Arilyn frowned. “What happened? Why do you need an alibi? Why do I?”

Kennedy grinned without a shred of guilt. “I had these rotten eggs in the refrigerator I needed to get rid of. Imagine my surprise when I drove past the house of he who shall not be named? Let’s just say I got rid of them.”

Kate burst out laughing. Arilyn stared at her friend. “You threw eggs at his house? How did you even know where he lived?”

Kennedy wagged a finger at her. “Darling, you underestimate me. We all know where he lives. The stench followed me all the way down the road. It was quite poetic. See you ladies later.”

She sashayed out of the office with Kate following, still laughing.

Arilyn buried her face in her hands, wondering what he thought of the childish gesture. Probably took it with a stoic grimness, admitting his fault. Ready to be punished like some martyr.

Asshat.

The image of moldy, runny eggs all over his neat white stucco house hit her vision. Suddenly, she began to laugh, and a hint of lightness flowed through her body.

Breakfast, and justice, had been served.

Arilyn got back to work. She sifted through the papers on the three clients who were attending anger management. One cited by the court. One from the Verily police station. Another volunteer in an attempt to woo back his spouse.

Time to sift through the background information on each man and draft up a plan. Every personality was different, and she respected how unique reactions came from a wellspring of emotion, usually based in the past. The first two were easy. Road rage was more common now than ever, and probably revolved around a type-A personality with control issues. Eli White. Her mind clicked on various paths in order to give him tools to use on the road and in other social situations.

The second man, Luther Jones. Lost his temper too many times with his wife and now was paying the price. She gave him credit for wanting to change, for loving someone enough to sign up for such a class. He seemed to own some triggers within his personality that they’d need to work on, but again, a basic case with a high chance of success.

She picked up the chart for the third man.

Her fingers dropped it immediately, and it floated back down to the desk. Her breath constricted in her chest. Not. Possible.

Officer Stone Petty.

A shiver raced down her spine and goose bumps prickled on her skin. The image of his face floated before her. Staggering height. Massive muscles. A nose that had obviously been broken, craggy rough features, a cruel perpetual sneer to his full lips. The goatee only added to his dark presence, that of a man you’d never want to meet alone. In an alley or anywhere.

From the moment they met, she had taken an instant dislike to the man. He was too big. Too confident. Too masculine.

Too everything.

He sucked the air out of the room and commanded everyone’s attention without a word. Besides the odd crackle of electricity between them, she had an odd urge to bend to his will, do what he said, surrender to anything he asked of her.

Nuts. She was certifiably nuts.

So she’d gone on the offensive immediately, refusing to cower under his dominant stare and deep, gravelly voice, which did bad things to her tummy.

They’d met when he and his partner stepped into a violent scene between Genevieve and her ex-fiancé. Then he responded to another case of vandalism on Gen’s house. Both times, Arilyn had called the police, and been met with a stubborn, pain-in-the-butt Stone Petty.

How could this work? How could she possibly counsel him when he’d refused from the very first second to take directions from her? She knew his type well. The know-it-all, superior, “I am God” complex many cops had. Of course, she understood the motivations behind it. Dealing with the underside of human nature eventually takes a toll. She’d counseled cops before, but never one with so much burning energy and . . . darkness.

Arilyn dragged in a breath and picked the paper up again. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t pull out now. She’d study his chart, his past, and try to find a route that would work.

After scanning the details of the scene that had forced him into anger management class, her heart softened. He’d tried to protect a child. Yes, his career may be taking pieces from his sanity without him realizing it. She’d need to dig deep into his past and his brain to try to help.

The image of his dark brown gaze boring into hers ripped another shiver from her body.

He was a walking disaster. Smoker. Drinker. A murky past. He’d been involved in another domestic abuse episode in the Bronx. Left a year ago. For peace and quiet? Perhaps. But one thing she had learned was that even Verily had its darkness.

She tapped a finger against the manila folder. She’d need to tread carefully with this one. Make sure he knew from the outset who was in charge.

Arilyn hoped she could pull it off.

three

STONE KNEW WITHIN two minutes he’d rather have gone to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Or passed a kidney stone. Hell, he would’ve even agreed to be tortured by a drug lord for hours rather than deal with this nightmare.

Anger management sucked.

He tried not to sneer at the other two participants as they sat in their cushioned folding chairs and focused their attention on Arilyn Meadows like two kiss-ass students looking for an A from the teacher. Dude one seemed like an intimidating kind of guy who had a serious case of road rage. Good-looking, with spiky brown hair, blinding white teeth, a nice build, and an obvious horn dog. He seemed way too eager to please Arilyn. His gaze stripped her, his smile seemed too smug, and he tried to keep her questions directed at him. He was too physically eager. Like, maybe if he tried seducing her, he’d get out of class early.

Like that was ever gonna happen under Stone’s watch.

Dude two was an African American guy with glasses who seemed the intellectual type, enthusiastic about overcoming his societal issues to restore and heal the gaps in the relationship with his spouse. Yeah, big words, convoluted speaking, definitely some type of teacher. Stone wondered what he looked like when he lost his temper. Could be fun to find out.

“Officer Stone Petty?”

He shook his head and focused on her face. He’d been hoping to walk in and realize that strange connection between them was gone. Counted on putting his time in with no distractions by a pretty hippie with an enchanting scowl and a rocking body.

Yeah. Scratch that.

It had actually gotten worse. The zing of energy in the air practically sizzled like greasy bacon in a hot pan. She knew it, too, just chose to ignore it. The slight widening of those green eyes and the tiny catch of breath in her throat confirmed her own reaction. The pure rush of satisfaction that wracked his body screamed of trouble. This was no woman he could tumble quickly and walk away from in the morning. Unfortunately, his cop instincts burned to figure her out. Craved to know if her surface matched up with the depths of the woman beneath.

He didn’t think it would.

In his gut, Stone Petty thought she was a big liar. Push past her sweet, serene, flowing do-gooder façade and who knew what type of woman he’d find? Why did he suspect a wild streak buried somewhere? The moment he began baiting her, she rose to the occasion. She pretended to be all calm and centered, but an angry energy radiated around her and damned if he didn’t recognize it well. Maybe because he lived it. Was it possible Arilyn Meadows was a complete fake? Did she own an actual temper and backbone?

It would be damn fun trying to find out. Anything had to be better than her boring Buddha-like attitude.