits, use good judgment, and you won’t end up in the emergency room.”
“Or the morgue,” his brother, Wade, added as he strode past.
As with most private security firms, all the recruits had varying degrees of military experience. The training program was more of a refresher, a test of strength, stamina, and agility, because any soldier worth his or her salt should be able to handle this shit. The Flint family maintained high standards, and they expected each employee to clear that bar before they were allowed to represent Six Points in any sort of professional capacity.
“How bad is it?” Ryan asked after Dorian limped off to the metal bleachers where the rest of the recruits cheered on the last remaining pair as they crawled under the barbed wire and into a tunnel. The obstacle course was located on a plot of land directly behind the industrial park that Six Points called home. An eight-foot chain link fence surrounded the property, while No Trespassing signs were posted every twenty-five feet or so to discourage people from trying their luck on the course when nobody was around.
“He’ll live.” Pinto packed his supplies back into his medical bag. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use them again, but you never knew when somebody was going to catch a case of the stupids. “His ego’s more bruised than his ankle. A few days’ rest and he’ll be good as new.”
“Thank fuck. Austin would’ve been all over my ass if we lost another guy to injury.” Ryan moved closer and pitched his voice lower. “What’s your honest opinion of Dorian?”
With a noncommittal shrug, Pinto said, “He seems like a good enough guy.”
“That’s not what I asked and you know it.”
