Michael Carlisle's piercing gaze swept over the room as he strode into the kitchen, his presence immediately filling the room with an air of authority. His dark eyes scrutinized the stranger who sat comfortably in his kitchen, only softening slightly when he looked at his daughter.
"Can I help you, young man?" His gaze raked up and down the stranger before him. His messy hair, his playboy smirk, his ragged clothes and Lord-have-mercy, the tattoo that was peeking ever so slightly from his sleeve. Having been a police officer for more than half his life made him a radar when it came to detecting trouble from a mile away, and this boy looked and reeked of trouble!
