“What?” she challenged. “What will you do? Send me to college?”

Of all the…

Alani cleared her throat. “I’m not a fighter, Arizona, so truly, I’d appreciate it if you stayed here with me.”

Swinging around to stare at her, Arizona said, “Is that a joke?”

“No.” She scooted closer to Arizona. “I’ll feel much safer if I’m not alone.”

God love her. Jackson smiled at Alani, gave a nod of approval over her innovative persuasion and went to the door. Behind him, he heard Arizona grumbling.

But she didn’t follow him.

Peering out the door of the apartment, he saw no one, so he slipped out.

He’d rather have a confrontation away from the women, so they couldn’t be drawn into the violence. He took a step to the side of his door—and almost ran into a man.

They both took an aggressive stance.

Because they remained so close to the front door, Jackson knew the women could see them, but he didn’t take his gaze off the man. If this had to happen in front of them, well, he trusted Alani to control Arizona. Somehow.

“Now just hold on,” the guy said, his hands out, but his caution and suspicion obvious.

Jackson smiled—and the other guy, correctly interpreting that look, withdrew a gun.

Arizona said, “No!”

And Alani said, “Trust him.”

Yeah, trust was an important thing, and it went both ways. He nodded at the guy. “You actually think you’ll get a chance to use that?”

The other man, who stood damn near six-and-a-half feet, glanced around the area, then lifted his brows in surprise. “Backup?”

Jackson didn’t bother to answer that.

“Shit.” Maneuvering to the side of Jackson, the guy looked in the door. “She’s in there?”

She who? Alani or Arizona? “Fuck off.” Knowing Dare, Trace or both would cut the man down before he could get off a shot, Jackson bided his time.

“Arizona,” the guy called out. “You okay?”

That stalled Jackson. They knew each other? He didn’t relax his stance, but he did reevaluate.

Arizona stomped up to the doorway, with Alani not too far behind her.

“Get back inside,” Jackson ordered.

Ignoring him, Arizona glared at the armed man. “What are you doing here, Spence?” she demanded.

“Spencer,” he corrected.

Incredible. Jackson didn’t take his attention off the big man, but their greeting confirmed that they knew each other.

It didn’t explain why the guy was armed, at his door or so conspicuously present during a sting.

“You’re still being followed.” And then with his gaze locked on Jackson, Spencer asked, “You know him?”

Arizona nodded. “Yeah, and if you’re thinking of shooting him, I’d think again.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, it’d just piss him off.”

The guy hesitated, then shook his head and lowered the gun. “That mouth of yours.”

Feeling like a dupe in a play, Jackson kicked out, hitting the guy in the chest. The big man staggered but didn’t fall, and he didn’t drop the gun.

“Jackson,” Arizona wailed.

Wasting no time, Jackson jumped on him, ready to end the farce, but…it didn’t go quite as easy as he expected.

Spencer gave as good as he got.

As they pounded each other on the ground, trading strikes, Alani fretted.

Arizona yelled, “Enough! For the love of God, Spencer, just let him take your weapons, will you?”

Amazingly, Spencer stopped fighting, which allowed Jackson to land a really solid punch to his jaw. He cursed but didn’t fight as Jackson relieved him of a gun, a stun baton and a really nasty switchblade.

“I’m not here to hurt her.”

“Then why?” Jackson put the blade of the knife to Spencer’s throat. “What do you want?”

“To collect a few bounties, one in particular.” Ignoring the knife, he spit blood to the side, then dropped his head back. “Badge is in my back pocket.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, Jackson sat back on Spencer’s thighs, keeping him immobile. “Get it.”

At his ease, Spencer lifted a hip and dug out the badge. He held it up for Jackson.

Huh. Spencer Lark. Looked legit enough. “So you’re a bounty hunter. What does that have to do with me?”

“Not a damned thing.” Spencer came up to one elbow and glanced at Arizona. “But like the f**king Pied Piper, she’s got a string of crooks dogging her heels. I want them.” He gave Jackson a slick smile. “And they’re here.”

“Not yet they aren’t.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Very sure.” Trace or Dare would have alerted him. “If you’re saying they’ll show up—” which Jackson hoped was the case so he could settle things “—then—”

In the next second, Spencer tossed him back while bounding to his feet.

Impressed—a little—Jackson said, “You’re fast.”

Working his bruised jaw, Spencer said, “Not fast enough, apparently.”

Knowing he was disarmed, Jackson gave him an opportunity to explain. “Let’s hear it, but make it the short version.”

“I’ve been trailing a trafficker for months now.”

Gasping, Arizona said, “Me, too,” making both men lock their jaws.