had been an effort to shake it off and go to work, but he’d done his best, never suspecting that he was about to walk right into that dream. To feel Lisa’s touch again, after accepting long ago that she was gone for good.
Was he some kind of psychic?
Was it fate that had brought them together again?
Rafe didn’t know or much care. It had been a shock, and a delight, and maybe Phil was right. Maybe he was letting his emotions, his desire, override his reason. But he had been trained to protect and serve, and who better to protect than someone he knew? Someone he had loved?
Oliver Sloan was a bad man—worse yet, a bad man with connections—but if Rafe didn’t confront him about Lisa, who would?
Rafe had seen Sloan’s type time and again, and he knew full well that unless someone called him on his behavior, it wouldn’t change. Unless Sloan was told, in no uncertain terms, to leave Lisa alone, he would be back, and the violence would escalate.
It always did.
So when Rafe finished his report and dropped it on Kate’s desk, he didn’t bother to shower, didn’t bother to change out of his uniform. He ran a quick address check, then went straight to the department garage and signed out a new patrol car.
Then he headed across town to talk to Oliver Sloan.
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