TableofContents

CHAPTERONE
CHAPTERTWO
CHAPTERTHREE
CHAPTERFOUR
CHAPTERFIVE
CHAPTERSIX
CHAPTERSEVEN
CHAPTEREIGHT
CHAPTERNINE
CHAPTERTEN
CHAPTERELEVEN
CHAPTERTWELVE
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
AboutTheAuthor

MIDNIGHTMAN

LisaMarieRice

CHAPTERONE

December21st
Portland,Oregon

She’sscaredofme,hethought.

Damnright.
Sevenhoursago,he’dkilledtwomenandwoundedfourothers.Deathandviolenceclungtohimlike

ashroud.Hewasstillwiredfromthekill,bloodpumping.

WhichmightbewhyeversincecrossingthethresholdofSuzanneBarron’soffice,hecouldn’tthink

ofanythingbutbeddingthedamnedwoman.

JohnHuntingtoneyedSuzanneBarronacrossherverystylishdeskinherverystylishoffice.Shewas

stylishherself—classy,elegant,stunninglybeautiful.Smooth,creamyivoryskin,darkhoney-blondehair,
grayeyeslikeapoolofstillmountainwater,watchinghimwarily.

“So,Mr.Huntington,youdidn’tsayinyouremailexactlywhatyourbusinessis.”
Thewayshewaslookingathim,ifhe’dsaid“bearhuntingandcannibalism”shejustmightbelieve

him.

Inthecorporateworldhewasawolfcarefullydressedinthesheep’sclothingofpencilpushers—

BrioniandArmani.Ittookawhiletoseethekindofmanhewasandsomepeoplenevermanageduntilit
wastoolate.

But right now, just in from Mexico, he looked like the wolf he was. In black leather jacket, black

turtlenecksweater,blackjeansandcombatboots,adrenalinestillcoursingthroughhissystem,hewasn’t
anyoneprettyMs.Barronwouldorshouldwantinherbuilding.Especiallysince—he’dseenthesigns—
shelivedalone.

Shewasalreadyleeryofhimandshedidn’tevenknowabouttheSig-Sauerintheshoulderholster,

theK-barknifeinthescabbardbetweenhisshoulderbladesorthe.22intheankleholster,otherwiseshe
wouldhaveprobablyorderedhimoutofthebuilding.

Shewatchedhim,anxietycloudingluminouseyes.
Hewascomingdownoffanadrenalinehigh.Theconsultingjobteachingsoftoilexecutiveshowto

dealwithahardworldhadgoneverybadveryfast.AsmallarmyofFrentedelaLibertadterroristshad
comedownfromthehillsandtriedtokidnaptheentiretopmanagementofWesternOilCorporationthere
onajunket.

Luckilyhe’dbeenonthespotandhadroutedthem,takingdowntwotangosandwoundingfour.The

resthadbeenmoppedupbythelocalpolice.

John had been flown back up Stateside in the grateful CEO’s private Learjet, with a contract to

provide security for Western Oil worldwide until the end of time and a $300,000 bonus check in his
pocket,justintimeforhisappointmentwiththegorgeousMs.SuzanneBarron.

Timetoconvinceherthathewasn’tdangerous.Hewas,butnottoher.
“Iownandrunmyowncompany,AlphaSecurityInternational,Ms.Barron.Ihaveanofficejustoff

PioneerSquare,butmycompanyisexpandingquicklyandIneednewpremises.There’splentyofspace
here.”

Johnlookedaroundheroffice.Hehadn’tbeenexpectinganythinglikethis.TheadinTheOregonian

had simply stated the footage and the location, in the Pearl, a rough part of town slowly gentrifying.
Outside was a wasteland. Walking through the front door of the two-story brick building had been like
walkingintoalittlesliceofheaven.

Andthefourinterconnectedroomsshe’dshowedhim—itwasasifthey’dbeenfashionedforhim.

Large,spacious,highceilinged.Thesmellofnewwoodandoldbrick,socompletelydifferentfromthe
moderncrapolasuitehe’drentedinanexpensivehighriseoffPioneerSquare.

Inside,thebuildingfeltlikeanexquisitejewelwithitsbrassfittings,lighthardwoodfloorsandsoft

pastelfurniture.She’dputupsomediscreetlightstomarktheholidayseasonandtheairwasspicedwith
theevergreenboughsontheheavymantelpieceandwhatsmelledlikeorangesandcinnamon.

Harp music that sounded as if it was being beamed down directly from heaven played softly from

hiddenspeakers.

He’d had an instant sense of homecoming, strange in a man who’d never had a home. His nerves,

still jangled from the takedown, started calming. This was exactly what he’d been looking for, without
knowinghewaslookingforit.

Add to that the cool, luscious blonde who’d met him at the door, offering her soft, slim hand. His

body,alreadyprimedforbattle,hadimmediatelybecomeprimedforsex.

Hell, since when had he become so easily distractible? In the normal course of events, gunfire

couldn’tdistracthimfromamission.Ofcourse,gunfirewasn’tawildlyattractiveblonde,buthismission
herewastofindanewofficeandnowthathe’dseenthisplace,hewasdeterminedtohaveit.Andthe
landlady.Butfirst,hehadtogethishormonesundercontrol;otherwisehe’dcomeupempty-handedon
bothcounts.

Downboy,heorderedhimself.
Hemustbepumpinghormonesintotheairbytheton,becauseshewassittingwaybackinherchair

inanunconsciousattempttoputdistancebetweenthem—thethoughtthatadeskandsomeaircouldstop
himifhereallywantedtojumpherwassoludicroushewantedtosnort—andhereyesweresowidehe
couldseethemilkywhitesaroundthepupils.

Timetogethertoclimbdownfromthatemotionalledgeandreassureherthathewouldn’tgobble

herup.

Notyetanyway.
Hestudiedtheroom,deliberatelynotlookingather.Hekepthisfacebland,givinghertimetostudy

him,andheardherbreathingstarttoslowdown.

Pretendingtostudytheroomwasaploybuthesoonfoundhimselfdistractedbyitsbeauty.Hedidn’t

have the tools to analyze how she did it, but he could appreciate the end result. Stunning, soft pastel
colors.Comfortablefurniturethatmanagedtobebothmodernandfeminine.She’dkeptthearchitectural
detailsoftheperiod—earlyTwentieshe’dguess.Everything—everydetail,everynookandcranny,every
object—wasgorgeous.

She’dhadenoughtimetocalmdownsoheturnedbacktoher.
“Didyoudotherestorationwork,Ms.Barron?”
The question relaxed her. She looked around, a smile curving soft pale pink lips. It was raining

outside.Thedimwater-washedlightcominginthroughthetallwindowsturnedherskinthecolorofthe
motherofpearlbowlholdingsomekindoffragrantplantonthewindowsill.

“Yes. I inherited the building from my grandparents. It used to be a shoe factory but the company

wentbankrupttwentyyearsagoandhasstoodemptyeversince.I’madesignerandIdecidedtorestoreit
myselfinsteadofsellingit.”

“Youdidawonderfuljob.”
Hereyesrosetomeethis.Shestaredathimandherbreathcameoutinalittlehuff.“Thankyou.”
Shetoyedforamomentwithapen,tappingitlightlyagainstthehighlypolishedsurfaceofthedesk.

Realizingshewasbetrayingnerves,sheputitdownagain.Herhandswereaslovelyastherestofher,
slimandwhite.Shehadtwoexpensive-lookingringsonherrighthand,noringsontheleft.

Good.Noothermanhadherandnowthathe’dspottedher,noothermanwasgoingtogether.Not

untilhe’dfinishedwithherandthatwasgoingtotakealong,longtime.

Herhandsweretremblingslightly.
Suzanne Barron might be one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen but reduced to essentials she

was an animal—a human animal—and she could sense, probably smell, the danger in him, especially
acutenow.

He’dalwayshadthiseffectoncivilians.Well,heremindedhimself,hewasaciviliannow,too.He

wasn’tintheserviceanymorewherehecouldbeinstantlyrecognizedforwhathewas.

Allhislifehe’dlivedinafraternityoflike-mindedmen,friendorfoe.Fellowwarriorsknewwho

hewasandusuallytreadedlightlyaroundhim.

Civilians never knew how to cope, like lambs sensing a tiger had infiltrated the flock. Uneasy

withoutknowingwhy.

Movingslowlysoasnottoalarmher,hereachedacrossandhandedherafolder.Hishandbriefly

touchedhers.Itwasliketouchingsilk.Grayeyeswidenedatthetouchandhewithdrew.

Sherestedherhandonthecoversheet.Asmallfurrowdevelopedbetweencurvedasheyebrows.
“What’sthis,Mr.Huntington?”
“References, Ms. Barron. My CV, service record, credit rating from my bank, three letters of

recommendation,andalistofthemajorclientsofmycompany.”Hesmiled.“I’mhonest,paymytaxes,
I’msolventandpracticegoodhygiene.”

“Idon’tdoubtanyofthat,Mr.Huntington.“
Athinlineappearedbetweenherbrowsassheleafedthroughthefolder.Hekeptstill,movingonly

hislungs,atrickhe’dlearnedonthebattlefield.

“What do you mean by service—oh.” She looked up. Something moved in her eyes. “You’re a

Commander.AnofficerintheArmy.”Hecouldseeherrelaxingfaintly.Anofficerseemedsafetoher.She
couldn’tknowwhathe’ddoneintheservice;otherwiseshesureashellwouldn’tberelaxing.

“Wasanofficer.Mydischargepapersareinthere,too.AndIwasintheNavy.”Hetriedtokeepthe

scornoutofhisvoiceandbarelyrestrainedhimselffromsnorting.Armyindeed.Candy-asssoldiers,all
ofthem.“It’snotthesamething.”

Hersmiledeepened.Shewassoftening.Good.Johnwasgoodatreadingbodylanguage.Thelease

wasadonedeal.Sherelaxedasshereadhisservicerecord.

Therecordmentionedsomeofhismedals,enoughtoimpressacivilian.Therest—formissionsno

onewouldeverknowabout—wereinhisshadowbox.

Thelistofclientsdidn’thurt,either.HehadmorethanafewFortune500companiesinthere.
Shenow knew hewasn’t going toget drunk and disorderly.He wasn’t goingto skip town without

payingtherent.Hewasn’tgoingtomakeoffwithhersilver.Whichwassomething,sinceshehadalotof
itinhere,mostlyintheformofantiquesilverframesandacollectionofteaservices.Everythinginhis
filesaidhewasasoberhighlyrespectedcitizen.

Whatthefiledidn’tmentionwasthatbeforebecominganofficerhe’dbeenatrainedsniper-scout,

withacertifiedkillat1,500yards.Thatheknewforty-fivedifferentwaysofkillingamanwithhisbare
hands. That he could blow up her building with what was under her kitchen sink, and that by this time
tomorrownighthe’dbeinherbed,inher.

“Navy.Navyofficer.Sorry.ShouldIcallyouCommanderHuntingtonorMisterHuntington?”

“Johnwoulddonicely,ma’am.I’mretired.”
“John.I’mSuzanne.”Alullintherainoutsidecreatedalittleoasisofquietintheroom.
Allhissenseswerekeen.Hecouldhearthebreathgoinginandoutofherlungs,theslicksoundof

nylonassherecrossedherlegsunderthedesk.

Hehadaviewonlyofthedelicateanklesbutheknewtheywereattachedtolong,slenderlegs.He

couldjustfeelherthighsaroundhiswaist,calveshugginghiships…

“I beg your pardon?” She’d said something and he’d been so busy fantasizing getting her into bed

he’dmissedit.

Johnshifted,uncomfortablyawarethatithadbeenoversixmonthssincehe’dlasthadsex.He’djust

beentoodamnedbusywithgettinghiscompanyupandrunning.Theirgazesmetandheld.

“You’llwanttocallthepeopleonthatlist.”Hekepthisvoicelow,calm,unthreatening.
“Iwill,yes.”Shedrewinadeepbreath.“Well,um…”Sheturnedaringnervouslyaroundherfinger.

“So. I guess—I guess you’ll be my new tenant. My first. You can do whatever you want in the rental.
ThoughI’dratheryoudidn’tknockdownanywalls.”

“Icouldneverinamillionyearsdoasgoodajobasyoudiddecoratingyouroffice.Imightjusthire

youtodomine.”

“Actually,um…”Herpaleskinturnedthemostdelicate,delightfulpink.Shereachedbehindherfor

afile.Sheopeneditandturneditaroundsohecouldseeit.“Whiledesigningthisoffice,Ifiddledwitha
fewideasfortherental.Iusedadifferentcolorscheme,madeitmore…”Shelookedupathimthrough
thick lashes, “more masculine.” John moved his chair forward. His senses were so heightened that he
couldsmellherskin.Somemixtureoflotionandperfumeandwarmwoman.Shewasblushingfuriously
nowunderhisintensescrutiny.

Johnwrenchedhisgazebacktothedrawingsshehadfannedoutonthedesktop,andthenhefocused

inonwhathewasseeing.

Amazing.
“Thisiswonderful,”hebreathed.Hestudiedeachsheetcarefully.She’dusedunusualtones—dark

grayandcreamandafunnyblue—tocreateasleek,modernenvironment.Practical,comfortable,refined.
It was as if she had walked around inside his head to pull out exactly what he wanted without him
knowinghewantedit.“Elegant,butunderstated.Ireallylikethebeigeceilingwiththebluethingies.”

“Ecru.”Shesmiled.
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“I’msureyouhavetechnicaltermsinyourbusiness,CommanderHuntington—John.JustasIhave

them in mine. The colors are slate, ecru and teal, not gray, beige and blue. And the blue thingies are
stencils.”Shepushedthedrawingsacrossthedesktohim.“Keepthese.You’rewelcometothem.Andif
youneedanyhelpingettingthefurnishings,letmeknow.Nothinginmydesigniscustom-made.Youcould
buyeverythingimmediately.I’dbehappytohelp.Igetaprofessionaldiscountatallthemajorretailers.”

“That’sverygenerousofyou.Wouldyoubewillingtodesignlivingquartersforme,too?Forafee,

ofcourse.”

Shedrewinaquickbreath.“Livingquarters?Youwant—youwanttolivehere,too?”
“Mm. There’s plenty of space. Those three big back rooms would be more than enough for me. I

keepoddhoursinmybusinessandIneedtobeclosetotheoffice.Thiswouldsuitmefine.NowIwant
youtocallsomeofthepeopleonthelistonpagetwo.”

“Ibegyourpardon?”Whensheshiftedinherchair,somefloralscentwaftedhisway.Hisnostrils

flaredtotakeitin.

“I’veprovidedfivepeopleascharacterreferences.Callthem.Callthembeforewesignthelease.

Wecandothattomorrow.”

“I’msurethatwon’tbenecessary,Comm—John.”

“It’sabsolutelynecessary,Suzanne.”Helookedaroundthenbroughthisgazebacktoher.“Thisisa

beautifulspaceandyou’vedoneagreatjobrenovatingthebuilding,butwe’reinaroughneighborhood.”

It was one of the reasons he wanted his corporate headquarters here. He sometimes hired people

who had looked wildly out of place in the prissy downtown building. Like Jacko, with his pierced
nostrilsandthetats.

“Ifyou’regoingtobealoneinabuildingwithaman,youneedtoknowwhoheisandthatyou’re

safewithhim.”Hiseyesboredintohers.“You’llbesafewithme.”

Butnotfromme,hethought.
“Iguessyou’retheexpert.”Sheblewoutalittlebreath.
“Yes,ma’am.You’llcall?”
Her eyes dropped to the paper. “Of course, if you want me to. You have an impressive list of

references.Wait.LieutenantTylerMorrison,PortlandPoliceDepartment.Youknowhim?”

“Bud?Sure.HewasintheMarines.Wecross-trainedtogether.Thenhequitandbecameacop.Call

him.AndonemorethingbeforeIsign.What’syoursecuritysystem?”

“Securitysystem?Youmeanlikethealarmsystem?Letmecheck.”SheopenedaFilofaxandstarted

poringoverthepageswithatapered,pink-tippedfinger.“Idon’trememberoff-hand,butIknowitwas
expensive.Ah,hereweare.XOLSecurity.Doyouknowthem?Oh,howstupidofme.Ofcourseyoudo,
securityisyourbusiness.”

“I deal mainly in personal security, not building security, but I know them.” XOL Security was a

crappyoutfit.They’dhavesnowedherwithfancyalarmsandseven-digitcodesandtheirequipmentcould
havecomeoutofacerealbox.Nofreakin’waywashegoingtoliveandworkinabuildingsecuredby
XOL.Hestoodup.“I’dappreciateitifyouweretosecurethealarmsafterIleave.”

“I—okay.”Shestooduptoo,lookingpuzzled,andwalkedaroundthedesk.“Ifyoureallywantmeto.

Itendtojusthavethedoorlockedduringthedaybecauseit’ssofussyputtingonthealarmsystemthen
switchingitoffwhenIwanttogoout.So…Iguesswehaveadeal?”

“Youbet.”
Hestuckouthishand.Afterasecond’shesitation,sheofferedhers.Itwasalmosthalfthesizeofhis,

slimandfine-boned.Hecarefullyappliedalittlepressureandorderedhimselftoletgo.Itwasdamned
hardtodo.Whathewantedtodowaspullherintohisarmsandtakeherdowntothefloor.

Someofthatmusthavebeencomingthroughbecausehereyeswidenedinalarm.Hesteppedback.
“I’llstartmovingmystuffintomorrow.AndI’lldefinitelybetakingyouuponyouroffertohelpme

decorate.OfcourseI’dliketopayforthedesignofmyoffice.Icanseethatalotofworkwentintoit.”

She waved that away. “No, don’t worry. I was just doodling. Consider the design a welcome

present.”Sheturnedintothehallwayandhefollowed,tryingnottoogleherbacksideandtryingnottobe
obviousaboutsmellingtheairinherwake.Hismensaidhehadthesenseofsmellofabloodhound.He
couldsmellcigarettesmokeonaman’sclothesadayafterhe’dsmoked.SuzanneBarron’ssmellnearly
broughthimtohisknees.

Her scent was perfume, something light and floral, mixed in with an apple-scented shampoo, the

smelloffreshlywashedclothingandsomeindefinablesomethingthathejustknewwasherskin.Soon,
verysoon,he’dbesmellingherskincloseup.Justamatteroftime.

Thesoonerthebetter.Christ,theviewfromthebackwasasenticingastheonefromthefront—sleek

curves,dark-honeyhairbouncingwitheverystepshetook.

He’dneverseenawomanascurvyyetasdelicatelymadeasSuzanneBarron.Everythingabouther

wasdainty,fine-boned.Hewasgoingtohavetobecareful.Noroughsexwhenhetookhertobed.He’d
havetoenterherslowly,lethergetusedtohimbefore…

Sheturnedandsmiledathim.“That’sallright,then.”
Allright!Hiseyesnarrowedandhisbodyquickeneduntilhestoppedhimselfjustshortofreaching

forher.She’stalkingaboutthelease,youidiot,hetoldhimself.

“I’llgetacontractdrawnupandhaveacopyofthekeysmadeforyou.Whendidyousayyouwant

tostartmovingin?”

Now!Hisbodyclamored.Rightthissecond.Buthehadthingstotakecareof.“Idon’thavemuchto

move. Mostly filing cabinets and computer equipment. Lots of that.” He smiled into her eyes. “You’re
goingtoorderthefurnishingsforme,right?Spendwhateveryouhaveto,I’llbegoodforit.”

Shewaslookingupathim,breathingslowly.
“Right,Suzanne?”
Sheblinkedandseemedtocomeoutofadaze.“Oh,yes,um,that’sright.AndI’llhaveacopyofthe

keysmadeforyou.”

He opened the door. The contrast between what was behind him—a delicate lady in a jewel of a

building—and what was in front of him—bleak burned out storefronts, liquor stores and empty lots—
madehimturnbacktoher.LittleMissMuffethadtoknowthattherewerespidersoutthere.Bigbadones.

“Checkmeout,Suzanne.Makesureyouknowwhoyou’reputtinginyourhouse.CallBud.Callhim

now.”

Pale pink lips slightly parted, gray eyes wide, she stared at him. “Okay, I…” She swallowed. “I

will.”

“AndsetthesecuritysystemwhenIleave.”
Shenodded,hereyesneverleavinghisface.
“Doyouknowthesevendigitcodebyheart?”
“Howdoyou—?Allright,noIdon’t.”
“Startgettingusedtokeepingthebuildingsecure.Learnthecodebyheart.I’llbetyoukeepthecode

onapieceofpapertapedtotheundersideofyourdesk.You’reright-handedsoit’sprobablytapedtothe
rightside.”

Sheblewoutalittlebreathandnodded.Bingo.
“That’s not good. From now on keep the code in a safe and memorize it. You’ve got a security

system,souseit.IwantthisbuildinglockeddownafterIleave.”

“Yessir,Commander,sir.”Adimpletwinkledthendisappeared.“Orwouldthatbeayeaye?”
“Thecorrectansweris—yes,I’lldoexactlyasyousay.”
Shewassoclosehecouldhaveseentheporesinherskinifshe’dhadany.Instead,herskinwasas

smoothandperfectasmarble,exceptsoftandwarm,he’dbet.Hehadonefootoutthedoor,steppingfrom
oneworldintoanother.Hehadtoforcehimselftomove.

“Lockthedoor,Suzanne,”hesaidagainashecrossedthethreshold,pullingonthehandle.
Hewaitedpatientlyonthestepsuntilheheardthedistinctivewhump-dingoftheXOLsecurityalarm

goingonthenwalkeddownthestepsintotherainymorning.

CHAPTERTWO

Whew.

Suzanneleanedagainstherdoorandputatremblingfisttoherracingheart.Herlegsfeltlikewax

andshewantedtoslidedowntothefloorinapuddle.

JohnHuntington—CommanderJohnHuntington—wasn’tanythinglikewhatshe’dbeenexpecting.
Theemailhadbeeninnocentenough.
DearMs.Barron,
SawyouradinTheOregoniantodayfortheleaseofofficespaceandaminterestedinviewingthe

premises.Iamlookingforcorporateheadquartersformycompany.Ifitwouldsuityou,Iwouldliketo
makeanappointmentfor10a.m.onthe21stofDecember.

JohnHuntington,President,ASI.
How nice. A CEO, she’d thought as she emailed back. An image of a white-haired avuncular type

floatedinhermind.Abusinessman.Perfect.

The Pearl was gentrifying at a dizzy pace, but pockets of it were still very dangerous. Having a

businessmanaroundwouldmakeherfeelsafe.

Theonethingthemansittingacrossfromherdidn’tmakeherfeelwassafe.Scared,maybe.No,not

scared,really,just…what?

Not a white haired fatherly type at all. Not old. Not safe. He looked dangerous. That was it. That

waswhathadSuzanne’sentiresystemonalert.

Atfirstshethoughtthewrongmanhadcome.Hehadn’tlookedlikethepresidentofacompany.He

lookedrough,dangerous.Likeabiker,notabusinessman.Abigman,shoulderssobroadtheyspannedthe
chairback,black,close-croppedhairwithadustingofsilveratthetemples,eyessomewherebetweena
verydarkblueandbrown,impossibletoguessatintheuncertainwaterylight.

Whateverthecolor,though,he’dlookedatherasifhewereabouttoswallowherupwhole.
She’dneverseenamansoblatantly…male.Ofcourse,shethought,withawryshakeofherhead,the

menshemetasadecoratorwerealittledifferentfromthemenintheNavy.Still,thebrutemalepower
he’dexudedhadbeenoverwhelming.

He hadn’t done anything, had barely moved in his chair, never fidgeting or moving position, he

hadn’t said or done anything untoward, but she’d felt her entire body go into overdrive. She’d kept her
handsfromtremblingonlybysheerforceofwill.

Thiswascrazyandhadtostopnow.JohnHuntingtonwaspayingalotofmoneyfortherental—more

money,actually,thanitwasworth,giventhelocation.Soshewasgoingtohavetostartgettingusedto
him as a tenant. She couldn’t afford to have to stand against a door and wait for her heart rate to slow
downeverytimeshesawhim.

MaybeIshouldgetoutmore,shethought.Stopworkingsohard.Startdating.Getalife.
Maybethenexttimeherbankmanageraskedherout,sheshouldaccept,insteadofmakinganexcuse.

They’ddatedafewtimes.ExceptMarcusFreemanwassopale,evenbyPortlandwhitebreadstandards,
and so boring. His hands were soft and white. Not broad and dark and hard like John Huntington’s

hands…

Stopthat!
GoodLord,whatwasthematterwithher?
Feeling her legs steady now beneath her, and able to bear her weight, she walked back down the

hallwaytoheroffice.Seeingthefamiliarobjects,eachonehand-picked,eachonewithahistory,calmed
her. She’d had such pleasure designing this place, with the hardwood floors, beveled stained glass
windowsandterracottasconces.Thecolorandshapesgaveheralift,brightenedherday.

Oddhowherdesignfortherentalunitwassocompletelydifferent.
Onerainyafternoon,whenshehadnothingbettertodo,shehadwalkedacrossthehallwayintothe

partofthebuildingshewantedtorentout.Fourrooms,oneafteranother.Thespaceswerebigandempty,
ablankcanvas.

Designingalwaysexcitedherandshewasusuallyquick,butthatday,asshesatcross-leggedonthe

big,emptyhardwoodfloor,backagainstthewall,thedesignhadjustcomepouringoutofher,asifshe
weresketchingavisionalreadyformed.Asifshealreadyknewsomethingdarklypowerfulwerecoming.

Herownofficeandlivingquarterswerecolorfulandfeminine.Buttherentalhadcomeflowingout

from her hand in shades of slate and ecru and teal, sleek and streamlined. It was as if she’d had John
Huntingtoninmindasshe’dsketched,hadsensedhispowerandstrength.

She’dseenthelookofrecognitioninhiseyesandknewthatsomehowshe’ddesignedsomethingthat

fithim.

Somehowshe’dknownthathe’dneedanoversizedarmchair,insoftblackleather.Somehowshe’d

knownthatamanlikehimwouldn’tlikefussorobjectsd’art—justalonglineardeskmadeoftitanium
andblackmarble,openfacedbookshelves,atealandcreamChineserugingeometricpatterns.

For his bedroom, she’d choose an oversized bed with a mahogany headboard. An image of John

Huntington in bed, naked, made her thighs suddenly tremble and clench. His pectorals had been visible
beneaththesweater.Hischestwasprobablycoveredwiththickblackbodyhair,narrowingdownto…

Thiswascrazy.Shewascrazy.
Shaken, Suzanne sat down behind her desk and tried to focus on something other than John

Huntington’sbody.Magnificentthoughitwas…

Herhandsclenchedonthedeskandshestaredatherwhiteknucklesforalongmoment.Sheleafed

throughthephonebookuntilshefoundthenumbershesought,thenpulledouthercellandthumbedinthe
number.

“PortlandPoliceDepartment,”aboredvoiceannounced.
“LieutenantMorrison,please.”
Aclickandthenanothervoice.“Homicide.”
“I’dliketospeakwithLieutenantMorrison.”
“Hold.”
Therewasalotofbackgroundnoise.Someonescreamed,thensheheardmalevoicesshouting,the

soundsofscuffling,thenadeepvoicecameontheline.“Morrison.What?”

Suzanne smiled. Bud, normally cool as ice, sounded harassed and out of breath. “Bud, this is

Suzanne.Iwonder—“

“Suzanne.” His deep voice sharpened. “Hey, is something wrong? Has something happened to

Claire?”

“No,no,it’snothinglikethat.”
Bud was engaged to her best friend, Claire Parks. Suzanne had met him on a couple of social

occasions.HewasabsolutelybesottedwithClaire,butClairewasbeginningtohavedoubts.Toomacho,
tootake-control,tooprotective,she’dsaid.Tallandtoughlooking,andafriendofJohnHuntington’sto
boot,SuzannecouldseeClaire’spoint.

“Claire’s fine. No, I’m calling about something else. I’m calling because my new tenant put your

namedownasareference.”

“Soyou’ve finally founda tenant. Good.Claire’s worried about youall alone inthat part of town

and,frankly,soamI.Who’dyourentitoutto?”

“AmannamedJohnHuntington.CommanderJohnHuntington,aformernavalofficer.Doyouknow

him?“

“John?”Hegaveashortlaugh.“Isuredo.Andifhe’syournewtenant,thenyourtroublesareover,

honey.”

Orjustbeginning,shethought.“Canyoutellmesomethingabouthim?What’shishistory?”
“Well,hewasadamnedfinesoldier.Gotachestfullofmedals.”
“Yes,Isawthatonhisdischargesheet.”
“Hon,thatwouldonlygivethemedalshewonforovertoperations.He’sgotasafefulloftheother

ones.Theonesforoperationswedon’tknowanythingabout,andneverwill.”

Otherones?“What—whatkindofsoldierwashe?”
“A SEAL. Elite commando. Best of the best. Expert in black ops. Operated best under cover of

darkness.HismencalledhimtheMidnightMan.Gotsuperbnightvision.Probablykilledmoretangos—
that’sterrorists—thanyou’vehadhotdinners.Ha-ha.”

“Ha-ha,” Suzanne echoed hollowly. She had no trouble at all believing what Bud was telling her.

Thestillness,thepalpableauraofdangerabouttheman,tolditsownstory.She’djustletintoherhomea
verydangerousman.Notasimplesoldieratall,butatrainedkiller.Amanwhokilledforhiscountry,
true,butakillernonetheless.

Budinterruptedherthoughts.“Say,howcomeMidnightManisrentingfromyou?Ididn’tevenknow

hewasintown.Iheardheretiredondisability,buthedisappearedfromsightafterthat.”

“Disability?” The man she’d seen hadn’t looked disabled at all. The contrary, in fact. “He didn’t

strikemeasdisabled.”

“He got shot up pretty bad about a year ago, busted his knee. Navy bought him a new one, but he

can’toperateatpeaklevelsanymore.Idon’tknowwhathe’sdoingnow.”

“Hehasaninternationalsecuritycompany.NamedAlphaSecurity.”
“You don’t say.” Suzanne heard a low whistle. “Alpha Security’s a classy company. Got a really

goodrep.SoAlpha’sJohn’s,huh?He’slivinginPortlandnow?”

“Guessso.”
“Well,I’llbedamned.Youtellthatsonofa—er,sonofagunthathe’dbettergetintouch,pronto.

And honey—don’t worry about John. He’s honest and totally, completely reliable—and if he’s head of
Alpha he’s more than solvent. I’m glad he’ll be in the building with you. Now we don’t have to worry
aboutyouinthePearl.You’vegotareallydangerousguyonyoursidethere.”Thebackgroundnoiselevel
roseagain.DearGod,wasthatthesoundofashot?

“Morrison,getyourassoverherepronto!”someoneshouted.
“HeySuzanne,gottarun,it’sarealzooheretoday.Seeyou.”
Reallydangerousguy.Suzannewasstandingbesideherdesk.Sheputhercelldownonherdeskand

staredblindlydownatherhand.Areallydangerousguywasgoingtoliverightacrossthehallfromher.

Butshewasn’tsupposedtoworryaboutanything.
Right.
“SoyoudidcallBud.Good,”adeep,roughvoicesaidandshescreamed.
“OhmyGod!”Sherearedbackinshock.
Hewasstandingrightinfrontofher,evenlargerandtallerthansheremembered.
“Here.” A flick of his big hand and a plastic card, a pair of small needle-nosed pliers and a bent

steelrodfellonherdesktop.“That’swhatittooktogetthroughyoursecurity.BecauseIwasinahurry.

Givenabitmoretime,Icouldhavedoneitwithspitandawire.Sothat’swhatyoursecuritysystemis
worth—hey!”

Her heart was pummeling its way out of her chest. She had to sit and there was nowhere to sit.

Tryingtomove,shestumbledandwaspulledagainstamassivechestasshetriedtofocuspastthebright
spotsinfrontofhereyes.

“Hey,hey,calmdown.SorryIscaredyou.Ijustwantedtoshowyouthatyouneedtoupgradeyour

security.Nothinglikealivedemonstrationtoconvincepeople.Youweren’tsupposedtofaintonme.”

Shewasn’tevenlisteningtothewords.Hisvoicewasadeepmeaninglessrumbleinhischest.She

restedherforeheadagainsthiscollarbone,palmsupoverhispectorals.

Hewasholdinghertightly,sotightlyshecouldhear—evenfeel—hiscalmstrongheartbeat,onebeat

tohertwo.

He’dbeenoutintherain.Hesmelleddelicious—someheadymixtureofmale,rainandleather.She

movedherrighthandslightlyunderhisjacketandfeltaleatherharnessofsomesort.Intrigued,shemoved
herhandfurtheracrosshischestandencounteredgrainedwoodandasteelbarrel.

He wasn’t letting go. She was going breathless from another type of shock now. One big hand

coveredthebackofherhead,theotherclaspedheraboutthewaist.Hepressedhardwiththathandand
herstomachcameintocontactwithsomethingequallyhard.

Notagun.
Shejumpedbackasifscalded.Somedimpartofherbrainrealizedthatshewasabletodothatonly

because he’d opened his arms the instant he felt her jolt. Otherwise there was no way she could have
freedherselffromhisembrace.Themusclesshe’dpushedagainsttojumpbackwerelikesteel.

Wordless,shestaredathim.
“Youneedanewsecuritysystem,”hesaid.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. New security system. The words circled around her

headbutcouldn’tfindaplacetoland.Shecouldn’tgetahandleonthem,onheremotions.

His expression was completely unchanged. Set, unsmiling, serious. She couldn’t begin to read his

reaction.

Ifheevenhadone.Heseemedcompletelyunaffected.Andyetsheknewhehadbeenaffectedinat

leastonebigway.

Embarrassmentwascominginrightaftertheshock,ingreatrollingwaves.Shecouldfeeltheheatof

itriseinherface,togetherwithanotherheat,completelyuncontrollable.

Suzannesearchedinherdepthsforsomewaytodealwiththesituation.Someniceneutralladylike

etiquettethatwouldhelpherhandlehavingfeltthepenisofacompletestranger.

Erectpenis,ifyouplease.
Huge,erectpenis.
OhGod.
Hergazeshottoaboutsixinchesabovehishead.Herthroatwasdryandherlungshurt.
“You need a new security system,” he repeated. New security system. New. Security. System. She

neededanewsecuritysystem.

Well…yes.Ifhewasabletobreakthroughhersysteminthetimeittookhertoplaceaphonecall,

sheprobablydidneedanewone.

“Okay,”shecroaked.Sheclearedherthroat.“Okay.I’lllookintoitassoonasIcan.I’llaskaround

—“

“Don’t bother. I’ll install one for you. One not even I can get through. As a thank you for your

designs.”

“Youdon’tneedto—“Suzannelookedathisface.Notafaceyousaidnoto.“Okay.Thanks.”
“What’syourfavoriterestauranthereinPortland?”

Shehuffedoutalittlebreath,shiftinggears.“Well,Isuppose…CommeChezSoi.Butwhydoyou

—“

“Wecantalkaboutyournewsystemtonight,overdinner.”Hestateditasafact,likegravity.
“Dinner?”
Henodded.“I’llpickyouupatseven.”
Suzanne fumbled to get her bearings, but balance eluded her. She couldn’t even begin to think, not

withthismaninthesameroom,suckingoutalltheoxygenandtakingwithitallhercommonsense.

Shesaidtheonlythingshecouldsay.“Okay.”
“Bring a key for me because I won’t be able to install the new security system until the day after

tomorrowattheearliest.I’llbesleepingheretomorrownight.I’llbringmybedfirstthing.”

Bed. His bed. Suzanne could imagine him only too well in his bed, big body sleeping in tangled

sheets.

“Okay,”shewhispered.
Hestaredatherforanotherfewseconds,darkeyesboringintohersasifhecouldwalkinsideher

mind.Thenhenoddedandwalkedtowardthedoor.Hedidn’tseemtorushbuthecoveredgroundfast.In
asecond,hewasoutthedoor.

Largeashewas,hedidn’tmakeanynoise.Howcouldthatbe?Hewaswearingbootsandtheyhad

tomakesomesoundonhardwoodflooring,didn’tthey?

But he disappeared as silently as he had come. He’d appeared before her as suddenly as a ghost.

Andthenhewasgone.

Suzannestaredatwherehe’dbeenlongaftersheheardthefrontdoorsnickshut,thengropedblindly

for a chair. She had a busy day ahead of her but she couldn’t go anywhere until her legs stopped
trembling.

CHAPTERTHREE

At1900onthedot,JohnrangSuzanne’sfrontdoorbellandat1901heheardthelightclickofherheelson
thefloorinside.Shewaspunctual,hehadtosaythatforher.

John supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Suzanne Barron was a businesswoman, after all, and a

successfuloneatthat.Youdon’tsurviveinbusinessifyoucan’tmeetaschedule.

He’dfoundthebusinessworld,initsownway,asdemandingastheNavy.
Johnstoodpatientlyoutsidethedoor,refrainingfrompickingherlocksandcuttingthroughthealarm

systemoutofpity.He’dmadehispoint.

No,hestoodoutsideherridiculousexcuseforadoorandrangthebell,likeanormalhumanmale

waitingforafemale.Togoout.Outonadate.

Hesupposedthat’showyoudoit.Manwaitsforwomanoutsidedoor.Hisdatingexperiencewas

prettylimited.Usuallywhenhewantedsexhe’dgotoanoff-basebarandcasthisnetuntilsomeonebit.
Sometimesittookfiveminutes,sometimesten.

Thewomenweren’tlookingforheartsandflowersandhewasn’tlookingtogiveittothem.
Suzanne Barron was an entirely different matter. Getting into her bed was going to require some

finesse and some dusting off of his rusty social skills. He was going to have to make some polite non-
business-relatedconversation,somethingherarelyhadwithcivilians.

Whycouldn’thejustfastforwardtothegoodpart?Heshruggedhisshouldersunderthecashmere

overcoatthatwaspartofhisbusinessmandisguise,wishingtheywerealreadyinbed,recognizinghow
unusualitwasforhimtobesoimpatient.

He’doncehiddenbehindaboulderintheSandboxforfourdaysandfournightswithoutmovinga

muscletogetashotatoneofAbdulRasheem’slieutenants.Thisitchyfeelingwasunlikehim.

Hewasgoingtohavetogetthroughthisevening.Andprobablyafewothereveningsafterthisone.

Askingherouttodinner—outondates—wasnecessary.Therehadtobesomethingbetweenmeetingher
andhavingsex.Hecouldn’tjustsay,“Let’sgotobed.”Itdidn’tworkthatway,notwithladies.

Orsohepresumed.Hedidn’thavemuchexperiencewiththespecies.Soherehewas,lockedinto

gettingthroughaneveningmakingconversation.

Hedidn’twanttomakenice.
He didn’t want to have to give his opinion on how to decorate his new office. He just wanted to

dumpthewholeprobleminthoseprettyhandsofhersandlethertakecareofit.Andhesureashelldidn’t
needherinputintowhatsecuritysystemthebuildingneeded.Hewasfinewiththat.

What he wanted was to skip dinner and go straight to bed. Feel those long, slender legs wrapped

aroundhiswaist.Sinkintoher.She’dbehotandtight…

He sighed and shifted, jaws clenched. It was altogether likely that getting into her building was

easierthangettingintoherbed.

Thedoorswungopenandthereshewas,SuzanneBarron,asofthismorninghisnewlandladyand

just about the most desirable woman he’d ever seen, silhouetted in the frame, warm fragrant air from
insidethebuildingcondensinginthecoldnight.

Damn!Hisstomachclenched.Didthewholefreakingbuildingsmelllikeher?
She looked up at him, one foot in, one foot out, stunning and anxious, as if she could read his

thoughts, which, please God, she couldn’t. Her long coat was open; revealing a pale pink blouse with
pearlbuttonsopenedenoughtoshowtheroundswellofivorybreasts.Hishandsfisted.

“Hi.”Shecouldn’treadhismindbutmaybesomeofhissexualenergywascomingthroughbecause

shelookedalittleapprehensive.Maybeheshouldhavetakentwocoldshowers.

“Goodevening,”herumbledinreplyandshesmiled,someofhertensioneasing.
Rightresponse.
Good.
Hecoulddothis.Hecould.Forafewhoursatleast.
Shebenttocarefullylockthedoorhehadcrackedinthreeminutesflat.Shestraightenedandasshe

turnedherheaduptowardhim,perfumedstrandsofdarkhoney-blondehaircaughtonthedarkwoolofhis
coat.Heliftedthemoffcarefullyandtheyranlikesilkthroughhishand.Shewatchedhimwithwidegray
eyesasifhewasabouttoeatherup.

Nothinghe’dlikemore.Justspreadheroutanddipin.Getherreadybeforemountingher…
He took her elbow and a deep breath. First things first. He had to feed her and strangle out some

conversationbeforeclimbingontopofher.

Itwasgoingtobealongevening.Thefirstofmanylongevenings.

****

“Thanks for ringing the bell and not picking the lock.” Suzanne looked up—way up—at the man

walkingbesideherdownthepathtothefrontgate.

Hismouthtwistedandliftedinahalfsmile.“You’rewelcome.”
“I’msureyouweretempted.”
“No.I’dmademypoint.”
Hecertainlyhad.
Hewassocloseshecouldseetheindividualdropsofraininhisblackclose-croppedhair.Whata

surprise when she’d opened the door a few minutes ago. This morning he’d looked dangerous and
disreputable.She’dagreedtosignaleaseonlybecausehewasanofficer,ifprobablynotagentleman.

This evening she had no problem believing he ran a successful company. Wow, did he clean up

nicely. He looked just as powerful as this morning, only clad in a fine wool suit and gray cashmere
overcoat,heseemed…respectable.Likesomeoneshecouldbegoingouttodinnerwith,withoutworrying
he’deatherupandspitoutthebones.

Heofferedherhisarmastheywalkeddownthesteps,stoppingundertheporchcoveringthegate.It

wasrainingheavilynow,asteadyPortlandrain,outofsullenlowgrayclouds.

Johnhadproducedaheavyoversizedumbrellabutwaitedamomentfortheraintoabateabitbefore

walking out into the downpour. Suzanne glanced down. He wasn’t wearing combat boots like this
morning, but he did have on heavy highly polished elegant shoes suitable for the rain pelting off the
sidewalk.

Unlike her Rossetti pumps. She sighed. The pumps had been expensive and she was going to ruin

them.

Nevermind.Sheliftedhergazeandautomaticallyscannedthestreet,asshealwaysdid.
Two blocks down and one block over was a trendy new gallery and three blocks the other way a

fusionAsianrestaurantwasslatedtoopennextweek.ThePearlwascomingupintheworld.

But this particular stretch of Rose Street was dark and run-down. Suzanne often hesitated before

makingtheplungeintothestreettowardhercarandsheneverwentoutaloneafterdark.

Shedidn’tfeelafraidnow,though.HandonJohnHuntington’spowerfularm,withhimbyherside,

shefeltabsolutelynofear.Noneatall.

“Let’s go.” Holding the umbrella over her with his right hand, he placed his left arm around her

waistandhurriedthemtohiscar.

Truck,morelikeit.SuzannelookedwithdismayattheopendoorofthepassengersideoftheYukon

thenupathim.Fromthisangleandinthedarknessallshecouldseewasalargejaw.

Shebarelyhadtimetocontemplatethedistanceandtheimpossibilityofclimbingintoitinhertight

blackskirtwhenJohnswungherupinhisarmsandplacedhergentlyontheseat.

Shewasanadultwomanandhehadpickedherupwithnomoreeffortthanifshehadbeenachild.
Again,shehadtomarvelathowquicklythemancouldmove.Shewasstilladjustinghercoatwhen

thedriver’sdooropenedandclosedquickly,lettinginaswirlofcoldair.Heturnedontheignition.

“Wherearewegoing?”sheaskedwhentheyreachedBrandonAvenue.
Hecastaquicksilverglanceather.“Whereyouwanted.”Thoughhedidn’tsaythewordsaloud,his

tonesaid“ofcourse”.

Suzanneblinked.“CommeChezSoi?”
Heshrugged.“That’sright.”
Shegaveahalflaugh.“YouwereabletogetreservationsatCommeChezSoionaFridaynight?”

Therewasapermanenttwo-weekwaitinglist.Alast-minuteFridaynightreservationwasimpossible.

Theyweremovingintothedowntowndistrictandshecouldseehisclean,hardprofilemoreclearly.

Hisfacewashard,set.“Ipersuadedthemtomakeroomfortwomore,yeah.”

He’dpersuaded…shecaughtherbreath.He’dbeenarmed.Hadhepulledagunonthem?
Suzannebroughtherfisttohermouth.“OhmyGod,John,whatdidyoudotothemtogetthemtogive

youatable?”

Helaughed,aroughlowsound.“Notwhatyou’rethinking,honey.Istoppedbyandgavethemaitre

d’anotewithadeadpresidentonit.”

Happythedarknessdisguisedherpinkcheeks,Suzannelookedblindlyoutthewindow.
‘Honey.’ He’d called her honey. It meant absolutely nothing of course. But her heart had taken a

violentleapinherchest.Shefoldedonehandoveranotherandtookdeepbreathstocalmherselfdown.

It was like being in a cave, just the two of them. A dark cave cut off from the rest of the world.

Traffic was light and the sidewalks were deserted. The big machine rode silently through the streets,
leavinganarcofwaterinitswake.Thesoftwhirofthewindshieldwiperskepttimewithherheartbeat.

Hedrovefastbutwell.Shefeltutterlysafeinasecurecocoon.
“It’srainingreallyhard,”shesaidfinally.Hehadn’tspokenawordinthelasttenminutes.Shehad

to learn to make conversation with this man, without her voice or her hands trembling. The weather
seemedasafetopic.

“Parforthecoursehere,”hegrumbled.“Rainsallthetime.”
Foramoment,shewascharmedatthethoughtofbig,badJohnHuntingtonbeingdisgruntledbysome

rain, as if he was made of spun sugar and would melt. “Well…” she teased gently. “Not all the time.
There’stheoddsunnyday.Ortwo.You’renotfromaroundhere,areyou?”

Shecouldn’tplacetheaccentinhisdeepvoice.Notwestern,forsure.
“No,ma’am.”
Helookedoverandtheireyesmet.HisgazehadsuchpowerinitSuzannehadtolookaway.Shefelt

asifshehadbeenpunchedinthestomach.

Saysomething,youidiot.“So,um,whereareyoufrom?”
He was silent a moment as he negotiated the tricky intersection off Harrison. “From all over and

nowhere in particular. My dad was in the Navy and I grew up on Navy bases. Then when I was old
enoughtoenlist,Ifollowedinhisfootsteps.I’velivedonmostofthenavalbasesinthiscountryanda

goodmanyabroad.Mostofthemsunny,”headdedwryly.“WhenItookearlyretirement,Ineededahome
baseofmyown.Weatherdidn’tfactortoomuchintothechoice.”

“So…whyPortland?”
“Don’treallyknow.”Heshrugged.“Alotofpeopletoldmewhatagreatplaceitwas.I’dmetBud

years ago when he was a marine. He said there were good hunting and fishing and sailing close by.
Seemedasgoodaplaceasany.”

“Budsaidhedidn’tevenknowyouwereintown.”
“Yeah.IthoughtIwasgoingtobuildmybusinessupslowly,havetimetoseemypals,maybefish

andhuntsome.Instead,businessjusttookoffandI’vebeenchasingafteriteversince.Haven’thardlyhad
achancetocatchmybreath.Ishouldhavelookedforlargerpremisesmuchearlierthanthis.Though,”this
withasidelongglitteringglanceatherthattookherbreathaway,“I’mreallygladIwaited.Reallyglad.”
Heswervedandparked.“Hereweare.”

Again,hemovedquicklyforsuchabigman.AfewsecondsafterstoppingtheSUV,hewasather

door.Therainhadstoppedandtherewasahushintheair.Acarwhishedby,headlightscatchinghimfull
intheface.

She caught her breath at the intensity of his expression, deep lines bracketing an unsmiling mouth.

Hisarmswereopentoliftherdown.Sheputherhandsonhisshouldersandleanedforward.Hedidtoo.
Theirnosestouched.

Somethinginhiseyestoldherhewasahair’sbreadthfrom—“Don’tkissme,”shewhispered.
“No.”Hisvoicewaslowandrough.“WhenIstartkissingyou,Iwon’tstop.Andthefirsttimewe

have sex it should be on a bed, not on the front seat of a car on the open highway. So we can take our
time.”

Hepluckedherofftheseatandswungherdowneffortlessly.
Theystoodamoment,raindropsdrippingfromthebroadoaksabovethem.Hishandswerestillon

her,almostspanningherwaist.Suzanne’sheartwaspounding.Sheshouldbeshocked.Shewasshocked.
At the harsh words, at the very notion. She should say…something. Something like “In your dreams,
buster,”or“Howdareyou?”

The images his rough words produced—broad naked shoulders rising hot and hard above her,

feveredkissesandpowerfulheatedsex—robbedherofbreath.

Powerandsexcameoffthemanintangiblewaves,totallyinvincible,unstoppable.
She’d never felt like this in her whole life. Shaky, without bearings, like a toddler taking her first

babysteps.Shestaredupathimmutely,theirbreathcloudinginthechillnightair,andthenmovedaway.

“How dare you say that—even think it. Sleeping with me isn’t in the lease.” Her voice shook. “I

don’tsleeparound.”

His hand settled in the small of her back as he unfurled the big black umbrella over her head and

startedwalkingthemtowardtherestaurant.“No.”Hisvoicewaslow.“I’msureyoudon’t.”

Suzannesneakedaglanceupathisface.Hewasn’tgrinningfatuouslylikesomemachocreepwho’d

just made a pass. His face was hard, unsmiling and serious. A soldier who’d just stated his military
objective.

We’regoingtotakethathill.We’regoingtohavesexinabed.
Hewasamulti-decoratedsoldier.Hewasprobablyusedtogaininghisobjectives.
Godhelpher,whathadsheletherselfinfor?
Whentheyreachedtherestaurant,Suzanneheavedanunconscioussighofrelief,asiftheyhadcome

infrommorethanthechillyevening.Movingintothefamiliarandelegantrooms,shefeltonmoresolid
ground,wheresheknewtherules.Whereshecouldholdherown.Inthetwenty-firstcentury,insteadofin
acavewherethemanwiththebiggestclubwon.

Themaitred’welcomedthemandshowedthemtoasecludedcornertable,oneofthebest,nearthe

huge open fireplace. Suzanne’s eyebrows rose. She ate often with clients at lunchtime here but they’d
neverbeenofferedthischoicespot.John’sdeadpresidentmusthavebeenapowerfulone.

“AreyoufamiliarwithFrenchfood?”sheaskedassheopenedthelargeleather-coveredmenu.
“Yeah.Some.”Johnshrugged.“ButI’mnotapickyeater.I’llhavewhateveryou’rehaving.”Hehad

seated himself next to her on the banquette instead of across the table and she could feel the heavy
musclesofhisbicepsashisshoulderslifted.

Suzanneloweredthemenu.“SupposeIorderedtheRognonsàlacrémeardennais?”
Johnsettledhiswideshouldersagainstthebackofthebanquette.Hesnorted.“YouthinkI’dbalkat

eating kidneys in cream? You don’t know what crappy rations we have in the field. When we’re lucky
enoughtohaverations.MymenandIholedupinacaveonceforthreeweeksandallwehadtoeatwasa
mountain goat we captured. We had to eat it raw because we couldn’t afford to light a fire. We ate
everythingincludingtheeyeballs.We’dhaveeatenthehoovesandthefurifwecould.”

“Ugh.”Sheshuddereddelicately.“Wherewasthis?”
Hismouthquirked.“Someplacealotmoreunpleasantthanhere,that’sforsure.”
“Ifyoutoldme,you’dhavetokillme?”sheteasedgently,swirlingalockofhairbehindherear.
“No.Never.”Hecaughtherhand,hisfacesober.“Idon’thurtwomen,Suzanne.Couldn’t.Don’tever

worryaboutthat.”Hebroughtherhandtohismouthandbrushedakissacrosstheback.“Butyeah.It’s
bestforyounottoknow.”

Herhandtingledwherehe’dkissedit.Itsurprisedher,scaredher.
Thewaitercametoslipasmallplateofwarmhorsd’oeuvresinfrontofthemandtotaketheirorder.

John ordered in decent French. The man was full of surprises. He could pick locks, eat raw goat and
speakFrench.Anunusualcombinationforanunusualman.

“Youspeakratherwell.YourFrenchisbetterthanmyhighschoolFrench,that’sforsure.”
“The Navy sent some of us to Monterey for intensive courses. Learning French and Spanish was

okay,butFarsiandPashtowerebitches—er,toughtolearn.Pashto’sagoodlanguagetoswearin,though.
Withtheaddedbenefitthatnooneelseunderstands.”

He didn’t relinquish her hand. With the other arm along the back of the settee, he was effectively

holdingherinanembrace.

Suzanneclearedherthroat.Shehadthewalltoonesideandthewallofhischesttotheother.She

couldn’tseeanyoftheotherdiners.Hefilledherentirefieldofvision,overwhelmingher.

The flickering candle cast fascinating shadows over the hard planes of his face. He was closely

shavenasifhemusthaveshavedjustbeforecomingout.Therewasnohintofanafter-shavebutshewas
acutely aware of his scent just the same—clean clothes, leather and soap. And some indefinable
somethingthatmusthavebeen…him.

Suzannecoughedandfidgeted.Hewassoclosetohershefeltshecouldn’tpullinenoughairinher

lungs.Shetuggedgentlyatherhand,thenharder.Hislargehandtightened.

“Ifyou’retryingtogetmetobackoff,itwon’twork.”Heleanedevenfurtherforwardandburiedhis

noseinherhair.“You’retooalluringformetoeventhinkofbackingoff,”hemurmured.“Yousmelltoo
good,feeltoogood.Christ,Iwantyou.”Whenhisrighthandmovedfromthebackofthesetteetocupthe
backofherneckshejumped.

“AmIspookingyou?”
“Alittle,”shewhispered.
“Toobad.BecauseI’mnotbackingoff.Noway.”Hewasplayingwithherfingers,runningtherough

padsofhisfingersoverherskin.Hiseyesglittered.Shestillcouldn’tfigureoutwhatcolortheywere.
Dark,butnotbrown.Notquiteblue,either.

Herelinquishedherhandtostrokethebackofhisfingersoverhercheek.“Soft,”hemurmured.“So

soft.”Onelargefingerranoverherjawbone,thendownherneck.Hetracedaveinthatwaspounding.

“Youmightthinkyou’respooked,Suzanne,butIdon’tthinkit’sthat.DoyouknowwhatIthink?Hmm?”

Shewasbreathingshallowly,herbreathcominglightandfast.“No.”Hervoicesoundedhuskyeven

toherownears.“Whatdoyouthink?”

“Yourskinissofine,Icanseethebloodpumpingthroughyourveinhere.”
Hisfingermovedtantalizinglydown,strokedhercollarbone,andtracedtheswellofherbreast.He

circledhernipple.

“You’rehardhere,honey.Likealittlerock.”
Throughthelaceofherbra,throughthesilkoftheshirt,shefeltitacutely.Feltitdowntohertoes.

And when he brushed back and forth against her nipple she felt—shockingly—her womb clench, the
flutteringpreludetoanorgasm.

“YouwanttoknowwhatIthink?Ithinkyou’re…aroused.”
Shelookedaroundwildly,hopingtoanchorherselfwithsomethingotherthanJohnHuntington,his

voiceandhishands.Butheeclipsedeverythingandallshecouldseewashisfaceaboveher,watching
herasintentlyasanypredatoreverwatcheditsprey.

Histhumbstrokedhernipple,hiseyeswatchinghers.Shewhimperedsoftlyandbitherlip.
“AndI—“Hetookherhandtightlyand—shockingly—placeditoverhisgroin.“I’marousedtoo,”he

finishedinaroughwhisper.

Hispenisfeltlikeasteelbar,onlyaliveandwarm.Sherealizedshehadtightenedhergripoverhim

onlywhenhiseyesshutteredtightandhisbreathcameinonahiss.Hispenisjumpedunderherhandand
became,impossibly,longerandharder.

Suzanne’shandflutteredopenandshejerkeditback.Shefoldedhertremblinghandsonthetableand

staredatthem.Sheshouldsaysomething.Sheknewsheshouldsaysomethingbutabsolutelynothingcame
tomind.

Thiswasfaroutsidetheboundsofanythinginherexperiencewithmen.She’dbeenonplentyoffirst

datesandthiswastotallyoutsideherexperience,waybeyondwhatsheconsiderednormalfemale-male
communication.

This wasn’t even supposed to be a date. They should be having a nice business dinner while

discussingthedetailsofhislease.

Theyshouldbetalkingaboutherdesignforhisofficeandhisplansforanewsecuritysystem.They

should be talking terms and utilities. Maybe with a little low key flirting under the businesslike adult
conversation.

Thatwasallowed.Hewasapowerfullyattractiveman.Avery…maleman.Agentlelittlefrissonof

attractionwasokay.Amildflirtatiouslittleflurry.

Notthisgaleforcewindthatthreatenedtoblowherover.
He was sitting so close to her she could feel his body heat. A fully aroused powerful male who

somehow had the capacity to make her feel as if they were alone in a cave somewhere instead of in a
crowdedandcivilizedrestaurant.

Suzanne knew that somewhere out there, past his impossibly broad shoulders, was a room full of

dinershavingagoodtime,eatingwell,andconversinginnormaltones.Noneofitpenetrated.Therewas
justthetwoofthem,botharoused.

Hewasperfectlyright.
Shecouldstillfeelhistouchonherbreast,thoughhe’ddroppedhishand.Hernipple—bothnipples,

actually—ached.Sheachedbetweenherthighs,andknewthatshe’dturnedwet.She’dbeenlessaroused
thanthiswhileactuallymakinglovewithothermen.

Andthetactilememoryofhispenisfillingherpalm,hotandironhard,swellingevenlargerunder

hertouch,lingeredinherhand.

It was so unlike her. Suzanne Barron didn’t do sex. Not like this. Not hot and raw and so

uncontrolledshe’dbasicallyfondledamanatarestauranttable.

Shetookadeepbreath.“Weneed—“shelickedherdrylips.Don’tthinkaboutwhatweneed.“We

needto,um,talk.Totalkaboutthatnewsecuritysystem.And—anddecoratingyouroffice,ifyou’dlike
metotakecareofthat.”

“Okay.”Theheatinhiseyesdidn’tdiedownandhisvoicewasstillhuskywitharousal.“Let’stalk.”
Ifshe’dexpectedhimtoleanbackandchangebodylanguage,shewasmistaken.Aheavyforearmlay

onthetableinfrontofher.Withhisotherarmaroundthebackofthesettee,shewasstillsurroundedby
large,warmmale.

Shemoved,andherbreastbrushedhisarm.Amuscleinhisjawjumped.
Shefroze.
Hedrewinadeepbreath.“Okay,security.Thefirstthingyouneedtodoisarrangeforbetterlighting

outsidethebuilding,particularlytheentrance.”Hescowledather.“Ican’tbelieveyouliveinthePearl
districtandhaven’ttakencareofanyofthis.”

Suzannefrowned.“Theentranceislit,”sheprotested.She’ddesignedthelightsherself.Crystaland

wroughtironinatulippattern.

He looked at her pityingly. “Hundred watt globes over the doorway are not what I’d call security

lighting.Thatwattageistotallywasted,withthelightgoingupandsideways.Youdon’tneedtolightup
thesky.Youneedlightwhereitwilldoyouthemostgood.Whatyou’vegotnowispureglarethatcasts
shadowsastreetpunkcanhidebehindandruinsyournightadaptationwhenyouwalkouttoputoutthe
garbage.”

Thatkindofthinkinghadneverevenoccurredtoher.Andneverwould.Notinamillionyears.She

openedhermouthandclosedit.Openeditagain.“Oh.”

“What you need,” he continued, “is a metal halide light with no uplight and no glare. I’m going to

installinfraredsensorspotlightsthatcomeononlywhensomeonewalksintotheviewfieldofthesecurity
detectors.It’sveryeffectiveforscaringintrudersaway.”

Thiswasanentirelynewworld.“Oh,”shesaidagain.“Okay.”
Hewasn’tfinished.“You’llalsoneedmotionsensorsandtoputyoursoundsystemonatimersothat

there’smusicwhenwe’reoutofthebuilding.”

Motion sensors. Halide lights. Detectors. “I don’t know,” she said uneasily. “All of that sounds

expensive.”

“Don’tworryaboutit.Whatyoudesignedformewillmorethancompensateforthat.”
“I didn’t design it for you, specifically,” she protested. “I was just doodling one day while I was

sitting in the empty rooms. And I felt—“ felt you were coming. She blew out a breath. “Felt it would
makeagoodspaceforabusiness,”shefinished.

“It’sbeautiful,”hesaid,hisdeepvoicequiet.
Shegavehimastartledglance.
“I’monlyasailor.Ex-sailor,”headdedwryly.“ButI’mnotblindandI’mnotdead.WhatIsawwas

exquisite.Andfunctional.”

Shesmiled,flattered.“Thankyou.That’spreciselywhatgoodinteriordesignisallabout.Whenyou

tellmealittlemoreabouthowyourbusinessworks,Icouldprobablyimproveonthedrawingsyousaw."

“You’llhaveplentyoftimetoseehowmybusinessworks.”Hiseyesboredintohers.“I’llbeliving

andworkingrightacrossthehallfromyou.”

The thought of it took her breath away. He was such a powerful presence. How on earth was she

goingtobeabletoconcentrateonherworkknowinghewasjustahallwayaway?

Suzannepickedupthedessertforkandstartedtracingdesignsonthelinentablecloth.“Itmusthave

been hard to make the switch from the military to the business world. Bud told me you retired on a
disability?”

Shelookedupbriefly.Disability.Itwassohardeventoimaginetheworddisabilityinconnection

withthisman.Hard,strong,tough.Helookedlikehecouldtakeontheworld.

“Mmm.”Clearly,hewasn’tgoingtodiscussanythingpertainingtohisinjury.“It’sfunny.WhenIwas

in the service, I couldn’t imagine any other life.” He gave a half-laugh. “Shit—sorry, I’m too used to
spendingallmytimewithmen,IknowIhavetocleanupmylanguage.Anyway,mostofmylifeIdidn’t
knowanyotherlife.IgrewupaNavybratandthenspentmyentireadulthoodintheNavy.So,yeah,alot
ofthingsarenew.Butyouknow?I’mlookingforwardtothisnewstage.I’mlookingforwardtobuilding
my business and to putting down roots. To having a home.” His dark eyes—what was that color? The
lightsweretoodimtotell—pinnedher.“That’sthankstoyou.I’veneverlivedinquarterslikewhatyou
designedformebefore.”

Suzanneduckedherhead.She’dreceivedpraiseforherworkbefore.She’devenwonaprizeforthe

designofasmallmuseum.Butnothing—nothinghadmeantasmuchtoherashisquietwords.

Sheclearedherthroat.“Well…waituntilyouseeitdonebeforesayingthat.Youmightnotlikethe

finishedproduct.”

“I’lllikeit.”Thedeepvoicewaseven,certain.“Youaboutreadytogo?”
Surprised, Suzanne looked around. The fire in the huge open hearth was burning low. Most of the

restaurant’scustomershadgone.Therewereonlyafewcouplesleft,sittingclosetogether.Lovers.Only
loverswereleft.“Er…yes.”

She looked down and saw that her plate was still full. All she’d done was push the food around,

taking a few tiny bites. Amazing. She’d spent the entire evening at Comme Chez Soi—where the
appetizersalonecost$25andwerewortheverypenny—andhadn’teaten.

Suzannepattedherlipswithanapkin,suddenlynervous.Suddenlycompletely,totallyawareofthe

factthathewasgoingtodriveherhome.Walkheruptothefrontdoorofthebuilding,maybeinsidetothe
frontdoorofherapartmentand…

Theireyesmetandherheartlurched.“Let’sgetyouhome,”hesaidquietly,standingupandoffering

herhishand.

He seemed to have some magical powers or the ability to communicate telepathically because

withoutgivinganyovertsigns,thewaitersbroughttheircoatsandhewasusheringheroutwithalarge,
warmhandatherbackmorequicklythanshewouldhavethoughtpossible.

“Ah,John?”Theywereatthedoor.
“Yeah?”Hesmileddownather.Itwashisfirstrealsmile.Anamazingsmile.Hestilllookedtough,

probablynothingcouldchangethat,butthesmiletookyearsoffhisface.

Shesuddenlyrememberedhisbirthdatefromhisdischargepapers.Hewasonlyeightyearsolder

than she was. He was probably much older than her—eons older—in terms of life experiences, but in
termsofactualyears,therewasn’tthatmuchofagap.Hewasonlythirty-six.Stillyoungforaman.

“Don’tyouhavetopay,orsomething?”
Thesmiledeepened,showingtwogroovesoneithersideofhismouth.Onanyotherkindoffacethey

wouldbeconsidereddimples.Onhisface,theywere…dents.

“Notnecessary.Ikeepacorporateaccounthere.”
Oh.Well,thatexplainedthespecialtreatmentandthemagicalappearanceofafreetableonaFriday

night.

Hereachedaroundhertoopenthedoor.
It had started to sleet. Suzanne stopped and buttoned her coat up, wishing again that she’d had the

goodsensetowearboots.HerprettyRossettishoesweregoingtogetsowaterlogged.

Johnlookedupattheskyandhandedherhisbigblackumbrella.“Here,youcarrythis.”
“Okay.”Startled,Suzannetooktheheavyumbrella,wonderinghowshecouldprotectthetwoofthem

whenhewassomuchtallerthanshewas.Inoneeasymove,hescoopedheroffherfeet.

“Whatareyoudoing?”shecried.
“Makingsureyoudon’tgetthoseprettyshoeswet.Now,areyougoingtousethatumbrellatocover

usorareyougoingtocatchtherainwithit?”

Withastart,Suzannerealizedshe’dbeenholdingtheumbrellaupsidedown.Sherightedit.Theonly

waytoprotectthembothfromtheneedlesofsleetwastoholdtheumbrellabehindhisneck,embracing
him.Herfacewasinchesfromhis.Lipsinchesfromhis.

Hemovedsmoothlydownthestreet,carryinghereasily.Theirmingledbreathcondensedinthecold

night,formingalittlecloudaroundthem.

Suzanne’scheekbrushedhisastheywalked.Thisweathermadefortreacherousfooting.Itwasicy

outandthestreetwasfilledwithpuddles.Ifshe’dhadtowalkthedistance,she’dhavemadeitonlyby
movingcarefullyandwatchingherfeet.

Nothim.Hewasn’thavinganyproblems.Evencarryingher,evenunabletolookdownathisfeet,

hispacewassteadyandsure,asifhewereoutonastrollonawarmspringevening.

Suzanne’sarmswerearoundhim.Atfirst,shetriednottotouchhim,buttheumbrellawasheavyand

moved in the wind. She was only able to keep it steady by bracing her right arm along his back. In a
perfectpositiontofeelthebunchandplayofhisstrongshouldermusclesashecarriedher.

His breath warmed her cheek, smelling of wine and chocolate, heady and hot. Hot. His body heat

penetratedthroughhercoat.Shehadtoworktokeepherbreathingeven,staringresolutelyoverhisleft
shoulderatnothingatall.

Theystoppedandsheturnedherhead,practicallynosetonosewithhim.Thiscloseup,shecould

see features she hadn’t noted before. He had a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, lifting it into an
invertedVandgivinghimthelookofadevil.Hisnosehadbeenbrokenonce,maybetwiceandavery
thin,whitescarranfrombehindhiseartowardhischin,stoppingjustunderthejaw,asifsomeonehad
goneforhisjugularwithaknifeandhadbeenstoppedjustintime.

Whoknewwhatotherscarshehadonhis…body.
Heatsurgedthroughher.
OhGod,thinkaboutsomethingelse,anythingelse.Thinkaboutthesleetandthedinnerandmaybe

thescaroverhiseyebrowbutnothisbody.Notwhilehewasholdingherinhisarms,notwhileshecould
feelhim,feelhisbodyheatthroughwhoknewhowmanylayersofclothing.

Ithadbeenbadenoughwonderingabouthisbodyafterhe’dleft,whenthemerethoughtofhimnaked

hadturnedherlegstojello.Itwasmucheasiertoimaginehimnakednowthathewasholdingher.

Heturnedhisheadslightlyandwham.Theireyesmetandsheknew—shejustknew—thathecould

tell what she was thinking. Even worse, what she was feeling. He’d felt her breast at dinner, felt her
nipple.

Heknew.
Shestoppedbreathing.
They stared at each other for a second. His head dipped, and her senses went on red alert, heart

thumping,buthewasjustreachingdownforthedoorhandle.

“Thereyougo,”hesaidsoftly,andliftedherintothepassengerseat.Afewsecondslater,hewasin

thecarandhadstartedtheengine.

Thesleetwasturningintosnow,buildingupunderthewindshieldwipersashedroveacrosstown.

Suzanne waited for her heartbeat to get under control as she tried not to look at him. But it was
impossible.

Hishardprofileappeared,disappearedthenreappearedasthestreetlightsflashedby.
Therewasnosmalltalktobemade.Theatmosphereinthecabinwassosexuallychargedthatthere

wasnothingshecouldsaythatwouldn’tbetrayheragitation.Hervoicewouldtrembleifsheopenedher
mouth.Evenherbreathingwaserratic.

Intheenditwaseasiertosaynothingandwatchhimasheeasilybattledtheworseningweather.He

wasfascinatingtowatch.She’dbeinasweatifshehadtocrosstowninthisweather,buthewascalm
andrelaxed,bighandseasyonthewheel,movementsloosebutcontrolled.

MaybetheytaughtdrivingthroughsleetandsnowintheNavy.Maybehehadamedalinit.
Heparkedjustinfrontoftheshortsidewalkleadingtotheentrance.Snowwasalreadybuildingup

alongthewroughtironfence.

Thesnowmuffledallsounds.Whenheopenedherdoorandreachedforher,itwasasiftheentire

worldhadhushedsoshecouldleandownintohisarms.

Linkingherarmsbehindhisneckseemedlikesecondnaturebynow.
“Youdon’thavetocarryme,”sheprotested.“It’sonlyafewsteps.”
Amuscledancedinhisjawashelookeddownather.“Delightedtodoit,andyou’rewelcome.”
ThetripinhisarmsfromtheYukontothefrontdoortookforeverandwasoverinseconds.
Heputherdownatthedoor,keepingonebigarmaroundher,holdingouthisotherhand.“Now’sa

goodtimetogivemethatcopyofthekey.Andtogivemethesecuritycode.”

“Oh,ofcourse.”Suzannebentherheadtorummageinherpurse.“Seventwofoursixonethreenine.

See?Imemorizedit.”

“Goodgirl.”Hetookthekeyshehandedhim,punchedinthecodeandopenedthedoor.
Suzanneusuallyrelaxedonceshewalkedthroughherdoor,outofthedangersofRoseStreetandinto

the warm and welcoming environment she’d created. But now she stood tensely, still half in John
Huntington’sarmsandshiveringwithwhatshetoldherselfwasthecold.

“Turnthealarmoff,”hesaid.Herhandswereshakingasshepunchedinthecodeagaintofinishthe

sequence.Onlythelobbylightswereonastheywalkeddownthedarkhallway.Again,hemadenosound
atall.Theonlysoundwasherownshoes,tappingnervously,intimewithherownnervousheartbeat.

Herhallwaywasn’tlong.Beforeshecouldgatherhersensestheywereatherdoor.Sherummagedin

herbagandpulledoutherkey,holdingitsohardthejaggededgescutintoherpalm.

Suzanneturnedslightlyandlookedupathim.
Againtheireyesmet.Held.
Shewasacutelyawareofthefactthattheywerecompletelyaloneinthebuilding.
Hewasgoingtokissher.Itwasthere,inhisbodylanguage,intheglitterofhiseyes,inthetightness

oftheskinacrosshissuddenlyflushedcheekbones.

Andshewantedhimtokissher.Herbodywastellingherclearlywhatitwanted.Herbreathingwas

rapidandshallow.Herbreastswerefullandaching,hernipplespainfullyerect,andshetingledbetween
herlegs.Heknewit.Thosedarkeyessaweverything,notedeverything.

John’sarmscameupandthehairsonthenapeofherneckrose.Butinsteadofpullingherintoatight

embrace,herestedhislargepalmsoneithersideofherheadagainstthebrickwallandlookeddownat
her.

Neither spoke. John bent his head slowly, eyes on hers, gaze so intent she finally had to close her

eyesatthefirsttouchofhismouthtohers.

Soft.Hislipsweresosoft,shethoughtdreamily.Everythingabouthisfaceseemedsohardandcold

andyethislipsweresowarmandsoft.Gently,gently,hislipsslidoverhers,keepingthepressurelight.
Hetastedsogood,ofchocolateandmanand,intriguingly,ofthewinethey’dhadfordinner.

Wasthatwhyherheadwasstartingtoswim?Hismouthopenedalittle,histongueglidedoverher

closedlipsandsheopenedhermoutheagerlyforabettertaste.Hismouthlifted,thensettledagain,still
gently.ThelightbehindSuzanne’sclosedlidsturnedgoldenasherheadtiltedbackslightly.Justenoughto
offerhermouthmoretohim.

Hekissedtheedgesofhermouthandherlipscurvedslowlyupwards.Whowouldhavethoughtthat

bigbadJohnHuntington,soldier,commando,wouldturnouttobesuchagentlekisser?Herbloodwasn’t

poundinginherveinsanymorewithanticipationandsputteringnerves.Itwasmovingslowlythroughher
bodylikewarmhoney.

She clutched the lapels of his overcoat, needing to hang on to something, to anchor herself. The

materialfeltsoftandwarmbeneathherfingertips.Justlikehismouth.

Hismouthmovedslowlyonhers,theonlypointinwhichskintouchedskin.Hesipped,suckedgently

and her own mouth moved languidly under his. She sighed against his mouth in a haze of pleasure and
opened her lips further. The soft caress of his tongue against hers electrified her, sending pleasure
pulsatingthroughoutherbody.

Lazily,Suzanneopenedhereyes,expectinghimtolookasdreamyasshefelt.Shejoltedasshetook

inhisexpression.

Notdreamy,nottender.Hisfacewashard,predatory,lipsshinyfromhers.Amuscletwitchedover

hisleftcheekbone.Hiseyesglitteredandwithasmallshockshefinallyrealizedwhatcolortheywere.

Thecolorofgunmetal.
Thefierceintensityofhisgaze,sostrongshefeltasifhandsweretouchingher,madeherturnher

headaway,onlytoreceiveanothershock.Hisbighandscurledwhitelyagainstthebrickwalloneither
sideofherhead.Hemovedhishandandbrickdustdrifteddowntothefloor.

Hewasclingingtothewallsohardhewasgougingholesinthebrick.
Suzannebroughthergazebacktohis.She’dneverencounteredanythinglikethis,likehim,before.

Everycellinherbodywaspulsingandalive.

Thatkisshadbeengentle,butshehadseenwithherowneyesthecosttohimofkeepingitthatway.

Thatleashedpowerarousedherfarmorethananyotherman’skisseshadeverdone.

She could feel his body heat, coming in waves and overwhelming her. Nothing like this had ever

happenedtoher.

She liked kissing—what woman didn’t?—but it was a minor pleasure, like good food or a new

dress.Akisshadneverrockedherworldbefore.

If a soft kiss, lips barely touching, a brief meeting of tongues, had her pulsing with desire, what

would it be like to be held tightly as his mouth devoured hers? She’d been held tightly by him before,
briefly,butlongenoughtofeelthepowerofhisbodyagainsthers.She’dbeenkissedbyhim,too.Gently.

Shewantedtohave—hadtohaveboth—atthesametime.Shehadtoknowwhatitwasliketokiss

himandhavehimholdhertight.Shewantedtofeelthatpowerfulchestagainstherbreasts,wantedtoarch
againsthim,rubagainsthim.

Alightbrieftouchofhernipplesintherestauranthadsetoffshockwavesinsideher.Rubbingtightly

againsthischestmightmaketheachegoaway.Thiswasadegreeofpassionshehadnoideaherbody
couldfeel.Shewantedmore.Likeadrugaddictneedingafix,shestoodontiptoe,touchinghermouthto
hisandclosedhereyes.

Hehadarousedherintherestaurant.Everythingabouthimexcitedher.Hissize,thatairofdanger,

hiscomplete…othernessfromher.Whenhisbighandtouchedherbreast,she’dnearlyjumpedinherseat.

Shewantedmore.
Shesometimeskissedadatejustoutsideherdoor.Veryfewmenmadeitpastherdoorforanightcap

andevenfewerintoherbedroom.

Outside the door was a nice place to kiss a man goodnight. If you liked it, you could contemplate

takingitalittlefurther.Ifyoudidn’t,youjustwhispered“goodnight”andslippedintothedoor.

Agoodnightkisssaidalotaboutamanandabouthowshereactedtothatman.Anicesafetesting

ground.

ThoughnothingaboutJohnHuntingtonseemedsafetoher.
Shewantedhimtokissherhard.Whatwoulditbeliketofeelallthatstrength,allthatpower,allthat

maleenergyfocusedonher,herbodytightlyheldclosetohis?

Shehadtofindout.Shewantedanotherkissfromhim.Likebefore,onlyharder,deeper.Standingon

tiptoe,sheclosedhereyesandtouchedheropenmouthtohisagain.Hertonguecameouttotouchhislips
andshemoaned,deepinherthroat.

Itallhappenedatonce.Likeawhirlwind.
In a second, she was backed up against the brick wall, pinned there by his huge body. His mouth

slantedoverhers,hard,tonguedeepinhermouth.Inasecond,hercoatpuddledonthefloorandinone
slashingmovement,hishandmoveddownherfront.

Sheheardherpearlbuttonspingingonthefloorandarippingsoundandthenherbreastswerefree.

Sheknewthatbecausehepickedherupandclampedhismouthoverhernippleandsuckled,hard.

Thepleasurewassointense,itwasalmostpainandshegaveasharpcry.
He was holding her high enough so that her mound was level with his erect penis. Her back was

againstthewall-therewasnoescapingit.

Hewassteel-hardandgroundintoher,rubbinghispenisoverher.Ahardhandreachedaroundtoher

buttocks and tilted her pelvis forward until he nestled in the folds of sex and she rode him. If it hadn’t
beenforherclothes,andhis,hispeniswouldhavebeeninsideher.

Heshiftedhisholdandhelickedhiswaytoherotherbreast.Hismouthwashot,avid.Helickedher

nippleashesuckled.Herotherbreast,stillwetfromhismouth,feltcold.Sheshivered.

Suzannedidn’tevenhavetimetobeshockedorreactinanyway.Toolate,sherememberedhishard

wordsoutsidetherestaurant.“WhenIstartkissingyou,Iwon’tbeabletostop.”

Sheopenedhermouthtosay“Stop”.Surelyshewasgoingtosay—stop.
Thiswasinsane.
GiventhetypeofmanJohnHuntingtonwas,she’dbeenpreparedforakisstoknockhersocksoff,

butshehadn’tbeenexpectingthis.

You’vegottostopthis.Hadshesaidthewordsorjustthoughtthem?
Andhow could sheask him tostop when what hewas doing wasso mind-numbingly fantastic, so

intenselyerotic?Howcouldshesaystopwhenthelastthingshewantedhimtodowasstop?

Shewantedmore.
He lifted his head, as if he’d heard her unspoken words and shifted her higher, until her face was

almostonalevelwithhis.

Howcouldsheeverhavethoughthislipssoft?Therewasabsolutelynothingsoftabouthisface.His

features could have been carved from a rock, except for his nostrils, flaring with every breath he took.
Theystaredateachother.

This was insane. This had to stop. She gazed into his gunmetal eyes and opened her mouth to tell

him. He dipped his head again, catching her mouth. His groin moved strongly against her mound,
rhythmically, and she forgot everything, even her name. All she knew, all she was, was concentrated
betweenherlegs.

Aflashofheatbillowedup,envelopingher.Herwildcryechoedinthehallway.Justlikethat,she

wasclosetoorgasm,soclose…sheclosedhereyesandtiltedherheadback,everysenseconcentratedon
herloins,onthefirebetweenherlegs,justonemoresecondandshewouldexplode…

Hepulledaway.
“Notlikethis,”Johngrowled.“Iwanttobeinyou.”
Holding her with one big hand, he reached around to unzip her skirt, pulled it down and off, then

skimmed up her leg until he encountered the top of her stockings, grunting with satisfaction when he
realizedtheywerethigh-highs.Hishandcontinuedupandwithonehardwrenchtoreherpantiesoff.

Hisbighandmovedbetweenthemandshegaspedasshefelthistouch.Shewasontheedge…
Hefreedhimselfandasecondlaterdroveintoher.
Suzanne cried out, the sound echoing in the hallway, high and wild. His eyes bored into hers. A

muscletwitchedoverhischeekbone.Hishotbreathwashedoverherface.

Itwassoincredibly,impossiblyerotic.Exceptforherstockings,shewasnaked,completelyopento

him.Hewasfullydressed,exceptforwherehewasburiedinher.Hernakedbreastsrubbedagainsthis
overcoat,stillwetandcoldfromtheoutside,almostasexcitingashismouth.

His jaw muscles bunched. Still pinning her with his gaze, he pressed more deeply within her and,

justlikethat,sheexploded,shakingwildlywiththeforceofherorgasm,shudderingandcrying,pulsing
wildlyaroundhim.

Hemovedstronglythen,asifreleasedfrombonds,andstartedhammeringintoher.Hewasbigand

soroughsheknewhe’dbehurtingherifsheweren’tsocompletelyaroused.

Theentireeveninghadbeenaformofforeplay,movingtowardthis,thiswildlovemakingagainsta

wall.Pulsing,shaking,shuddering,theexplosionwentonforever,untilhegaveashout,grewimpossibly
largerandharderinsideherandexplodedinturn.

Heclutchedhersotightlysheknewthere’dbemarkstomorrow.
Theirbreathingwasloudintheemptyhallway.Hisbigheadhungdownonhershoulder.Hisbroad

chestheavedandthefrictionofhiscoatagainsthernipplescontinuedtoexciteherbody.Hertreacherous
body.

Whathadshedone?
Suzanne’sheadslowlytilteduntilthebackofitrestedagainstthewall.Johnleanedagainstherso

heavilyshecouldfeeltheindividualbricksagainstherback.Sheopenedhermouthtosaysomething—
anything—butwordschokedinherthroat.

Heliftedhishead.“Suzanne—“hebegan.
OhGod,ohGod,shecouldn’tdealwiththis.Notinanyway.
Whateverhewasabouttosay—‘Hey,babe,thatwasgreat,let’sdoitagainsometime.’Or,worse,

‘Thatwasnice,butlet’spretenditneverhappened.’—shewaslost.Whateverhesaid,shecouldn’tdeal
withit.Herbehaviorhadbeensowayoffherpersonalradar,shehadnotools,nowaytocope.

“Suzanne,”hesaidagainandshecouldn’ttellwhatwasinhisdeepvoice—regret,smugness,desire

—hewasstillhardinsideher,afterall—itdidn’tmakeanydifference.Thefactthatshehadnoideawhat
hewasgoingtosaymadethingsworse.

Shedidn’tknowwhathisreactionwouldbebecauseshedidn’tknowhimatall.She’donlymethim

thismorning.

Hewasacompletestranger.
Whoshehadjustletmakeexplosivelovetoheragainstawall.Let?She’dpracticallybeggedforit.
Shehadtogetoutofhere,fast.
Shedroppedherlegsandpushedagainsthischest,hard.
John’sheadcameupandhemovedbackafractionofaninch.“Areyouallright—“hebegan,and

sheslitheredpasthim.Shecouldn’tanswerhim,simplycouldn’t.

Miraculously,shestillheldherkeyinherhand.Hewasholdinghimselfupagainstthewallwithone

hand,breathinghard,headturnedtowardher,watchingher.

A twist of her wrist, and she was able to slip inside the door and close it behind her. She leaned

againstit,panting,eyesfilledwithtears.

“Hey!”Hisdeepvoicesetupavibrationinherstomachandthenanothervibrationsetup—hisfist

againstthedoor.

“Suzanne!Suzanne!Openup!”
Goodthingshe’dusedtop-gradelumberforthosedoors.
“Suzanne!”hebellowed.“Letmein!”
Suzanne tested her legs. For an instant, she thought they wouldn’t bear her weight. Her legs were

sorefromhavingbeenopenedsowideandshewassorebetweenthemfromthehardroughstrokeshe’d

used.

She stepped forward gingerly thankful her legs were holding. Passing a mirror she stopped,

transfixedatthereflection.Hereyeswidened.

Naked except for sheer black thigh-high stockings and heels, hair flying around her face, eyes

rimmedwithsmudgedmascaraandpuffy,redlips,shelookedlikesomethingorderedupfromSexKittens
‘RUs.

Anotherthudmadethedoorrattleinitsframe.
“Suzanne!Tellmeyou’reokayorI’mcomingin!I’llgiveyouthreeseconds.One…”
Sheshookwithshock.Okay?
Howcouldshesayshewasokay?
“Two!”
She’djusthadwildsex.Withastranger.Upagainstawall.Andhadhadthemostexplosiveorgasm

ofherlife.

“Three!”Metallicsounds.Hewaspickingthelock.
“I’m—“Shecouldbarelygetanysoundoutthroughhertightthroat.Shecoughed.“I’mokay.I’m,um,

allright.”Shebreatheddeeplyandraisedhervoice.“I’mfine.Nowgoaway.”

ThiswasdefinitelyaScarlettO’Haramoment,shethoughtasshemovedintothebathroom.She’d

thinkaboutthistomorrow.

****

Damn!
Johnstoodwithhisfistraised.Heloweredit,andthenloweredhisforeheadagainstthedoor.
Whichputhiminapositiontolookdownathimself,wetwithcome,stillfiercelyerectandsohard

hecouldhaveusedhiscocktoknockherdoordown.Hestillwantedher,ferociously,buthe’dcompletely
blownit.

He’dbeendoingsowell,workingsohardtokisshergently.Aperfectgentleman’skiss,eventhough

itcosthimwhatfeltlikeayear’ssupplyofselfcontrol.Andthenshe’dmoaned,andmovedandhe’d…
lostit.

Herclotheswerepooledonthefloor.Coat,prettyblousewithallthebuttonsrippedoff,skirt,torn

braandrippedpanties.Bending,hepickedherclothesupandhungthem,onebyone,onthedoorknob.
Thenhereacheddowntotuckhimselfbackinhispants.Hezippedup,wincing.

He’dlostthebattletonight.
Butnotthewar.

CHAPTERFOUR

Finally,atseventhenextmorningSuzannegaveupanypretenceofsleeping.She’dspentthenighttossing
and turning, angry and embarrassed at herself for how she’d behaved and even more angry and
embarrassedatherselfforturningredhotatthememory.

ShetriedtowipeJohnHuntingtonfromhermind,anditalmostworked,butshecouldn’tdoanything

towipethememoryofhimfromherbody.

Allnight,theghostofhismouthonhers,thememoryofhisstrongfingersclenchedtightlyaroundher

back,hisbodythrustinghardintohers,keptroaringbackintolife,hersensesfeelingitassharplyasthe
firsttime.

No,sleephadn’tbeenanoption.
Sherosetothewindowandopenedthedrapes.
It was still dark outside. Though it wasn’t raining now, it must have rained all night, because the

snowhadmelted,leavingenormouspuddlesinthemiddleofthepot-holedstreet.

Suddenly,thestreetlampsthatweren’tbrokenwinkedoff.ShecouldseeacarcrossingStuartstreet

andcouldseethecolumnsaroundthedooroftheSt.Regis,arun-downturn-of-the-centurybuildingthat
wasaflophouseforthelocaldrunksandarent-by-the-hourplaceformendesperateenoughtopayfifteen
dollarsanhourtothetwingeriatricstreetwalkerswhorantheirbusinessoutofthecornerofLucernand
15

th

.

IfshecouldseetheSt.Regis,thatmeantdaylightwascoming.
Itwasalreadytomorrow,thedayshewasgoingtohavetofacethemostdifficultclientshe’dever

had,MarissaCarson,and—worse—establishsomekindofrelationshipwithhernewtenantthatdidn't—
absolutelydidnot—includesex.

Itcouldbedone.Sureitcould.
She’dworkedhardtodesignahomeforMrs.Carson,theClientfromHell,whochangedhermind

hourly.Intoday’sscheduledmeetingwithMrs.Impossible,shewasgoingtokeephercoolnomatterhow
manyfitsthespoiledrichmatronthrew.

And she could face John Huntington The Day After like an adult, and put their relationship on a

landlady/tenantbasis,completelyforgettingwildsexthatmadeherhotjustthinkingaboutit.

Sureshecould.Absolutely.
Shepassedthemirroronherwaytothebathroomandwincedattheview.Herhairwavedwildly

aroundherfaceandhereyeswereringedwithdarkcircles.Shehadaredlovebiteonherneck.Around
brushandahairdryerwouldtakecareofthesex-and-bedheadandEracewouldtakecareoftheeyesand
the hickey. But nothing was going to help the still-swollen lips and the just-out-of-bed-after-a-hot-night
look.NothingbutalotoftimeandspacebetweenherandJohnHuntington.

Firstashowerandsomeseriousgrooming.Atsomepointtodayshewasgoingtohavetofacethe

warriorandsheneededsomeheavy-dutyfemaleweaponryonherside.

Anhourlater,shewaitedbehindthedoorofheroffice,dressed,accessorizedandperfumed,feeling

like her old self. Cool, calm Suzanne Barron, staid interior decorator whose idea of excitement was

matchingplaidandstripes.AndnotSuzanneBarron,outofcontrolsexpot.

ShefeltperfectlycapableofdealingwithJohnHuntingtonnow,butshelistenedcarefullyatthedoor,

justthesame.It’snotlikeshewastryingtoavoidhimoranything,buteighto’clockwasprettyearlyfor
anyonetostartmovingintoanewoffice,wasn’tit?He’dsaidhisformerofficewasoffPioneerSquare,
whichwasn’tclose.He’dprobablystartmovinginaroundten,whenshehadanappointmentwithTodd
Armstrong, her sometime business partner, and before that she had an appointment with a new fabric
designer to look at swatches, so she was probably off the hook for this morning. And Marissa Carson
wouldtakeallafternoon,soshewouldn’tbehomeuntillate.

Maybeshewouldn’tseeJohnatalluntiltomorrow.Tomorrowwouldbebetter.Oh,yes.Tomorrow

she’dbeallrestedupandfeelingnormalandnotlike—likeshewasgoingtojumpoutofherskin.

Yes,she’dtalktoJohntomorrow.
Her shoulders relaxed at the thought as she put her ear to the door again to listen for noises. She

listenedforanotherminutetothecompletesilenceontheothersideofthedoorandwithasighofrelief
pulledthedooropen.Andfroze.

Thedoortotherentalapartmentwaswideopenandthebigroomacrossthehallwaywasalready

stackedwithwhatlookedlikeadepot’sworthofelectronicgear.Fourlargemen—fourverylargemen—
were marching in single file with big cardboard boxes balanced on one shoulder. John Huntington
followedthem,carryingahugethin-screencomputermonitor.

Noneofthemwasmakingasound.Notevenawhisper.
Johnturnedatthesoundofthedooropeningandstopped.Juststoppedinhistracksandlookedat

her,faceset.Amusclejumpedinhisjaw.

Theeffectsofthatpeptalktoherselfabouthowshewasgoingtobecool,calmandcollectedwhen

meetingJohnHuntingtondisappearedinatidalwaveofheatcoursingthroughher.

God,pleasedon’tletmeblush.Shedesperatelysentupasilentprayer,butknewitwastoolate.She

couldfeeltheblushallthewaydowntoherbreasts,thebloodpumpingfromhersuddenlypoundingheart.
Itrattledagainstherribcage.

Howcouldshebecalmandcollectedwhenthemeresightofthemansentthebloodinahotrush

throughherveins?

This wasn’t the first time her heart had ever pounded. Her heart rate increased nicely after a hard

workoutatthegym.ShelovedhorrormoviesandtheWalkingDeadcouldgetherheartknocking.

Butthiswasdifferent.
Theinstantshe’dseenJohn,herwholesystemstartedthrobbing.Herheartsetupajunglebeat.Hot

andhard.Primeval,primitive.Itwouldhavebeenalmost…excitingifitdidn’tscarehersomuch.

Herclothes,rippedandtorn,hungfromthedoorknobandSuzannefeltherfaceflameevenharder.

RemnantsofherprettypinklaceLaPerlabrahunglimplyontop.Shesnatchedtheclothes,bundledthem
quicklyandtossedthembackintoheroffice,shuttingthedoorfirmlybehindher.Buthercoolresolvewas
gonecompletely.

John advanced as quietly as he always did, dark eyes inspecting her carefully. The odd color

gleamedashiseyesnarrowed,thecolorofanancientswordreflectingsunlight.

Hewasjustastall,justasbroadassheremembered.Theeffecthehadonherwasworsethenthe

first time she’d seen him, because now she knew how he kissed, how rough the skin of his hands was,
howitfelttohavehis…

No!Don’tthinklikethatoryou’llimplode.
“Good morning.” She tried to keep her voice remote and businesslike. Landlady to tenant.

Completelyimpersonal.Shetiltedherheadup,awarealloveragainofhowtallhewas,howbig.“You’re
startingearly.”

“Yeah.Idon’tliketowastetime.”Hiseyesneverlefthers.Shewastheonetolookaway.

The four men had deposited their burdens in the first room, gone outside, and come back in with

moreboxes.Stillwithoutmakingasound.

“Men.” John’s deep voice was soft but it got results. He had his back to them, but the four men

stopped in their tracks, put down their burdens, and stood stiffly to attention. “Meet our new landlady,
SuzanneBarron.”

“Ma’am,”fourbassvoicessaidinunison.
John clamped a big hand around her upper arm, turned around and nudged her forward. Not

particularlygently.

“Suzanne,letmeintroducemymen.You’llbeseeingthemaroundalot.Pete,Steve,LesandJacko.”

Ashesaidtheirnames,eachmansteppedforward,tookherhandinhismuchlargeroneandsqueezed,
verycarefully,fortwoseconds.Throughallofit,Johndidn’treleaseherleftarm.

Howfoolishshe’dbeentothinkthatJohnlookedlikeabiker.Thesemenlookedlikebikers,with

torn jeans, earrings and sweatshirts with the sleeves ripped off. The last one—Jacko?—was truly
frightening,broadereventhanJohn,withashavedhead—probablytomakeupforLes,withhiswaist-
length French braid—sloping weight-lifter shoulders, biceps as big as footballs, pierced nostrils, and
barbed wire tattos around his wrists. But he said “ma’am” politely, just like the others, and gently
squeezedherhandwithashysmile.

“Inside,men.”Johnsaid,nevertakinghiseyesorhishandfromher.“Doorlocked.”
Justlikethat,theypickeduptheirburdensanddisappearedsilentlyintoJohn’soffice.Thesoundof

thelockengagingwasloudinthesilent,emptyhallway.

John immediately moved forward, invading her personal space. Lover-close. She stepped back,

alarmed.

Thatwassupposedtobehiscuetobackoff,buthedidn’ttakeit.Sheretreatedandheadvanceduntil

herbackhitthewall.Sheclosedhereyesforasecond,rememberingthatwall.Whathehaddonetoher
against that wall. How much she had loved it while he was doing it to her and how much she hoped it
wouldn’thappenagain.

Oncewasquiteenough.
Closinghereyeswasn’tmuchhelpbecauseshecouldsmellhim.Rainandleatherandman,asmell

thatwouldforeverbeetchedintothedeepestrecessesofherbrain,thereptiliananimalpartofthebrain
thatnever,everforgets.Thatsmellwouldbeassociateduntiltheendoftimewiththekindofwildsexno
woman should ever have, for her own peace of mind. His scent enveloped her and her entire body
quivered.

“Lookatme.Talktome.Areyouallright?”John’svoicewasharsh,hishandshakingheralittle,as

ifshe’dfallenasleep.“DidIhurtyoulastnight?”

Her eyes popped open. If she breathed deeply, her breasts would touch his chest. She laid a hand

againsthisleatherjacket.Itwaswetfromoutdoors.Shepushedslightlyandhesteppedbackjustenough
forhertofeelalittlelesscrowded.

“OfcourseI’mallright.”Shebitherlip.“I’mfine.Whywouldn’tIbe?”
“BecauseIwasrough,andyouweretight,”heansweredbluntly.
She blinked, his hard words evoking memories she couldn’t handle. I can’t do this, she thought,

slitheringsideways.

“No,um,no,I’mfine.Don’tworry.I’m…fine.Justfine.Don’tworryaboutit,Iwas…I’m…”Ifshe

saidfineagainshe’dscream.Hewaslookingdownatherintently.Howtodealwiththisman?Shehadno
ideaandstartedwalkingbrisklytowardthedoor,hopingtomakeaquickescape.Hefellrightintostep
besideher.

Thiswasn’tgoingatalllikethescenarioshe’dimaginedinherhead—theonewheretheypolitely

saidhello,howareyou,wishedeachothergooddayandwenttheirseparateways—thoughitverymuch

feltlikeaJohnHuntingtonscenario.Theonewhereshewaskeptoffherguardconstantly.

“Ididn’tusearubberlastnight,”hesaidandshestoppedandclosedhereyesagain.
Thefeelofhimhardandhotinsideher,erupting.Afterwards,theunmistakablewetness.
Her thighs quivered. She might be trying to erase the memory of the rough, exciting sex from her

mindbutherbodyremembered.Oh,howitremembered.

“No,”shesaidtightly,“youdidn’t.”
“Ineverdothat.I’malwayscareful.Iwouldhavetoldyouthatrightawayifyou’dstuckaroundlast

nightinsteadoflockingyourselfinyourapartmenttoavoidme.”

Suzannebitherlipandsaidnothing.
“WeweregivenconstantcheckupsintheNavyandIneverhadanyproblems.AndanywayIhavea

rarebloodtype,”hecontinued.“Idonatebloodeverythreemonthsandtheytestthebloodeverytime.I’m
cleanandIhaven’thadsexforsixmonthssothere’snochanceatallofyoucatchingsomethingfromme.”

Sheopenedhermouththenclosedit.Wherewasthenearestdoorsoshecouldbeatherheadagainst

it? She hadn’t thought of disease, not once. How crazy was that, in this day and age? The man clearly
messedwithherhead.“I’m…okay,too.”

“Yes,yousurelyare,”hesaid,hisvoicelowandhusky,atraceof…somethinginhisvoice.Wasthat

aslightsouthernaccent?“Exceptmaybehere.”

Hereachedoutwithabighandandtouchedhergentlyontheneck,wherehe’dgivenheralovebite.

Hehadeyesthatcouldseerightthroughherconcealer.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Not about any of it.” He stroked her neck as she tried

really,reallyhardnottoshiverindelight,andthendroppedhishand.

Somuchformakeup,shethought.She’dreachedthefrontdoorandhadherhandonthedoorhandle.

Blessedrelieflayontheothersideofthatdoorandshelookedatthehandlelongingly.

Johnlaidalargepalmagainstthedoor,holdingitshut.“Iwanttoknowthesecondyourperiodis

late.”Itwassaidinsuchacommandingtone,shealmostinstinctivelyrepliedAyeaye,sir.

Atleastshehadananswerforthatone.
“Ohno,um,Ihadsome…problems.Iwasn’t—“Suzannedrewinadeepbreathandtriedtogather

herthoughtsandthefewshredsofdignitylefttoher.“ItakethePill,”shesaidfinally.“Sothat’snota
problem.”

“ThePill?Jesus.“Aslowsmilestoleacrosshishardface.“That’sgreatnews.Nexttimewehave

sexIcancomeinsideyouagain.”

Therewon’tbeanexttime. The sharp words were on the tip of her tongue when she heard a car

horntootingimpatientlyoutside.Sheglancedatherwatchandstarted.

“That’smytaxi.Ihavetogo.”
“Taxi?”Thesmiledisappeared,wipedoutinstantly.“Whattaxi?Whyareyoutakingataxi?What’s

thematterwithyourcar?”

Good question. Suzanne sighed. “I don’t know. It’s at the car hospital. It was making these…these

wheezingsoundsandstallingattrafficlights.Mycar’sareallemonandit’salwaysatthegarage.Itookit
inyesterdayandtheysaiditshouldbereadybytonight.”

“Choking,stalling.Soundslikethecarburetorwent.Who’s’they’?”
“The garage. Owned by a real creep named Murphy.” Just saying the guy’s name made her angry.

SullyMurphywasabigfatlazyslobwhousedhisbulktointimidateherintospendingafortuneevery
timehercarfellapart.Whichwasoften.

Thetaxidriverputhishandonthehornandkeptitthere.
Suzannepulleduselesslyatthedoorhandle.“Ihavetogonow.”
Johnwasfrowningdownather,hisbighandstillonthedoor.Shesighed.“John,Ireallyneedtoget

goingorI’llbelateforaworkappointment.”

“What’sthenameofthegarage?”
“Why on earth do you want to know—“ His frown deepened and she threw up her hands. “Okay,

okay,it’sMurphy’sRentalandRepair.On14

th

andGreen.”

“Give me the keys to your car. I’ll make sure you get it back today and I’ll make sure they did a

decentrepairjob.Thisisnoweathertobedrivingaroundinacarwithafaultycarburetor.”Hetookhis
handoffthedoorandhelditout,palmup.“I’llparkyourcaroutfront.”

Suzanne hesitated, but the truth was, she had a busy day ahead of her and it would be helpful if

someonecouldpickthecarupforher.AndmaybeSullyMurphywouldn’ttrytosnowJohnwitharcane
mechanicaldetailsinanattempttocheather,asheusuallydidwithher.Hesurewouldn’ttrytointimidate
John.

Notandlive.
Onethingshe’dlearned—whenitcametocars,itwasstillverymuchaman’sworld.IfJohnshowed

up,Murphywouldprobablygiveherabigdiscount.Maybetreatherbetterfromnowon,thinkingshehad
somemusclebehindher.

“Okay.”Sheduginherpurseanddroppedthekeysintohisoutstretchedhand.“TellMurphyI’llstop

bytomorrowtopay.Andthanks.”Thetaxidriverwasplaying‘shaveandahaircut’onthehorn.“Ireally,
reallyhavetogonow.”

Johnfollowedherout,flippinguphisjacketcollaragainstthecolddampness.Hekeptabighandon

herelbowdownthesidewalkrightuptothetaxi.Hegavethetaxidriveralonglookasheopenedthe
backseatdoorforher.Butbeforeshecouldclimbinandslamthedoorshut,hesteppedinfrontofher.
Shelookedlonginglyatthecabthenbackupathim.

“I need to get in,” she said. Low sullen clouds spat a few drops. “The meter’s running and it’s

startingtorain.”

“Inaminute.”Heignoredtherain,whichstartedtofall,harderandfasterbythesecond.“Ihaveto

gooutoftowntodayandIwon’tbebackuntillate.Butwehavetotalk.Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.Great.Shecouldhandletomorrow.Shejustcouldn’thandletoday.
Hepulledapadfromtheinsidepocketofhisjacketandscribbledsomethingdown.
“Thisismycellnumber,justincaseyouneedme.”Hehelditouttoher.Shetookitandtheirhands

touched.Hisskinwasrough.Sherememberedhishandtouchingher…Trembling,shejammedthescrapof
paperintoherplanner.“Okay.”

Henoddedgrimlyandsteppedaside.“Whereareyougoing?”
“What—now?”
“Yeah.Now.”
“Downtown.SalmonStreet.Whatareyoudoing?”shehissedassheslidin.
Johnignoredher,andlaidabigarmalongthetopoftheroofandrappedhisfistsharplyonthemetal.

Thetaxidriverbuzzedthewindowdown.“Yeah?Youwantsomething,bud?”heasked,bored.

Johnbentdownandflippedthesunvisor,lookinghardatthetaxidriverID,andthentransferringthat

hardlooktothedriver.“Listenup,Harris.TheladywantstogodowntowntoSalmonStreet.Shedoesn’t
wanttotakeatourofPortland’ssuburbsandshewantstobethereintenminutes.Isthatclear?”Hehad
onhiswarriorfaceanditwasn’tafaceyoutalkedbackto.

“Yessir,”thetaxidriveranswered,wide-mouthed.Johnstaredathimforanotherlongmomentthen

slappedhishandontheroofandsteppedback.

“Okay,then.”
ThedrivertookofflikeabatoutofhellandSuzannedidn’thavethecouragetolookback.Butshe

couldseeperfectlywellinthedriver’srearviewmirror.Johnstoodsmackinthemiddleofthestreet,big
asamountainandlookingjustasimmovable.Hewatched,scowling,intherainasthetaxipulledaway.

Men.

****

Women.
Whythehellhadn’tsheaskedhimtodriveher,ifhercarwasinthegarage?Whycallataxiwhen

shecouldcallhim?He’dgladlydrivehertofreakingIceland,ifsheasked.

Heknewwhyshehadn’tasked.Forthesamereasonshekepttryingtoslitherawayfromhim.
Jesus,he’dhandledthatbadly.He’dmeanttosmoothSuzanne’sruffledfeathers,reassureherthathe

wasanokayguy,notsomecrazedsexmaniac,becausethatwaswhatsheobviouslythought.Itwastrue
thathe’dbeenobsessedwiththeideaoftakinghertobedsincehe’dfirstlaideyesonher,buthewasn’t
ananimal.

The way she’d watched him, warily, those big blue-gray eyes wide open, ready to jump if he so

muchasmoved,wouldhavemadehimangryifhedidn’tknowthathedeservedherwariness.Hewasthe
onewho’dactedlikeanasshole,rippingherclothesoffandtakingupheragainstawall.Nowitwasup
tohimtomakeupforit.

Heneededtomakethisright.Heneededtofindawaytomakethisright.Buthell—justseeingthe

womansenthimintooverdrive.Damn,butshe’dlookedprettythismorning,andevenmoredesirablethan
lastnight,thoughhewouldn’thavebelievedsuchathingpossible.

Stillelegant,stillgraceful,stillachinglyfemininebutnowhedidn’thavetospeculateaboutwhather

breasts looked like, tasted like. How soft her mouth was, how smooth her skin was, how it felt to be
deeplyburiedinsideher.Heknew.

Hewantedmore.Moreofthesame,onlyinabedthistime,withhoursathisdisposaltokissthat

prettymouthswollenagain.He’ddoitrightnexttime,makesureshewasready,andmaybegodownon
herfirst.Makesureshewaswet,andthenenterherslowly.She’dbeensurprisinglytight.

Shecarriedthesignsofhislovemaking.Lipsslightlybee-stung,adewysexysoftnesstoher.
He’dgivenherahickey.
Hecouldremembereverysecondofhismouthonherneck,thetasteofher.He’dsuckedhardather

skinwhilecoming.Ithadfeltasifthetopofhisheadwasgoingtocomeoffandhewasluckyhehadn’t
takenabiteoutofher.

He’dwantedto.Hestilldid.
He wanted to bite her, kiss her, suckle her, penetrate her. He wanted it all, every single thing she

couldgive,andmore.Butifhedidn’tplayhiscardsright,hewasnevergoingtogetintoherpantsagain.
Right now it looked like he had better hopes of becoming a ballerina than of taking Suzanne Barron to
bed.ShewasshyingawayfromhimasifheweretheAntichrist.

Heknewwhattheproblemwasbuthedidn’thaveacluewhattodoaboutit.
It was a problem he’d had all his life, though it hadn’t made much of a difference in the Navy

becausetheNavywasfullofmenjustlikehim.

But out here in the civilian world, it was a real problem. If he hadn’t been so good at his job, it

wouldhavestoppedhimfrommakinghisbusinessasuccess.

Thereweretwokindsofpeopleinthisworld.Thosewhosethoughtsandemotionswereonadial

and those whose emotions were on a switch. He was a switch man himself and had spent his entire
lifetimeamongswitches.

Somethingeitherwasorwasn’t.Hadhappenedorhadn’t.Youeithercoulddoitorcouldn’t.Iteither

workedoritdidn’t.Youwereeitherhappyorunhappy.

Dialpeopleweredifferent.Theiremotionsranupanddownascaleandyouhadtoguessatwhat

pointtheywereandtrytocoaxthemtogointhedirectionyouwanted.

Commanding men who risked their lives in battle required a working knowledge of human

psychology.Johnknewhewasagoodleader.He’dworkedhardatthat.Buttherewerelimitstowhathe
coulddo.

His men were just as susceptible as the next man when it came to women problems, family

problems,andmoneytroubles.Butsoldiershadlessslacktofartaround.IfhismenhadtroublesJohnhad
toknow—rightnow.Hecouldn’tputupwithbullshitandtheydidn’tgiveittohim.Ifoneofhismenhada
problem,Johntriedtohelphimresolveit.Ifitcouldn’tbesolved,anditaffectedaman’sperformance,
thatmanwasoutoftheTeams.Thesoldierknewit,heknewit,everyoneknewit.

Johnwasn’tusedtopussyfootingaroundorcajoling.
He’d almost lost the Western Oil contract because of his nature. The CEO, Larry Sorensen, had

invitedhimtodinnerathishouseandtohisgolfclubthenextday.Johnknewhewasbeingtestedand
he’ddamnednearfailedthetest.Suckingcorporatecockwasn’thisstyle.

Dinnerhadbeenpureunadulteratedhell,withMrs.CEOtryingtoplantherfootinhiscrotchunder

thedinnertableandMr.CEOtryingtotalkart,aboutwhichJohnknewexactlyzero.

Andthegolfclubepisode—thathadbeenrightupthereinhisall-timepersonallistofcrappythings

he’d had to do in his lifetime. Worse, much worse, than an underwater incursion through the sewers of
Jakartaonahuntforanestoftangos.

He’dhadtoendureSorensentryingtobondwithhimwhiletryingtosmackalittlewhiteballintoa

hole,justaboutthemostuselessactivitythemindofmanhaseverinvented.Allofthatwhileridingagolf
cart—agolfcartforChrist’ssake!—aroundthecourse.

Sorensenwasatleastfiftypoundsoverweight—allofitpureflab—andhestillcouldn’tbebothered

towalkafewmiles.Totopitalloff,Mr.CEOtalkedthewholetimeabouthowhisshrinkhadtoldhimto
‘getbackintouchwithhismanhood’.

Johnwantedtotelltheguythatgettingbackintouchwithhismanhoodwasgoingtotakealotmore

thantumblinghissecretaryonceamonth.

This wasn’t his scene. He’d written off the contract until the Venezuela episode showed Sorensen

andtheentireWesternOilBoardthatactionsweremorepowerfulthanwords,anytime.

Johnwasgoodataction.Badatwords.
Ithadneverbotheredhimbefore.Actionhadgothimeverythinghe’deverwantedfromlife.Until

now.Actionwasn’tgoingtogethimbackintoSuzanneBarron’sbed.Maybenotwords,either.

Butwhateveritwasthatwasgoingtowork,he’dfindit.
He’dneverfailedamissionyet.

CHAPTERFIVE

“Men!” Todd Armstrong said in disgust, leaning back and crossing his perfectly creased linen trousers.
TheywereinTodd’selegantofficeinasteelandglasshigh-risewhichhe’dmanagetomakelooklikea
boudoir. Todd’s tastes were unerringly fine but classic. He could spot a Louis Quatorze at a hundred
pacesandhekneweveryauctionhouseinthecontinentalUnitedStates.

They made a great team. Suzanne had a natural affinity for modern design and Todd had a magic

touchwhenitcametotraditionaldesign.Together,theybuzzed.Toddkeptherfrombeingtoostarklypost-
modernandsherestrainedhisnaturaltendencytogofortheSun-King-in-Versailles-on-acidlook.

“Baddate,sweetie?”Suzanneasked.
Todd’slipspursed.“I’llsay.Thedatefromhell.Listentothisone.”
Suzanne sat back, prepared to be amused. Todd’s forays into the wild world of dating were

legendary.

“HereweareinthatnewThaiplace—youknowit?“
“TheGoldenTiger?”Ifitwasnewandtrendy,Toddhadbeenthere.Suzannehadjustreadthefood

reviewinTheOregonianandknewthatitwasjustamatteroftimebeforeToddwouldgotoTheGolden
Tigerhimselfandreportbacktoher.

“That’stheone.Tackydecorbutthefoodistodiefor.Atleastthemealwasn’tatotalwrite-off.So

anyway, here we are. Food’s good. My date’s cute. A young Keanu Reeves, Gucci suit, tight buns. I
thoughtitwasreallygoingtoworkout.AndthenallthroughthechickensatayIlistentohimtellingme
howmuchhehateshismother.I’mtoldinexcruciatingdetailexactlyhowmuch.Thoughifhalfofwhathe
toldmeistrue,he’sgotapoint.Thenhestartsrecountinginevenmoreexcruciatingdetailallabouthis
hobby,whichis?”Toddleanedbackandwatchedher,headtilted.

ShetriedtothinkofallthethingsToddmightfindboring.“Histaxwrite-offs.”
“Noooo.ThatwasTuesday’sdate,withtheCPA.”Toddshuddereddelicately.“Thisisworse.”
“Geneticallymodifiedorganisms?”
Toddlaughed.“No.That’sactuallysortofinteresting.Tryharder.”
“Republicanpolitics.”
Heheldhishandupandwaggledit.”Close,”hesaid,“butnocigar.Dutchvotingpatterns.”
“Wow.” Suzanne sat back and thought about a date spent discussing a castrating mother and Dutch

politics.“Prettydire.”

“Thewholeeveningwasaboutasmuchfunasrollinginglass.”Toddsighedtheatrically.“I’mgoing

togiveupdatingforLent.”

Todd, giving up dating. Suzanne laughed at the thought. “Lent’s not for another three months. And

anyway,you’renotCatholic.Idon’tthinkyougetanybrowniepointsforgivingthingsupforLentunless
youare.Still,notdatingforawhilemightnotbeabadidea.Whydon’tyougiveyourselfalittlerest?
Maybe—Idon’tknow—maybeaweek’srespite?”

“Maybe,”heanswered,doubtfully.
Suzanne hid a smile. She knew Todd, and knew his romantic nature. He was perennially on the

lookoutforthemanofhislife.Hewasabsolutelyconvincedthathissoulmatewaswaitingforhimatthe
nextnightclub,orrestaurantorcocktailparty.Toddcouldnomorestopdatingthanhecouldstopeatingor
breathing.

“So,”shesaid,puttingdownhercupofteaaftertakingasip.Delicious,perfecttea,aspecialblend

Todd had imported especially from England. Served in the perfect teacup. Villeroy and Boch’s Vieux
Luxembourg.Setoutontheperfectsilvertray.Christofle.Placedontheperfectcoffeetable,madeoutof
a16

th

centurymonasterydoor.WorkingwithToddwasapleasureineverypossibleway.“Areweready

tofacetheDragonLadythisafternoon?Tellyouwhat.YoubringthechairandI’llbringthewhip.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Todd sighed. “I think you might have to go into the Dragon Lady’s lair all by

yourself.MyaccountantsaysthatifIdon’tstopbyhisofficetoday,he’llreportmetotheIRShimself.So
MarissaCarsonisallyours.Youcanbetheonetoconvinceherthat,no,thatmuchredinthebathroom
willmakeitlooktoomuchlikeaninternalorganandthatthose80yardsofblueshantungsheorderedon
specialconsignmentfromBeijingcannotbedyedyellow.”

“Andthatyoucan’tteardownaload-bearingwallbecauseitbothersyour—what’sthatdogbreed?

Lapsangsouchong?Theonethat’sallhairandyapsconstantly?”

“Llhasaapso.”
“Right.”Suzannewinced,rememberingtryingtoargueMarissaCarsonoutofthatone.“Andasmuch

asyou’dlikesuninthesunroomintheafternoon,whichiswhenyougetupanyway,thesundoesrisein
the east, has done so for many, many years and no, there’s not much you can do about that.” Marissa
Carson was impossible. Suzanne turned to glare at Todd. Who was going to leave her alone with a
womannotevenXanaxcouldtame.“Thanksabunchfordumpingme.Whoknowswhatcrazynewidea
Marissa’shatchedinthemeantime?”

“She’s just back from New York,” Todd said contemplatively. “And crazy about the Met’s new

productionofAida.Ishudderatthethought.Itprobablymeansthatnowshe’sinto—“

“Elephants,”theysaidtogetherandSuzannelaughed.
Shesippedhertea,relaxedforthefirsttimeintwenty-fourhours,andcontemplatedTodd.Hewas

suchapleasuretolookat.Hewasn’tmuchtallerthanshewas,beautifullymade,withfinefeatures,long
silkyblondhairanddeepgreeneyes.Hewassogood-lookingthatpeopleoftenunderestimatedhim.

Shesmiledathimandhesmiledback.
Toddwassuchagreatguy.Theygotalongreallywellandhaddonesosincethemomentthey’dmet.

TheymeshedsoeasilythatToddcouldfinishhersentences.Heknewherdecoratingstylesowellallshe
had to do was give a vague word picture, make the most basic of sketches and he could see her entire
decoratingschemecompleteinhishead.Hehadafinesenseofironythatoffsethertendencytobetoo
seriousandsheinturnkepthimgrounded.

SuzanneknewthatToddwascontemplatingaskinghertobecomeafullpartnerinhiscompany.So

far they’d only worked on the occasional contract together, like the Marissa Carson redecoration. But
whattheyhaddonetogetherhadbeenspectacularandendlesslysatisfying.ArchitecturalDigesthadtaken
notetwice.

She was excited at the thought of joining Todd’s company. He had one of the most successful

decoratingfirmsinthePacificNorthwestanditwouldmakehercareerovernight,nottomentionboosting
herincomeathousandpercent.Butthat’snotwhyshe’daccept.

She’d accept because she couldn’t imagine anything nicer than working full-time with him, with a

manwhounderstoodher.Understoodherfeelingsalmostbeforesheknewthemherself.Amanshealways
feltcomfortablewith,notlike…

Ifonly…
Shesighed.
“You’ve got a lot of thoughts circling around in that pretty head of yours. Care to share?” Todd

drainedhisteaandleanedforwardelegantlytoputhiscupdown.

Suzannepoured more teainto his cupand then hers. “Actually,I was thinkingwhat a great couple

we’dmake.Justthinkofit.Wegetalongreallywell;welikethesamethingsandhavealmostthesame
tastes.Withjustenoughofadifferencetomakeitinteresting.I’velearnedalotaboutantiquesfromyou
andI’vedraggedyoukickingandscreamingintothetwenty-firstcentury.Weneverfightand…what?”

Toddwassmilingandshakinghishead.“Wouldn’twork,sweetie.Neverinamillionyears.”
Suzannerolledhereyes.“Well,Iknowthat.Iwasjustspeculating—“
“No,itwouldn’tworknotforthatreason,butforanotherone.”
Another one? Suzanne straightened. “Well, why not? Except for the biggie, of course. I mean we

reallydogeton,and—“

“Yes,wegetalong.Toowell,infact.”
Suzannesmiledandshookherhead.“There’ssuchathingasgettingalongtoowell?Wow.Havethe

divorcelawyersheardaboutthatone?Whatdoesitmean—togetontoowell?”

Hisheadtilted,greeneyesstudyingher,Toddwassilent.
“What?”sheasked.
“Youreallywanttoknowthis?”
“OfcourseIdo.Iwantyoutoexplainthatthing—thatgetting-along-is-the-kiss-of-deaththing.”
“You know what I mean already, without me spelling it out for you. It’s just that you won’t

acknowledgeit.Andit’sthereasonyouhaven’tlostyourhearttoanyoneandthewayyou’regoing,you
neverwill.Iknowyouhaven’tdatedanyoneinquiteawhilebutwhenIfirstmetyou,Iwatchedyoudate
someeminentlysuitablemen.Menofdiscernmentandclass,whosharedyourtastesinmusicandtheater.
Itgottobethispattern.You’dmeetaman,enjoyhiscompanyforafeweveningsandthen—“

Suzanneshifteduneasilyonthecouch.Whatwasthis?Sowhatifherlovelifehadbeenundergoinga

littleslumplately?She’dbeenbusywithwork,afterall.Todddidn’thavetomakeabigdealoutofit.
“Andthen?”sheprompted,tryingnottosoundcross,tryingtosoundbored.

“Andthen,boom,youdumphim.Andstartalloveragain.”
Well, that was rich, coming from Mr.-Love-Them-And-Leave-Them, the man who’d taken the one

nightstandtoanartform.Shepouted.“Youmakemesound…shallow.Andimpossibletoplease,and—“

“Restless. And unsatisfied. The men you were dating didn’t excite you, sweetie. And how could

they?Theywereyou.Inmaleform.TalkingabouttheCenturyTheaterplaybillandthenewScorsesefilm
andhowbeigeisthenewblack.Youdon’tneedthat.YougetthatfrommeandfromClaire.You’resucha
feminine woman, Suzanne. You need the opposite. Someone yin to go with your yang. Someone to stir
yourjuices.Someone…someonereally…male.”

Suzanne closed her eyes. She knew someone who had a lot of yin to her yang. Someone who

whippedherjuicesintoafroth.Someonereally,reallymale.

“Someonetall,anddarkandwithshouldersouttohere,”Todd’sbaritonecontinueddreamily.“With

shortblackhairjustfaintlysilveratthetemples,thatearlyGianniAgnellilook,youknow?Andeyesto
diefor.Yum.”

Suzanne’seyespoppedopenatthatandsheglaredatTodd,sittingsmuglyonhisSandersoncabbage

rosecouch.Shewouldhavethrownapillowathim,butshemightmissandteastainswerehardtogetout
ofsilk.

Todd smiled knowingly. “Food’s really good at Comme Chez Soi, isn’t it? It’s that new chef of

theirs.Butthenhowwouldyouknow?Youdidn’teatabite.”

CHAPTERSIX

The taxi left her at her gate. Suzanne paid him then looked across the street. Her car was parked right
there.Onanimpulse,shewalkedoverandgotin,restingherhandsforamomentonthesteeringwheel.At
thefirstturnoftheignitionkey,thecarstartedrightupwithoutthatchoking,grindingroarshe’dgrown
usedto.Itpurredgently,powerfully.Shesatthere,pleased,listeningtohercarhum,healthyandwhole.

Hercarwasbackfromthedeadandbetterthanever,thankstohertenant.Hersinfullysexytenant.
She’d overreacted. Yes, they’d had sex and that was at least as much her fault as his. It’s not like

he’doverpoweredheroranything.Theinstanthislipshadtouchedhers,she’dmelted.Andthoughithad
beenroughithadalsobeenexciting.Certainlymoreexcitingthananythingshe’dexperiencedin…ever.

Suzannehadnodoubtwhatsoeverthatif,insteadofboltinginpanicbackintoherapartment,she’d

askedJohnin,hewouldhavefollowedrightonherheelsandtheywouldhavespenttherestofthenight…
what?

Making love, no doubt about it. In a bed. Instead of having sex. Against a wall. And in between

bouts,they’dhavetalked.Maybelaughedalittle,openedthatbottleofChablisshe’dhadinthefridgefor
weeks,finishedthejarofcontrabandcaviaraclienthadbroughther.

Johnhadflubbeditbutsohadshe.She’drunfromhimlikeascaredrabbit.
And it wasn’t as if he’d blown her off the next day. He’d immediately acknowledged her, taken

responsibility,saidtheyneededtotalk.

Andthebiggie—he’ddealtwithMurphyforherandpickeduphercar.Whichnowpurredbeneath

her hands. Pleased, she switched off the ignition and sat there, feeling a little foolish at her reaction to
him.

AsuddenvisionofJohnHuntingtonformedbeforehereyes.Hissize,hisstrength,hisintensity,his

brutemalepower.Nope,shehadn’toverreacted.Themanwasformidableineveryway.

ShethoughtaboutwhatToddhadsaidassheopenedhergateandwalkedtothedoor.Thatmaybethe

menshe’dbeendatinghadbeentoopredictable,toobland,too…safe.

What was wrong with safe? she thought as she disconnected the alarm, opened the door, and then

switchedthealarmbackon,justasJohnhadmadeherpromisetodo.Safewasnice,warm,comfortable.
Notwordsshe’deverassociatewithJohnHuntington.

Hethrewherforaloop.
He’d occupied most of her headspace all day. All day yesterday, too. Every second, in fact, since

she’dmethim,andthatwasn’tgood.Shewasabusyprofessional,justabouttomakethatleapintothe
spheres of the very successful and she didn’t have time for obsessions. She barely had time to date, so
whatlittletimeshehadshouldbewithmenwhowouldstaynicelyinthebackgroundwheretheybelonged
andwouldn’toccupyhereverywakingmoment.

Likenow,walkingwarilyintoherownbuilding.Wonderingifhewasin.Hopinghewasn’t.Hoping

hewas.

Hewasn’there.Shepausedforamomentinthehallway.Hewasaquietman,almosteerilyso,but

she knew her building. It held the stillness of emptiness. And come to think of it, she hadn’t seen his

Yukonparkedoutside.

From the sudden certainty of that, Suzanne realized that she’d been subconsciously looking out for

hisSUVandlisteningforsignsofhim.He’dsaidhe’dbeoutoftownthisafternoonandwouldbelate
gettingback.Soshe’dseehimtomorrow.Whichmeantthatshedefinitelyneededagoodnight’ssleepif
shewantedtofacehimwithanythingapproachingequanimity.

Togetthatgoodnight’ssleepshehadtoputCommanderJohnHuntingtonrightoutofherhead.She

hadtogetherlifeback.

Tomorrow.She’dgetherlifebacktomorrow.Todayhadbeenmuchtooexhausting.MarissaCarson

hadtoppedherselftoday,changinghermindabouteverythingthathadbeendecideduponupuntilnow.
Most of the furnishings had already been ordered. When Suzanne pointed out that she’d lose a lot of
money,Marissahadtiltedherlovelyheadbackandlaughedlongandhysterically,sayingshewassoon
goingtobeveryrich.

Marissahadbeenfeverish,jumpingoutofherskin.Suzanneimaginedthatshewashavingproblems

withMr.Carson,whomshe’dnevermet.Butsheknewwhathelookedlike.Picturesofhim,ahandsome,
blond,cold-eyedman,werepastedallovertheapartment.Hadbeenpasted.Nowallthephotographsof
himhadbeeneithertakenoffthewallsorplacedfacedownonthecoffeetable.Clearly,therewastrouble
inparadise.Thatwasconfirmedbythetall,blond,cold-eyedmanwho’dnearlyknockedheroverasshe
wasexitingMarissa’sbuildingafewhoursago.He’dlookedfuriousandSuzannewassurethatfireworks
wereintheoffing.

It had been difficult to absorb Marissa’s hysteria while trying to deal with her wishes for her

apartment, which changed hourly. They’d finally agreed to meet again in two weeks, when presumably
Marissawouldhaveabettergrasponwhatshewanted.

Inthemeantime,Suzannehadspentanemotionallyexhaustingafternoonandhadhadtoskiplunch,

whichmadehercranky.

Hereveningritualcalmedher,soothedher.Ahotbubblebathwithlavenderoil.Abowloffrozen

minestrone heated up in the microwave, a glass of red wine, half an hour in bed with the latest Nora
Robertsandlightsoutatten.

Suzanneclosedhereyes,savoringthecleanlinensheets,thewarmlighteiderdown,andthestillness

of the night. The weather forecast had been for snow and she’d opened the curtains in all the rooms
because she liked snow. As she snuggled deep in her bed, sure enough, a few stray snowflakes were
driftingdownfromthesky,visibleinthehaloofthestreetlights.Shecouldfeelhermusclesstarttorelax,
feelthatslowslideintosleep…

Whichdidn’tcome.
Twohourslater,thegrandfatherclockinherlivingroomnextdoortolledmidnight.Shelistenedto

theslowtockandwhirofthemechanism,andthenthesolemnchimes.Shecountedtwelveandsighedas
sheslippedherlegsoutofbed.

Thenightwasbeautiful.Low-lyingfluffywhiteclouds,likeachild’svisionofChristmas,huggedthe

topsofbuildings.Fat,lazycartoonflakesfloateddown,gently,asiftheyhadallthetimeintheworld.

Snow was kind to her street. It covered the ruts and cracks and potholes. It softened the buildings

grown raggedy with age and neglect. It spread its gentle mantle over this part of town, abandoned and
sometimesviolent,fullofunhappy,failedsouls.

Thenightskyglowed,reflectingthebrightlightsofdowntownoffthelow-lyingclouds.Theclouds

shimmeredandsnowflakesdanced.Suzannewatchedforafewminutes,searchingelusivelyforpeace.

Likesleep,itwasn’tcoming.
She felt edgy and unsettled, as if she had somehow crossed a divide without meaning to. Without

evenwantingto.Movedintoanewpartofherlifewhereshedidn’tknowtherules.

Todd’swordskeptcomingbacktoher.Itwastrue—shehadalwaysdatedmenwithwhomsheknew

shecouldkeeptheupperhandanditwasalsotruethattherewasnoquestionofherkeepingtheupper
handwithJohn.Hewasadominantmaleineverysenseoftheword.

Ofcourse,theyweren’texactlydating.Oneeveningout,oneboutofsex…whatwasthewordfor

that?Dating?Shehadnoidea;itdidn’tfitanyofherneatcategories.Andtotopitalloff,theywereliving
together.Orrathernotlivingtogether,butlivinginthesamebuilding.Justthetwoofthem.

John was like a tiger. A gorgeous, wild animal that needed to be approached gingerly because it

could rip your heart out without even trying. You needed to keep your distance from beautiful, wild
animals.Howwasshegoingtodothatwhenshewouldbeseeinghimeveryday?

The silent night wasn’t offering up any answers, just gentle snowflakes slowly tumbling out of the

shimmeringclouds.Alightplayederraticallyagainstthelowhedgeofboxtreeswhichranalongtheside
ofthebuilding,andSuzannewatcheditflickerandglowagainstthedarkleaves.

Shepeeredmoreclosely.
Whywasitdoingthat?Whereonearthwasthelightcomingfrom?Notdowntown,thatwasforsure.

Notagainstherhedge.

And the light wasn’t a shimmer but a pinpoint glare. She frowned. A car? No, the beam was too

smallanditjumpedaround.Andanywayitwascomingfrominsidethehedgenotfromthestreetoutside.
Atthatangle,ithadtocomefrom…herhouse!Fromheroffice.

Afire!
Suzanne’sheartleapedinherthroatassherantothedoor,ranthroughthelivingroomandkitchen

withoutbotheringtoswitchonthelights.Eachroomhadbigpicturewindowsandshewatchedtheshiver
andplayofthelightagainstthehedgeasshewentfromroomtoroom.

Thelittlecircleoflightkeptflickeringonandoffandshestopped,handonthedoorthatwouldtake

herintoheroffice.Hermindwasjustcatchingupwithherbody.

Whatwasshethinking?Wasshecrazy?
Nofirewouldmakethatkindoflight.Afire’slightwouldbesteadier,andbigger.Therewasonly

onethingthatwouldmakealightlikethat.Aflashlight.

Andaflashlightmeant…someonewasinheroffice.
ThankGodshewasbarefoot.Shehadn’tmadeanynoise.Whoeveritwasinherofficecouldn’thave

heardher.

Thedoortotheofficewasajarandshecarefullypulledherfairhairbackfromherfaceandpeeped

aroundthecorner.

Therewasnothingtoseeatfirst,justtheblacknessofalargedarkroom.Thentherewasabumping

sound,likeahumanlimbmeetingapieceoffurniture,andasoftcurse.Ifshehadn’tactuallyhadherhead
practicallyintheroom,shewouldn’thaveheardit.

Someonehadbrokenintoherhouse.
A man. The low pitch of the curse had been unmistakable. Then a dark form crossed the window,

perfectly silhouetted against the brighter night sky and Suzanne’s heart stopped. Then started again,
pumpinghard.Shehadtoclenchherteethtokeepfromgasping.

Theintruderwastall,lanky,withlongishhairbrushinghisshoulders,holdingapencilflashlightin

onehand.Theflashlightwasthesourceofthelightshe’dseenspillingoutthewindow.

Inhisotherhand,hewasholdingabigblackgun.
OhGod,ohGod!Shethought,takinganinvoluntarystepbackwards.Anothercurse,lowandvicious

camefromtheroom.Hehadtrippedoveranotherpieceoffurniture.

Herofficewascomplicated,almostover-decorated,whichshe’ddonedeliberatelyasanadvertising

tool,showcasingwhatshecoulddo.Itwasalmostimpossibletonavigateifyoucouldn’tsee.Theman
wasfindingthefurnitureprettymuchbytouch.Orbybanginghisshins.

Hehadagun.Aburglarwithagun.Hadn’tshereadsomewherethatburglarsdon’tcarryguns?That

theyknowthatthepenaltyforbreakingandenteringismuchlessthanthatforarmedrobbery.Thatthey
haveadifferentpsychologicalprofilefromothercriminalsandarebasicallynon-violent.

Allaburglarwants,thearticlesaid,istogetin,getasmuchofyourexpensivestuffaspossible,and

getsafelybackout.

Exceptthismanwasn’tdoingthat.Theflashlightpickedoutherbrand-newBangandOlufsen,worth

a lot of money—worth more, actually, than she could afford—then moved steadily on. It skimmed over
hercollectionofantiquesilverframescollectedbythreegenerationsofBarrons,whichanappraiserdate
oncesaidwasworthmorethanhernewcar.ItlightedbrieflyontheoriginalWinstonHomergreat-granny
Bodinehadboughtfromthegreatmanhimself.Suzannehaduseditascollateralforthemortgage.

Theflashlightdidn’tevenlingerovertheseitems,butjustkeptroamingoverthewalls.Lookingfor

something.

Looking for what? It was a poor part of town. There weren’t many buildings containing what the

burglarhadjustskippedoverasunworthyofstealing.Whatelsecouldhepossiblybelookingfor?

Andjustlikethat,Suzanneknew.
Theburglarwasn’ttheretostealherstereosystemorherframesorherpaintings.
Hewasthereforher.
Hewasarmedandonthehunt.Huntingher.Forsomeunknownreasonthismanwiththegunwanted

tokillher.Thatwaswhyhe’dbrokenintoherhouseandwhyhewasignoringallthevaluableobjectshe
couldstealwithoutanytroubleatall.Hedidn’twantthem.Hewantedherandhewasgoingtogether
becausetherewasnowayoutofthebuildingexceptpasthim.

Her home was four big rooms, one after the other, and only the last one, her office, had a door

leadingoutintothecorridor.Therestwereinternaldoors,andalltheintruderhadtodowasgothrough
them,oneafteranother,untilhefoundher.

The windows were alarmed and bulletproof. Opening a window would set off the alarm system,

whichcouldonlybedisengagedatthefrontdoor.Therewasnohopeofbreakingawindowandcrawling
through.Themanwho’dsoldherthewindowshadgivenherademonstrationofwhatbulletproofmeant.
He’dtakenhertothecompany’sundergroundtestroomandfiredagunatatestwindowpane,whichhad
starredbuthadn’tbroken.

Nowaycouldshegetthrough.
Theclosestpolicestationwasdowntown.Itwouldtakethematleastaquarterofanhourtogethere

andbythen,theintruderwouldhavegonethroughalltherooms,wouldhavefoundherand…

John!!OnlyJohnwascloseenough—andtoughenoughanddangerousenough—tohelpher.Ifhewas

home.

Pleasebeback,John,sheprayed,runningswiftly,silently,backthroughthekitchen,thelivingroom

andintothebedroom.Shequietlyclosedeachdoor,lockedit,andthenrantothenext.

The locked doors wouldn’t hold back a man capable of getting through her security for long, but

maybeitwouldbuyherafewminutesifhewastryingtobequietandnotattractattention.Allsheneeded
wasenoughtimetocallJohnforhelp.Ifhewashere,hewasonlyacrossthehallway.

Andifhewasn’t?
I’llbehomelate,he’dsaid.Whatwaslate?Hadhecomebackinwhileshe’dbeentryingtosleep?

Washesleepingjustafewfeetaway?Orwashestilloutoftown,completelyunabletoanswerhercallin
time?

Pleasedon’tlethimstillbeoutoftown!
Shewassobbingasshelockedthelastdoor,thedoortoherbedroom.Shewasnowastrappedasa

mouseinacage.Iftheintruderreachedherbedroom,therewasnowhereelsetogo,nowhereelsetohide.

Fumbling,crying,shereachedforherpurseandwithfingersthatfeltasthickassausagesrummaged

for her cell phone. Her hands were shaking, useless. With a curse, she upended her purse, rummaged

madlythen—withasobofrelief—foundhercellphone.Shegrabbeditandswitchediton.

Herthroatwasrawfromthepanickedbreathsshewasgulpingin.Sheheldthephoneinonehandas

shefranticallywentthroughtheseemingthousandsofbitsandpiecesofpaperinherpursewiththeother.

Damn!Shewasusuallytidy,butshe’dbeensobusylatelyshehadn’thadtimetocleanherpurseout.

Itlookedlikeeverynumbershe’deverknownwaswrittendownonasmallpieceofpaper.Thereitwas!
No, that was the number of her tax advisor. Old high school friend she’d bumped into at Nordstrom’s,
antiquedealer,andnewhairdresser—allofthemhadscribbledtheirnumbersonscrapsofpaper.

Think,Suzanne!Shecommandedherself.Sheclosedhereyes,jawclenched,andtriedtothinkpast

herpoundingheartandshakingnervesbacktowhenJohnhadwrittenhiscellphonenumberdown.

Iftheintruderhadfoundherkitchendoorandpickedthelock,he’dalreadywalkedthroughit.Itwas

basicallyanopenspace.Noobstaclesatall.Hecouldalreadybeinherlivingroom,orworse.Maybehe
wasalreadyatthebedroomdoor.

Shewhimpered.Think!!
Cold, it had been cold outside. John had stood towering over her, angry with her because she’d

calledataxi,writinghisnumberdown—sherememberedhishandwriting—bold,black,anddistinctive—
andshe’dstuckitin…

Herplanner!
Frantic,shescrambledforit,flippedthroughthepagesand…thereitwas!
Shaking, she punched out the number, hoping she was getting it right. Hoping her shaking hands

wouldn’t betray her. What if she’d punched the number in wrong? Ah. The line connected and started
ringing.Makeitbetherightnumber,sheprayed.

One…
Didshehearasmallthudinthenextroom?Oh,God.
Two…
Comeon,comeon!
Three…
“What’sthematter,Suzanne?”
Shenearlydroppedthephoneinreliefathearingthatdeepvoice.Socalm,somatteroffact.Some

partofherwasgladthatheseemedtobealwaysastepaheadofher.He’dalreadyenteredhernumberin
hiscellasacontactandalreadyknewthatshewouldn’tbecallinghimaftermidnightunlessshehada
problem.

“John,”shewhispered.“Whereareyou?”
“About three blocks away,” he replied. The deep tones seemed to vibrate through the phone. Just

hearinghisvoicemadeherfeelbetter.Lesspanicky.“Why?”

“Pleasehurry.There’samaninthehouse.Hewasinmyofficeafewminutesago.John,Idon’tthink

he’saburglar.Hewasn’ttryingtostealanythingandhe’s—he’sarmed.”

“Whereareyounow?”Hisvoicewasstillcalm,butshecouldhearadeeprumbleinthebackground

ashegunnedtheengineofhisSUVandthesquealoftiresasheroundedacorner.

“Inthebedroom,”shewhispered.Sheclutchedthecellwithwethands,asifitwerealifeline.“The

lastroomdown.Ilockedthedoor.”

“Okay,thisiswhatIwantyoutodo.Putachairunderthehandle.Don’tmovefurniture—thatwould

maketoomuchnoise.Unscrewthelightbulbsonthelamps.Doyouhaveawalk-incloset?”

“Y-yes.”Shegotthewordoutthroughchatteringteeth.
“Getinandlockthedoortothatfromtheinside.Movetotheveryendandwaitthereforme.I’m

coming.Doyouhearme,Suzanne?”

“Yes.”Hervoiceshook.Shebitherlips.“Hurry,”shewhisperedandbroketheconnection.
She only had one chair and placed it under the handle. It was pretty but flimsy. By the time the

intrudermadeittoherbedroomdoor,hemightnotbeworryinganymoreaboutmakingnoise.Thechair
wouldholdadeterminedmanbackonlyafewseconds.Shequicklyunscrewedthelightbulbsfromthe
threelampsinthebedroombeforeheadingfortheclosetdoor.

For the first time in her life, Suzanne cursed her tidiness as she locked the door behind her. How

muchbetteritwouldbetocrouchinatangleofoldjeans,rattyteeshirtsanddiscardeddressinggowns,
insteadofthebarefloorofhersuperneatclosettryingtohidebehindtworowsofshoes,neatlylinedup
andnodefensewhatsoever,unlessyoucountedthekillerstilettosononepairofManoloBlahnikswhich
she’dboughtinamomentofinsanityandhadneverworn.

Shecrouchedandwaited.Andbitterlyregrettedthatshe’dnevertakenaself-defenseclass,though

shewasn’tsurewhatshecoulddoagainstanarmedman.

WonderWomanwouldhaveknownwhattodo.SowouldXenatheWarriorPrincess.AndCharlie’s

Angels.They’dhaveknownhowtodisarmanarmedmanandthenthey’dkickbutt,buttherewerethreeof
themandonlyoneofher.

Shemovedslightly,brushingalavendersachetdanglingfromasatinribbonshe’dhungfromtherod.

Sheclosedhereyesinthedark,breathinginthesharpscent.She’dmadethesachetherselffromlavender
gathered in her parents’ retirement home in Baja. It smelled of summer gardens and sun and earth. Her
handtoucheda cashmereshawlshe’d worntoa productionof TheMikado with Todd. She fingered it,
takingcomfortfromthesoftnessandwarmth.

Shedidn’twanttodie.
Shewantedmoresummerswithherparents,moretheatereveningswithTodd.Moresummerpicnics,

moreskiingvacations.Moreeveningsout,moreeveningsin.

More.
Lifewassosweet,sorich,thehighsandlowsofit.Shelovedherparents,shelovedherhome,and

she loved her friends. Her career was just taking off. She was going to live a hallway away from the
sexiestmanshe’deverseen.She’dbeenshockedatthesexthey’dhad,butithadmadeherfeelalivein
everycellofherbody.Shewantedmore.

Shedidn’twanttodie.Oh,God,shedidn’twanttodie.
HowfarawayhadJohnbeen?Threeblocks?Evendrivingfast,howquicklycouldhegethere?Was

heparkingnow?Runningtowardthehouse?

With a sudden disconcerting sense of certainty, Suzanne knew that as fast as a human being could

makeit—that’showquicklyJohnwouldcomeforher.Whatevercouldbedonetoprotectheragainstan
armedintruder—that’swhatJohnwoulddo.

There was no one else in the world right now she’d rather have coming to her rescue than John

Huntington.

Wherewastheintrudernow?Herlivingroomwasverydecorated,too,withtwosofas,armchairs,

occasionaltables,footrests,floorvasesscatteredallover.Iftheintruderwantedtoproceedstealthily,all
theobjectsintheroomwouldslowhimdownconsiderably.

Ifhedidn’tcareaboutmakingnoiseanymorethough,thenhewasmovingfast.Hadhesimplyturned

onthelights,tiredofbumblingaroundinthedark?Ifheknewshewashome,thenhealsoknewtherewas
onlyoneotherplaceshecouldbe.Ifhewantedto,hecouldbreakdownherbedroomdoor,wrenchopen
theclosetandshootherinthespaceofaminute.

What was that noise? Every muscle tensed and her breath left her body in a rush. Her mouth was

bonedry.

Itwassohorriblehuddlinghereinthedarklikeafoxhoundedtoearth.Herheartwaspoundingso

harditseemedimpossiblethatitwasn’tmakinganoise.Itsoundedloudtoher.Surelyitcouldbeheardin
thenextroom?

Shewipedherfaceonhersleeve.Whateverhappened,sheneededtobeabletosee.Evenifitwas

only the gun that would end her life. She swiped at her eyes as she bit down on her lips and ordered
herself to stop crying. To stop trembling. She pressed her hands between her knees so she could tell
herselfherhandsweren’tshaking.

Sheneverknewshewassuchacoward.Howcouldshehaveknown?She’dneverfaceddanger—

realdanger,asopposedtothedangeranywomanlivingaloneissubjecttoeveryday—inherlife.

Idon’twanttodie,shethoughtagainassherestedherforeheadonherknees.Ateardroppedonher

kneeandrandownhercalf.

Shewaitedinthedark,endlessly.
Herwatchwasonthebedsidetable.Shehadnoideahowmuchtimehadpassedsinceshe’dspotted

theintruder.Sinceshe’dcalledJohn.Tenminutes?Twominutes?Halfanhour?Therewerenobearings
here,inthemuffledscenteddarknessofthecloset,nowayoftellingtimeexceptbyherthuddingheart.

Had she sent John to his death? He hadn’t even hesitated, had simply said he was on his way, but

should she have called the police instead of him? She might well die, but she might go down having
broughtanothermantohisdeath.Agoodman.Amanwhowillinglysteppedintodangerforher.

Rightnow,hemightbeoutthere,bleeding,dying…
Somehow,thatwastheworstthingofall.
Suzanne straightened abruptly. That had definitely been a sound. Like something heavy falling. A

pieceoffurniture?A…body?Thesoundcamefromthelivingroom,rightoutsidethebedroomdoor.A
longmomentofsilence,whileshestrainedherears.

Andthenanothersound,metallicthistime.
Someonepickingthelock.
Suzannewipedhereyes.Whateverwasgoingtohappeninthenextfewseconds,shewantedtobe

clear-eyed.

Ascraping…thechairwaspushedoutoftheway.Suddenly,lightfloodedthroughthelouveredslats

oftheclosetdoor.Ashadowfellacrossthedoor.

Suzannewaited,dry-eyednow,breathingslowly.Tryingcrazilytobraceherselfagainstabullet.She

scooted as far as she could go against the wall, pressing against the wooden slats with her shoulders,
wishingshecouldpushherselfthroughtotheotherside.

Theclosetdooropenedandamanfilledthedoorway.Broadshouldersbarelyclearedtheframe.A

killer’sface—leancheeks,coldgunmetaleyes,hardmouth.Helookedatherwithnarrowedeyes,alarge
blackguninhishand.

WithagladcrySuzannerushedintohisarms.

CHAPTERSEVEN

John’sarmsclosedaroundherfiercely.

Suzanne was trembling, trying hard not to cry. Shaking, breathing raggedly. Soft and warm and—

thankyou,God—alive.

Johncoveredthebackofherheadwithhisrighthandandwrappedhisotherarmaroundherwaist,

holdinghertight,tryingtogivehertheanimalcomfortofhisbody.Pressingherclosetostillthoseawful
tremors.

She was frightened to death. So was he. He couldn’t remember being this scared, ever. Not in the

fiercestfirefight.

Hehadn’tbeenfrightenedforhimself.Thetakedownhadbeensmooth,atextbookSEALoperation.

Thebadguyhadn’tevenknownJohnwasthereuntilhewasuselesslytuggingattheknifecuttingthrough
histhroat.Butuntilthismoment,untilhehadhisarmstightaroundSuzanne’sslenderbody,Johnhadn’t
been sure he’d got here in time. Hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t find Suzanne lying in a pool of her own
blood…

He’dbeendrivinghome,contentwiththeday’sworkadvisingabankinEugeneonsecurity,witha

five-year consultancy contract in his pocket. If business continued like this, he’d have to expand again.
Forthethirdtimeinsixmonths.Maybecallinafewotherguysfromhisteamwhowereupforretirement.

He’d had to retire early because of the damned knee injury, but he probably hadn’t had more than

anotherseven,eightyearsofactivedutyleftinhimanyway.Inhislineofwork,youeitherdiedonthejob
orretiredearly.It’swasn’tajobyouagedin.

TheTeamstookeverythingamanhad—andthensuckedupsomemore.
Ifheexpandedagain,heknewexactlywhotocall.SeniorChiefKowalskiwasupforretirementand

would make a perfect employee, maybe some day a partner. Super-smart, skilled, honest—and looking
like something out of a horror movie. John smiled at the thought of introducing Suzanne to Kowalski,
thoughshehadn’tturnedahaironherlovelyheadatmeetingJacko.

Despiteherfragileappearance,Ms.SuzanneBarronseemedprettysturdy.Andsmartandbeautiful

andwithit.Ohyeah,she’ddojustfine.Allinall,Johnhadbeenwellpleasedwithhimselfwhiledriving
home.

Home.
Whenwasthelasttimehe’deverfeltaplacewashome?Asopposedtoabedtobunkin?Yet437

Rose Street had instantly become home. And that was before the delectable Ms. Barron decorated his
workingandlivingquarters.

Hecouldn’twaitforthat,oddinamanwhonevercaredwhatanythinginhissurroundingslooked

like. His major color scheme all his life had been olive drab. But now he found himself really looking
forwardtolivinginwhathe’dseeninthosedrawings.Thoserichmutedcolors,thosesleekelegantlines
—hellyes,hecouldgetusedreallyfasttoworkingoutofanofficelikethat.Itwouldbeapleasure.He
couldn’twaitforhertostart.

Yes, he’d been definitely revved as he drove back through the rain. He was living in the same

buildingasthemostbeautifulanddesirablewomanhe’deverseen.They’dalreadyhadexplosivesexand
gettingbackintoherbed—backintoher,itdidn’thavetobeinabed—wasjustamatteroftime.Andto
topitalloff,hewaswellonhiswaytobecomingrichandsuccessful.Lifejustdidn’tgetanybetterthan
that.

AndthenSuzannehadcalledandhe’dinstantlygonetoDefcon1—thehigheststateofalert.
He’dknowntheinstanthe’dseenthenumberonthescreenthatsomethingwasbadlywrong.Suzanne

wouldn’tcallhimatmidnightunlessshewasintrouble—andshewas.

A man in her apartment. An armed man. It didn’t take SEAL training to know what that meant.

Burglarsdon’tcarryweapons.Burglarsarenicegentlemanlycriminals.Alltheywantistoinfiltrateyour
house,politelyrelieveyouofyourexpensiveworldlypossessionsandgetquietlybackout.Noguns.No
violence.Thealternativewasahophead,crashingintoSuzanne’shousehopingtoboostherhifiorTVfor
resale to the local fences to make enough for the next fix. But druggies weren’t organized. A hophead
wouldn’tbeslinking,tryingnottomakenoise.

No,thescumbaginSuzanne’shousewasthereforonepurposeonly.Totakeherout.Anyintruder

whowasbypassingthesilver,artworkandfancyelectronicsinherstudywasoutformuchbiggergame—
blood.Suzanne’sblood.

NotwhileJohncoulddrawabreath.
His hands had clenched hard around the steering wheel as he braked to a stop a block from the

house,aroundthecornerandoutofsight.Thesonofabitchwasarmed.Well,sowashe.SigSauerand
knifeanddetermination.Thosethreeweaponshadprevailedagainstsomeofthemostdangerousmenon
theplanet.

Intheoffice,Suzannehadsaid.Onlythathadbeenminutesago.
Thelevelofalarmratchetedupanotchatthefrontdoor.Theintruderhadn’tjustbrokenthroughthe

securitysystem—he’dwreckedit.Andtakenoutthetelephonesystem,too,whilehewasatit.ThankGod
Suzannehadhadthepresenceofmindtousehercellphoneinsteadofthelandlinetocontacthim.

Theguyhadn’texactlybeenanamateur.DisablinganXOLsystemandthephonelinestookalittlebit

ofknowledge.Buthehadn’tbeenexpectingmuchresistance.Johnhadheardhimalmostimmediately,in
whatSuzanneusedasalivingroom.Hecouldhearhimtworoomsdown,crashingaroundlikeabearin
thewoods.

UsingtheSigwasout.Johndidn’tknowiftheguyhadbodyarmor,whichmeanttheusualdoubletap

totheheadwasn’tanoption—hisweaponwouldwipetheguy’sfaceoffentirelyandJohnwantedanID.
Hewantedtoseethefaceofthesonofabitchwhowasthreateninghiswoman.

ThatlefttheK-Bar.
Johnhadexcellentnightvision.Hemovedswiftlyandsilentlythroughtheroomintothenextone.A

kitchen. Empty. Oh Jesus, Jesus. Suzanne’s living quarters were a replica of his. Four rooms. Her
bedroomwasthelastroomdown,she’dsaid.Onemoreroomtogo.

Except the son of a bitch might not be here. He might have already wasted Suzanne and left. John

moved more quickly, silently entering the next room and…there he was! Gun up, at the bedroom door,
handoutforthedoorknob.

Hestilldidn’thaveaclueanyoneelsewasinthehouse.Hediednothavingaclue,facedowntothe

floor,John’sK-Barthroughhisthroat.

Johnturnedonthelights,crossingtheroomquicklyasthemanfloppedfortwo,threeseconds,feet

drumming, on the floor. Blood spurted, sprayed. John watched, cold-eyed, as the man bled out fast all
overthehardwoodfloor,thenstilledintheunmistakablesprawlofdeath.Johnlookeddownathimfora
longmoment,thinking.

Next to the couch was the Portland phone book. There were two pages of Morrisons but only one

TylerMorrison.Hedialedthenumberwithhiscellphone.

“Morrison.”Thoughitwasverylate,Budsoundedalert.Johnknewhewouldsoundthatwayevenif

he’dbeenrousedfromadeepsleep.

“Bud,Johnhere.Huntington.”Johnkepthisvoicelow.
Buddidn’twastetimeonsmalltalk.“What’sup,John?Youintrouble?”
“Mightsaythat.Ijustkilledaman.”Johnheardsheetsrustleandasoftwoman’svoicemurmuringin

thebackground.HerememberedSuzannesayingBudwasdatingafriendofhers.“Sorrytowakeyouup
atthishour,Bud,butIneedtocallthisin.I’minSuzanneBarron’sbuildingonRoseStreet.Shehadan
intrudertonight.Armed.Itookhimdown.You’dbettergetoverherewithyourteam.It’snotpretty.”

BudputhishandoverthereceiverandJohncouldhearmuffledsoothingnoises.Hecamebackon

line.“I’llberightover.”Bedspringssqueaked.“I’llcallitinandgodirectlytoSuzanne’shouse.Therest
ofthesquadwillbethereinaboutaquarterofanhour.”

“Door’sopen,”Johnsaid.“Wideopen.Hetrashedthesecuritysystem.Andyoucanusethesirens.

He’snotgoinganywhere.Hangonasecond,Bud.”

Johnhunkereddowntostudythedeadman.
ThecrimescenesquadwouldbeheresoonandJohnknewbetterthantodisturbthescene,butwhat

hewasabletoseewasbadnews.Theintruderhaddroppedhisflashlightandguntoclawathisthroat.
The gun was a silenced .22 Colt Woodsman. A raw-looking rectangle on the side told its own story.
John’sjawclenched.

AColtWoodsmanwasthestandardassassin’sgun.
John’s fists closed at the thought of a .22 bullet hitting Suzanne. The .22s were subsonic rounds,

perfectforsilencers.Youcangetinclosewitha.22.Thebulletisguaranteedtobouncearoundinsidethe
victim’s body doing massive damage instead of passing through. He pushed out of his mind what a
headshotwouldhavedonetoSuzanneandspokeintothephone.

“Ithinkwe’vegotourselvesahiredhandhere,Bud.”
“Yeah?Howso?”
“He’sgotaColtWoodsmanwiththeserialnumberfiledoff.Withasuppressor.Youdon’tcarrya

weaponlikethattomakeoffwiththesilverteaservice.”Johnrappedaknuckleontheguy’sshoulder.It
echoed hollowly. He’d been right. “And he’s got body armor. That’s not standard B & E fare, either.”
Something prickled on the back of John’s neck. He knew that prickle, trusted it, and it wasn’t good.
“Hurryitup,Bud.”

“Onmyway,bigguy.”
John hung up, picked the bedroom lock, easily dispensed with the chair under the handle and

screwedinthelightbulbonthelampnearestthedoor.

Good girl, he thought as he saw the closet door on the other side of the room. She’d followed his

instructionstotheletter.

Hepickedthelockontheclosetdoorandlookedinside.Twohugegrayeyesinawhitefacelooked

up and he felt something in his chest clench hard. They stared at each other for a long moment then
Suzannelaunchedherselfintohisarms.Heheldherclose,closer.

Shewassafe.
Andshewasgoingtostaythatway.

****

Suzannecouldn’tstoptrembling.FinallyJohnheldhersotightlyagainsthimitwasasifheabsorbed

hershockintohissystem.Shewasabletodrawinadeepbreathforthefirsttimeinwhatfeltlikehours.

“Betternow?”Hisvoicewasadeeprumbleagainstherear.Shenoddedjerkily.
“Yeah,”shewhispered.Bitingherlips,shesteppedback.

“Good,”hegrunted.Heheldheratarm’slengthandlookedherovercarefully.Therewasabsolutely

nothing lover-like in his gaze. It was cool, impersonal and very thorough. Suzanne understood he was
studyinghertojudgewhatshapeshewasin.

Well, she was alive, for starters, thanks to him. That was good, that was certainly better than she

thought she’d be a just few minutes ago. The panic was subsiding and any second now she’d get her
tremblingundercontrol.Shetriedonasmileandhenoddedanddroppedhisarms.

It hadn’t been much of a smile but it seemed to satisfy him because he was backing away, while

takinginherroom,observingeverythingcarefully,thenmovingon.Lookingforanotherintruder,maybe?
Hestillhadaguninhishand.Hehelditloosely,barrelpointedtowardthefloor,buthehelditlikean
extensionofhishand.Hestoodlightly,almostontheballsofhisfeetlikeadancerlimberingup.Shegot
theimpressionthathewasreadyforanything.Thatnothingwouldorcouldcatchhimunawares.

Hepushedopenthebathroomdoor,gunupbesidehisear,alightning-quickperusalinside,andthen

closed it. Moving quietly, he checked everything, every point danger could come from, before coming
backtoher.Hewasstudyingheragain,takinginhernightgownandbarefeet.

“Icalleditin,sothepolicewillbeheresoon.Youmightwanttoputsomeclotheson.Dresswarmly

andcomfortably.Pants,sweater,boots.AndSuzanne,whileyou’reatit,puttogetherasmallcasewitha
coupleofchangesofclothes.”

Smallcase?Changesof—Why?Shestartedtoaskbutthenlookedatthegrimexpressiononhisface.
O-kay.
He’dcometoherrescue,bigtime.Shecouldpackabag.
“All right,” she said quietly and he nodded. Pleased at her acquiescence, but with that air of…

remotenessabouthim,asifhewerelisteningtosoundsinthedistance.

Andnowsheheardittoo.Asiren,faintatfirst,thentwo,quicklyrisingintone,almostunbearably

louduntiltheyweresuddenlycutoff.Twopolicecars,lightsflashing,stoppedinfrontofherbuildingand
themuffledslamofthecardoorsfilteredthroughthenightair.Anothercarpulledupbehindthemanda
tall,familiarfigureclimbedout.

Thecavalryhadarrived.
“I’llwaitoutside,”Johnsaidashedisappearedthroughthedoor.“Hurry.”
Suzanne quickly dressed. She did exactly what he’d said, and pulled on a thick heavy sweater,

comfortable wool pants and cold-weather boots. Pulling her small suitcase slider out of the closet, she
packedquickly.Again,exactlywhathe’dsaid.Twopairsofpants,threesweaters,anotherpairofboots,
underwearandtwonightgowns.Beautycaseontopandshewasready.

There were low voices in the other room, but everyone stopped talking as she opened the door.

Suzannesteppedintothelivingroom,pullinghersuitcasebehindher,thenstopped.

Juststopped,andstared.
Hehadfallentotherightofthedoor.Anyfurthertotheleft,andhe’dhaveblockedit.
The only dead body Suzanne had ever seen was Granny Bodine, who had died peacefully in her

sleepatninety-three,gentlylaidoutinhercasket.Thismanhadn’tdiedpeacefully.

Hewassprawledfacedownonthefloor,handscurvedintoclaws,oneclutchingthebigblackblade

handlestickingoutfromhisthroat.Theknifemusthaveseveredthejugular.Bloodpooledunderthehead
ofthemanandspraysofitsurroundedthebody.

Suzanne took a deep breath, then another, desperately trying to get her stomach under control. She

blinked,asthedeadmanseemedtoriseupfromthegroundandfloattowardher.Adullroarfilledher
ears.

Ahardhandcuppedherneck,pushingherheadgentlydown.“Breathe.”
Shedidn’tneedtoseehimtorecognizeJohn’svoice,recognizehistouch.Obediently,shebentand

tried to breath past the shakiness. Slowly the stars before her eyes receded. There were people in the

room,talking,movingaround,butsheonlyregisteredJohn’spresence.Largeandsolidbesideher.“Come
onnow,breathedeeply.”

Sheswallowedheavilyandlookedaway,down.Breathed.Deeply.Inandout.Concentratingonthat

andnotonherstomachtryingtocomeup.

“Suzanne?” Another male voice. Not John. She risked looking up and almost regretted it. Any

movementmadeherstomachswoop.

Tyler Morrison. Everyone but her friend Claire called him Bud. He looked like a Bud. Tall and

powerfully built, with light brown hair and light brown eyes which turned soft whenever he looked at
Claire.Hiseyeswerehardnow,allbusiness.

“Hi,Bud.”
“Youokay?”
“Peachy,”shegaspedandswallowedagain.Herstomachseemedtohavelodgeditselfsomewherein

themiddleofherchestbutatleastitwasn’tslidinggreasilyupwards.Shewasreleasedandamoment
laterJohntookherhand,wrappingitaroundaglass.“Here,drinkthis.”

Suzanne gulped the ice water down gratefully. It went down in one chill rush, soothing the

overheatedfeelingthataccompaniesawaveofnausea.“Thanks,”shemurmured.Shetriedonasmilefor
Johnbutgotnoansweringsmileback.“Ineededthat.”SheturnedtoBud.“Yougotherequickly.”

“It’sournewcitizen-friendlypolicy.Weaimtoplease.”Budsmiledfaintlybutitwasclearthathe

was here as “The Police” and not as her friend Claire’s boyfriend, a man she’d had drinks and dinner
with.Hisfacewasserious,hismannersober.“Okay,honey.Therearesomethingsweneedtogoover.
Butbeforewedo,Ineedyoutodosomethingforme.Comeoverhere.”

HegesturedandSuzannefollowedhimtothedeadbodylyingonhisstomach.Shehadtosteparound

thepoolofbloodandfeltsalivafillhermouth.Withanenormouseffort,Suzannewilledherstomachto
stayrightwhereitwas.John’sarmslippedaroundherwaist.Sheleanedintohim,intothestrengthandthe
heatofhim.Atthatmoment,shedidn’tcarewhatBudthought.Shewasjustgratefulforthesupportofthat
ironarm.Herlegswereshakingandsheknewhewouldkeepheruprightforever,ifneedbe.

Threemenwerekneelingaroundthebody.Allthreehadcarefullychosenthefewplacesthatweren’t

spattered with blood. One was finishing up taking fingerprints using digital she remembered seeing on
CSI, another was taking swabs, and the third was using tweezers to pick up fibers, putting them in a
glassineenvelope.

AbrightflashbehindherwentoffandSuzannejumped.
“Steady,”Johnmurmured,hisdeepvoiceabarewhisper,forherearsonly.
Shedrewinadeepbreathandnodded.John’sarmtightenedaroundher.Theywerestandinghipto

hip but his attention was directed outwards. His face was remote; gaze cold and vigilant as it made its
way in regular sweeps around the room. Were it not for his arm firmly about her, Suzanne would have
imaginedthathewasn’tevenawareofherpresence.Andyethekneweverymoveshemade.

Anotherflashwentoff,thenanotherandanotherasthephotographer,ashort,sandy-hairedmanwith

a blond beard, circled the body. The flashes continued steadily until finally the camera was dropped,
allowedtoresthangingagainstthetechnician’schestbyaleatherstrap.

“Thataboutwrapsitup,Lieutenant,”thephotographersaid,steppingback.
“Okay,Lou,”Budsaid.“Standby.We’regoingtoseewhowe’vegothere.”
Pullingonapairoflatexgloves,Budkneeledonaclearpatchoffloor.Hestudiedthebackofthe

deadmanforalongmoment.Hereachedoutandpulledattheman’srightshouldersteadilyuntilthedead
manfloppedoverandsettledonhisback.“Okay,now.”Budsatbackonhishaunches.“Whoishe?”he
asked,lookingupatSuzannethenoveratJohn.

Shesteeledherselfandlookeddown.
Thedeadmanhadalong,narrow,deeplytannedfacewithregularfeatures.Withouttherictusofa

painful death, he might have been mildly good-looking, though it was hard to tell. The wide-open eyes
wereamuddybrown,starredwithdeeplinesintheskinaroundthem,morearesultoftheeffectsofsun
and weather than age. He had crooked, yellowish teeth. One eyetooth overlapped the incisor. The hair
wasdarkbrown,straight,shotthroughwithafewgrayhairs.

Budwaswatchingher.“Suzanne?”
Shestaredforanothertwominutes,nauseated,andthenshookherhead.“I’veneverseenthatman

beforeinmylife,”shesaidfirmly.

“John?”
John had only glanced at the dead man, and then had returned his attention back to the room. He

shookhishead.“Don’tknowhim.”

Budstood,dustinghishands.“Well,youmightnotknowhim,Suzanne,butheknowsyou.Ineedto

askyouafewquestions.”Helookedover.“You,too,John,”hesaid,faintironyinhisvoice.

Suzannedidn’tneedtoaskwhatkindofquestionsBudhadforJohn,notwithJohn’sknifethroughthe

deadman’sthroat.

“Let’stakeittothecouch,”Johnsaid,hisarmstillaroundher.Suzanneknewhewasshieldingher.

Theycouldn’tseethebodyfromthecouch.

Hesettledheronthelittlecouch,thensatdownbesideher,takingupabouttwo-thirdsofit.Hisleft

armwasbehindher,herrightsidecompletelyupagainsthisleft.Hewaseffectivelyembracingherbut
that felt just fine. As a matter of fact, she had to clench her fists to resist the temptation to lean more
heavilyintohim,tolethisstrengthsurroundher.

Hisfacewassetandhard.Hehadplacedthebigblackpistolonthecoffeetable,butclosetohand,

thebuttfacinghimsohecouldpickitupanduseitimmediatelyifnecessary.Thoughhewassitting,she
couldfeelthecoiledtensioninhisbigbody.Atregularintervals,hiseyeskeptquarteringtheroom,his
gaze like a searchlight, only dark. She knew he had taken the measure of every person—two more
technicianshadjoinedthecrimescenesquadtechniciansmillingaround—andeveryobjectintheroom.
Somethingtoldherhewasawareatalltimesofthepositionofeverypersonandeveryobject.Andofher.

He might protect her, but he wasn’t going to comfort her. He was as remote and as untouchable—

exceptinthemostphysicalsenseoftheterm—assomeoneonthemoon.Andyethekeptwithintouching
distanceofheratalltimes.

Budsatdownacrossfromher,lookingathersomberly,thenhelookedovertoJohn.Hepulledouta

notebook.

“Okay,wanttotellmewhatwenton?”
Johnturnedtoher.Youfirst,hislooksaid.
Okay.
She ran a hand through her hair. It was still a little tangled, the quick swipe with the brush she’d

allowedherselfinthebathroomnotenoughmakeitsmooth.She’dmanagedtowashherfaceandbrush
her teeth, though, which made her feel better. She put her hand down to straighten up and encountered
iron-hardmaleflesh.John’sthigh.Shesnatchedherhandaway,onlytofinditcaughtinhis.

Hispalmwashard,callused,hisfingerscurledtightlyaroundhers.Shedidn’tpullherhandaway,

surprisedatthecomfortinthatsingletouch.

Bud noted her hand in John’s but didn’t say anything. He looked at her expectantly. “Where do I

start?”Suzanneasked.

“Whydon’twetakeitfromwhenyoucamehomelastnight?Whatdidyoudo?”Budlookedather

expectantlyandshefeltaspurtofpanicswellupinherchest.Hewantedtoknowaboutlastnight?

“Lastnight?”shebreathed,shocked.
OhGod,shecouldn’ttalkaboutit.Theheatandthesex.NotinfrontofBud.Andhowonearthcould

BudknowsheandJohnhad—

Oh.
Itwasaftermidnight.Bylastnight,Budmeantafewhoursago.Hedidn’tmean—tellmeaboutyou

andJohnandthewall.Hemeant—tellmeaboutyouandthedeadman.Whichwasalmosteasierthanthe
sex.

“Tellmeaboutyourday.Didyounoticeanyonefollowingyou?Anythingunusualhappen?”
“No, of course not.” Anyone following her? What a ludicrous idea. She started to shake her head

then thought about it. She’d entered a new world, one in which she didn’t know the rules and had no
survivalinstincts.Inthisnewworld,anythingcouldhappen.“Imean,”shecorrected,lookingatBudand
John,“maybesomeonewas,butIdidn’tnoticeit.Iprobablywouldn’t.IguessIdon’tthinkthatway.But
ifanyonewasfollowingme,hehadaveryboringday.Imetwithaclothimporter,CathyLorenzetti,at
nineo’clockinherofficeonGlisan.AttenImetwithacolleague,ToddArmstrong,athishome.Wehad
tea and discussed business. I spent the afternoon with a new client, going over the plans for the
redecorationofherapartment.Notexactlythestuffthrillersaremadeof.”

Budabsorbedthisinformation,makingcarefulnotes.“I’mgoingtobeneedingaddressesandphone

numbers.”Suzannegavethemtohim.“Andyougothomearoundwhen?”

“Eight.Ithadbeenalongafternoon.”Verylong,Suzannethought.Andtedious.“Iwastired.Itooka

bath,hadalightmealandturnedintobed.”

“That would be around what time?” Bud asked. He was taking copious notes, though she couldn’t

imagineshewassayinganythingofanyimportance.

“Teno’clock.IcheckedmywatchandIrememberhearingthegrandfatherclock—theoneoverthere

in the corner—chime ten.” Bud turned around to look where she pointed and nodded. “I read for about
twentyminutes,thenturnedoutthelight.Imighthavedozedalittle,offandon,butIwasfeelingrestless.”
SuzannecouldalmostfeelJohn’sintensescrutinybesideher.Heseemedtobelisteningtoherwithevery
cellinhisbody.Surelyhemustknowhewasabigreasonshe’dbeenunabletofallasleep.“ThenIheard
theclockchimemidnightandIrealizedthatIwashavingtroublefallingasleepsomaybeIshouldheatup
somemilk.”

“Youhadtowalkthroughthisroomtogettothekitchen,right?”Budgesturedwithhishead.
“Yes.Thehouseisalittleoddinthelayoutbecauseitwasoriginallyafactory.Industrialspacesare

laid out quite differently from residential spaces. A residential space is divided up into day areas and
nightareasbutthisoneisn’t.Essentially,myapartmentisfourlargerooms,oneaftertheother.Myoffice
first, the public space, and then the private spaces—the kitchen, the living room and the bedroom. The
bedroom’sthroughthere.”Shepointed,shiveringinwardlyatthememoryofhuddlinginfearinthecloset.
John’shandtightenedonhers.

Itwaslargeandhardandcallused.Suzannesuddenlyhadaveryvividsensorymemoryofthehard

calluses on his fingertips brushing over her breasts, brushing lower. He’d opened her roughly before
plunginginsideher,thecallusesonhishandsgratingverysensitiveflesh…

Sheturnedandtheireyesmetandthebreathleftherbodyattheheatandpowerofthosegunmetal

darkeyes.Hewasremembering,too.

“So,”Budprodded,notlookingupfromhisnotes.“Let’sseeifIgotitstraight.Youcan’tsleep,so

yougetupandgotothekitchen—“

Withdifficulty,SuzannewrenchedherattentionawayfromJohn.Shestruggledtoconcentrate.“Yes.

Well,no.FirstIwenttothewindowinmybedroom,justforasecond.Itwassnowing,verylightly.Ilove
itwhenitdoesthat,justafewfatsnowflakesfallingdown.ItwaswhatIcallanauroraborealisnight—
youknow,whenthecloudsarelowenoughtoreflectthelightsfromdowntown?”

Bud nodded but John looked blank. Well, he wasn’t from Portland. Apparently he wasn’t from

anywhereinparticular.Thoughhemusthavespentsometimeinthesouth.There’dbeenafaintsouthern
inflectioninhisvoice,whisperinginherearashethrusthardandfastinsideher.Shebitherlips.She

couldn’tbethinkingaboutthisnow.

“Suzanne?”Budwaslookingatheroddly.ThankGodhewasn’tamindreader.“Goon.”
She couldn’t talk and think of John at the same time. She turned to look at Bud, like spot focusing

while dancing. “So I was watching the lights reflected off the clouds when I realized that I was seeing
other lights. Or rather a light. A focused one, flickering off the hedges. I watched it for a while, and
couldn’tunderstandwhatitwas.”

Budroseandgazedoutthewindow,measuring,thenlookedbackatJohnwhenhesatdownagain.

“Aflashlight,”hesaid.

“Fromtheoffice,”Johnconfirmed.
Suzannelookedfromonetotheother.“Yes,you’reright.”Howannoying.Ithadtakenheratleastten

minutespeeringoutsidethewindow,puzzled,toreachthatconclusion.“SoIdecidedtogochecktosee
—“

“Jesus,Suzanne,”Budsaid,halfrisingoutofhisseat.
“Youfuckingwhat?”Johnroared,outraged.Hishandcrushedhersinahardgrip.“You’relookingat

theflashlightofanintruderandyoufuckinggocheckitout!Whatthehell’sthematterwithyou,lady?”

Suzannerecoiled.Itwasthefirsttimeshe’dheardhimusewhatprobablywasasailor’svocabulary.

Shewasn’tusedtobeingspokentolikethat.Shetriedtojerkherhandoutfromhis,butheheldontight.
Therewasnobreakingthatgrip,nogettingaway.

Shewantedtobeindignant,torespondicilytobothBudandJohn—Johnespecially—butthetruth

wastheywereright.Shehadn’tthoughtheractionsthrough.Likelastnight—no,likethenightbeforelast
—whenJohnhadlecturedheronwhatsheneededtosecurethebuilding.

Hermindsimplydidn’trunalongthosetracks.
Bud was scowling heavily now. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard and I’ve heard a lot in my

time.Yourealizeyoumighthaveanintruderinthehouseandyouambleonovertoseewhathe’sdoing?”
His deep voice was heavy with disapproval as he wrote in his pad. “Do you realize how reckless that
is?”

Suzannerefrainedfromrollinghereyes.“Well,that’snotquitewhathappened,soyoudon’tneedto

raiseyourvoice.Iwenttoinvestigatewhatthelightsourcewas.Nothavingyetreachedtheconclusion
thatIhadanintruderinthehouselikesomelightning-swiftpeopleIknow.”

Irony was lost on them. Bud was writing busily and John had released her hand to rise from the

couch, gun in hand, and look outside the windows. He pulled back the curtains and peered intently out
fromfirstonewindowthentheother.Hisbroadshouldersblockedtheentirewindowout.Hestoodwatch
for a moment, silent and motionless, then checked the door to the kitchen, the door to the bedroom. At
eachmovement,hecheckedbackatheraswell,asifinthespaceofafewsecondsshecoulddisappear
or someone could leap out from behind the couch to steal her away. He moved swiftly, silently, like a
pantherpacingtheperimeterofacage.Whenhereturnedtothecouch,heplacedthegunquietlybackon
the table, within reach. He placed his left arm again around the back of the couch, only this time he
cuppedhershoulder.

“Didyouswitchonthelights?”Budasked.
“No,”Suzannereplied.Shewassuddenlystruckbytheideathatthatmighthavesavedherlife.The

intruder would have come after her immediately. “Good Lord, if I had—“ She couldn’t finish the
sentence.

“Itwouldbeyourbloodspattersthecrimesceneunitwouldbestudyingrightnowinsteadofhis.”

Johnfinishedthesentenceforher,hisgripalmostpainfullytightonhershoulder.Therewerepalelinesof
somestrongemotion—anger?—aroundhismouth.

Suzannedrewinashockedbreath.Hermindreeledathowcloseithadbeen.Sherememberedthe

intensefeelingsinthecloset.Howfiercelyshewantedtolive.

Soclose.She’dcomesoclosetodying.Amovementofherfingers,aflickofthelightswitch,andit

wouldhavebeenover.Theblooddrainedfromherfaceasshethoughtofwhattheintruder’sguncould
havedonetoher.

Both Bud and John were watching her carefully. The low murmurs of the techs working the body

driftedup.Shefeltfoolish,andtiredandcompletelyoutofherdepth.

“Goon,”Budsaidfinally.
“Okay.” Suzanne bit her lip. “Okay, um, I walked through the living room, this room, and into the

kitchen.Iheardthisnoise.Likea—athud.Likesomeonebumpingintofurniture.That’swhenIrealized
thatitwassomeonebumpingaround.Inmyoffice.Thedoorwasajar.IpeekedaroundthedoorandIsaw
him.”

“Themanlyingonthefloor?”
“I’m not too sure…I don’t think I could swear to that in court.” For the first time it occurred to

Suzannethatsheprobablywouldbetestifyingincourt.Amurderhadbeencommittedinherhome.Inself-
defense,tobesure,butitwasstillamurder.Orwouldthatbemanslaughter?

Johnhadcomerunningtoherrescueandhadkilledtheman.Wouldtherebelegalconsequencesfor

him?Hewasjuststartingoutinanewbusiness.Hadherproblemsreachedouttoblighthislife?

“Icanswearthathewaswearingablackleatherjacketandtanpantsexactlylikewhatthedeadman

iswearing.Hehadabiggunwithabarrelontheendofit.Itlookedlikethesilencerstheyshowinthe
movies. He walked several times in front of the window and I could see him and the gun silhouetted
againstthelight.ButIdidn’tgetagoodlookathisface.Hewasstumblingaroundalot,lookingathis
feet.Hewasfindingithardtoorienthimselfintheroom.It’sgotanunusuallayout,asIsaid,andit’sFeng
Shui.”

Bud’spencilfrozeoverthepad.Johnstoppedhisperusaloftheroomandturnedtostareather.The

techs,twoontheirknees,lookedup.

“It’s…what?”Budasked.
“FengShui.”Attheirblanklooks,shesmiled.She’dtakenlessonsfromLiYungherself,whowas

Mandarinandwhopronouncedit‘FangChoi’.“YouprobablyknowitasFengShui.”Suzannegaveitthe
Americanpronunciation.

Budputhispencildownandpinchedthebridgeofhisnose.“Honey,”hesaid,“you’regoingtohave

tomakesense.Helpmeouthere.What’s—whatwasthewordagain?”

“Twowords.FengShui.Itmeans‘WindandWater’.”
BudandJohnexchangedglances.
“Yourhouseiswindandwater?”Budasked,carefully.
Itwasgoodtohavesomethingtosmileabout.“It’stheancientChineseartofdecoratingaspaceto

makebestuseofenergyflows.TheChinesebelieveenergyflowsinspecificdirectionsandyouarrange
furniture and objects to direct that flow in beneficial ways. But it also means that furniture and objects
aren’tarrangedinconcentricboxeslikeintheWest.Themanfoundafootstoolwherehewasexpectinga
chair,andatablewherehewasexpectingnothingatall.”

She might as well have been speaking Chinese. Bud looked at his techs, at John, then shrugged.

“Okay. So you saw this guy stumbling around in the dark in your office, which is—“ he hesitated,
“whatever.Whatdidyoudothen?”

“IwentbackthroughtheroomsasquietlyasIcouldandcalledJohn.”
“WhyJohn?Whynotthepolice?Whynotme?”
Suzanneliftedashoulder.‘WhyJohn’wasevidentineverylineofJohn’sbigbody,inthefiercely

controlled grace of his every move. In the way he handled his gun, in the way his constant vigilance
ensurednothingcouldsurprisehim.WhyJohnwasclear.

John’seyeswerenarrowedashelookedather.Shecouldn’tbreatheproperlywhilehewasstaring

athersointently.Hishardjawwasdarkwithblackstubble.He’dbeencloseshaventhenightthey’dhad
dinnertogether.Hadhadsextogether.Hewasprobablyoneofthosemenwhoneededtoshavetwicea
day. The beard made him look even more disreputable, even more dangerous. The kind of man no one
crossed.

“Ithoughthemightbecloseby,”shewhispered.Johnhadstoppedhiscarefulquarteringoftheroom

andwasfocusedonher.She’dalmostforgottenthatfeelingofbeinginthepresenceofaforceofnature.
Now,thefocusofhisintentgaze,sheremembered.Sherememberedhowaliveshe’dfeltwalkingbyhis
side,howeverysinglepersonintherestauranthadfadedintoinsignificanceandhowhefilledherentire
field of vision. She remembered the ferocity of his kisses, the power of his hands on her, his penis
thrustinghotandhardinsideher.

Shealsorememberedthatfiercemomentinthecloset,oneofthosedefiningmomentsinaperson’s

life.Thatmomenttheplaneplunges,thecarslidesoutofcontrol,theearthshakes.Thatclearcoolviewof
lifeasyoumightbedying.

Inthatmoment,she’dwantedJohnHuntingtonbyhersidewitheveryfiberofherbeing.
Inthatmomentshe’dknownthathewouldcomeforherwithoutquestionandthathewoulddiefor

her.

Inthatmoment,sheknewthatinsomeprimalway,moreamatterofbloodandbonethanmindand

heart,shewashis.

“Ipunchedinthealarmcode,likeyoutoldme,”shesaidtoJohn.“Honest.Irememberdoingitwhen

Icamehome.Idon’tknowhowhegotin.”

“Whoa.” Bud stared at John. He shook his head. “I don’t believe this. That guy got past your

security?Tellmeit’snottrue.You’reslipping,MidnightMan.”

“Not my security,” John answered tightly. “I was going to install my system tomorrow. She had

XOL.”

“Okay. Whew. For a minute there I thought you’d lost your touch.” Bud scribbled some more then

lookedup.“Whatthen,honey?”

Suzannepushedherhairwearilyoutofhereyes.God,shewastired.Shewasonhersecondnight

withoutsleep.“IgotintouchwithJohn.Calledhimonmycellphone.Hesaidhewasafewblocksaway.
Hesaidtolockthedoors,andtogotomyclosetandwait.”Eyesclosed,sherememberedthosemoments,
filledwithpanicandfear.“SoIdid.”

Budturned.“John?”
Hiseyesweredarkandcold.Hisvoiceeven.“IgotthecallfromSuzanneatseventeenminutespast

midnight. She said she’d seen an intruder in the house, that he was armed. I was a few blocks away. I
parkedoutofviewofthebuildingandproceededtothefrontdoor.Thealarmsystemandphonelineshad
beendisabled.Ienteredthebuilding—“

“Wereyouarmedatthetime?”Budaskedsharply.
John’seyesglitteredlikeice.HejustlookedatBud.
“Okay,okay.”Budsaid.“Withwhat?”
“SigSauer.”
“Whydidn’tyouuseit?”
“In the end, I opted not to.” John shrugged a broad shoulder. “I thought he might be wearing body

armor.Whichhewas.Myweaponwouldhaveblownhisfaceaway.Ifhisprintsweren’tonfile,we’d
neverknowwhohewas.IusedmyK-Bar.”

Suzannecouldjustimaginethescene.Thedark,silentroom,Johnmovinglikeaghost,hisbigknife

whippingthroughtheair,theintruderclutchinghisthroat,crumplingtotheground,wheezinguselesslyfor
airwhilehisbloodpulsedandsprayed…

Budsighed.Hewassittinginmalemode—legsspreadwide,handsonknees,penandpaddangling

fromonebighand.Hesighedagain,slappedhisthighsandstoodup.

“Okay. Let’s take this down to the station house.” He gestured to the technicians. Two unfolded a

gurneyandliftedthedeadmanontoit.Hespoketothem.“Youguysgoteverything?”Theynodded.

John put his hand to Suzanne’s elbow and helped her out of the couch. He held her thick quilted

jacket.Suzannefittedherarmsintoitandheliftedherhairatthebackforher.Hishands—heavy,warm,
reassuring—lay on her shoulders while she zipped the jacket up. For just a second, Suzanne allowed
herselftoleanbackagainsthimalittle,savoringthestrengthandsteadinessofhim.

Johnsqueezedhershouldersgently,andthenliftedhishands.“Getyourthings,”hesaidquietly.
Shemadeawidecirclearoundthebloodstainsonthefloorandwheeledherlittlesuitcaseout.Bud

liftedaneyebrowandJohnshookhisheadsharply.Don’task,hislooksaid.

Oddly,Johndidn’thelpherwiththesuitcase.Itwasonfourwheels,soitwaseasyforhertopush.

Still,heseemedlikethekindofmanwhowouldn’tletawomandealwithluggage.

Thenheplacedhisleftarmaroundherwaist,pickeduphisbigblackgunandsheunderstood.He

wantedonehandonherandonehandonhisweapon.

Whatanoddlittleprocessiontheymadeastheytroopedoutside,Suzannethought.Budfirst,Suzanne

andJohntogether,thenthetechswiththebody,twocarryingthegurney,twoflankingit.Suzannestoodjust
outside the door, blinking. Two more police cars had joined the others haphazardly parked along her
street. Their lights were flashing and she could hear the squawk and hiss of the radio. Police officers
milledaround,theirlowvoicesmuffledinthethicknightair.Theywerealreadycordoningoffthehouse
withyellowpolicetape.

Thelightsnowfallhadleftwhitepatchesontheground.Itwasn’tsnowingnowbuttheairfeltheavy

anddamp.Itwouldsnowlater,maybeatdaybreakinafewhours.Suzanneliftedherheadandbreathedin
deep,tryingtodispelthesmellofviolentdeath.Theoxygenhelpedclearherbrain.Shefeltunreal,atthe
centerofasceneshe’dseenathousandtimesonTVbutneverimaginedwouldbepartofherlife.

Shewatchedtwotechniciansmaneuverthegurneydownthesteps.Thebody,zippedupinablack

plasticbag,shifted.Oneofthepoliceofficersreachedouttobraceitbeforeitcouldslipoff.

She’d never seen the dead man before. How strange that a perfect stranger should want her dead.

He’dcometokillher.Instead,hewastheoneleavingherhouseinabodybagandshewasstandingright
nexttothemanwho’dkilledhim.

SuzannelookedupatJohn.Hisarmwastightaroundherwaist,thoughhewasn’tlookingather.He

wasn’t looking at anything, really. His gaze raked the street, up and down, not focusing on anything in
particular,butSuzannecouldtellhewasintenselyawareofhissurroundings,ofeverythingandeveryone
onherstreet.Thenheturnedtolookatherandshefeltcaughtinthebeamofasearchlight.Amuscleinhis
jawjumpedandhepulledherevenmoretightlytowardhim,turnedslightlyinwards,hisgunhandfree.

Shestaredupathim,herbreathturningwhiteinthecold,minglingwithhis.
Budcameupbesideherandputahandonhershoulder.“Okay,hon,”Hesaid.“Getintheleadcar

and—“

“She’s coming with me.” John’s tone was non-negotiable as he spoke to Bud over her head. “I’ll

driveherdowntown.She’snotgettingoutofmysight.Notforasecond.”

Bud stared at him and John glared back. Bud’s shoulders lifted. “Okay. It doesn’t make that much

differencewhodrivesher.Weneedtotalktoyou,too,anyway,asyoucanimagine.Youknowtheaddress
ofheadquarters?”

Johnnodded.
“Wait,” Suzanne said. “My house.” The intruder had broken her alarm system. Her building was

vulnerable.“Wecan’tjustleaveitlikethis.”

Johnunderstoodandsqueezedherwaist.“Thepolicewillpostaguard.Nothingwillhappentoyour

house.”HespearedBudwithahardlook.“Willit?”

Bud’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Yeah, okay, sure. I can spare an agent, and of course we’re

puttinguppolicetape.Noonewilltouchyourhouse.You’llfindallyourknickknackswhenyougetback,
orClairewillhavemyhead.It’llstillbeFong—”hehesitated.

“Feng Shui.” Suzanne tried to smile past her sadness. It wasn’t true. Her wonderful home, which

she’dlaboredoveranddreamedaboutandworkedon,wasn’tFengShuianymore,wasn’tintunewith
wind and water. The harmony of her home had been broken, the energy shattered. Her refuge had been
violated.Shewonderedifshewouldeverfeelsafethereagain.

“Right.Whatever.”Budwatchedthebodybeingliftedupintoavanwhichhadpulleduptothecurb.

“Let’stakethisdowntown.We’vegotalongnightaheadofus.”Helookedupatthestill-darkskythen
downathiswatch.Itwasthreea.m.“Ormorning.I’lllead,John.Youfollowme.”

“Thiswaytothecar,”Johnmurmuredtoheroncetheywereoutsidethegate.Heturnedleftandshe

pulled her suitcase behind her. She felt foolish with the wheels trundling along behind her. John hadn’t
volunteeredwhyhewantedhertopackasuitcaseandshedidn’tdareaskhim.Notwithhimsointensely
focusedontheirsurroundings.Timeenoughforthatlater.

Hewasscanningtheemptynightsky,thedarkbuildings,thedesertedstreets.Buttherewasnothing

to see. It was so late not even the streetwalker twins were out. Or maybe they were in the St. Regis,
plyingtheirtrade.

Astheypassedbythedilapidatedhotel,shewonderedwhereJohn’sYukonwas.He’dparkeditout

ofsight,hesaid.Whycouldn’ttheytakehercar?Itwasworkinglikeadreamnow,thankstohim.

Car.Sheslowed.Theycouldn’ttakehercar.She’dchangedpursesthiseveningandleftherdriver’s

license, together with two charge cards, on her vanity table. That wasn’t good. Even if they posted an
officeratthedoor,itwasn’tsmarttokeepdocumentsandcreditcardsoutinplainsight.Nottomention
thefactthatshe’dprobablyneedsomeformofIDatthepolicestation.Suzanneturnedback.

Ithappenedallatonce.
Therewasacoughingsoundandshefelthercheeksting.NotevenasecondlaterJohnslammedinto

her,crushingheragainstthewall,knockingthebreathoutofher.Shetriedtogetherbreathback,toask
himwhathewasdoing,buthisbroadbacksqueezedher,hard,againstthewall.

Hisarmliftedandsheheardtwoloudnoises,soclosetogetherittookherasecondtorealizethere

weretworeports,soloudtheydeafenedher.Shewasdazed,pinnedagainstthewall,unabletoseepast
him. She realized with a sense of shock that John had fired into a building. She peered around him,
followingthedirectionofhisarm.He’dfiredintotheSt.Regis.He’dfiredashot—no,twoshots—intoa
hotel!GoodGod,hemighthavekilledsomeone!

“John!”Budshoutedashecametowardthematadeadrun.Hereachedbeneathhiscoatandpulled

outagunasheran.“Whatthehell’sthematterwithyou,man!That’sahotel!Haveyougonecrazy?”

Johngrabbedherarmandpulledherforward,keepinghimselfbetweenherandthewall.Allthreeof

them looked up at the sound of shattered glass and cracking wood. A body leaned out of the broken
windowframeofasecondstoryroomintheSt.Regis.Itmovedslowlyatfirst,thengatheredspeedasit
tumbled to the ground. For a second, a man had been silhouetted against the porch lights and the long
deadlyrifleintheman’shandwasclearlyvisible.Aswastheshatteredhead,amassofbloodandbrains.

Suzannestood,shocked,andutteredalittlecry.
“Comeon.”John’shandpulledather,hard.Hemovedquicklyandshewasforcedtokeeppace.She

slidalittleonapatchoficeandhehalf-liftedherashesteadiedher.“Thatwasthesecondshooter,Bud!”
heshoutedoverhisshoulder,runningandpullingheralong.“Digthebulletoutofthewallifyoudon’t
believeme.Yougoddamnedfindoutwhat’sgoingon,youhearme,man?Untilyoudo,you’renotseeing
heragain!”

“Wait!”Budyelled,hisvoiceechoingintheemptystreet.“Whereareyoutakingher?”
ButJohnhadroundedthecorneratarun.Suzannehadtoworkatkeepingup,dragginghersuitcase.

Shocked,shaken,shetripped.Withoutbreakinghisstride,Johnbentandliftedherintohisarms,suitcase
andall,andcontinuedrunning.AblockdownSingerStreetshecouldseetheYukon.Hehadhisremote
out,unlockingthedoorsasheran.Injustafewseconds,he’dshovedherintothepassengerseat,rounded
thevehicleandtakenoffwiththesoundofrubberburning.

Suzanne sobbed once, then with a shudder controlled herself. The last thing John needed at this

momentwasahystericalwoman.Hewasdrivingdangerouslyfastdownthedarkstreets.Hishandswere
strongonthewheel,buttheyweregoingataspeedwhichwouldbefataliftheycameacrossanothercar.
Hiseyesflickedcontinuouslytotherearviewandsideviewmirrors.

“Fastenyourseatbelt,”hesaid,hisvoicecalm,remote.Handstrembling,Suzannedidwhathesaid,

tuckinghersuitcaseinthefootwellsoitwouldn’tbouncearound.

Hegunnedthroughanintersection.
“Hold on tight,” he said coolly, hitting the brakes and twisting the steering wheel. Suzanne was

thrownviolentlytotheright,heldinplaceonlybytheseatbelt.Shebitherliptokeepfromscreamingas
theywentintoalongskid.Shebracedherselfforthecrash,whichnevercame.Thesquealofthetireswas
loudinthesilenceofthenightandthesmellofburningrubberdriftedintothecab.Itwasclear,however,
that John was in perfect control of the vehicle as he fought the wheel, pumping the brakes in a smooth
rhythmicprogression.HebroughttheSUVaroundfacingthedirectionthey’dcomein,executinga180°
turninamatterofseconds,andacceleratedbackdownthestreet.

She’dneverseendrivinglikethatbefore,wherethedriverwasanextensionofthevehicle.John’s

gazewentfromthestreetahead,totherearviewmirrortothesidemirror,inregularsweeps.Shehadto
braceherselfagainstthedoorasheracedthroughthestreets,takingcornersintightturns.

“Isanyonefollowingus?”Suzannewasproudthathervoicewassteady.
“No, we’re clear,” John replied, eyes searching the road ahead. His deep voice was remote,

dispassionate. He could have been reporting on the weather—it’s stopped raining now, instead of no
killersarefollowingus.

Hehadsloweddownalittle,drivingsteadilytowardtheoutskirtsofthecity,finallypassingthecity

limits.Therewerenostreetlightsthisfarfromtownandhisfacewasilluminatedonlybythelightsonthe
dashboard.Theyhighlightedtherigidlineofthejaw,thebrutalslashofcheekbones,thestrongbrow.

He’d killed two men tonight. He’d done it defending her, but he had two deaths on his hands,

nonetheless.Hewasawarrior,itwaspartofwhathedid.Suzannehadnoideahowmanyothermenhe’d
killed, but something about the lethal air he carried with him like an aura told her that there had been
others.

She was alone in a car with a man who could kill. Who had killed. Who—if her reading of his

vigilancewascorrect—wasperfectlypreparedtokillagain.Shehadonlythefaintestglimmeringsofwho
and what he was, but he was something so far outside her normal life he might as well have been a
Martianwhohadlandedinaspaceship.

Yetasremovedfromherashewas,hewasthepersonshe’dinstinctivelyturnedtointrouble.Itwas

asifthesexthey’dhad—fastandfuriousandrough—hadsomehowforgedabondthatwasbonedeep.

Modern-day sex was supposed to be light-hearted, with no consequences if you took precautions,

thoughshewincedatthethoughtthattheyhadn’ttakenprecautions.Still,thiswasthetwenty-firstcentury,
andtwounattachedadultsshouldhavebeenabletohavesexcasually.Casual,mutuallypleasingsex.

SexwithJohnhadbeennothingatalllikethat.Ithadbeenearthshattering,sointenseshethoughtshe

wouldfaintwhileclimaxing.She’dbarelysleptsincethenandhadhardlyeaten.Thatwasn’tatallwhat
modernsexwasabout.Modernsexwasaboutflirtingandkeepingitcool.

Notsomethingsoprimitiveitseemedtohavecomefromthedawnofmankind,wheremenclubbed

womenanddraggedthemtotheirlair,thenprotectedthemwithbaredteethandclaws.

SomeprimitiveinstincttoldherthatincallingJohntocometoheraid,she’dcrossedadangerous,

invisibleline.She’dgivenherselfovertohiscare.She’dgivenherselfovertohim.

Somethingimportanthadchanged,someturningpointinherlifehadcome.Shewastooshocked,too

scaredtofollowthroughtheramificationsofeverythingthathadhappened,butonethingwasclear.She
was now in John Huntington’s hands. In the hands of a man she knew nothing about, save that he could
kill.Easilyandwithoutremorse.

Suzannelookedathishardprofileandshivered.
Afewsecondslater,hepulledtothesideoftheroad.
Theyhadbeentravelingdownitforoverhalfanhour.Itwasdesertedandunfamiliar.Thelastcar

theypassedhadbeenfifteenminutesago.Johngotout,bentbrieflyoverthefrontfenderandthentheback
fender.Inaminuteortwo,hewasbackbehindthewheel,foldingasoftbeigeblanketaroundher.

“There you go,” he said. The deep voice was low, almost gentle. Suzanne stared into his dark

fathomlesseyesforalongmoment.Holdinghergaze,hewipedhercheekwithacleanhandkerchiefhe
tookoutofhispocket.Itcameawaystainedwithblood.Withastartofsurprise,sherealizedthatshe’d
beencut.Byashardspinningawayfromthewall,propelledbytheforceofthebullet.Shehadn’tfeltitup
untilnow,probablyshockhaddulledhersenses,butnowhercheekstung.

Wonderful.Ifshecouldfeelthestingofpain,itmeantshewasalive.
“Thankyou,”shewhispered,meaningmorethanfortheblanketandthehandkerchief.Henoddedand

startedtheengine.Theheatwasonfullblast,butshehuddledgratefullyintheblanket,chilledtothebone
fromshockandsleeplessness.Theydroveon,endlessly.

Suzanne was quiet, lulled by the dark empty road. They started climbing and she stirred in the

darkness.

“Wherearewegoing?”sheaskedquietly.
Johnlookedatherbrieflythenturnedhisattentionbacktotheroad.
“Wherenoonewilleverfindyou,”hesaid.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Suzanneawokewithajolt,dry-mouthedanddazed,astheYukontookthelastofaseriesofhairpinturns
androckedtoastop.Shesatup,bangingherelbowagainstthedoor,disoriented,pushingherhairoutof
her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d dozed or even what time it was. Her watch was back in the
bedroom,togetherwithherlostserenityandthebrokenbitsofwhathadoncebeenherlife.

Allgone.
Shewastootiredtothinkcoherently,butshedidn’tneedlogictotellherthatherentireexistencehad

beenrippedtoshreds.Herhome—hersanctuary,herrefuge—wasnolongersafe.She’dhadtoabandonit
inthemiddleofthenight.Someonehadcomeintheheartofthenighttokillherandshehadnoideawho,
andnoideawhy.

Untilsheknew,untilshecouldbesurethenameless,facelessthreatwasgone,therewasnogoing

back.

Herlifewasshattered,wipedoutinafewmoments.Therewasnopast,nofuture.Howeverhardshe

tried,shecouldn’tseebeyondthenextfiveminutes.Therewasonlythehereandthenow.

She’d dozed fitfully in the Yukon, the result more of exhaustion and overload than sleepiness.

Somethinginsideherbalkedattheideaofgivingherselfovertotheunconsciousnessofdeepsleep,so
she’ddrowsedoffandon,half-druggedwithfearandshock,completelyadriftasJohndrovetheYukon
overunfamiliarroads.

Where were they? She had no idea, except probably high in the mountains. They’d been climbing

steadilyforhours.Theskywasthepearlygrayofcoldmornings;lightenoughtoseebybutnotenoughto
allowperspective.

Ashacklayafewyardsahead.Asimplewoodenstructure,squareandunwelcoming.Johnkilledthe

engine,plungingthemintoaneeriesilence.

Johnturnedinhisseat,wideshouldersblockingtheviewoftheskyouthiswindow.“We’rehere.”

Hisvoicewaslowandcalm.

He seemed so huge in the cab of the vehicle, one strong arm draped over the wheel, big hand

dangling.ShetriedandfailedtowipetheimageoftheintruderwithJohn’sknifethroughhisthroatfrom
hermind.Thespraysofbloodonthefloorandthewalls,thelingeringsmellofcopperybloodandfetid
death.Thesoundofthecracklingglassasthesniperfelltohisdeathwithtwobulletsthroughhisheadand
thewetthumpashelanded.Nomatterhowhardshetried,thesightsandsoundsstayedfrontandcenterof
hermind,jarring,shocking.

Johnmovedandthehairsonthenapeofherneckrose,buthewasonlyshiftingtoopenthedoor.He

jumped lightly down and came around to open her door. He reached for her, big hands up. She leaned
forward,bracingherhandsonhisshoulders,feelingthebankedstrengththereasheeasedherdown.Her
feettouchedtheground,butshekeptherhandsonhimforamomentlonger,anchoringherselftotheonly
solidthinginaworldgonesuddenlyinsane.

Theystaredateachother,whitebreathsminglinginthecoldmorningair.Hemovedhisheadtoward

the shack. “Come on. It’s too cold to stay out here. We need to get you settled in.” He picked up her

suitcasewithonehandandtookherelbowwiththeother.

Yes,theywereinthemountains,shethought,astheytrampedupthemakeshiftdrivewayfullofloose

gravel. The air felt thin and clean and brittle, laced with the unmistakable tang of miles and miles of
uninterrupted pine trees. The few inches of snow on the ground looked like ice. They stepped up to a
woodenporch.Johnopenedthefrontdoorandgesturedherinside.

Small,austere,unadorned.Asofa,twomismatchedarmchairs,adiningtable,asmallcleanhearth,

andakitchenette.Barewoodenwalls.Spare,cold,bleak.Amustysmellpermeatedtheshack.

“Thisway,”Johnsaidandopenedadoor.Itgaveontoabedroom,asspareastheotherroom.Justa

bed and a rocking chair. He dropped her suitcase on the floor and gestured to a door to the left.
“Bathroom’sthroughthere.Isuggestyouwashupandchangeintoyournightgown.YoumustbetiredandI
thinkafewhours’sleepinabedwoulddoyougood.Comeoutwhenyou’reready.I’llturntheheaton
andmakeyousometea.”

HedisappearedandSuzanneliftedhercaseontothebed.Luckily,someinstincthadmadeherpack

twohigh-neckedflannelnightgowns.Theywerewarmandcomfortableandaboveall,notrevealing.She
likedfrillysexysilknightgowns,butnowwasdefinitelynotthetimeforfrillsorsilk.Orsex.

She felt raw enough as it was, on the run and alone with this large, dangerous man. Fleeing from

someunknown,unseendanger.

SheknewJohnwouldn’tforcehimselfintoherbed,butshe’dprovedtoherselftheothernightthat

shehadafatalweaknessforthisman.Ifheasked,she’dsayyes.Shewascoldfromthebonesoutandsex
withJohnwasguaranteedtowarmherup,takeheroutofherself,makeherforget.She’dclimaxedinan
explosionofheattheothernight.KissingJohn,feelinghishardbodyagainsthers,inhers,ohyes,thatwas
guaranteedtomakeherforgethertroubles.Butsexrightnow,whenshefeltsoshaky,sounsettled,would
bedisastrous.

She’dnearlycomeapartattheexplosiveorgasm,leavingherweakandoutofcontrol.She’dflyinto

amillionpiecesnowthattheshardsofherlifelayinaheapatherfeet.

Amuffledwhumptoldherthathe’dswitchedontheheating.Bythetimeshe’dusedthebathroom,

scrubbed her face clean, brushed her teeth and changed into her pink flannel nightgown, the air was
alreadystartingtoheatup.Good.Sheneededthewarmth.

Hewassittingatthetable,twosteamingmugsofdarkliquidbeforehim.Helookedherquicklyup

anddown,seeminglysatisfiedwithwhathesaw,andpushedamugovertoher.“Drink.Thenwe’lltalk.”

Suzanne picked it up, nose wrinkling at the smell. She took a sip and coughed, eyes watering. “Is

thereanyteaatallinthiswhiskey?”

Hismouthliftedinahalfsmile.“Verylittle,”heconfessed.“Teaisforwusses.”
Mustbe,becausetherewasn’tmuchinhercup.Suzannesippedagainandfoundonthesecondtry

thatthehottea-flavoredwhiskeywentdownlikeadream,warmingherallthewaydown,curlingintoher
stomachandchasingthecoldnessaway.

Thewarmthkick-startedherbrain.Shelookedaroundthebleak,sad,littleroom,thenbackatJohn.

He’d abandoned the teacup and was drinking his whiskey straight, from a glass. That was a good sign.
Johnstruckherasthekindofmanwhowouldneverdrinkalcoholifhefeltdangerwasimminent,butshe
wantedtobecertain.

“Wherearewe?”
“NearMountHood.TheclosesttownisForkintheRoad,aboutthreemilesaway.”
Fork in the Road. The name was familiar. She had a vague memory of someone mentioning it at a

cocktailparty,laughingashedescribedit,somedinkyone-horsetown.

She looked down into her mug for a moment, the tea muddy and unclear. Like her life. “Are we

safe?”sheaskedquietly.

He drained the glass, never taking his eyes off her. “Safe? Yeah.” He poured another finger of

whiskeyintohermugandgesturedforhertodrinkit,waitinguntilshe’dchokeditdown.“Absolutely.To
findus,they’dhavetolookforme,butIdon’tthinkanybodybesidesBudknowswe’reconnected.Unless
youcheckedmeoutwithanyoneelseonthatlistIgaveyou?”Heraisedaneyebrow.

“No,”shesighed,“Ididn’t.Bud’swordwasenough.”
“Remind me when all this is over to chew you out for that. You should have checked me out with

everyone,butgiventhecircumstances,I’mgladyoudidn’t.”

“Unlikeyou,I’mnotconstantlyonthelookoutfordanger,”Suzannesaiddryly.
“Yeah,well,ifyou’dbeenmorelikemethenmaybewewouldn’tbeinthismessinthefirstplace.”
Suzanneopenedhermouththenclosedit,appalled.Whatwastheretosay?Hewasright.
“Sorry,”hemuttered,amusclejumpinginhisjaw.“Thatwaswayoutofline.”Hepouredhimself

another shot of whiskey and drank it in one swallow, like water. “So let’s get back to risk assessment.
Nobodyknowsyou’rewithme.Wehadn’tsignedtheleaseyetandanywayI’mgoingtomakesureBud
won’tletanyoneinthehousetogothroughourstuff,getmyname.I’malmostcertaintherewereonlytwo
killers.That’sstandardprocedurewhenyouwanttowipeyourtracks.Thesecondshooter’stheretokill
thefirstanderasetheconnection.

“Iparkedwelloutofsightofyourstreet,butjustincasethesecondshootermanagedtonoticemy

vehicleandcalleditintowhoeverhisbossis,Ichangedthelicenseplatenumbers.AndImadedamned
surenobodywasfollowingus.”

Sheblinked.“Youchanged…what?”
John shrugged. “I keep several spare sets of plates in the back. They come in handy from time to

time.”

“Butisn’tthatillegal?Drivingwithfalselicenseplates?”
Heshruggedagain,notevenbotheringtoanswer.
“Iownallthelandforseveralmilesaround,”hecontinued.“Thelandisregisteredinthenameofa

shellcompany.Itwouldtakeaverydeterminedandveryskillfulpersonseveralweekstogettomyname,
assumingheknewwhathewaslookingfor.Andeventhen,Ihackedintothelandregisterandchangedthe
data, so they’d be looking fifty miles west, in a state park. The perimeter’s got trip wires and I know
wheneveranythingbiggerthanarabbitgetsthrough.Soyes,”heconcluded.“We’reassafeaswe’llever
be. We could probably stay holed up here forever, though I’m counting on finding out what’s going on
beforethat.”

Suzannejuststaredandstared,feelingmorethaneverasifshe’dsteppedintoanalternateuniverse.

Andyet,deepinsideherselfsheknew.

Shehadn’t,likeAlice,fallendownarabbithole.Thiswasn’tanalternateworld.Itwasthisworld,

as it really is, as it has always been. Dirty and dangerous and violent. She’d spent her entire lifetime
avoidingthisreality,steepingherselfinprettythings,frettingovercolorsandshapesandtextures,maybe
inaneffortnottothinkaboutwhattheworldwasreallylike.

Lookwhatithadgother,hidingherheadinthesand.Pretty,perfumedsand,taupeandecru,butsand

allthesame,andherheadsunkwaydowninit.

Shehadn’tseendangercomingatall.
Itwasentirelypossiblethatifshe’dtakenjusthalfthecareininstallingapropersecuritysystemin

thebuildingthatshe’dtakenwiththecolorscheme,noneofthiswouldhavehappened.Therewouldn’t
have been an intruder. She wouldn’t be here—wherever here was—holed up, hiding from God knows
what and God knows who, having endangered the life of a good man and dragged him away from his
growingbusiness.

He’dcomerunningtoherrescuewithouthesitationandifhehadn’tbeensoskilled,itwouldhave

been his blood staining her hardwood floor, his head a bloody pulp. Now he was here with her, and
plainlyhewasplanningonstayingwithherforaslongasittook.HowlonguntilBudwasabletofigure

outwhatwasgoingon?

Days?Weeks?Months?Yearsmaybe?
Whathadshedone?Herthroatclosedtightwithguiltandsorrow.
Sheputhermugdownwithaclatter.“I’msosorry,”shewhispered,unshedtearsburninginhereyes.
Hewassippingfromhisglass.Heswallowedheavily,coughed.“What?You’resorry?Whatthehell

for?”Helookedgenuinelyastonished,whichmadeherfeelevenworse.

Suzannebitherlip.Iwillnotcry,Iwillnotcry.“I’msorryforinvolvingyouinthismess,John.And

Idon’tevenknowwhatthemessis.I’msorryforendangeringyourlife,I’msorryyouhadtokillsomeone
—twosomeones—forme.I’msorryifyou’regoingtohavetroublewiththelawbecauseofwhatyoudid
forme.I’msorry…“

“Whoa. Wait a second.” He held up a large-palmed hand and frowned. “You’re not making sense

here.”

“I’msorryIwasn’tanyhelptoyou.I’vealwaysmeanttotakeself-defensecoursesbutInevergot

around to it, and if you want to know the truth, I am a total wimp. I can’t even face up to Murphy the
garageownerjerkandbytheway,Ineverthankedyouforpickingupmycar.I’msorryyouhadtodeal
with Murphy for me, that’s never pleasant. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to do anything but cower in a
closet,”shecontinued,pastthehugelumpinherthroat.“I’msorryIwasn’tabletodefendmyselfandhad
tocallintheMarines.Well,theSEALs.”Shegaveachokedlaugh,cuttingitoffbeforeitcouldbecomea
sob.“I’msosorryIforcedyouintohiding,sorryyouhavetostayholedupherewithme,sorry…just…
sorry.”Shecoveredherfacewithtremblinghands.Shewasflyingapart,shaking,takingdeepbreathsto
holdherselftogether.

“Fuck this,” John snarled, pushing back his chair so hard it fell to the dusty wooden floor with a

clatter, and scooped her up. He held her high in his arms, moving quickly into the bedroom. He didn’t
switchonthelight.Justsatdownonthechair,holdingher,andbegantorock.

Suzanneturnedherfacetohisneck,nolongerbotheringtofightthetearsthatwelledoutofher.He

heldherinsilence,tightly,probablyrealizingthatshedidn’tneedwordsatall.Sheneededthis, human
contact,humanwarmth.Aconnection,howevertenuous,withhisstrengthandcourage.

Onelargehandcoveredthebackofherhead,anotherheldhertightlyaroundthewaistanditwasas

ifshehadpermissiontoletitallgo.ThroughoutitallJohnsimplyheldhersotightlyshecouldfeelhis
chest lifting and falling with his deep, even breathing. She could hear, even feel, the slow steady
heartbeats,steadyandstrongjustlikehewasanditgraduallycalmedher.

When the bout ended, she felt dazed and exhausted. Fatigue and whiskey had demolished her

defenses.Shecouldn’thavemovedifherlifedependedonit.

Her arms were tightly wound around his neck. If she was choking him, he wasn’t complaining.

Maybe he was uncomfortable sitting there with her on his lap but he didn’t say anything, just held her
close.Howmuchtimehadgoneby?Shehadnoidea.Shestirred,tryingtomustertheenergytogetup,but
hisarmtightenedandsheslumpedbackagainsthim.

Herhipcameupagainsthiserection,hugeandhardandshequivered.Sherememberedeverysecond

ofhispenisinsideher,howhe’dthrustwiththewholestrengthofhisbody,howshe’dflownapart.

Hewasn’tthrustingupagainstherinsexualdemand,buthewasn’thidingiteither.Itwasthere—he

wasaroused,buthewasn’tpushingforsex.

OhGod,shecouldn’tdealwithanyofthis.Sexanddeath.Deathandsex.Itwastoomuch.Herbody

simplygaveupthefight.Sleepwasfallingasswiftlyasnightinthetropics.Butbeforeshefellasleepin
hisarms,therewassomethinghehadtoknow.

“I’mgladyouwerethere,”shewhisperedagainsthisneck,herlipsmovingacrosshisskininwhat

wasalmostakiss.

“SoamI,”hewhisperedback.

CHAPTERNINE

She’d fallen asleep like a child, from one breath to the next, John thought. He himself didn’t have any
experience with children, but that’s what his married buddies always told him. Kids could drop off to
sleepinaninstant,justlikethat,theysaid.

ExceptSuzannewasnochild.Hisraginghard-onwasveryclearonthat.
Shethoughtthatshecouldhideherselffromhiminsideahigh-neckedflannelnightgown,buthell,she

couldn’thideinsideaburlapbag.She’dstillbetotallydesirable.High-neckedthegownmighthavebeen,
but the shape of her breasts—her braless breasts—was clearly visible, the tight little nipples outlined
againsttheprettypinkfabric.Itwasthecoldmakinghernippleshard,notthoughtsofhavingsexwithhim.
So he managed—barely—to keep from tossing her onto the bed, ripping the nightgown in two and
crawlingontopofher.Openingherwithhisfingersandslidinghiscockrightin.

Heknewexactlywhatbeinginsideherfeltlikeandhewantedmore.Rightnow.
Partofitwashisobsessionwithher,thaticeprincessairshehadwhichcontrastedsosharplywith

the curvy femininity, the luscious, slightly overlarge mouth, perfect creamy skin, large, slightly uptilted
eyes…

Butpartofitwasadrenaline.Hewascomingdownfromafirefightandextractionandthatalways

madehimhardasarock.

Itwasanaspectofsoldieringthatdidn’tfigureinHollywoodmoviesorTomClancynovels.Movies

showedmensmoking,laughing,high-fivingeachotherafterbattle,butthetruthwasthatmenafterbattle
werestrungout,grim,tenseandshaking,sportingwoodiesashardasrocks.Willingtofuckaknotholein
thewalltogetitoutoftheirsystem.

Everysoldierintheworldknewit,knewthatsurvivingafightrequiredsexafterwards—hardand

fastandfurious—tobleedoffthetension.Abarracksafteratakedownwassofilledwithtestosteroneyou
could smell it, it fogged the air so much. Soldiers had hard-ons after fights and that was a fact of life.
Some would get it on with a female goat if a woman wasn’t around, but he’d always drawn the line at
anythingkinky.Ifasemi-attractiveandwillingwomanwasn’tavailable,hisfistworkedjustfine.

He had a more than semi-attractive woman in his arms right now and his hips surged upwards

reflexively as his dick, all on its own, sought to enter her. She was right there, legs across his lap, ass
rightoverhisdick.Throughthenightgownhecouldfeelthelittlescrapofmaterialoverherhip.Probably
acopyofthoseincrediblysexylittlelacepantieshe’drippedoffhertheothernight,inhisfrantichasteto
getinsideher.Rightnow,rightnow,goddamnit,hecouldpullthesoftflannelup,ripherpantiesoffagain
—he’dhavetostartbuyingherunderwearbytheton—spreadherlegsuntilshestraddledhimandthrust
rightupintoher,andshe’dbesweetandtightandsmoothandallhis…

Jesus.
Herememberedeverysecondhisdickhadbeeninher,everythingaboutit.Thetightness,theheat,

thewetness…she’dbeenthinkingaboutsexjustasmuchashehadoverdinner.

Suzannesighedinhersleep,shiftingslightly,slitheringoverhisdick.Hefroze.Sweatbrokeouton

hisface,thoughtherewasstillaslightchillintheairtheheatingsystemhadn’tmanagedtodispel.

Agoodsoldiervisualized,runningwhathewantedtodothroughhisheaduntilhecouldseeandfeel

the moves, until the moves were second nature, running a successful future battle through his mind so
manytimesthatbythetimetherealthingrolledaround,theopwentdownsmoothasice.

Johnwasdamnedgoodatvisualizing,atprojectinghimselfforwardintimetoanop,goingoverthe

detailsagainandagain.Itwasn’tsomethinghecouldturnoff,justlikehecouldn'tturnoffhisabilityto
prepareforfuturedangerorcounteringdangerwhenhemetit.

Rightnowhewasvisualizinglikecrazy.Visualizingdoingallthethingstoherhehadn’thadtimeto

dotheothernightbecausehe’dbeennearlyhalf-crazywithlust.Notthathewasn’tinthesamestateright
now.TherehadtobesomepointinthefutureinwhichhewasgoingtobeabletomakelovetoSuzanne
Barroninsteadoffuckingherblind.Whenhe'dhadherenoughtimestoassuagethisburninghunger,when
he’dcomeinsideheroftenenoughthathecouldsavorthefeelofherinsteadofcravingit…thenmaybe
he’dsettledownsome.

Maybe.
But he’d already been too rough the other night and that was without post-fight adrenaline raging

throughhissystem.Nowhesuspectedhe’dhurther.Enterhertooquickly,thrusttoohard,Jesusmaybe
evenbiteher.

Thatthoughtmadehimbackdownalittle.
Somewomenlikedroughsex.Johnknewthatforafactandhe’dhadhisshareofthem.Womenwho

bitandscratched,whodidn’tmindbeingsoreafterwards.Whogotoffonbarelycontrolledviolence.

Thatwasn’tSuzanne.She’dbeenshockedtheothernightattheroughness,thoughmaybeshe’dbeen

shockedatherreaction,too.Andwhatareaction.Herememberedeveryrippleofhersheathcontracting
sharplyaroundhim.Herexcitedpants,thedilatedpupils.

No,hemighthavemadehercome,explosivelyeven,butroughsexwasn’therthing.
Andrightnowhewasn’tcapableofanythingbutroughsex.
Hewasn’ttheonlyonecomingdownoffanadrenalinehigh.She’dshownclearsignsofitwiththe

desperate,franticapologiesandthecrying.Shedidn’thavetherightequipmentforahard-on,buttears
bledoutstress,too.

He looked down at her in his arms, a tear still drying on that high perfect cheekbone, crystal over

purestwhitemarble.

Jesusbutthewomanwasgorgeous.She’dbeenenticingwhenthey’dmet,andhe’dbeenblownaway

by the sleekly beautiful confident woman—successful, completely together—across the desk. But the
woman in his arms, now—bedraggled, without makeup, eyes swollen with tears—that woman was a
heartbreaker.Hewantedher,everywaytherewas.

He rose with her in his arms and curved down to put her in the bed. She barely stirred when he

tuckedherinandhestoodforalongmoment,watchinghersleep.Feelingthingsshiftinginsidehim,things
hehadnowordsfor.Theonlythingheremotelyrecognizedamongstthethousandemotionsrollinginside
himself was lust. He had a steel hard-on and he headed, relieved, for the bathroom because at least he
knewwhattodoaboutthat.

Hehadnofriggingcluewhattodoabouthisheartbutheknewexactlywhattodoabouthisdick.
Luckilyhekeptspareclothesuphereinhismountainhideaway.He’dboughttheplacehissecond

weekinPortland.Justashackwithabig,insulatedcellar,whichwasthemainreasonhe’dgotit.

He’d decorated it in exactly one extremely painful and clueless hour at the closest Wal-Mart,

choosing the first pieces of furniture he’d come across, not knowing what the hell he was doing, and
havingthreebeersafterwardstocalmhisnerves.

Hestripped,leavinghisclotheswiththeirfunkofthesweatofbattleonthefloorandgotunderthe

shower.Thewaterwasonlyluke-warmbutthatwasokay.Heshouldhaveacoldshower,actually,buthe
wassufferingenoughasitwas.

Herehewas,nakedandraringtogo,SuzanneBarronwasinhisbednottenfeetfromhereandthere

wasn’tadamnedthinghecoulddoaboutit.Ifthatwasn’ttorture,hedidn’tknowwhatwas.

Hedroppedhishandtohisgroin,andremembered.
Shehadalittlechocolatebeautyspotrightnexttoherear.He’dlickeditashewastakingher.Then

he’dlickedherearandshemoanedandithadbeenasifhe’dhadanothergearandshe’dkickedit.He’d
almostdoubledthespeedofhisstrokesbeforethemoanhadfinisheditsecho.

Hisheartpoundedandhishandworkedasherememberedeveryinchofher,thetasteofhernipples,

hertongueagainsthis,thesoftash-brownpubichaircoveringhermound.He’ddonehersohardthatif
sheshavedthereassomewomendid,histrouserswouldhaveabradedtheskin.

Hisfistwasworkinghardandfastnow,pumping,asherememberedhertightness,howherbreath

hadexplodedinalittlepuffwitheachthrust,howsomehowhalfwaythroughshe’dmanagedtoopenher
legsevenwiderforhim,howhe’dclutchedherperfectass,tryingtopullherclosertohim,evenashe
waspoundingintohersoharditwasamiraclethewallheld.

She’dscreamed,hervoicemuffledbyhiscoat,asshecame.AsJohnrememberedinexquisitedetail

howhe’dfuckedherthroughherclimaxbeforeexplodinghimself,hecouldfeelthepricklesinthebacks
of his legs, rising up through his spine. His dick swelled and he leaned one-handedly against the wall,
weak-kneedandbreathless,ashecameinonelongendlessspurt.

He stayed under the shower for a long time, leaning against his hand, head bowed under the now-

coldwaterthinking—I’mindeepshit.

Hewasintrouble—realbadtrouble—ifjerkingofftothethoughtofSuzanneBarronwastentimes

moreexcitingthanactuallyhavingsexwithanyotherwoman.

****

“Okay,Bud,talktome.”Johnleanedbackintherollingleatherchairholdinganuntraceablesatellite

cellphonetohisear.

Whenhe’dfelthislegswouldholdhimup—andthathadtakenmoretimethanhewascomfortable

thinkingabout—he’dpulledonablackteeshirtandfadedgraysweatpantsandpaddedbarefootintothe
livingroom.Nudgingasidethecheapsupermarketrug,he’dreacheddownandputhisthumbtoascanner.
Abluesteelpanelopenedupseamlessly,whileastainlesssteelladderstretcheddowntothefloorofthe
cellar.

As always, John felt a glow of satisfaction entering his little high-tech lair. Upstairs he sort of

realizedthattheshackwasbleakthoughhehadnofriggingcluewhattodoaboutit,butdownstairsinthe
cellar—well,everythingwastopofthelinethere,asperfectasitcouldbe.He’dhadaccesstothebestin
theworldintheTeamsanddamnedifhewasgoingtosettleforlessincivilianlife.

Downstairswashislittleplayground,rowafterrowofgleamingelectronics,monitors,keyboards,

gizmosandwidgetsuptheyin-yang.Younameit,hehadit.

He’dwaiteduntilSuzannehadfallenasleepbeforeheadingdownheretohisspykingdom.Shewas

spooked enough as it was, without seeing that he had what looked like Houston Mission Control down
here.

Hewasperfectlyawarethatmostcivilianswereabsolutelycluelessaboutthedangersoftheworld,

thebigscarythingsoutthere.He’dtrainedforvigilancehisentirelifeanditwasnowasmuchapartof
himasbreathing.

Butifyouweren’tasoldier,ifyourlifedidn’tdependonfanaticattentiontodetailandanunderlying

awarenessthatenemieswereoutthereandcouldstrikeatanytime,ifnothingbadhadeverhappenedto
you,whythenhecameoffasatotallyparanoidfreak.Anumberofwomenhadbeencompletelyturnedoff
byhisconstantawarenessofdanger,theprecautionshetook.

The way he wouldn’t let a woman walk on the side closest to the road. Not out of chivalry but

becausewomenstupidlycarriedpursesdanglingrightthereofftheirshoulders,hangingbyathinleather
strap.Bigbrightlycoloredpursesscreaming,“Hey!I’vegotmoneyandcreditcardsrighthere!”

Whythehelldidtheydothat?Hecouldneverfigureitout.Itwassuchadumbassthingtodo,like

walkingaroundwithabull’seyeonyourback.Anypassingscumbagonabikeormotorcyclewithaflick
knifecouldslashandgrabandthatwaswhyhewalkedontheoutside.They’dthinktwiceaboutslashing
andgrabbinghim.

Heneverevenpaidlipservicetotheridiculousnotionthatawomancoulddefendherselfagainsta

mugger.Hedidn’tcarehowmanyself-defensecoursesshetookandnomatterwhathershrinksaid.Ifshe
was his date for the night—even if they would never see each other again after the sex—then she was
underhisprotectionandheactedaccordingly.Itmadealotofwomenangrythathecouldn’tpretendthe
worldwasn’tfullofpredatorsandthatnaturehadmadewomenprey.Sohewasusedtomakingmostof
hisprecautionsasinvisibleaspossible.

He’dbeencalledadinosauroftenenough,notthathecared,exceptthatitwasinaccurate.Dinosaurs

didn’tknowhowtokeepupwiththetimesandhedid.Heknewexactlywhattodoandhowtodoitand
he’dstayedalivesofarunderthemostdangerousconditionslifehadbeenabletothrowathimbecauseof
it.

Likenow.
NoonebutBudandthepolicecouldknowSuzannewaswithhim.Noonehadfollowedthem.Even

if someone was looking for him, it would take a long time to connect this shack with him, and that
includedBudandthepoliceandalltheresourcestheycouldmuster.

Johnwasgoodatwhathedid,goodatarrangingsecurity.Heknewthesecurityherewasaboutas

tightasthatofanuclearpowerplant.Maybetighter.Theyweresafeassafecanbe.Butagoodsoldier
alwaysdouble-checksandhewasstillalivebecauseheneverevertookanythingforgranted.Ever.

Sohesatdownandcheckedhisequipment.
He had the sweetest new toy and he loved it. A series of sensors with a special microchip

programmedwithanalgorithmtodetectheartbeats.Andnotjustanyheartbeat,ohno.Thatwasthebeauty
of the little gizmo invented by Crazy Mac Rowan, the Team computer geek. The chip could distinguish
human heartbeats from the heartbeat of 10 mammalian species by the frequency, so the alarm wasn’t
trippedbyadeerorabear.ThesystemhadbeenboughtforacooltenmilliondollarsbytheINSforuse
bytheBorderPatrolbutCrazyMachadgivenhimtheprototype.Johnranhisspecialprogramandfound
exactlywhathewashopingtofind.

Nada.Zip.
Nextstep,themotionsensors.Thenthebankofmonitorsconnectedtoweatherproofedcamerasall

around the perimeter of his land. Then the sensors along the dirt road leading up to the shack. Nothing,
nothingandnothing.

Noonehere,noonecoming.Great.
Okay.NowhecouldcallBud.
Bud sounded tired. “We’re in trouble, John,” he said. “Big time. Both guys’ prints came up

immediately. First shooter’s a street punk, been in and out of the cooler all his life starting from juvie
whenhewasfourteen.Assault,rape—“

John’s blood ran cold. Rape. Once a rapist always a rapist. Jesus Christ, the guy would have had

Suzanneathismercy.Hewouldhaverapedherbeforekillingher.

Hewassurprisedhishandsdidn’tleaveprintsonthephone,hewasclutchingitsohard.
“Armedrobbery,drugs…younameit.Andhewasahopheadtoboot,hadtracksonhisarms,sogive

him some spare cash to shoot up with and he’d have taken out a school of kids for you. We’re talking
walkingloadedgunhere,man.Pay,aimandfire.Thoughlookslikehewasthekindofweaponthatcan

blowupinyourface,fliponadime.That’sthegoodnews.Thebadnewsisthatthesecondshooterwasa
realpro.FBI’sbeenallovermethispasthour,thePortlandSACisherewithmerightnow.Theyhada
redflagforanyoneaskingforhisprints.They’vebeentrackinghimfortenyears.He’stheprimesuspect
behindtheassassinationofSenatorLesleyeightyearsago.He’swantedforacoupleofotherbig-name
take-outs,too.

“SomeoneseriouslywantsSuzannedead,bigguy,andthissomeone’spreparedtopaymajorbucks

for it. I don’t know who it is, but whoever he is, he’s hired a pro, a real expensive one from what the
Feebsaresaying.WeneedtotalktoSuzanne,Midnight.Weneedyoutobringherin.Now.”

Budwascrazy.Thepoliceweren’tgoinganywherenearher.Noonewas.
“No way, Bud,” John said coldly. “You’ll see her if and when you figure out what’s going on and

then convince me you’ve figured out a way to stop it. Not before. You’ll hear from me tomorrow and
you’d better have some hard facts and a pretty good plan for dealing with this. And you post two men
outsideSuzanne’shouse,frontandback.Noonegetsin.”

“Heywait,wherethehellareyou—“BudsaidasJohnpressedthe‘off’button.Hewaitedgrimlyto

gethimselfundercontrol,untilhisbreathingslowedandtheredmistofrageinfrontofhiseyescleared.

SomeoneseriouslywantedSuzannedead?
They’dhavetogothroughhimfirst.
Heheadedupstairs.Fromnowon,Suzannewasn’tgoingtobemorethanahand-span’slengthfrom

him.

****

It was late afternoon when she woke up. The sky outside the large wood-framed window was the

deepblueoftheeveningskyathighaltitude.Therewasn’tacloudtobeseen.Thepinetreescastlong
blue-blackshadowsthattoldherthedaywascomingtoanend.She’dsleptthedayaway.

Somethingwarmandhardgrippedherhandandsheslowlyturnedherheadonthepillow,knowing

whatshe’dsee,herhearttrippingabeatanywayashereyesmetJohn’s.

Her breathing slowed and she felt calm, certain. They’d been moving toward this from the instant

they’dmet.

Hewassittingintherockingchairbytheheadofthebed,holdingherhand,watchingher.Hadhe

slept?Therewasnowaytotell.Helookedashealwayslooked—strongandindestructible.

He’dchangedintoablackteeshirt,whichhuggedhisdeep,powerfulchest,stretchedtightlyoverthe

hugebiceps,andapairofthingraysweatpantsgrownsoftwithwashing.Shecouldclearlydiscernthe
massivethighmuscles.

Hewashugelyerectandthatcouldbeclearlyseen,too.Hergazewasrivetedonhisgroin.Hispenis

cameawayfromhisstomachtolengthen,pulsing,andthenflattenagainsthisabdomenagain.

Amazing,thatshecoulddothistohim,thatsheheldsuchpower.Theancientpowerofwomanhood.

Thecryingandthedeepsleepandperhapseventhewhiskeyhaddonehergood,hadclearedhermind,
filling it with a deep sense of certainty. She was now in another world, an ancient one, as old as man,
wheretiesareforgedinbloodandiron.Aworldwherethelawswerelostinthemistoftime,butnoless
strongforthat.

Theywereboundbythemostancientlawofall.
Hehadfoughtandkilledforher.Shewashis.
It’stime,shethought.

CHAPTERTEN

It’stime,Johnthought.

HehadwatchedoverSuzannewhilesheslept,holdingherhand.
Togivehercomfort,becausetheanimalpartofahumanknowswhenit’ssafetoletgoandwhenit’s

not.Itwaswhysoldiersalwayspostguardsatnight,evenwhenthereisnoimminentdanger.Sotheother
soldierscansleepatease.

Suzannesleptdeeply,givingherselfovercompletelytounconsciousness,becauseatsomelevelshe

knewhewastheretowatchoverher.

Butheheldherhandforhisownsake,too.Tocomforthimself.Toknowcompletelyandtotallythat

shewassafe.Bud’snewshadshakenhimtothecore.Thedangerstalkingherwasrealandhecouldlose
heralmostassoonashe’dfoundher.Soheheldherhandtoreassureherandtoreassurehimself.

Hewantedhermorethanever.
Hehadtoberealcarefulhere,thedesirewasalltangledwithapowerfuldrivetomakeherhis.He

couldn’tlethisfeelingsspilloverintoviolence.Guardinghersleepwasreassuringbutitwasn’tdoing
anythingtoslakehishunger.

His entire body was tense with lust; he was walking a thin line of control here. The powerful

feelingscoursingthroughhimmusthaveslippedhisleash,edgedovertoher.Suzanne’sbreathingchanged
andshestirredinthebed.Hewatched.

Waiting.Wanting.
Suzanneeasedsmoothlyfromdeepsleeptoconsciousness,eyesflutteringopenslowly.Shelooked

outthewindowatthegatheringnight,andthenturnedherheadonthepillow.Whenhereyesmethis,light
todark,itwaslikeapunchtothestomach.Heexhaledsharply,thesoundloudinthesilentroom.

Theycouldhavebeenthelasthumanbeingsontheplanet.Justthetwoofthem,manandwoman,the

oldesttietherewas.Shewashisandshewasinhiscave.

His.
Hereachedoutwithhisfreehandtotracehermouth,theoutline,wheretheskinturnedfrompinkto

ivory.Shedidn'tmoveinanyway,largegrayeyeswatchinghim,buthecouldfeelthestirofairagainst
hisfingerasshebreathed.

“Idon’twanttohurtyou,”hewhispered.“Iwastooroughtheothernight.Idon’twanttoberough.”
Hereyessearchedhis.Shedidn’tspeak.Helistenedtothesoundofherbreathinginthequietroom.

“Youwon’tbe,”shemurmuredfinallyandhisheartkickeditsrateup.

It’stime.
Sheknew,too.Shefeltittoo,thisrightness,thisinevitability.
Don’t let me mess this up. John sent up a silent prayer to whoever it was who watched over

soldiers.Takeiteasy.Goslow.

His finger moved from her mouth to her cheekbone, tracing the fine line of it, skimming over the

barely-visiblescab where ashard of brickhad grazed her cheek.By a miracle,the bullet had smashed
intothewall,notintoher.

Soclose.Sodamnedclose.
The skin of his hand was dark and rough against the pale smoothness of hers. He moved his hand

gentlyoverhercheekbone,lettinghisfingersroam.Theoutlineofherface,ashapelyoval,downoverthe
delicatejawbone,upoverhermouthagain,thenbackdowntothesmoothexpanseofherneck.Hisfinger
dwelledonherpulsepoint,feelingtheslowsteadybeatofherheartandashiseyesrosetomeethers,he
couldfeeltheexactmomentherpulsespeededup.Movinghishanddown,hisfingercaughtonthehigh-
necked flannel nightgown and he waited, every muscle in his body clenched, his dick pulsing with
anticipation.

Theywatchedeachother;Johntotallyunsureofwhatheshoulddo—whathecoulddo—next.
Suzanne reached up with her hand and touched his, moving it aside. He wanted to howl with

frustration.Ifshedidn’twantthisnow,he’d…butno.Thatwasn’tit.

She’d moved his hand aside so she could unbutton the neckline herself, slowly. He watched,

fascinated,asonebyonesheslippedthelittlepinkandwhitebuttonsthroughthebuttonholes,unbuttoning
them all, stopping when the buttons stopped, below her breasts. She lay her hand on her stomach,
watchinghim.Waiting.

Hiscall.
Heknewexactlywhattodonow.Tryingnottobetooeager,tryingnottoshake,tryinghardnotto—

shit!—ripthecloth…

“Sorry,”hemuttered.
She laughed. Yes, thank you, God. That soft sound was actually a laugh. She was laughing at his

clumsinessandshewasrightto.Hechancedasmilehimself.Herlipsturnedupinawidesmileinreturn.

Sheshookherhead.“You’regoingtohavetostartbuyingmeunderwearandnightgownsifyoukeep

thisup.”

Oh,yeah.“Yes,”hesaidfervently.“Pantiesbythedozen,agrossofnightgowns.Yes.”Heopened

thenightgownandwentstill.

“Oh,John.”Hervoicewasamerewhisperandthesmilewasgone.Shesawwhatwasinhiseyesas

hespreadthewingsofthenightgown.Shewaslaidoutforhimlikeafeast…

Prettydidn’tevenbegintodescribeit.Shewasn’tlushlybuilt,likesomewomenhe’dhad,whonow

seemedgrosslyoverblownbecausethis—this—wasexactlywhathewanted.Thiswaswhatturnedhim
onsobadlyhewastrembling.

Hejustsatandstared,hopingsomebloodwouldeventuallymakeareturnjourneyfromhisgrointo

hisbrain.Openingthenightgownhadbeenlikeopeninganexquisitepresenttohimself.Hersmoothskin
wassopalesheprobablynevertookthesun.Sheglowedlikeapearlintheeveninglight,somethingso
rareanddelicatehewasalmostafraidtotouchit.

Herbreastswereroundandfirm,smallerthanhiscuppedhand.Hereachedoutandranhisfinger—

justthetip,sogentlyhewasbarelygrazingherskin—overherrightbreast,followingthelineofablue
vein as visible as a river from a helicopter. He circled the aureole, excited as hell to see that she got
goose-bumpsandthatthenippleturneddeeproseandhard.

Takeiteasy,takeiteasy.
He just sat there for a long moment, getting his breathing under control, hand curled around her

breast.

“We’vegottogetthisthingoffyou.”Heremovedhishandbecauseotherwisehe’dtearthethingoff

andheknewforafactthatForkintheRoaddidn’truntodelicatepinknightgowns.“Canyoudoit?”

“Okay.” Watching him closely, Suzanne sat up, bunched the pink material in her hands and pulled.

She wasn’t wearing panties. John watched, fascinated, as the gown uncovered long, lovely legs, round
hips, a tiny waist, then was pulled up over her head, tossed to the side and then yes! There she was.
Naked.

Justforhim.
Theothernighthehadn’thadachancetoseeallofher.He’dstrippedherandenteredherbeforeher

clothes had fluttered to the ground. He’d been way too far gone to notice anything at all other than the
tight, wet heat of her. But now, ah, God, now here she was. If he hadn’t been hard as steel, ready to
explode,he’dhavespentthenextcoupleofhoursjustlookingandtouchingthatsoftsoftskin,noticingthe
sharpindentationundertheribcagewhereherwaistlinenarrowed,thencurvedoutagain,marvelingat
howdelicatelyshewasbuilt.Howdidallofherorgansfitinside?

He’dthinkaboutthatlater.Nowhewanted—no,needed—totouchhismouthtoher.
Leaningforward,heplacedhislipsonherneck,wherethepulsewasflutteringwildly.Hecouldfeel

howthetouchofhismouthexcitedher.

It was good to have these signs, her wild heartbeat, the fast breathing, and the hard little nipples.

Godknowshisexcitementwashugelyvisible.

Buttherewasanotherwaytoseeifshewasasarousedashewas.Helickedthepulsingveininher

neck, a long slow lap of his tongue as he moved his hand downwards. Past the soft breast, where the
heartbeat could be seen and felt in her left breast, over the rib cage, across the flat little belly, down,
down…

Thehairherewassoft,almostsilkyandnotstiffandcrinklyasmostwomen’spubichairwas.She

tookthehintofhishandcuppedoverhermoundandletherlegsfallopen.Heslidhisfingersdownand
aroundandtouchedherlipsthere.Soft,warmandyes,wet.Hishandtrembledashespreadthelipsand
insertedafinger,frowningatthedifficultyandathersuddenintakeofbreath.

Shewassogoddamnedtight.
Heeasedhisfingerinslowly,realizingthathemusthavehurthertheothernight.Hisdickwasfor

surebiggerthanhisfinger.Evenwithhisfinger,hewashavingtoenterherbydegrees.Theothernight
he’djustcrashedhiswayinandstartedfuckingherasifshewereatendollarwhoreandhewasasailor
onshoreleaveafterayearatsea.Hewincedatthememory.

Hepushedinfurtherandsheclosedaroundhisfingerlikeafist.
Hewithdrewhishandalittlethenpenetratedheragain,barelyinsidetheentrance.
“Youhaven’tfuckedmuch,haveyou?”heaskedhoarsely.Shedidn’treacttohishardwords.Hewas

usedtosailors’talk—therewasn’tanypoliticalcorrectnessatallintheTeams—butbeyondthat,hewas
tooblastedbylusttolookforotherwords,prettierones,andsofterones.Justtheblunttruth—you’reso
damnedtightIcantellyouhaven’tbeenfuckedmuch.

“No.”Hervoicewaslow,analmostsoundlesswhisper.
“That’schanging.”Therewasatightnessinhischest.Hecouldbarelygetthewordsout.Hisvoice

washarsh,strained.“Startingnow.”

Twoquickswipesofhishandsandhewasnaked.Thenhewasstretchingoutonthebednexttoher,

spreading her legs wider with shaking hands. He mounted her, opened her with two fingers, positioned
himselfandthrustblindly…

Hestoppedathersharplyindrawnbreath,justaninchortwoinsideher.Hewashardasarock.He

wantedtojustplungeinsobadlyhewasshakingwiththeefforttostop.Butthisiswherehe’dmessed
thingsupbefore.Oncewasbadenough.Twiceandhe’dloseher.Hecouldn’tdoitthisway.Hepulled
out.

Wrappinghisarmsaroundher,herolledthemover,holdingheruprightwithhishands.
“Oh.”Shelookedstartled,asiftheideaofbeingontopofamanhadneveroccurredtoherbefore.

The folds of her sex opened to ride along the base of his dick, her knees straddling his rib cage. They
lookedateachotherandshesmiledfaintly.Shesmoothedherhandsoverhisshouldersandclutchedhis
biceps.“Well.”Shestirredalittlealonghim,ridinghimgentlyupanddown,testing.“Thisisinteresting.”

“Mm.”Hewasbreathless.Hehadnowords,onlyheatsogreathethoughthisheadwouldexplode.

Heputhishandsonherwaistandliftedhersoshewashalf-kneeling.

“Stay.”
Didhesaythatorjustthinkit?Whatever,sheunderstoodandhoveredoverhim,moistlipspouting

betweenherthighs.Heliftedhisdickuprightandpositioneditunderher,holdingit.

Hisjawsclenchedtightatthefirstbrushofhersex.Sheslidalongthehead,tryingtofindtheright

position,slidingbackandforth.Sheboredownalittle,slidingforwardandthenyes!Hewasin.

Barely.Shewasn’tmovingatall,dammit,hoveringoverhim.Justtheheadwasinandhewasgoing

crazy.Shemovedalittle,circlingherhipsandheslidinalittlefurther.Itwasn’tenough.Atthisrate,it
wouldtakeherhalfanhourtoslidedownenoughtotakeallofhimandhedidn’thavehalfanhour.He’d
explodefirst.

Alreadyhewasbathedinsweat,hearthammering,breathbellowinginandout,likehe’dbeenouton

afivemilerun.Andtheyweren’tevenhavingsexyet.Notreally.

Hereyeswereclosedandshehadadreamyexpressiononherfaceasshemovedslowly.Shelifted

herselfawayandhefeltlikescreamingwithfrustration,butshedidn’tdisengageentirely.Juststayedstill
a moment, kneeling over him, gently moving, letting the head of his cock swirl over her lips. Then she
foundtherightangleagainandslowlymoveddown.

Andstopped.
Shewasdrivinghimnuts.Goddammit,whywouldn’tshejustlethimin?
Teethclenched,Johnheldherhipsandthrustupwards,hard,grindingintoher.
Suzanne gasped. Her eyes opened and met his. The dreamy expression was gone, replaced by

distress,maybeevenpain.No,no,no!Hehadtomakeitbetterforherthistime.

Hewindmilledhisarmsupandback.Fistsclenchedaroundthebarsoftheironbedstead,heclung,

shaking.Hewouldn'ttouchher,hecouldn'ttouchher.Ifhedidhe’dbetoorough.Whathewantedwasto
gripherhipsanddoherhard.Toohard.

Helaystillunderher,waitingforhertodosomething.Givingherthelead.
Suzannestareddownathim,breathingfast,fullyimpaledonhim.Herpalepubichairsmeshedwith

his black ones. She was motionless; eyes open so wide he could see the whites around the gray-blue
irises.

She rested her hands on him, feeling the deep, quick rise and fall of his chest, watching him. She

seemedtohimlikesomewarywildanimal,adeerintheforest,piercedbyanarrow.Watchingthehunter,
gaugingintentions.

“Benddowntome,”hewhispered,clingingsotightlytotheironrodsitwasamiraclehedidn’tpull

them away. He couldn’t touch her with his hands, not yet. Lust was boiling inside him, slick and hot,
totallyuncontrollable.Hehadbighands,stronghands.Handsthatcouldn’tstrokeandcaress.Notnow.
Notyet.He’dbruiseherifhetouchedherwithhishands.

Shewasbendingdowntohim,closeenoughsohecouldsmellthesweetwarmthofherskin,rising

abovethesmellofarousalandsex.Herhairbrushedhischeek,fillinghisnostrilswithherperfume.His
jawsclenched.

“Lower.” The word was guttural and came from deep within his chest. She swayed lower and his

mouthopenedandclampedonhernipple.Shetastedsweetandsaltyatthesametime.Smootharoundthe
nipple,hardlittlebudinhismouth.Hedrewonher,longdeepdraftsofher,sucklingwiththestrengthof
hismouth.Hismouthworkedrhythmically,hard,fasternow.Intimewithherbreathing,loudintheroom.
Herthighs,clampedalongthesidesofhischest,trembled.

Shewaspanting,littlemoanscomingfromdeepinherthroat.Themoansstartingcominginrhythmic

spurts,intimewithhissuckling.

Theireyeslocked.Hewatchedhereyescarefully,becausetherehecouldreadwhatwashappening

toher.Shewasfullyaroused.Thepupilsexpandeduntiltherewasonlyasilverrimaroundthem,glowing

brightinthedim,failinglight.Hewasconnectedtoheronlybyhismoutharoundhernippleandhiscock
deeplyembeddedinher,butitwaslikehewastouchingherallover.Hecouldfeelwhatwashappening
toherbodyaskeenlyasheknewwhatwashappeningtohis.

Hewasn’tmovingandneitherwasshe,buttheywerebothonthatknife-edge,hangingthere,readyto

tumbleover.

Shewastremblingdeeply,shakingallover.Hesuckedhard,rubbinghistongueoverherpebble-hard

nipplebeforebitinglightlyandsuddenlyshegasped.

Hercryechoedaroundtheroom,intimewiththesharpcontractionsofhersexaroundhim,intime

withhisgroans,intime—ohGod!—withthespurtsashecameandcameandcame.Shewasmilkinghim
dry,pullingthecomeoutofhimfromwhatfeltlikehisbackbone.

They watched each other, trembling, motionless, until finally, after endless moments, she softened

andstilled.Withasoftmoan,Suzanneslidbonelesslydownontopofhim.Hernarrowribcageroseand
fell. Her head nestled into his shoulder and he could feel her breath on his skin, the flutter of her
eyelashes,andthesoftsilkofherhairbrushingagainsthischest.

“Wow,”shewhispered.
He waited until his breathing slowed, until he could control his muscles again. Slowly, he

unclenchedhishandsfromtheironbars,fingerbyfinger,andbroughtthemdowntocurvelightlyaround
herback.

Hecouldtouchhernow,finally.
Nowthathe’dtakentheedgeoff.

****

SuzannelayonJohn’smassivechest,risingandfallingwithhisbreathing.Hischestwassobroad

her thighs, riding along his sides, were open to their maximum extension. Somehow it wasn’t
uncomfortable,thoughsheknewshe’dbesorelater.Whatdiditmatter?Sheglowedfromheadtotoewith
the aftermath of an explosive orgasm. She was surprised she hadn’t been struck blind. Her body was
ripplingwithanimpossiblemixofcracklingenergyandcompletelassitude.

Hewasstillhardinsideher.Howcouldthatbe?He’dclimaxed,too.Therewasnomistakingit,that

incrediblefeeling.He’dgotharderandharderandfinallyjustexploded.Shewriggledalittle,feelingthe
wetnessfillingher.Shewaswildlyexcitedbutthatwasn’tthesourceofthewetness.Shewasfilledwith
hissemen.

And yet he still felt like a rod of warm steel. Amazing. Though what was she going to do with a

rock-hardpenisinsideherwhenshecouldbarelygathertheenergytobreathe?

John’shandsstoppedrunningupanddownherbackandmoveddownwardstocupherbackside.His

handswerebig,warmandrough.Hepresseddownashishipsflexedupwardsandshegasped.Hefilled
hertotheedgeofdiscomfort.Almost,butnotquitepain.Moreacompletefullness.

Hisshorthairraspedonthepillowasheturnedhisheadandkissedherneck,thenherear.Whenhe

spoke,shecouldfeelthevibrationsmorethanhearthewords.

“That’sthewaywe’regoingtohavetodoitfromnowon,darlin’.”Again,thatintriguinghintofthe

Southinhisvoice,lowandlanguorous.Itonlycameoutduringlovemaking.Therestofthetime,hisdeep
voice was clipped, accentless. “We’ve got to come first, you and me, make you all soft and wet. Now
you’reusedtome.See?NowIcanslideinandout,easyasyouplease.”

While he was talking, he was moving inside her in long strong pumps of his penis. She was

exhausted.Sheshouldbebeyondarousal,butsomehowshewasn’t.Eachstrokewasanelectricshock.

“Ilovebeinginsideyou,darlin’,”Johnwhisperedinhisdark,blackmagicvoice.“It’slikeyouwere

madejustforme.Ican’tkeepmyhandsoffyou.”Shecouldfeelhislipsmovingagainstherskin,thepuffs

ofairashespoke.Thesmellofsexrose,sharpandpungent,intheair.Normallyfastidious,sheshould
havebeenappalled,butnowallshecoulddowasopenwiderforhim,clutchhisshouldersforbalanceas
thespeedanddepthofhisstrokesincreased.

Itstartedasaflutter,ballooningintowarmth,thenexplodedinafireballofheat.Allofasudden,she

couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. This couldn’t be happening again, not so soon, not so quickly. She’d
never…

Suzanne stilled and cried out, throbbing with intense, almost painful pleasure. It went on and on.

John’ssteadymovementskeptherontheedgeforsolongshethoughtshewouldfaintfromthepleasure-
pain.Afterwhatfeltlikehours,helickedtheskinbehindherear,lightlybitthelobe,thenwhispered,“It’s
gottobehardandfastnow,darlin’.Ican’tcontrolmyselfmuchlonger.ButifIgetontop,I’llpoundyou
throughthemattress.Gottabefrombehind.”

Shecouldbarelyunderstandhiswords.Whatwashetalkingabout?Thatunbridledlovemaking,hot

andhard—thathadbeencontrollinghimself?

Whenhepulledoutofher,shefeltasuddenemptiness.Buttherewasnotimetomournthelossofhis

bodyinhers.Heflippedherover,stuffedbothpillowsunderherstomachandliftedherhips.Hermuscles
werelax,rubbery.Shecouldn’treact,couldbarelymove.Hemovedherlikealittledoll.

Hiskneesslidbetweenhers,openingthemandthensuddenlyhewasthere,slamminginsohardand

fastshegasped.

Hegaveafewexperimentalthrusts.Heslidindeepandstopped,touchingherwomb.Herotatedhis

hips,measuringhersheath,testingherforwetnessandreception.

“Notyet,”hemuttered.Bendingforward,hewrappedonestrongarmaroundher.“Youneedtocome

onemoretime.”

Hishandmovedthroughthefoldsofhersex,touchingherwhereshewasclenchedaroundhispenis,

thenslidingupwherehecaressed—so,socarefully—herclitoris.Itwaslikebeingstruckbylightning.
Suzannestiffenedandmoaned.

“Oh,yeah,”hebreathed.Thoughthepadofhisfingerwasrough,histouchwasdelicate,aswerethe

light rocking motions he made inside her. Slipping in and out, barely moving, in time with his sliding
fingeronherclitoris…

She stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped seeing…everything inside her clenched,

gathered…

Andleapt.Herheartstartedpoundingasshepulsedaroundhim.Ahard,tenseorgasm,whichbrought

tearstohereyes.Hercrywasmuffledagainstthemattress.Heheldhimselfstill,tightlywedgedinside
her,unmovinguntilshequieted.Shelaywithherforeheadagainstthemattress,tryingtocatchherbreath.

Finally,Suzannearchedhernecktolookbehindher—andfroze.
“Braceyourself,becauseI’mgoingtodoyouhard.Grabthebedstead.”Hisdeepvoicewaschoked,

almostunrecognizable.Thesoftlyliquidsouthernintonationsweregone.

He looked frighteningly dangerous. His features were sharp with arousal. Red flags rode his

cheekbones and his lips were dark with blood. His eyes—glittering shards—watched her with laser-
sharp intensity. The huge muscles in his shoulders and biceps were corded with tension as he held her
hipswithhishands,clutchingsotightlysheknewshe’dbebruisedlater.

Evenifshewantedto,therewasnoturningback,noescapinghispowerfulgrip.Shesearchedhis

facefortracesofmercyandfoundnone.Nosoftness,nosignofaffection.Justpurelust.Astrong,rampant
maleinfullrut.Whateverwasgoingtohappennextwascompletelyoutofhercontrol.

Andmaybeoutofhis.
She felt so vulnerable, so completely open, crouching there with her backside in the air. They

touchedinonlythreeplaces.Hiskneeskeepingherswideapart,hishandsclenchedonherhipsandhis
penisinhersheath.

His knees pushed hers further apart, and he tightened his grip on her hips. She could feel the dark

crisp hairs of his thighs against the inside of hers, the hair around his sex against her bottom. In this
position she couldn’t control the depth or rhythm of his thrusts. She was totally and completely at his
mercy.

Itseemedasifthewholeworldwerestill.Silent.Dark.Waitingforasign.
Suzannestudiedhisface,thestrengthandthelustandthefrighteningmaleblankness.Itwastoomuch

for her. She closed her eyes, turned and buried her head in the mattress. Her hands reached up, fingers
curlingaroundthebarsofthebedstead.

Itwasasignal—ofsubmission,ofsurrender.Hebucked,once,andshegrunted.Foramoment,she

thoughthewouldstop,butthenhemoved,suddenlyandfuriously,pumpinghardandfast.

Afterwards,sheneverknewhowlongitlasted.Anhour,twohours,allnight.Therewasnowayof

telling. He rammed into her mercilessly, endlessly, using the full strength of his body. On and on in a
steady,drivingrhythm.Thebedcreakedsomuchwiththeforceofhisthrustsshewasvaguelysurprisedit
didn’tcollapse.

Nolimits.Andthereseemedtobenolimitstothepleasurehewasabletocallforthfromher.She

climaxedoverandoveragain,completelyoutofcontrolofherownbody.

Justwhenshethoughtshecouldn’ttakeanymore,whenhertremblingandsweatyhandswerelosing

theirgripontheironrodsofthebedstead,whenherthroatburnedfromthegaspsandhernippleswere
rubbedrawfromthesheet,shefelthimswell,growevenharder.Withashout,heeruptedinsideher.His
roughhandsclampedaroundherhipsweretheonlythingsholdingherup.Hegroundhardagainstheras
hecameandgroanedasifheweredying.

She felt like she was dying herself, completely outside herself, completely beyond the bounds of

whatshe’dalwaysconsideredherself.

“Jesus.”Thewordwashalf-whisper,half-moanasJohncollapsedontopofher,hisheavyweight

pinninghertothemattress.Hewassweatyandsmelledofmusk.Hispenis,evennowpartiallyerect,still
layinherandshecouldfeelthewetnessofhissementricklingoutofhervagina,alongherthighs.

Shefelthislargehandbrushingoverhertangledhair,thetickleofhisbreathoverherbareshoulder

ashesighedandthennothingmoreassleepclaimedher.

CHAPTERELEVEN

ItwasbarelydawnwhenJohnawoke.Hewasasoldierandwasusedtowakingupinstantlyalert.They
used to practice it—he’d keep his men sleep-deprived for days, then test marksmanship a few minutes
afterwakingthemup,minutesintoREMsleep.Johnhimselfdidn’thaveproblems.Hewasgoodatthat,
goodatbeingabletofocusinstantlyonthenewday.

Now, though his mind was alert, his body foolishly wanted to simply stay in bed, curled around

Suzanne’sback.

Shedidn’tmovewhensheslept.Hecouldn’thearherbreathingbuthecouldfeelit,onehandcurled

aroundher rib cage,fingers just brushingthe soft underside ofher breast. Shewas impossibly soft and
delicate, almost too much so, for the use he’d made of her through the night. His dick stirred at the
memoryandhepulledherevencloser,buryinghisfaceagainstthedelicateskinofherneck.Hisbeard
raspedagainstthatpale,fragileskinandhepulledback.Hedidn’twanttogiveherwhiskerburn.

Helaystill,savoringthemoment.That,too,wasasoldier’strick.Inthefield,anymomentcouldbe

yourlast.Yoursensesopened,eachsight,sound,taste,smellrazor-sharpandintense.

This wasn’t a firebase, but danger still threatened. Which is why, though he’d rather just lie here

forever,curledaroundSuzanne,hehadtogetup.ContactBudtoseeiftherehadbeenanydevelopments.
Checktheperimeter.Gethismeninontheinvestigation.

PeteandJackowouldn’tbeashamperedasBudingettinginfo.Budhadtoobeythelaw.Peteand

Jackohadtoobeyhimandhewasahellofalotmoredemandingthanthelaw.Particularlywhenitcame
toprotectingSuzanneBarron.

Detaching himself from Suzanne proved harder than he thought. His hands simply didn’t want to

leaveher.Heusuallyrolledoutofbedtwosecondsafterwakingup,butnowhesimplylaythere,stroking
herskin,smellingherhair,feelingherwarmth.

Finally, when the sky started turning pink outside the window, he forced himself out of the bed.

Paddingnakedintothebathroom,hewetawashclothwithwarmwaterandwalkedbacktothebed.He
stoodforamoment,lookingdown.

Thereweresmudgesunderhereyes,half-hiddenbythelong,lusheyelashesandafewbruisesonher

hipshe’dgivenhertowardtheend.Atsomelevel,heknewheshouldn’thaveusedherasmuchandas
hard as he had. He couldn’t regret it, however. If someone had put an AK-47 to his head last night, he
wouldhavebeentotallyincapableofstopping.

Hebentdownandrolledhercarefullyontoherback.Shewassoexhaustedshedidn’twakeup.
Hegentlycleanedherbetweenthelegs.He’dcomethreetimesinherandshewassticky.Hewiped

hercarefully,tryinghardnottowakeherup.

This is something he should have done last night, but he’d been too wiped out to do anything but

collapseontopofherandfallintoasleepsodeepitfeltlikeacoma.

Shewassobeautiful,evenhere.Thefoldsofhersexweresoft,thepalestpink,surroundedbyash-

brownpubichairsinterspersedwithgold.Hisbreathingspedupasheimaginedkissingherthere,licking
her,suckingthelittleclitorishecouldseewhenheopenedheraupabitwithtwofingers.

Such mysterious folds of flesh, so simple and yet the source of such mind-blowing delight. He

wantedtosinktohiskneesandburyhisfacebetweenherthighs.Hewantedtolickheruntilsheshook
withtheforceofherorgasm,asshe’ddonelastnight.God,ithadbeensoexcitingtofeelherpullinghard
onhimwhileshecame,shuddering…

Hehadahard-on.Again.Ifhefollowedhisinstincts,he’dslipbackintobedwithher,mounther,

pull her legs apart and start moving the instant he entered her. With any other woman, he would have.
He’dnever,everpulledhispuncheswithwomen.Theyknewrightupfrontwhattoexpect.

Hemadesurethewomenhehadrealizedhehadastrongsexdriveandthattheyweregoingtobe

usedhard.Ifthat’swhattheywanted,fine.Ifnot,therewereplentyofotherwomenaround.

Theyknewwhattheywereinforandhehadn’thadmanycomplaints.Soifthishadn’tbeenSuzanne,

he’dbeinherrightnow,watchingherwakeuptothefeelofhimmovinginher.

ButthiswasSuzanne.Hewasn’ttoosurewhatmadeherdifferentfromtheothers,butthereitwas—

shewasdifferent.

Shewastiredandneededhersleep,andthattookabsoluteprecedenceoverhisiron-harderection.

Hepulledthecoversupoverher,watchedherforanothermoment,easingapalecurlawayfromhereyes
withamovementwhichbecameacaress,thenforcedhimselfaway.

Aquickshower,shaveandcupofcoffeelater,andhewasinhisundergroundlair.
Budwasn’tgoingtodancewithjoyatbeingwokenupthisearly,buttoughshit.
“Morrison.”Bud’svoicewasannoyedbutalert.
“Johnhere.Whathaveyougotforme?”ThelongsilencehadJohnsittingupstraight.“What?”
“It’sbad.You’renotgoingtolikeit,Midnight.”
“TherearealotofthingsIdon’tlikeaboutthesituation.Sospill.”
“Suzanneworkedoffandonwithanotherdecorator,aguycalledToddArmstrong.Andbeforeyou

gooffthedeepend,hewasgay.Niceguy.Smart.Imethimafewtimes.Hewasfun.”

TherewasabadfeelinginthepitofJohn’sstomach.“Was?”
Bud sighed. “Yeah. Guy was wasted. Portland PD found his body about six hours ago. He’d been

tortured,Midnight.Itwasn’tpretty.”

Every signal John’s body could send was in overdrive. The hairs on his forearms were standing

straightup.Budwasright.Thiswasbad.

Bud’slover,Suzanne’sgirlfriend—whatwashername?…Claire.Thatwasit.“You’dbetterwatch

outforClaire,then,”Johnsaid.“ItlookslikeeveryonearoundSuzanneisgettingwasted.”

“Done.I’vegotpeoplewatchingClaire24/7andshe’snotahappycamper.”
“Tough.”LikeBud,Johnhadnotroubleatallprioritizing.Bud’sgirlfriendmightnotbethrilledat

theprospectofbeingrestrictedinhermovements,buthersafetycamefirst.Secondandthird,too.Bud
knewthatandhadtakenstepstomakesureshe’dlive.Anythingelsewasbullshit.“WhataboutSuzanne’s
parents?”

“I’m on it. They live in Baja California. I’ve contacted the Mexican police and they’ve posted

discreetguards.”

“Okay.”JohngrappledwiththesizeofthethreatagainstSuzanne.IfBudhadcalledintheMexican

police,hewasscared.“Whathavewegottogoonhere?”

“Damnall.”Bud’svoicewasripewithfrustration.“Everything’sadeadend.We’vegotthenameof

bothshooters,buttheremusthavebeenacutout,becausethere’snopapertrail.Nounusualpaymentsin
theirbankaccount,nounusualprintsintheirapartment,nophonerecords,nothing.Nada.Zip.”

“Themoney’sintheCaymans.OrinAndorra,”Johnsaid.“Andlonggone.You’replayingwithyour

owndick.”

“Yeah,wellifIam,I’mnothavinganyfun.Goddamnit,weneedtoknowwhat’sgoingon.Pump

Suzanne, Midnight. Find out what it is that she knows, or what it is that she’s got, which is dangerous

enoughtokillfor.Anddoitfast.Claire’sinvolvedandI’mnothavingherexposedtodanger.Sofindout
whatsheknows,orI’llhaveyourassinasling.”

JohncouldheartheripefearforClairebehindBud’shardwords,otherwisehewouldhavehanded

Budhisheadonastick.Itwasn’tsomethinghe’dhaveunderstoodaweekago,butnowhedid.Anything
thatthreatenedhiswomanwasguaranteedtodrivehimcrazy.

“Okay.I’llbeintouch.”Johnthumbedtheoffbuttononhiscellandsatback,thinking.
Thiswasamission.Hecoulddomissions—he’ddonethemallhislife.Sowhywasthiscreatinga

problemforhim?

BecauseitwasSuzanne.
Because he couldn’t think straight around her. It wasn’t just a question of thinking with his dick,

thoughofcoursetherewasthat.Hecouldn’tkeephishandsoffthewomanbutitwasmorethanthat.

Fear for her skewed his thinking processes, threw him completely off-kilter. Worse, off-mission.

How could he think straight when the thought of anything happening to her had his heart pounding and
provokedthatswoopingfeelingofamortarroundexplodingtenfeetaway?

HecalledJackoandpulledhismenoffallcurrentcases.Fromthismomenton,histeamhadtobeas

concentratedasalaseronSuzanneBarron.Bynightfall,Johnknewthey’dhaveeverythingthatcouldbe
knownabouther,includingherhighschoolgrades,spendingpatternsandmenstrualcycle.

Todayheneededtogrillher.He’davoidedit,puttingitoff,distractedbythesex.Hecouldn’tafford

thatnow,hethoughtasheheadedupstairs.

Butfirst,heneededtofeedher.Shehadn’teatenintwenty-fourhours.Thoughhewasalousycook,

hedidkeepsomesuppliesonhand.Coffee,eggs,vacuum-packedbacon,bread.Onceshe’deaten,they’d
talk.

Asalways,itfeltgoodtohaveaplan,evenahalf-assedone.Hehadbreadinthetoaster,eggsina

bowlandthecoffeemakeronwhenheplacedthebaconinthepan.Itspat,littlepinpricksoffireonhis
chestandarms.

“Sonofabitch!”Hescrambledforsomethingtocoverthepanwith.
“That’swhywomenwearaprons,”asoft,amusedvoicesaidfrombehindhim.“Iwouldn’tadvise

cookingbaconbare-chested.”

He spun around, ignoring the flying grease. She was standing in the doorway. In a blue nightgown

thistime,atwintotheonehe’dripped.She’dshowered.Hecouldsmellheracrosstheroom,overthe
baconandthetoast…thecharredtoast—shit!Heburnedhisfingersdiggingtheslicesoutofthetoaster.

Allthewhilehewatchedhercarefully.He’dusedherprettyhardlastnight.Hehadn’tbeenableto

controlhimselfattheend.Hehadnoideawhatherreactionthismorningwouldbe.

But she was smiling at him, crossing the room bare-footed, brushing by him and making every

hormoneinhisbodystandupandclamorformoreofwhathe’dhadallnight.

“Iguessthat’snotagunandthatyou’rereallygladtoseeme.”
He didn’t have to guess at what she meant. His dick did what it usually did when it saw her. Or

smelledher.Orthoughtofher.Heswelledashewatchedher.

She reached across and turned down the heat. The bacon stopped spitting and settled down to

cooking.Sheturned,hummingsoftly,tohiscabinets.

Some feminine magic led her unerringly to where he kept the plates. It was amazing. She’d never

beenherebeforeandyetshemovedaroundthelittlekitchenetteasifshelivedhere.Afewminuteslater
thetablewasset.

Actuallyset.Asproperlyashisequipmentwouldallow.
Heusuallyateoverthesink.Butshetoreoffpapertowelstomakemats,putthesilverwareoneither

sideoftheplatesandplacedtwomugscarefullyontherighthandsideofeachplate.Sheevenputplatters
outforthebaconandthetoastandtheeggs.Amazing.

Sexwasn’tgoingtohappenrightnow.Thatwasokay,becausetheyneededtotalk,buthiswoodie

wasn’ttooconvinced.Underthetable,itstayedhardandaching.Heignoreditbecausehehadto.

Hepouredhercoffeewhileshefilledhisplate.Hewasstarved.Shemusthavebeen,too,thoughshe

managedtoeatdaintily.

His teeth crunched on something. “Some egg shell got into the scrambled eggs,” he mumbled.

“Sorry.”

“Yes,” she said serenely, forking another clump of eggs onto his plate and then hers. “And you

oversaltedtheeggsandburnedthetoast.Butyou’reforgiven.Haveweexhaustedthefoodsupplies?”

“Prettymuch.We’llhavetomakeafoodrunintoForkintheRoadsometimetoday.”
Sheconsideredhim,headtooneside,silvereyesobservinghimsoberly,andthennodded.“Okay.I

needtobuysomestuffanyway.”

Femalestuff,he’dbet.Shecouldbuywhatevershewantedaslongashedidn’thavetoknowabout

it.Ifitwasfemalestuff,hedidn’twanttogothere.

Suzannepushedherplatetoonesideandleanedforward,searchinghiseyes.“So.Tellmethetruth,

John.Ineedtoknow.Formypeaceofmind,ifnothingelse.Howlongarewegoingtohavetostayhere?”

“As long as it takes,” he answered bluntly. He debated, briefly, telling her about Todd Armstrong,

thendecidedagainstit.Shehadarighttoknow,andshe’dbeangrylater.Butnowitwashiscallandhe
decidednottooverwhelmher.Heneededhertothinkstraightandshewasn’tgoingtodothatknowinga
friend was dead because of her. “We’re going to have to figure out what’s going on, honey. As long as
we’reinthedark,we’revulnerable.Ineedtoaskyousomequestions.”

Shenodded,pouredherselfanothercupofcoffeeandfoldedherhandsonthetable.“Goaheadand

ask.”Shelookedathimandwaited.

Johndidn’ttrytosoftenhiswordsorpussyfootaroundit.“Twomenweresenttokillyou.Doyou

haveanyideawhy?”

Shewasstillalongmoment,andthenshookherhead.“No.Absolutelynot.I’vethoughtandthought

andthought,butIcan’timaginewhyanyonewouldwanttohurtme.”

“Okay.Let’stakeitstepbystep.Let’sstartwithyourjob.Whatisitexactlythatyoudo?”
Shesighed.“IguesstheeasiestwaytodescribewhatIdoisthatIdesignspaces,bothpublicand

private. Not everyone has the time or inclination to decorate their office or home, so they call in a
specialist.Me.I’llvisitthespacetobedecorated,comeupwithtwoorthreealternativesandtheclient
chooseswhichalternativeheorshewants.Sometimesit’sanindividualandsometimesit’sacommittee.
ThenIarrangeforthepurchaseofthefurnitureandwiththehelpofamovingcompany,I’mtheretoset
everythingup.”

“Whoareyourclients?”
“Mainlypeopleinthebusinesscommunity.Someprivateclients.I’vehelpedinthedesignofthree

shops—twoboutiquesandabookstore—andacoupleofmuseums,too.It’sreallytamestuff.”

Johnwalkedherthroughherclientsoverthepastyear,grillingheroneveryaspectofherjob.She’d

never worked for government agencies or for public procurement companies or defense manufacturers.
Not even a software company. She wasn’t privy to any industrial secrets. She earned well but not
spectacularly well. She had a small nest egg in the bank, but nothing that was worth killing for. John
earnedmorethanthatperjob.She’dbuiltherbusinessslowly,throughwordofmouth.Herclientswere
allsolidcitizens.

Anhourlater,frustrated,Johnrubbedthebackofhisneck.Iftherewasanypersononthefaceofthe

earthwhohadaninnocuousjobandaperfectlyharmlesslife,lookslikeitwasSuzanne.

Nowforthebiggie,theonehehated.Hehadtoaskitandwasdreadingtheanswer.
“Howaboutyourlovelife?Anydisgruntledex-lovers,abusiveformerboyfriends?”Johnaskedthe

questioncasually,buthisfistswereclenchedunderthetable.

“Oh.”Suzannelookedsurprisedattheidea.“No,ofcoursenot.”Sheblushed,delightfully,butkept

her eyes on his. “I, um—“ She stopped and drew in a big breath. “I haven’t…dated all that much. My
momwassickwhileIwasincollegeandwewereallprettymuchcaughtupinherillness.Luckily,she’s
finenow.AndthepastfewyearsI’vebeenconcentratedonwork.”

“Who’sthelastguyyouwereseeing?”
“John…isthisnecessary?”
“Absolutely.”Thatwasalie.Johndidn’tknowhownecessarythiswastotheinvestigation.Butit

wascertainlynecessarytohispeaceofmindtohavenamestoputtofaces.Thethoughtofanotherman’s
handsonhermadehimsickwithrage.Assoonashegotanameortwohe’dcheckthemoutandmake
damnsuretheyneverapproachedSuzanneeveragain.

“Okay.IguessthelastmanIdatedwasMarcusFreeman.He’smybankmanager.Butit’snot—well,

itwasaverycasualrelationship.Wenever,um…wenever—youknow.”Sheshrugged.“ThelastmanI,
um, had a sexual relationship was Adrian Whitby, the director of the Kronen Museum. I designed their
newannex.Thatwastwoyearsago.WebrokeitoffandIhaven’tseenhimsince.”

JackowasgoingtohavetocheckAdrianWhitbyout.Johnwouldbetootemptedtosmashhisface

in.HecouldmaybestomachcheckingMarcusFreemanout,knowingheandSuzannehadn’tgonetobed
together.ThethoughtofanothermankissingSuzanne,thethoughtthatthiscreepWhitbyhadbeeninher,
enragedhim.

Suzannewashis.Noothermanwasevergoingtogetwithintwofeetofher.Johnrealizedhe’dkill

tokeepitthatway.

Hesippedhiscoffee,needingtogethisemotionsundercontrol,gethisvoicecalm.Ragewasn’ta

productiveemotion.Hesippedagainandforcedhimselftoconcentrate.

“Whataboutyourfamily?Doesyourfatherdoanysensitivework?Yourbrother?Sister?”
Suzanne shook her head. “We’re a small family. I’m an only child. My father is a retired college

professor of literature, an expert in Chaucer. My mother is—was—a high school French teacher. She’s
halfFrenchherself.TheyretiredtoBajaCalifornia,whereDadiswritingwhathefondlyconsiderswill
betheGreatAmericanNovel.They’reperfectlypleasant,utterlyharmlesspeople.”

Anotherdeadend.Shit.Thiswasn’tgettingthemanywhere.Frustrationwasanunusualemotionfor

himandhedidn’tlikeitonebit.Johnpinchedthebridgeofhisnose.

She’dansweredhisquestionscalmly,buthecouldtellshewasupset.Hedidn’twantherupset.
Whatthehell?
HowwasitthatallofasuddenSuzanne’sserenitywasmoreimportanttohimthaninformation?This

had never happened before. He’d never ever had any difficulty in keeping emotion separate from a
mission.Butthereitwas—hecouldn’tstandtoseeherunhappy.

Therewasnoprecedentforthesefeelingsinhislife.Whatwasgoingon?Heneededtopumpher,to

pushherharderand…hecouldn’t.

Thereshewas,athistable.Heartbreakinglybeautifulandforlorn.Aunicornattheedgeoftheforest.

Hedidn’twantherworriedandhedidn’twanthersad.

He’d walked knowingly into danger more times than he could count. He’d faced hostile gunfire.

He’devenoncedefusedabomb.Therewasn’tanythinghe’dbackdownfrom,anythinghefeared—orso
he’dthought.AndyetseeingSuzannesittinginhiskitchenchair,lookingsadandfrightenedwasmorethan
hecouldbear.

He’dhaveswornhedidn’thaveaheart,butthereitwas,clenchingtightlyinhischest.
Moving fast, he scooped Suzanne up in his arms and placed her on his lap. After an initial cry of

surprise,Suzanneslumpedinhisarms,andputherheadonhisshoulder.Theysatthereinthecalmquiet
morninglight.Justthefeelofherinhisarms,listeningtoherquietbreathing,pressingherheadagainsthis
shoulder,calmeddownsomethingsoreandinflameddeepdowninsideofhim.

Heranthebackofhisforefingerdownthesleeveofhernightgown,andthenfingeredit.Itwasan

excusetokeephishandsonher.“That’saprettycolor.Youlookgreatinblue.”Itwastrue.Butthenany
colorwouldlookgoodonher.

“Thankyou.”Sheturnedherfaceuptohimandsmiled.“Butit’snotblue.”
Johnlookedatthepinchofmaterialinhishand.Itwasblue.Heraisedhiseyestohers.Sheshook

herhead.Okay.Notblue.Helookedbackdown.Yes,itwas.Dammit,itwasblue.

Shecoveredhishandwithhers.Shewassmilingupathim,lookingforamomentlikethewoman

he’d first met. Confident. Sexy. He loved seeing her like this. He’d give his right arm to keep that
expressiononherface.

“Youhaveproblemswithcolors,John.Youneedtolearnthenames,thenuances.Forexample,this

nightgownisn’tblue,it’srobin’segg.Therearesomanybluesaround—powder,peacock,navy,denim,
Wedgwood…”

Hewastryingnottosmile.“Okay,okay,Igetit.”
“Theworldhasathousandcolors.”Sheranherhandoverhisbarechest,downhisarm.“Let’stake

your skin. You’re very tanned. I’d say your skin color is…” she cocked her head. “Earth. Maybe bark
whereyougetmoreexposuretothesun.Buthere…”Shetracedafingeralonghisbiceps,andthenaround
tothepalerskinbeneath,“hereI’dsayyou’remoreasuede.Icanseeallsortsofdifferentcolorsinyou,
fromyourhair,whichisdefinitelyebony,withtracesofpewteralongthetemples,toyoureyes,whichare
gunmetal. Mouth.” Shifting in his arms, finger over his lips. The smile had changed and was no longer
amused, it was pure temptation. That was the smile that got Adam into so much trouble with the snake.
Hervoicedroppedtoawhisper.“Yourmouthis…oh,I’dsaycinnamon.”Herfingercaressedtheoutlines
ofhislips.Herfingerdippedintohismouthandhesuckedthetip.Histongueswirledaroundit,exactly
asitdidtohernippleandheknewthat’swhatshewasrememberingbythewayherlidsloweredoverher
silverygrayeyes.

Shehadpuredevilinherexpressionandhe—therewasnowaytohideitanymore—hewasexcited

ashell.Shelookeddownathislapand—whatawitchshewas—lickedherlips.Hishard-onlengthened.
Itoccurredtohimthatshewasgoingtousesexasawaytoforgethertroubles.

Great.Workedforhim.
There wasn’t anything that needed doing that couldn’t be put off for an hour. Or two. Or four. He

couldgetintosex,bigtime.

Bothherhandswereinhishairnow,fingerscurledaroundhishead.Sheranhertonguearoundhis

lipsandheobediently,eagerlyopenedhismouth.Hertonguerubbedagainsthis.

“Mmm,”shewhispered,anglingherhead,kissinghimdeeply.
Oh,yeah.
Shepulledawayjustashemovedtopullhercloser.
“Ah, ah,” she admonished, lips so close to his he could feel her warm breath, running her hands

down his arms to pin his hands to his side, “no touching during the color lesson.” She exerted a little
pressureonhiswrists,asiftosay—stayput.

Heletherpinhimdown.Itwasridiculousofcourse.Therewasnowayshecouldforcehimtokeep

hishandsoffher,nowayshecouldmatchhisstrength,butifthisgaveherameasureofcontrol,whenher
lifewasspiralingoutofcontrol,thenwhatthehell.

SohesatwithSuzanneonhislap,hisdickinitsusualconditionwheneverthiswomantouchedhim,

orwasclosetohim,orevenlookedathim—ironhard.

Theminxknewit,ofcourse.Howcouldshenotknowit,whenshewassittingrightoverhishard-

on?Butsheignoredit,asshecontinuedplayingwithhismouth,pettinghimallover.

She ran her tongue around the rim of his ear, the tip following the whorls to the center, while her

handscaressedhisshoulders.Itelectrifiedhimtofeelhersmallwettonguedelicatelyprobing.Thehairs

onthenapeofhisneckrose.

“Let’sseehere,”shesighed.Shefoundhisrightnippleinthechesthairandrubbedit.Damn,itwas

likeanelectricjoltshootingstraighttohishard-on.Shebreathedindeeply,herbreastsrubbingagainst
him, as she fingered his nipple. “I’d say, here…” A pink-tipped finger rubbing around the flat areole,
“hereyou’rebrick,withcoppertones,buthere—“herheaddippedandshelickedhim,andthensuckled
gently,“Mm.Vermilion.Definitely.”

Itwasn’tjusthiswoodiethatwashard.Hewashardallover,tenseandtight.Clenchedlikeafist.

Eachslow,lazylick,eachpullofhermouthonhisnippleshotstraighttohisgroin.

Withasmileandasigh,sheslippedoffhislap,kneelingathisfeet.Reachinguptohispectorals,she

ranherhandsoverhischest,overhisabdomen.Thewitchbitlightlyatthemusclesofhisabdomen.

“Bay, bronze,” she whispered and her little pink tongue ran over his chest and belly to his belly

button.“Sand.”Thetipofhertonguefitintohisbellybuttonandshebithim,again,notsolightlythistime.
Herchinrubbedagainsthisdick.

OhGod.
Apullofthestrings,andthewaistbandofhissweatsopened.Shepulledthesweatsdownandoff

andtookhiminhand.

“Theprize,”shebreathedandpulledhishard-onawayfromhisbelly.Sheranherfistedhanddown

it,thenbackup.Slowly.Again.Andagain.

Hewasdying.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “All sorts of colors,” she murmured. “A rainbow of them.

Tea,fudge,cognac.”Shecuppedhisballsthenranherfingeruptothetip.Hewaswet,asecondfrom
coming.

Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Suzanne circled the tip, around and around. “And

here…”hervoicewasaseductivewhisperasshelookedupathim,eyesflashingpuresilver,“plum.”

Shebent,tookhiminhermouthandsucked.
Johnexplodedoutofhischair,pullingherupandcarryingher,witheveryintentionofgoingtothe

bedroom.Hedidn’tmakeit.

Heonlygotasfarasthekitchenwall,wherehepulledhernightgownupandplungedintoher.She

waswetandsoft,asifshe’dcome.Maybeshehad,whileshe’dbeensuckinghisdick.Itdidn’tmakeany
differencebecausehehadnoself-controlatall.Hedidn’teventrytomoderatehisstrokes,justpounded
intoher.Itwassohardandfastandfuriousitcouldn’tlastlong.Shemoaned,andthencried.Whenher
sheathbegangrippinghiminlongliquidpulls,heslammedintoheronelasttimeandheldhimselfdeep
insideher,grindingintoherashecame.

They stood there, their breathing loud in the room. John hitched her legs higher around his waist,

waitingforsomestrengthtoreturntohislegsandsomebloodtoreturntohishead.

Herhairshiftedonhisshoulderassheturnedherheadintohisneck,bitinghimlightlyandsighing.
Shekissedhisshoulderandwhispered,“Youknow,John,maybeyoushouldseesomeoneaboutthis

wallfetishyouhave.”

CHAPTERTWELVE

“John,Iwantatree.”

It was dusk and John was putting the shopping away, his kitchen organization appalling. He kept

flournexttodishwashingdetergentandsugarnexttobleach,butSuzanneheldhertongue.

They’d taken a run down to Fork in the Road, which had proved just as cosmopolitan as its name

wouldsuggest.Agasstationwithannexeddiner,fourhouses,apostofficeand—oddlyenough—awell-
equippedlittlesupermarket,probablytheonlyoneinahundredsquaremiles.She’dfoundeverythingshe
needed, and now she had to send John out. There were things she wanted to do and he’d just be in the
way.Besides,shewantedtosurprisehimalittle.

ThetriptoForkintheRoadhadbeenquiteanexperience.
He’dmorphedimmediatelyintoMidnightMantheinstantthey’dsetfootoutsidetheshack.Theman

who’dgroanedandshookashemadelovetoherdisappeared,asifhehadneverexisted.Themanwho
tookhisplacewasascoldandcontrolledasacyborg.Eachmovementmeasured,economical,physical
gracein action. Hehad a knackof being aware ofeverything that wasgoing on. “Situation awareness”
she’doncehearditcalledanditappliedtofighterpilots.ToSEALs,too,itappeared.

He’dbeensilentonthedrivedown,concentratedonthedriving,constantlycheckingtherearview

mirrors.Inthesmalltown,he’dgoneintoanelaborateballeteverytimetheymoved.Ithadtakenheran
hourtorealizethathewasmakingsureshewasneverexposedtogunfire.That,inanyattemptonherlife,
thebulletwouldgothroughhimfirst.

It had brought tears to her eyes, which she’d instantly tried to hide. But the Midnight Man was

nothingifnotobservant,damnhim.He’dimmediatelyaskedwhatwaswrongandshe’dhadtomakesome
nonsense up about catching a cold. After which, notwithstanding her protestations, she’d had to walk
aroundallafternoonwithhisheavysheepskinjacketaroundhershoulders,coveringherhandsandfalling
toherknees.

She’d taken her time at the store, filling five shopping bags full of the things she wanted. He’d

lookedcuriouslyatthebags,thenreachedforhiswallet.

“Ohno,”Suzannehadprotested.Thiswasstuffshewantedtobuy,afterall.“Letme—“
He’dshotheralooksoappalledattheideathatsheshouldpay,she’dburstoutwithlaughterinthe

supermarket,aboredcheckoutclerklookingon.

So they’d done their shopping, had a late afternoon sandwich and coffee at the diner—with John

sittingwithhisbacktothewall,coldlyobservingeveryonewhocameintotheplace—anddrivenback
withoutincidentaslightdrainedfromthesky.

Nowherbagswerewaitinginthesmallkitchenandsheneededhimtogooutforawhile.Shealso

neededatree.

Johnstoppedhismovementsandlookedather.“Youwantawhat?”
“Tree,John.It’sChristmasEve.Weneedatree.”
Helookedsodumbfounded,itwasasifhe’dneverheardthewordsChristmasandtreetogether.
Shesighed.“Look,it’sChristmasEve.We’retiredandstressedandneedalittlelightnessandjoyin

ourlives.I’veneverspentaChristmasEveinmylifewithoutatree,andIhavenointentionofstarting
now.Whateverisgoingon,I’vebeendeprivedofmyhomeandmyjob,andsohaveyou.ButIwon’tbe
deprivedofChristmas.OraChristmastree.Ireallyneedone.Don’tyoucelebrateChristmas?”

He just stared at her as if he couldn’t understand the words. And maybe he couldn’t. Sad as it

sounded,maybetherehadn’tbeenthatmanyChristmastreesinhislife.

Itwasaremarkableinsightintohischaracter.Heseemedsostrongandself-sufficient,sobeyondthe

ordinaryhumanbeing’sfearsanddesires.Sotough,socontrolled.Suzannesuspectedtherehadn’tbeen
muchsoftnessinhislife.“WherewereyoulastChristmas?”sheasked,gently.

He shrugged indifferently. “OUTCONUS. That’s Outside the Continental US. In Afghanistan,

actually.It’saremarkablytreelesscountry.Christmasisjustanotherdayinthemilitary.”

Somethingtuggedatherheart,hard.Johnwasamanwhohadn’tallowedhimselfmuchinlife.He’d

hadahardlifeofdutyandsacrifice.HeneededaChristmascelebrationperhapsmorethanshedid.

“Well,thisplacecertainlyisn’ttreeless,”Suzannesaid,withanodoutsidethecabinwindow,where

standsoftreesstoodthickandgreeninthewaninglight.“SoI’dlikeyoutopleasedigoneupforme—not
chopitdown.Digaroundtherootsandputtheminaburlapbagifyouhaveone.”

“Idon’twanttoleaveyou,”hegrowled.
She laid a hand on his powerful forearm. It was like touching pure coiled energy. The feel of him

beneathherhandexcitedhersomuchshealmostforgotwhatshewassaying.Shelookedupintohiseyes.
“I’llstayrighthere,”shesaid.“Andyoucouldgetmeoneofthosetreesgrowingrightneartothehouse.
Youcankeepaneyeonthecabinallthetime.”

She could not only see him struggle with the idea of leaving her alone, she could feel it in his

muscles.Hisforearmfeltliketensedsteelunderherhand.Maybeitwastheintensesex,maybeitwasthe
intensesituation,whichhadthrownthemtogetherunderpressure,butshefeltsheknewhimsowellshe
could almost read his mind. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to leave her alone for a minute—it
suddenlyoccurredtoherthathehadn’tlefther,notevenforasecond,sincethenightoftheintruder—but
alsorealizeditwasaperfectlyreasonablerequest.

His jaw, bristly now at the end of the day, worked as he struggled with the desire to please her,

whichrequiredleavingheraloneanddefenseless.Twomutuallyincompatibleconcepts.

Sheshouldn’tbeputtinghimthroughthisstrain,butsheneededthereliefofaChristmascelebration

andperhapssodidhe.

“Please,”shewhispered.
Sheneededsodesperatelytocreatealittleoasisofpeaceandpleasure,tofeellikesomethingother

than hunted prey. Even if only for a few hours. It was Christmas, her favorite time of year. She’d
celebrated Christmas all her life. It was a big event in the Barron family. If she couldn’t celebrate
Christmas,herunknownandunseenenemyhadalreadywon.He’dstrippedherofherhumanityandturned
herintoacoweringanimal.Shegentlysqueezedhisarm.

“Please,”shesaidagain,watchinghim.Therewasnothingelsetosay.Shedidn’twheedleortryto

explainwhyitwassoimportanttoher.Eitherheunderstoodordidn’t.SheknewinstinctivelythatJohn
couldn’t be forced to do something he didn’t want to. Giving in to her entirely reasonable request was
somethinghehadtowanttodoallonhisown.

His muscles bunched and quivered. His jaw clenched hard. She could feel his reluctance in his

muscles,seeitonhisface.Shesmiledupathim,andthenstretchedtokissthecornerofhismouth.Itwas
likekissingawoodenstatue.Shekissedhimagain.“Comeon.Youknowyoudon’thavetobeoutofsight
ofthecabin.I’llbeperfectlysafe.YoutoldmeIwassafehere,right?”

“Yeah.”Itwasasifthewordhadbeenwrenchedoutofhischestwithhugered-hotpincers.
“Well,then.Yousee?Whatcanhappen?”
His mouth opened to argue and she decided to whip out the big guns. Pulling his head down, she

stoodontiptoeandkissedhim.Open-mouthed,hertonguedeepinhismouth,fullbodyfrontal.Hewasn’t
wooden any more, he was male heat and sinew, darkness and power and desire. She ate at his mouth,
movinghotlyagainsthimasheswellederect.

Hewassoamazinglylarge.Sherubbedherbellyagainsthim,feelinghimlengthenevenfurtherand

wassurprisedthatshe’dbeenabletotakehim.Thememoryofhisheavypenisinsideher,thrustinghard,
meltedherbones.Ahotliquidpullofhervaginalmusclesmadehershudder.

Shewastempted.Verytempted.Buttherewerethingstodo.
Shepulledhermouthaway,afractionofaninch.Justenoughsoshecouldformtheword,butclose

enoughforhimtofeelherbreath.“Tree.”

Helooked down ather, face strained.His lips were suffusedwith blood andwet from her mouth.

Onebighandonherbacksidepulledhertowardhimashegroundagainsther.Sheflutteredinside,and
looked helplessly up at him. “John.” There wasn’t any air in her lungs. The word came out more as a
stirringoftheairthanasound.

Hearchedhisheadawayfromher,necktendonscorded,jawsclenching.Helookedattheceilingfor

alongmoment,andbroughthisheadbackdownashesteppedbackreluctantly,frowning.“You’regoing
tousesextogeteverythingyouwantfromme,aren’tyou?”

Shedidn’tevenhavetothinkaboutit.“Yes.”
“Itworks,damnit,”hegrumbled.Hereachedforhissheepskinjacketandstopped,pointingafinger

ather.“Idon’twantyougoinganywhere,”hegrowled.

“Ofcoursenot.”Shesmiledinnocently.“WherewouldIgo,anyway?Look,I’mstayingrighthere,

youwillbeinsightofthecabinatalltimes,nothingwillhappenexceptthatwegetourselvesaChristmas
treeandfeelbetter.”

Hestaredather,asifsheweregoingtopullarabbitoutofahat.Orrunawayintotheforest.He

gaveasuddennod,pulledonthickleatherglovesandwalkedoutthedoor.

She needed this, but she knew what it cost him. He had an overly protective nature. This went

completelyagainstthegrainofeveryinstincthehad.Itwasapromisingsignthathe’dgoneouttolookfor
atreeforher.Itshowedthattherewasroomforcompromiseinhishardnature.

Suzannesprangintoaction.Shedidn’thavemuchtime.Itwouldtakeherhourstodigupatreewith

the roots, place it in a bag and haul it into the cabin. But John was stronger than most and was
frighteninglyefficient.Soshehadtohurry.

In half an hour, a turkey leg was basting in the oven together with baked potatoes. Frozen biscuits

werewaitingtobeputin,cornonthecobwasboilingonthestoveandanapplepiewaswaitingtobe
baked.Itwasfrozen,butagoodbrand.Vanillaicecreamwasinthesmallfreezer.

A bowl of unbuttered popcorn awaited threading. Apples studded with cloves were in a bowl,

addingtheirspicetotheair.

TheForkintheRoadsupermarkethadevenhadasurprisinglydecentselectionofwines.Onebottle

wasboilinggentlyonthestove,steepedinsugar,clovesandcinnamon.Shebreathedintheheadyairof
vinbrulèandsmiled.Theotherbottlewasairing.

Itwasn’tCommeChezSoi,butitwoulddo.Nowtheshack.
Thisplacewassobleak,sospare.Sounlovingandunloved,ithurtherheart.
Openingthebags,shespreadoutthesupplies.Threecheapsingle-bedredsheetsbillowedout.She

tiedthemwithdecorativeknotsoverthesorry,dullbrownsofaandtwoarmchairs,placedredandwhite
stripedpillowsonthemandarrangedthemtogetherinthemiddleoftheroom,creatingapleasinglittle
grouping.Johnhadsimplyshovedthemagainstthewalls.Anupendedwoodencrateshe’dfoundoutside
thekitchendoorcoveredwithtwoprettyoversizedlinenteatowelsmadeamakeshiftcoffeetable.

She’dfoundalovelyrose-patternedtableclothandnapkinswithbigcabbagerosesonthemforthe

diningtable.Twotapercandlesincut-glassholdersandthetablelookedalmost…elegant.

She’d made John stop by the roadside on the way back. As he watched, astounded, she’d used a

knifehekeptintheSUVtocutboughsofevergreens.Sheputtheboughsinabigplasticvasefilledwith
water,andputitbesidethesofa.Thefreshsmellofpinesoonpermeatedthelivingroom.Shelittwobig
redperfumedcandlesandplacedthemonthecoffeetableandlitalineofteacandlesshe’darrangedona
shelf.ShetwirledtheknobsoftheradiountilshefoundastationplayingChristmasmusic.

Hurry!EverythinghadtobejustsobythetimeJohnreturned,includingherself.Aquickshowerand

application of perfumed body lotion. Check. Cherry-red cashmere sweater. Check. Lightly applied
makeup,thefirstshe’dwornintwodays.Check.Perfumeonherpulsepoints,hair,betweenherbreasts.
Check. She had just finished brushing her hair when she heard the front door open and hurried into the
livingroom.

Ithadturneddarkandverycoldwhileshe’dmadeherpreparations.Johnstoodinthedoorframe,a

good-sized tree with its roots attached over one shoulder, a large tin tub hanging from one big hand,
lookingforalltheworldlikePaulBunyanminustheox.Agustoffrigid,pine-scentedairgustedinbehind
him.Hisbreathswirledwhitelyaroundhishead.

He took in the room and her in one dark glance and something—something dark and powerful—

movedinhiseyes.Hefrozeinplace,facehardandsetashelookedather.

OhGod.
She’d wanted so much to surprise him, delight him. Make him forget his woes, and hers. Clearly,

she’d overstepped the bounds. With a quick rush of shame, Suzanne realized that trying to “fix up” his
shackwasanimplicitcriticismofit.Asifsheweretoorefinedtospendtimeinaplacethatwaslessthan
designerperfect.Hemustthinkshewasaterriblesnob.Snobberywasthefarthestthingfromhermind.It
was so instinctive for her—to make her surroundings better, to prettify—that it hadn’t even occurred to
herthathemighttakeitbadly.

The last thing she wanted to do was offend him. He’d risked his life for her. He’d abandoned his

businesswithoutabackwardglanceinordertoprotecther.He’dtaughthermoreaboutsexandpassionin
the past few days than she’d learned in twenty-eight years of life. The thought that she’d insulted this
magnificentmanmadeherheart-stricken.

Theystaredateachotheracrosstheroom.
“I’msorry,John,”shewhispered.“DidIoverstepthebounds?IthoughtI’dsurpriseyou.”Shewas

wringingherhandsandforcedherselftostop.“IhopeIdidn’toffendyouifIchangedafewthingsaround.
Ididn’twanttoinsultyou,Ijust—”

“No.”Hisvoicewashoarse.Heclearedhisthroatandmovedintotheroom.“No,I’mnotoffended.

Ofcoursenot.Everything’svery…nice.Wheredoyouwantthis?”

“Overthere.”SuzannepointedtothecornerthatpositivelycriedoutforaChristmastree.“Putsome

waterinthetubfirst.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He actually smiled, perhaps the third smile she’d seen cross his face. Her heart

turnedover.Andjustlikethatsheknew.Shewasinlovewiththisman.

She must have been half-way there already because the knowledge settled in her heart not as a

blindingrevelation,butasiftherewereaJohnHuntington-shapedplacealreadythere,waitingforhimto
fillitandwaitingforhertoacknowledgeit.

Wasthiswhyshehadn’tgivenherhearttoanyotherman?Becauseshehadn’t,notreally.Ohsure,

she’ddatedandhadhadafewlovers,butrightnow,atthismoment,shecouldn’trememberathingabout
anyofthem.Sherememberedeverything—everything—aboutJohnHuntington.

The way his deep voice seemed to set up reverberations in her diaphragm. The way his hard,

callusedhandscouldbesodelicate.Thewayheunerringlyputhimselfbetweenheranddanger.Theway
histongueagainsthersrobbedherofbreath.Thewayhispenisfelt,hardandhot,insideher.

Was it just sex? Maybe. Goodness knows, she’d thought of sex the instant she’d seen him. They

hadn’thadoneconversationthathadn’thadsexasthebackdrop.Itoozedoutoftheman’sporesandshe’d
falleninstantlyinlust,thesecondshe’dmethim.Sounlikeher,theQueenofCool.

Whenevershe’dthoughtaboutfindingtheloveofherlife,she’dimaginedsomenice,suitableman,

whosetastesweresimilartohers.They’ddateforamonthortwo,goingtorecentlyreviewedrestaurants
andfirst-runmovies.They’dgotobedtogether,discreetly,tastefully,andfindtheylikedthesamebrand
ofcoffeeandplaincroissantsforbreakfast.They’dreadthesamebooksandvotethesameparty.

Nothing could be further from that scenario than John. He wasn’t a nice, suitable man. He was a

warrior,ahard,toughman.Theyprobablydidn’treadthesamebooksanddidn’thavethesametastein
music.Andtheyverydefinitelydidn’tvoteforthesameparty.

Instead of dating for a few months, they’d had wild sex the day they’d met. In bed, he was

overwhelming,aforceofnature,notthegentleandtameloverofherimagination.Nothingabouthimwas
easyorcomfortableorfamiliar.

Andyetshelovedhim.Shefeltmoreforhim,amanshe’dknownforafewdays,thanshe’deverfelt

foranyotherman.She’dfollowhimtotheendsoftheearthifhecrookedhisfinger.

Wasitsex?Maybe.Godknowsthesexwaspowerfulenoughtobindhertohimonthatbasisalone.

Buttherewasmore.Theymightnothavethesametastesbutsheadmiredhimmorethananyothermanshe
knew.Hewasbraveinawayshe’dneverseenbefore,neverevenknewexisted.Astuteaboutthewaysof
theworld.Observant.Intelligent.

ShewatchedhisbroadbackashesettheChristmastreeupinitstubandshookherhead.Neverina

million years would she have imagined loving a man like him. But here she was, heart thumping at the
meresightofhimdoingsuchamundanetask.

“Okay.” John straightened, brushing his hands. The Christmas tree stood straight and tall. He’d

chosenwell.Thebrancheswereevenlyspaced,aglossyforest-greenpyramid.He’dcentereditinthetub
anditrose,tallandstraightandperfect,nearlytotheceiling.“Nowwhat?”

Shewalkeduptohimandstoodontiptoeandgavehimakissthatwaspureaffection.Whataman.

He’d never set up a Christmas tree before, yet the first time he’d done it, it was perfect. “Now…we
decorate,”shesmiled,andplacedredribbonsinhishands,hidingasmileatthelookofstupefactionin
hisface.

Shehadn’thadmuchtochoosefrominthesupermarketinthewayofdecorations,soshe’doptedfor

simple,naturalobjectsinacolorschemeofredandwhite.Redribbons,apples,popcorn.

Whiletheturkeypoppedandhissedintheovenandanacappellachoirsang“TheLittleDrummer

Boy”and“DoyouSeeWhatISee?”ontheradio,theyloopedtheredribbonsontheboughs,threadedthe
popcornandhungclove-studdedapplesfromaredribbonbow.Johnwasafastlearneranditdidn’ttake
himlongtogetuptospeed,thoughhe’dbeencluelessatfirstabouttrimmingaChristmastree.

“It’saboutbalanceandcolor.”Suzannepointedtothebranchwhereanappleshouldbetied.“The

decorations should be evenly spaced and you shouldn’t have too many objects of the same color too
closelytogether.Didn’tyouhaveChristmastreeswhenyouwereakid?”

“Hmm?”Johnwasreachinguptoplacearibbonneartheapexofthetree.“Nah.Mymomdiedwhen

Iwastwo andmydad wouldn’thaveknown howtodecorate atree ifyou’dput agunto hishead.We
usuallyhadChristmaslunchonbasethenwenttargetshooting.Thatokay?”

Hesteppedbackandadmiredhishandiwork.Hestoodasifonamission—broadshouldersstraight,

wide-leggedforbalance.Afrownofconcentrationpulledhisblackeyebrowstogether.Helookedexactly
like a man who, against all odds, has just finished a demanding and daunting task. Attacking a well-
defendedenemystronghold,maybe,orrescuinghostagesheldbyruthlessterrorists.Thewarrior’sstance
wasalittleruinedbythefactthathewasfestoonedwithredribbons.Twoclove-studdedapplesdangled
fromonebighand.

Shesteppedback,too,andhepulledheragainsthisside,aheavyarmaroundhershoulders.“Ismell

likeagoat,”hesaid.“Tookmeanhourtodigaroundtherootsofthatdamnedtree.”

Sheturnedherheadandsniffeddelicately.“Apine-scentedgoat,”shesaidpolitely.
Hesnorted.“Treeturnedoutokay,though,didn’tit?Notbadforafirsteffort.”
Thetreewaspretty,shethoughtwithsatisfaction.Itreachedalmosttotheceilingandthebranches,

thickandglossy,contrastedcheerilywiththeribbonsandapplesandstrandsoffluffywhitepopcorn.The
treeglowedwithcolor.Therewerenostore-boughtornamentsonthetree,butthatonlymadeitcharming,
likesomethingoutofaNormanRockwellpainting.

“Pity we don’t have an angel,” she sighed. Her mother had a wonderful hand-made papier-machè

white-and-goldangelpickedupinNaples,whichwouldhavelookedperfectontopofthetree.

John squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. His deep voice was quiet as he said,

“Youwouldn’tfitontop.”

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

“Isitokay?”

Suzanne was watching him anxiously, so John had to stop simply forking food into his mouth like

therewasnotomorrowandpretendtosavorit.Thefoodwasgreat,consideringwhatSuzannehadhadto
workwith.Certainlybetterthanhisusuallukewarmcanofsoupandcrackersupinhishideaway.Butthe
sobertruthwas,hewasstarved.Therehadn’tbeenmuchtimetoeatthesepasttwodaysandhe’dworked
upanappetite,whatwiththesexanddiggingupatree.He’dhavehappilysuckedupMREsorburnttoast,
ifhehadto,letalonetheperfectlydecentmealshe’dlaidon.Thefactthatthefoodwasgoodwasaplus.

“It’swonderful.”Reluctantly,heputhisforkdownandpastedanexpressionofsincerityonhisface,

whentheonlythinghewantedtodowithhisfacewasstuffit.“Nevereatenbetter.”

Suzannelaughed.“Youaresofullofit,JohnHuntington.Areyoutryingtoconvincemethataman

whokeepsanaccountatCommeChezSoicanbecomeecstaticoverfrozenturkeylegpumpedfullofGod
knowswhatpreservingagents?Givemeabreak.”

“No, no,” he protested, eyeing his forkful of turkey and baked potato with longing. “It’s great, just

great.Trustme.”Shewasgoingtoprotestfurther,hecouldseeitonherface.Heputtheforkinhismouth
sohecouldatleastbechewingwhilesheanswered.

Butsheonlyshookherhead.“Iguessifyoucompareittorawgoat,it’sokay,”Suzanneconceded.
Shewasleaningforward,beautifulfacelitwithamusement.Candlelightlovedherface,bringingout

thesoftglowofherskin,highlightingtheelegantcurveofhercheekbones,findinghiddenlicksoffirein
herhair.Thiswasawomanmadeforcandlelitdinnersandromancing.

Shit. He hadn’t done much of that with her. He didn’t really know how. He’d always considered

whatever went on between ‘Hello’ and ‘Let’s get it on’ to be perfectly useless. An empty wasteland of
timegettingtowhatbothpartieswanted.

Forthefirsttimeinhislife,hecouldseehowintriguingthejourneyfromhellotosexcouldbe,how

pleasantitcouldbetosmelltheroses—or,rather,rose-scentedskin—alongtheway.

His swim buddy during SEALS training, Martin Harding, had fallen in love with a philosophy

studentwaitressinginCoronado.Martyhadsentflowersandnoteswhentheycouldn’tmeet,whichwas
often.SEALStrainingdidn’tallowforheartsandflowers.Martyhadgivenupprecioussleeptimetosee
herwhenshegotoffworkatelevenandtowalkherhometoherapartmentinaroughneighborhood.And
forthreemonthshehadn’tgottenlaid,notonce.You’dhavethoughtthatHellWeekwasthelastweekof
seminarytraining,forallthegoodithaddoneMarty.

At the time, John had found that amazingly stupid. All that effort and not one fuck. What was the

point?Excepttherewasapoint.Martywasnowmarriedtothegirlandtheyhadthreekids.Andwere
happy.

He’d gotten everything ass-backwards with Suzanne. She was a courting kind of woman. Even a

blindmancouldseethat,couldseeherrefinementandclass.Jesus,allhe’dseenweredaintycurveshe
wantedtoputhishandsonandfulllipshewantedtokiss.Allhecouldthinkaboutwaswhatherbreasts
tastedlikeandhowquicklyhecouldmakeherwet.Allhewantedwastogetintoherandstaythereas

longashisstaminacouldkeephim.

Evennow—rightnow—sittingincandlelightacrossfromher,awarethatshe’dsomehowwaveda

fairy’smagicwandtoturnhisdustylittlemountainretreatintoaChristmasdelight,hewantedtodoher.
Hardandfast.

Thiswasinsane.Heshouldhavegotthefirstfastheatofheroutofhisbloodbynow.Heshouldbe

capableofsettlingdown.Buthestillfeltedgyaroundher,alwayssemi-aroused,readytojumpherbones
theinstantshegavesomekindofsign.Evenwithoutthesign.

Heneededtoslowitdown,makeconversationwiththewomaninsteadofrememberinghowsofther

skinwasandhowitfelttobeburieddeepinsideher.Countingtheminutesbetweeneatingandwhenthey
couldhavesexagain.

Still,eventhedowntimewasgreat,moreintriguingthanactualsexwithmostwomen.
Itoccurredtohim,forthefirsttime,thathemightactuallybeinarelationship,insteadofhavinga

sex partner. It was a novel thought, a not totally welcome one. It meant a major shift in his life, a
realigningofhispriorities.Hewasn’tentirelysurehowheshouldfeelaboutthis.

Itmightevenbetoolate.Hehadtheuncomfortablefeelingthathe’dalreadymadetheleap,andhis

headwasjustnowcatchingup.

He stole an uneasy glance at her across the candles and she responded with a smile so blinding it

waslikeafisttohisheart.

OhGod,hewasdonefor.Likebeingparachutedintoahostileforeigncountrywithnocompassand

noweapons.Dead,dead,dead.

“Apennyforyourthoughts,John.”Shespoonedicecreamoverahugeportionofhotapplepieand

handedittohim.Shecutasliceaboutatenthaslargeashisownforherself.

She definitely wouldn’t want his thoughts. “I was thinking,” he improvised, “that after dessert we

couldturntheradioon.Ifwecanfindastationwithslowmusic,wecoulddance.”

Suzannelookedupswiftly,eyeswide.“Youdance?”Shedidn’thavetosoundsosurprised.Asifhe

saidhedidembroideryorcollectedstamps.

“No.”Heshruggedasshelaughed.“ButIfigure—howhardcanitbe?Youholdontosomeoneand

move.Can’tbeharderthanaHALO.”

Adropofmeltingicecreamdottedherlipandshelickeditdelicately,smallpinktonguewipingher

lipandjustlikethathegotahard-on.Herememberedinvividsensorydetailjusthowshehadtakenhim
intohermouthandsuckedgently,tongueswirlingoverthehead…

“What’sthat?”
“What’swhat?”Hehadonjeansandhisbluesteelerhadnowheretogo.Itswelledagainstthetight

restrainingmaterialandithurt.Hecouldn’tconcentrate.

“Thatthingyousaid—halo?”
Down boy! “HALO. High Altitude Low Opening jump. You jump out of a plane, usually at night,

from25,000feetcarrying150poundsofgearanddon’topenyour‘chutetillthelastpossibleminute.Not
awholelottafun.”

“No, I can see that it wouldn’t be. Dancing’s a snap in comparison. So eat up your dessert,

Commander.Thenwe’llrepairfromthediningroomtothelivingroomwherewe’llhavesomevinbrulè.
Thenwecangototheballroomforsomedancing.”

Itwasaplanhecouldgowith,evensportingahard-onsointenseithurttowalk.Thelivingroom—

which was essentially the couch—was three steps from the dining room—which was the table—and it
doubledastheballroom.Threeinone.Ah,theadvantagesoflivinginashack.

Johnmadeittothecouch,tryingnottohobble,whileSuzannebroughtouttwosteamingmugsfrom

the kitchen. The mugs smelled of wine and Christmas. He found a station he liked on the radio and sat
back.

Suzanne sat next to him and eased back into his shoulder. One hand cupping the shoulder of a

beautifulwoman,hisbeautifulwoman,theotherhandholdingacupofmulledwine.Lifedidn’tgetmuch
better.Theysipped.

Suzanneglancedathislap.“You’rearoused.”
“Damnright.”Heslantedaglanceather.“I’mcountingonyoudoingsomethingaboutit.”
“Mm.Later.Firstwedance,andthenthere’sanotherBarronChristmastraditionwehavetorespect

first.”

“Does it involve red ribbons?” he asked, with interest. “I could really get into red ribbons. Oh,

yeah.”Hewarmedtothetheme.“Youcouldtiemeupandputaribbonaroundmy—“

She punched his shoulder. “I’m not into bondage, silly.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “I’m into fantasy.

Liketheoneaboutthebigbadsoldierwhokidnapsmeandtakesmeupintohismountainlairandplies
mewithdrinkandmakeslovetomeuntilIcan’tseestraight.”

“Oh,thatfantasy.That’soneofmyspecialties.”Itwassowonderfultoseeherlikethis,playfuland

flirtatious.Thiswasthewomanbeneaththecoolprofessional.Thiswasheressence,herealized.Warm,
sparkling,livelywithlaughter.Hiddenthesepastdaysbyhissexdrive,whichhadscaredher,andbyfear
ofthedamnedsonofabitchwhowasafterher.Fornowhe’dmanagedtolifttheveilofsadnessandfear
thathadhidhersparkle.“We’llhavetoseewhatwecandotomakeeverysingleoneofyourfantasies
cometrue.”

“That’snice,”shesighed.Herheadlaybackagainsthisarm,ablondelockfallingoverhisshoulder.

Somekindofperfumewaftedupfromher,ascentguaranteedtobringamantohisknees.Helethishand
driftfromhershouldertoherneck,runningthebackofhisindexfingerupanddownthesmoothlength.
Shemovedintohishandlikeacatwantingtobestroked.

A ballad came on the radio, one he was familiar with because it had been playing in all the bars

whilehe’dtrained.Hisbrainwasimprintedwithit.Herosefromthesofa,pullingherup,wrappinghis
armaroundher.“I’mwillingtobreakmybackfulfillingyourfantasies,honey,butfirstIneedtohavethis
dance.”

She slipped gracefully into his arms, already moving, following his pathetically simple two-step

withease.Theyswayedandhehazardedasimpledip.Whenshecameup,laughingandflushed,hefelt
likeFredAstaire.

Heburiedhisnoseinherhairandturnedwithherinhisarms,themusicandherperfumefillinghis

head.Hestillhadahard-onandshehadtofeelit,butitwasokay.Theyweregoingtomakelovesoon;
both of them knew it. It could wait another minute or two. He was going to make sure this time it was
lovemakingandnotfucking.Nowalljobs,notakingherfrombehind.Itwasgoingtobeinabedandhe
wasgoingtobeontopanditwasgoingtobeslowandsoft.Evenifitkilledhim.

Herbodyfitsoneatlyagainsthis.Heturnedandshefollowedgracefully,breastsbrushinghischest,

legs sliding against his. Dancing was something else he’d underrated. He’d always considered it a
second-rateformofforeplay.Whydoit,whenyoucouldhavetherealthing?

It was foreplay, but pleasant in its own right. The music filled his head, a slow liquid beat that

seemedtopulseintimewithhisheart.Suzannewaslightandgracefulinhisarms,andshefilledhishead,
too,thescentandthefeelofher.Hetightenedhisgripandshemovedevencloser,partofthemusic,part
ofhim.Itfeltasifeverymovementhemadewasmadewithher,asifshewereanextensionofhimself.

Itwassoeasytoloseyourselfthisway,tobeonewiththenightandthemusicandthewoman.Ifhe

wasalreadyinarelationship,andhe’ddiscoveredhelikeddancing,thentherewouldbemoreofthisin
hisfuture.Heknewhewasagonerwhenthatprospectdidn’tfillhimwithdread.

He brought their entwined hands up and tilted her head back with his thumb. His head lowered.

Suzanne stopped swaying. She disengaged their hands and placed her palm on his chest. “Not just yet,
soldier.There’ssomethingmorewehavetodo.”

Whateveritwas,shewasn’trefusinghim.Thewarmthinhereyesasshelookedathimwasclear.

Sheliftedontiptoe,pressedakisstohismouth,thentookhimbythehand.Inpassing,shepickeduptwo
candles,aboxofmatches,andhercoat.Hehelpedheronwiththecoatandsheledhimtothedoor.

Outside,thenighthadturnedclearasglassandicycold.Therewasnocloudcoverand,sofarfrom

anylightpollution,thestarswerethickandbrightoverhead,theMilkyWayacreamyropeacrossthesky.
Theystoodontheporchunderthestar-brightnightsky.Stillandfresh,itwaslikethefirstnightofanew
life,wherethenewworldwouldbebrightandclean.

HeheldSuzanne,asfreshandbeautifulasthenight,tightlybyhisside.ThematchflaredandSuzanne

litacandle,placingtheotherinhishand.

Theywatchedthecandleburnforamoment,theflamerisingbrightandstraightinthestillair.“Inmy

family, we have a tradition,” Suzanne said quietly. “We all gather on Christmas Eve for a late supper.
When I was small, there was my mom and dad and me, plus aunts and uncles and both sets of
grandparents. After dinner, we’d listen to music or play charades until midnight. Then we’d all troop
outdoorsholdingacandle.Myfatherwouldmakealittlespeechabouthowblessedweweretobewith
our loved ones and what he hoped for the world in the coming year. He would always end by saying
‘peace’. He’d light his candle, and light my mother’s candle with his. She’d light mine. The light was
passedfrompersontopersonandwe’dallsay‘peace’.Itwaslikeweweresummoningpeacefromthe
spiritofChristmas.”Shelookedupathimandhesawtheglimmeroftearsinhereyes.Sheloweredher
candle to his, her flame igniting his. It flared, and then settled to burn steadily. “Peace, John,” she
whispered.

Peace.
Hehadn’thadmuchofitinhislifetime,hadn’tmissedit,andhadn’tevenlookedforit.Butpeace

movedthroughhiminapowerfulsurge,warminghim.Henowrecognizedthatwaswhathe’dfeltlikea
punch to the heart on opening the door to his shack this afternoon to a little wonderland of beauty and
grace.Peace.Andasensethathe’dcomehome.

Peaceandhomecoming,foramanwhowasawarriorandwho’dneverhadahome.Inthespaceofa

fewdays,thisremarkablewomanhadcreatedtwohomesforhimandfilledthemwithpeace.

“Peace,Suzanne.”Hegaveherpromisebacktoherandbentdown.
Theykissed,lightly,holdingtheircandlesinthechillnightair,underamillionstars.Johnmovedhis

mouthonhers,keepingitgentlebecausethat’swhathefeltinhisheart.Thelong,slowglideoflipsand
tongue,thesighofbreathmeetingbreath,heartbeattoheartbeat,thatwaspeace.

John set the candles on the railing, where they burned brightly, side by side. He watched them a

moment,thenbenttogentlyblowthemout.HeturnedbacktoSuzanne.Theirlipsmetagainandhebentto
liftherinhisarms,holdingherhighagainsthisheart,kissingherashecarriedherinside.Musicfromthe
radio provided a counterpoint to the drumbeat in his head. He considered briefly turning it off, but it
seemedappropriatetolaySuzanneacrosshisbedtothestrainsof“JoytotheWorld”.

Joy. John couldn’t help but smile down at her in joy. With no sense of hurry, he stripped, his gaze

lockedwithhers.Hewasnakedinsecondsandshecouldclearlyseewhatshedidtohim.Partofhim—
the old John—wanted to jump on top of her and enter her fast. She was ripe and ready, sighing, legs
movingrestlessly.Rippantsandpantiesoffherandputitin.

ThatwastheoldJohn.Thenewonewantedtosavoreachstep,eachslowunveiling.ThisJohnbent

totakehershoesandsocksoff,slowly.Rightfoot,leftfoot.Heheldherfootforamoment,admiringthe
elegantarch,thesubtleplayoftendonandmuscle.Hewantedtoseemore,seethoselong,slenderlegs
gleamintheshadowydarkness.Theraspofthezipper,thehissofmaterialashepulledpantsandpanties
downandoffandthereshewas.Nakedfromthewaistdown,coveredonlybyasoftcherry-redsweater.
Hepickedherrightfootupagainandliftedittohismouth.

Itexposedher.Enoughlightfilteredinfromthelivingroomtoshowthefoldsofhersex,openand

alreadyglistening.Hisdickcameawayfromhisstomachinasurgeandlengthened.

“John. Look at me. I’m ready.” Suzanne lifted her other leg then let it fall to the side. She was

completelyopentohim.“Cometomenow,”shewhispered.

He didn’t answer, couldn’t. Words choked in his throat. All he could do was to bend and kiss her

foot,nibbling,listeningtothecatchofherbreathashesuckledhertoes,onebyone.Hekneeledonthe
bed,watchinghereyes.Everythinghedidtohertonighthadtobepureliquidpleasureforher,joyheaped
onjoy.Hereyeswouldtellhimwhatworkedandwhatdidn’t.

Lightnipsalongthearchofherfoot,afingertiprunningfromankletothighworked.Hersighsrosein

theroom.Hemeantfortheretobemoansandthenscreamsbeforehewasdone.

Lips, then fingers, trailed up her legs. That worked, too. He placed his hands on the inside of her

kneesandpressedthemopen,gently.Hersexunfoldedlikepetalsofroses,wetwithdew.

Histhoughtssurprisedhim,evenshockedhim.He’dneverhadtheseimagesinhisheadbefore,ever.

Sexwassex,period.Gettingyourrocksoffwasfunwhileitlasted,butnotpartoftheimportantbusiness
oflife.This…thiswasdifferent.Andimportantashell.

“John.” Her voice was a languid sigh and it raised the hairs along his forearms. The red sweater,

moldedtoherfirmbreasts,roseandfell.Shewasbreathingrapidly,almostpanting.Andhelostit.

Heknew—heknew—whatheshoulddonext.Heshouldpullthatsweateroffherslowly,getridof

thebraandlickandsuckherbreasts.Shehadsmallnipplesthatgrewevensmallerandrockhardwhen
shewasturnedon.Shelikeditwhenhesuckedhardandevenwhenhebitlightly.She’dbuckedthefirst
timehedidthat,asifnoonehadeverbithernipplebefore.Helovedthethoughtthathewasdoingthings
tohernomanhadeverdonebefore.

Hishandwouldmovedownandhe’denterherwithonefinger,thenwhenshesoftenedupabit,he’d

putinasecond.He’dspreadhisfingersslowly,gettingherreadyforhim.She’dcomefastthiswayand
her sheath would pull at his fingers. He knew how to keep it going for a while, make her cry with her
orgasm.

When she stilled, he’d slide down her, kissing her stomach along the way, and finally taste her,

somethinghehadn'tgotaroundtoyet.Goingdownonwomenwasn’tsomethinghedidoften,onlywhenhe
gottiredofhavinghisdickinthewomanandbythattimehewasusuallyboredenoughtocallitoff.

HeknewSuzannewouldbesomehowdifferent.Spicyandwarmandexciting.Soyeah,he’dburyhis

tongueinheruntilshecameagain.Whenevershecameforthesecondtime,shepulledharderanditlasted
longer.Whileshewascoming,he’dmoveupherbodyandburyhimselfinher,thrustingintimewithher
contractions,keepingitupuntilshewentintomeltdown.

Yeah,that’swhatheshouldhavedone.
What he actually did was climb on top of her, open her with his fingers and thrust in, hard. She

gasped and squirmed under him. He could feel her, frantically trying to adjust to him, to his size and
length.

He’dskippedtheextensiveforeplay;theleasthecoulddowasstaystillwhilesheadjusted.Though

hewantedtostartmoving—hard—helaystillontopofher,faceburiedinherneck.Hisbackwastense
and his ass tight as he held himself deep inside her. She was softening slowly, by degrees. Her legs
opened wider and she hooked them around his, sleek and slim and strong. When Suzanne pushed her
pelvisupagainsthim,rockinggently,heletouthisbreath.Ohyeah.Shewasready.

Howcouldhekeepfromfuckingherblind?Hewantedsomecontrol,somewaytokeepitgentle,for

the first time. As he held himself still, the buzzing in his head quieted enough to hear the radio, still
playingsoftmusic.That’swhathe’ddo.He’dmakelovetohertoaslowbeat.Thatshouldgivehima
modicumofcontrol.

Thestrainsof“AmazingGrace”filteredin,andhebegantomoveslowly,intimewiththemusic.A

leisurely,languidinandout.Suzannesighedinhisear,givinghimgoosebumps,risingtomeethisslow

strokes.

John slipped his hands under her hips to pull her more tightly against him on the downstroke. The

music was working fine, helping him keep a slippery clutch on control. His mouth fastened on the skin
behindherear,whereahickeywouldn’tshow,whilehishipspumpedinmeasuredstrokes.

Suzannemoanedandstartedshakingunderhim.Hisbackwasbathedwithsweatfromtheeffortof

keepingfrompumpinghardandfastintoher.Hefeltrawandopen,fightingtokeepthereinsofcontrol
fromslitheringoutofhisgrasp.Themusichelped,alittle,butthenitstoppedandasmoothbaritonevoice
startedtalking.Thenews.

Suzanne gasped and stilled. When she started coming, he’d be a goner. He waited for her

contractionstostartandforhimtolosecontrol.Hejoltedwithsurprisewhenherlegsslippeddownonto
themattressandshepushedathisshoulders.

“Getoffme,John.”What?“Getoffmenow.”
Shepushedagainandherearedupandpulledoutofher,redandinflamedandwet.Hewaspuzzled

andfrustrated.Whatthefuck?

Suzannewassittingup,shivering,reachingforthecovers.Shepushedherhairbackoutofhereyes.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?Whydidyoustopme?”Johndidn’teventrytokeeptheangeroutof

his voice when he saw from her body language that the sex was over. She was already reaching down
besidethebedforpantiesandpants.Insecondsshewasdressedandstanding.Whenshelookeddownat
him,therewasnothinginherfacetoshowthey’djustbeenmakinglove.Herbreathingwasloud,chest
risingandfalling,eyeswidewithemotion.WhenJohnrealizedthatemotionwasfear,herolledoffthe
bedandstartedwalkingtowardher.

“DearsweetGodinheaven.”Hervoicewasshocked,breathless.“IthinkIknowwhat’sbeengoing

onandwho’safterme.”Shedrewinadeep,shakybreath.“IthinkIwitnessedamurder.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Thetremblingwouldn’tstop.Suzanneputahandtohermouth,andthenwrappedherarmsaroundherself.
She was cold down to her core. She looked helplessly at John. He was standing against the open
doorway,hisbignakedbodyoutlinedbythelight.Shecouldseethegleamofhiserectpenis,stillwet
fromher.

Ithadhappenedsoquickly.Onemoment,she’dbeentensingagainsthispenis,feelingthewavesof

anorgasmbuildingandthenext,she’dbeenpushingatJohn’sshoulders,eagertogethimoffher.Justlike
that,aswitchhadbeenthrown.

She could still hear the smooth baritone of the announcer’s voice. She wouldn’t have paid any

attention,normally,butithadbeensolovelytofeelJohn’sbodymovinginhers,whilethegracefulnotes
of“AmazingGrace”movedinherhead.Whenthemusicstopped,shewasstilllistening.

“ThisisLorenBannisterwithsomebreakingnews.ThebrutallybeatenbodyofaPortlandwoman,

MarissaCarson,wasfoundtoday.Theauthoritiessayshewasmurderedsometimeintheafternoonofthe
twenty-secondofDecember.Thewomanlayunnoticedinherapartmentuntilaneighbor,returningfroma
businesstrip,noticedherdogbarkingconstantly.Theneighborcalledthepolice.

“Marissa Carson’s husband, businessman Peter Carson, who has just returned from a two-week

vacationinAruba,iscooperatingwiththeauthorities.”

Johnhadpulledonhisjeans,leavingthemunzipped.Hewalkedbarefoottowardher,clutchingher

armsinagripthatalmost,butnotquite,hurt.Heshookher.“What’sgoingon,Suzanne?Whatthehelldo
youmean—yousawamurder?”

Suzanneopenedhermouth,butfeltasobabouttocomeout.Shesnappedhermouthclosedandshook

herhead.Iwillnotcry,Iwillnotcry,Iwillnotcry.Itwasamantrainherhead.Sheswallowedheavily,
bilerisinginherthroat.“Ihaven’tseenaTVhere.Doyouhaveone?”

Hisjawsclenched,buthedidn’tblinkatthechangeofsubject.“No.”
“Oh.” Suzanne thought furiously. She needed to know—“Do you have a computer with internet

access?”

Hestudiedherforalongmoment,thengaveasharpnodofhishead.“Followme.”
Follow me sounded odd when applied to a tiny shack. Still, she followed his broad back into the

living room then watched, astounded, as he moved a throw rug aside, put his thumb to a screen and a
piece of the floor simply rose up on silent hydraulics. It was connected to a steel ladder angling
downwards.

Hehadanotherroomdownstairs,andshehadn’tevensuspected.Hetooktheleadandshefollowed

himdowntherungsoftheladdertostandunderaharshneonlight,blinking.Theroom’sperimeterswere
the perimeters of the whole shack, so it was fairly large. It was bristling with electronics, blue steel,
brushedaluminum.Suzannedidn’tknowmuchaboutcomputertechnologybutsheknewenoughtorealize
thatshewaslookingattensofthousandsofdollarsoftop-of-the-lineequipment.Nowonderupstairshad
feltsobleakandabandoned.Theheartofthehousewashere,gleamingmetal,blinkinglights,thehumof
technology.

Johnwasunfoldingasleekultrathinlaptop.Hepunchedafewkeysandwithabeep,thescreenwas

filledwiththelogoofafamoussearchengine.Helookedather,waiting.Hisexpressionwasstill.

“Canyoufindanewssite,somethinglocal?”Suzannedoubtedwhetherthemurderwouldhavemade

anyofthemajornewssites,likeCNN.Ithadtobelocal.

Johnnoddedandloggedontoanunfamiliarsite.Ithadwhatshewanted,though.
“Click here.” She pointed at the screen and John obeyed. She was glad he wasn’t plying her with

questions,becauseshewasn’tsurehowcogentshecouldbe.Anewpageblinkedonandthereitwas—
Portland Woman Bludgeoned to Death. Suzanne pointed at the screen again. He clicked and up came a
studioportraitofMarissa,whichsherecognizedfromhavingseenitinMarissa’slivingroom.

“Iwasinthatwoman’sapartmenttheafternoonshewasmurdered.Shewasaclient.Imightbethe

lastpersontoseeheralive.”ShereachedpastJohntoscrolldowntothephotographofthehusband,Peter
Carson,beinginterviewedattheairportonhisarrivalfromAruba.“Exceptforhim.Hewasn’tinAruba,
John.HewasinPortland,andIsawhimgoingintoMarissa’shousetheafternoonshewaskilled.”She
laidahandonhismassiveshoulderandsqueezed.“Hekilledher.”

****

Fuck.
Johnstaredatthecomputerscreen.Hewasusedtotacticalandstrategicthinkingandhesawitall,

plainasthechartofaCivilWarbattlefield.Hesaweverymoveandwhateverymoveentailed.Hesaw
thestepsthathadtobetakenandtheconsequences.

Healsosawthatthiswastheendofherlife,assheknewit.Andhis.Heleanedback,feelingold

andtired,knowingwhatwasahead.

“PeterCarson.”HelookedupatSuzanne.Shewaspale,afewlinesofstressetchedonherforehead.

There’d be more—lots more—before this was over. “What do you know about him? And about his
wife?”

Suzannetookoneofhiscampchairs,unfoldedit,andsatdown.“Idon’tknowPeterCarsonatall.I

nevermethim,exceptforwhenIsawhimonthetwenty-second,asItoldyou.Hiswifeis—was—aclient
ofmine.Iwascalledintoredecorateherhomeandwespentsometimetogethergoingoverthedesign.
Shewasdifficult,alwayschanginghermind,soIprobablysawherafewtimesmorethanIwouldhavea
normalclient.Shewasn’taparticularlynicewoman.Ineversawherhusband.Ijustsawphotographsof
himeverywhereinMarissa’sapartment.Orrather…hispictureswereeverywhereuntilthelasttimeIwas
there.Onthetwenty-second.Thedayshedied.”

“Allthephotographsweregone?”
“Yes.AndMarissawas…Idon’tknow.Agitated.Shecouldn’tsitstill.Shekeptmakingcomments

andhints,andthenlookingatmeasifIshouldunderstandwhatshewassaying.TheonlythingIreally
graspedwasthatshethoughtshewasgoingtocomeintosomemoney.Alotofmoney.”

Itcouldn’thavebeenclearertoJohnifhe’dhadadiagramdrawnforhim.“Shewasblackmailing

him.Shewashopingforabigdivorcesettlementotherwiseshe’dgopublicwithwhatsheknewabouthis
businessdealings.Orgotothepolice.Itdoesn’tmatter.Thepointisshewasgoingtoexposehimunless
hepaidher.”

“Exposewhat?”
John sighed and stood up. She might as well know. While he talked, he was planning. In fifteen

minutestheycouldbepackedandoutofhere.Whatwouldbeagoodplacetoflyoutof?NotPortland,not
Seattle.MaybeBoise.TheycouldmakeittoBoisebymorning.AbandontheYukonwithanothersetof
falseplates.Hehadtwosetsoffalseidentitieshere,butnotforawoman.Hehadtogetthemtoasmall
townoutsideSt.LouiswhereamasterforgerheknewcouldgetanewsetofpapersforSuzanne.They’d

laylowsomewhereintheMidwestforafewweeks,thentakethenextlegofthejourney.

Therewasatugofregretathavingtoabandontheshack.Hehadalotofgoodmaterialuphere.An

even greater tug of regret at having to give up his new company. But he’d learned the hard way not to
dwellonregrets.Thiswasthewayitwas.

“Paul Carson isn’t a businessman, honey,” he said as he started climbing the ladder. She was

followinghimup,puzzled.Heheadedintothebedroomandpulledhisduffelbagout.“He’sthepointman
on the West Coast for the Russian Mafia. He’s got his hand in all sorts of nasty stuff, including human
trafficking.He’salsoundersuspicionofcounterfeitingairplaneparts.YourememberthecrashofFlight
901?”

Suzannenodded,wide-eyed.
“The FBI traced the sale of defective bolts to Carson, to a company he owned, but they couldn’t

proveit.Notsomethingthatwouldholdupincourt.Theirinsidewitnesswasfoundhangingfromameat
hook.Theguy’sruthlessashell.Getyourstufftogether.”

“Allright.”Withoutarguing,Suzannequietlysetaboutpackingherbag.Goodgirl,hethought.“Do

youwanttotellBudthatwe’recoming?”

Hejuststaredather.Hadn’tsheheardwhathe’djustsaid?“No,ofcoursenot.We’renotgoingto

Bud,we’regoingtodisappear.ThisisworsethanIthought.We’llhavetogoundergroundandreappear
somewhereelse,assomeoneelse,faraway.IhaveacoupleoffalsedocumentsandIknowwheretoget
more.IwasthinkingwecouldrelocatetotheKeys,ifyoulikethebeach.OrCanada,ifyou’rehungupon
thecold.Canyoustepitupalittle,honey?Iwanttogetgoingassoonaspossible.Ithoughtwe’ddriveto
Boise,catchaflightoutofthere.”

Suzannewasholdingashirtbunchedinherhands,staring.“Idon’tunderstand.WhyonearthwouldI

wanttogototheKeys?OrCanada?OrBoise?IneedtogetdowntoBud.Or—ortheFBI.Orsomeone.
Didn’t you hear what I said, John? I witnessed a murder. Or at least, my testimony puts the husband at
Marissa’shouseattherighttime.Ifhewaslyingaboutbeingthere,thenhemustbethekiller.”

Now he was angry. Good. Anger kept the fear away. Anger made sure he didn’t think too closely

aboutPaulCarsongunningforSuzanne.Gettinghishandsonher.Carsonwasutterlyruthlessandwould
takeherapart.Hewouldn’tstopathangingherfromameathook.

JohnstrodeovertoSuzanne,rippedtheshirtoutofherhandsandglareddownather.Hewenttoeto

toewithher,soshewasforcedtotiltherheadbacktolookathim.Heknewhowintimidatinghecouldbe
andheusedthatdeliberatelynow,utterlywithoutremorse.

Shelookedupathimandhemadesureshewasawarethatheoutweighedherbyahundredpounds

andwasalmostafoottallerthanshewas.

“Now listen up, Suzanne, I’m going to say this once. We don’t have much time and every minute I

spendexplainingthesituationtoyouisaminutelost.YouarenotgoingtotestifyagainstPaulCarson.The
manisamurderer,andwasonelongbeforeheoffedhiswife.Ifyoutestifyagainsthim,yourlifeisover.
Hewillgunyoudownbeforeyoumakeittothecourthousetotestifybeforethegrandjury.Ifhedoesn’t
managethat,andmaybe,justmaybehewon’tbecausetheFBIwillputyouinasafehouseandguardyou
24/7,youcanbetCarsonwillpulloutallthestopstogettoyoubeforeyoutestifyincourt.Everyhired
guninthecountrywillhaveaphotographofyouandacontractinhispocket.TheFBIwillsitonyouuntil
your trial and you just might live till then. Maybe. But afterwards you’ll go straight into Witness
Protection where you’ll wind up a waitress in Bumfuck, Nebraska for the rest of what remains of your
life.AndPaulCarson’sinprisonwithlotsoftimetothinkofwaysofgettingtoyou.He’sgotmoremoney
thanathirdworldcountryandasmallarmyofthugsandhewon’tquit.It’saquestionoftime.Sothose
areyourchoices—beingdumpedbytheU.S.Marshal’sServiceonsomewindblownprairietoliveout
yourlife—yourveryshortlife—insomedead-endjob,completelyaloneandalwayslookingoveryour
shoulder.Oh,andifyougointotheProgramforgetabouteverseeingyourparentsormeoryourfriends

orPortlandagainfortherestofyourlife.”

Hisvoicehadrisen.Nowhetookadeepbreathandloweredit.“Oryoucancomewithme.Iknow

howtomakeusdisappear.Icansetusupinanotherpartofthecountry,orevenabroad,withcompletely
newidentitiesandIcandoitbetterandfasterthantheWitnessProtectionpeople.Wecanlivequietlyand
even well. If we keep our noses clean, make sure our new identities are deep enough, you could even
have a low-key job as a decorator in five or ten years’ time. So those are your choices, Suzanne.
Waitressingontheprairieandlivingaloneorcomingwithme.”

Hecouldfeelhisjawsclench,holdingbackthefearandtherage.
“Whichwillitbe?”

****

TheMidnightManwasback.ThatwasSuzanne’sfirstthought.He’dcomebackthemomentJohnhad

seenthenamePaulCarsononthescreen.John’seyeswerethecolorofbluedsteel.Justascoldandjust
ashard.

Whathe’dsaid…hermindwhirled.He’dalreadymadetheleapforwardintoherchoiceswhileshe

wasstillstrugglingwiththeimplicationsofwhatshe’dseenandwhatitmeant.

Run away. It sounded enticing, especially with John Huntington by her side. Go to some tropical

island somewhere, calling themselves Patsy and Steven Smith and eat coconuts and down drinks with
littleumbrellas.ItbeatwaitressinginNebraska,allalone.Shewouldn’thavetokeeplookingoverher
shoulder,notwithJohnbyherside.He’dtakecareofherinallways.DisappearingwithJohnwasthe
moreattractivesolution,nodoubtaboutit.

Therewasonlyonethingwrong.
Amanwouldgetawaywithmurder.
Johnwasstandingtooclosetoher,wellwithinwhatsheconsideredherpersonalspace,andhewas

glaringather.Itwasasifhethoughthecouldwillherintoescapingwithhim.Steppingintoavoidand
steppingoutagainsomewhereelse,someoneelse.God,wasthethoughttempting.

What John hadn’t said, hadn’t mentioned in any way, was the sacrifice he would be making. He

hadn’tsaidthat,inmakinghisoffer,hewaswillingtothrowawayalifetimeofhardwork.Jettisonhis
new company. Be unable to use his military background as reference. He’d do all that for her, without
questionandwithoutaskinganythinginreturn.

MidnightManmightbeaharshwarrior,buthe’dproventhathehadasoftspotforher,thathewas

willingtosacrificeeverythingforher.Tearsburnedhereyes.

Shesatdownonthesideofthebedandtuggedathisarmuntilhesattoo.Shecouldfeelhimvibrate

withhisdesiretogetmoving,butthequestionwas—inwhichdirection?

“Whichwillitbe?”he’dasked.Andsheansweredhim.
“John,”shesaidquietly.“Listentome.Listencarefully.”Sheputherhandoverhis.Itwaspaleand

slender,almosthalfthesizeofhisbutsheknewitwasasifshe’dputastakethroughhishand.Hewas
frozeninplacebyherhandonhis.“Doyouknow,Iadmireyourcouragetremendously.It’sthekindof
courageIsimplydon’thave.”Hestartedtospeakandsheplacedafingeracrosshislips.“Shh.Hearme
out.AsIwassaying,I’mnotbraveatall.You’renotgoingtocatchmewithaguninmyhand,goingafter
thebadguys.ButIcandothis,John.No,Ihavetodothis.PaulCarsonprobablykilledhiswife.Ifhedid,
hehastogotojail.IfIrefusetotestify,I’mcondoningmurder.IfIrefusetotestify,oursystemcrashes.I
mustdothis.Imust.It’smydutyasacitizen.Iamhonor-boundtodoit.”

Hishandtensedunderhersandhebowedhishead,broadshouldersslumping.Suzanneknewshe’d

usedtheoneargumenthecouldn’trefute.Hewasaformernavyofficer,thesonofone.Dutyandhonor
werebredinhisbloodandbone.

Johnrose,slowly,asifhewereanoldman.Theireyesmet.Thismomentchangedeverything.He

wasabouttosetinmotionaprocessthatwouldseparatethemforever.

Thetearsthathadbeenthreateningwerenowflowingdownhercheeks,butshemethisgazehead-

on.Shewasn’tbackingdown,andheknewit.

Johnreachedforsomethinginhisduffelbag.Acellphone.Hepunchedinsomenumbers.
“Bud.Johnhere.Listenup.There’vebeendevelopments.”

****

Ithappenedfast.Withintwentyminutes,theywereheadingbackdownthedirtroad,whichledtoa

secondaryroadfeedingintothehighway.JohnhadmadeanappointmentwithBudandthefederalagents
ataspotaboutfiftymilesaway.

Suzanneknewwhatwasgoingtohappen,becauseJohnhadexplaineditcarefully,eyesblank,face

hard,noexpressionatallinhisdeepvoice.MidnightMan.

Shewouldbetakenintocustodybyfederalagents.Itwasafederalcase—traffickingandsmuggling

—andthey’dbeenonPaulCarson’stailforthepastfifteenyears.BudMorrisonwouldaccompanyher.
John had explained that Bud would be there as ‘liaison’ between Portland PD and what he called ‘the
feebs’, but she’d heard him on the phone arguing, insisting on Bud’s presence. Bud would be there, at
leastinthebeginning,becausesheknewBudandwouldbereassuredbyafamiliarface.

Johnwasdoinghisbesttoprotectherevenwhenshewouldbetakenbeyondhisreach.
TheFBIwoulddebriefher,whichwasafancytermforquestioningher.Shewouldbetakentoasafe

houseuntiltheDistrictAttorneycouldputtogetheracaseforagrandjury.Aftertestifying,shewouldbe
keptinanothersafehouseuntilthetrial.TheFBI’sjobstoppedthen.TheU.S.Marshal’sServicewould
takeover,givingheranewidentityandplacingherinthemostanonymoussettingtheycoulddevise.And
thatwaswhereshewouldspendtherestofherlife.Inhiding.

She’dneverseeherparentsagain.Technically,theyweren’tsupposedtoknowanythingaboutwhat

had happened to her. To them, she would have disappeared off the face of the earth. But John had
promisedherhe’dletthemknow,discreetly.

Takingcareofher,again.
She’d never see John again. Scant hours after realizing she loved the man, he’d be taken from her

forever. There would be no other man for her. How could there be? Having known John, having loved
him,shecouldn’tevencontemplatelovinganotherman.Noothermancouldevermeasureup.

Her life was ending with each mile the SUV ate up, bleeding away just as surely as the lifeblood

bledoutofsomeonewho’dbeeninafatalaccident.

Sheblinkedbacktears.Shedidn’twanttocry,shewantedtoseeeverything,graspeverysecondof

thislifebeforeitended.Thenightwasstill,thestarsbrilliantintheicysky.Abeautifulnighttobethelast
night of her old life. Suzanne shivered and huddled more deeply into the comfort of John's sheepskin
jacket,whichhe’dinsistedsheputon.Itsmelledofhim,amuskymalescentshe’dcarrywithherforever.

His profile was hard and clean, the only signs of tension the muscles jumping in his jaw. Suzanne

eyedhimhungrily,wantingtohoardimagesofhimtoaddtoherpitifulstockpile.Afewdays.They’donly
hadafewdays.Despiteherbestefforts,alonetearcourseddownhercheek.

Withaviciouscurse,JohnwrenchedthesteeringwheelandbroughttheSUVtoasuddenhaltbythe

sideoftheroad.Hestaredahead,breathinghard,andthenloweredhisheadtothesteeringwheel.

“Fuck.”Hisvoicewasthemerestwhisper.Heturnedhishead,eyesbleak.“Ican’tdothis,Suzanne.

Ican’tgiveyouuptothem.”

“Youhaveto.”Herheartwascrackingopen.Therewasnoquestionofholdingbackthetearsnow.

“Youhavenochoice.”

Theymovedatthesametime.Shelaunchedherselfintohisarmsatthesamemomentheopenedthem

tohaulherontohislap.

Theykissed,violently,hungrily,ameetingoflipsandtongueandtears.Hertears.Hewasn’tcrying

butshecouldfeelhismusclestenseasrocksbeneathherhands.

Hewasholdingthebackofherheadtightly,whileeatingathermouth,asifhecouldfusethematthe

lips.Histonguewasdeepinhermouth.She’dtakethetasteofhimtohergrave.

“Don’t go, goddammit. Stay with me.” His voice was thick and gravelly. The words came out

betweenbitingkisses.“I.Can’t.Stand.To.Let.You.Go.”

Hishardhandsmovedupunderhersweater.Hedidn’tbotherlooseningherbra.Hejustshoveditup

togetherwiththesweaterandbentheroverhisarm.Cuppinghishandaroundherbreast,hehelditforhis
mouth, opened wide over her nipple. He suckled her hard, biting and sucking, pulling at her with the
strengthofhismouth.Justlikethat,shesurgedintoclimax.Shehadnoideashewasready;theorgasm—a
hard,tightonethatleftherunsatisfied—tookhercompletelybysurprise.

Shecouldseehischeeksworkingonherbreastsandhadaflashofanalternatefuture.Shecouldsee

herselfonasofawithJohnsittingbesideher.Shewasholdingtheirchild,feedingatherbreast.Achild
whowouldneverbeborn.

Withshakinghands,cryingwithdesperation,Suzannesatupandfumbledwiththesnapofhisjeans.

Sheneededhiminsidehermorethansheneededhernextbreath.Sherarelytooktheleadwithaman,and
neverwithJohn.Butnow,rightnow,she’dhaveclawedherwaythroughconcretetogettohim.

Theirhandstangledastheyracedtounbutton,unzip,open.Shetoedherownshoesoff,andpulled

her pants and panties down and off. She left the sweater and jacket on. No need to get naked. All they
neededwasthebareminimumuncovered,forhimto…

Ah!
Therehewas,enormousandhardasstone.Shewhimperedassheputherhandsonhim,feelingthe

steelystrength.Thatpenishadbeenthesourceofsuchdelightforher,butnowwasn’taboutpleasureor
sensuality.Nowwasaboutbeingconnectedwithhiminthemostelementalwaypossible.Nowwasabout
feelinghiminsideher,moving,apartofher.

Sheopenedherlabiaherselfandpositionedherselfoverhim.Thoughshe’dalreadyhadanorgasm,

she still found it difficult to give him passage. But she persisted, even when it became slightly painful,
because the thought of not having him inside her was unbearable. Finally she was straddling him,
completelyimpaled.Hisroughpubichairsscratchedhersensitiveinnerthighs.Hervaginaadjusteditself
slowlytohim.Sheimaginedthatifthingshadworkedoutdifferentlyandtheycouldhavelivedtogether,
theywouldhavemadelovesooftenshewouldeventuallybepermanentlystretchedtoaccommodatethe
sizeofhispenis.

Straddlinghislapthisway,herfacewasonalevelwithhis.Itwasdark,butsheknewhisfacewell.

Hewassufferingasmuchasshewas.MidnightManwasgone;inhisplacewasamanattheendofhis
emotionaltether.

Itwasunbearablyintimatethisway,feelinghimdeeplyburiedinsideherwhilewatchinghiseyes.

Herhandreachedunderneathhissweatertotouchhischest,runningherfingersoverthethickmatofhair.
Sherestedherhandsoverhismassivepectoralsandcouldfeelhisheartthunderingunderherrighthand.
Hisbreathwashedherface.

Suzannerotatedherhipsaroundthesmoothhardcolumn.
Shesearchedhiseyesasshebeganatentativerockingmotion.“I’msorryI’monthePill.IwishI

weren’t.I’dgiveanythingifIcouldbecomepregnantrightnow,thisinstant.AtleastI’dhaveyourchild
withmefortherestofmylife.”

Hiseyesflaredandthepeniswithinherlengthened,thickened.Itwassoamazingtoseeandfeelat

thesametimehisreactiontoherwords.

Hisbighandscuppedherbackside,slidingherevenmorecloselyontohim.“Ifyouwerepregnant,”

hegrowled,“nowaywouldIletanyonehaveyou.I’dkidnapyouifIhadto.”

“John.” Her voice broke. She could barely get any sound out through the constriction in her chest.

Herthroathurtwithunshedtears.Hebeganthrusting,slowly,andshewassurehecouldseetheeffectsof
his movements in her eyes. “I am going to miss you…so much.” She said the words against his mouth,
rockingupanddownagainsthislipswiththeforceofhisthrusts.

Johnliftedonehandtoholdthebackofherhead.Hekissedher,hard,bitingherlips.“Iwantyouto

rememberthis,”hegasped,hispenisworkingstrongandhardandfastnow.“Iwantyoutorememberthe
tasteofmymouthonyours,howIfeelinsideyou.Iwantyoutowalkawaywithmycomestillinsideyou.
I want you to remember…this.” He thrust upward so hard she gasped, and slid right over the edge. He
kept moving inside her through her orgasm as she rocked and shook and cried. When she lay quiescent
againsthim,wrungout,heheldhertightlyagainsthimashemovedintohisownorgasm.Hemuffledhis
shoutagainstherhair,butitwasstillloudinthedarkcab.

Theysatquietlytogetherforalongtime,Suzanne’slegsstillstraddlinghiships,sweatdrying.Still

connected.

Heheldhertightlyandsherubbedherfaceagainsthisneck.Tearspooledinhereyes,butshedidn’t

cry.Shewasallcriedoutandtearswouldn’thelpnow,anyway.

Shewasfranticallytryingtocommiteverysecondtomemory.Thefeelofhispenis—barelysoftened

bytheorgasm—insideher,hisbreathagainstherhair,hishandrunningupanddownherbackbeneathher
sweater.

Suzanne wanted to stay like this forever, but eventually John shifted and sighed. “We’d better be

going.”Hekissedherhairandliftedherawayfromhim.Sherummagedonthefloorforherpanties,found
them,andthenpulledonherslacks.ItwaseasierforJohn.Allhehadtodowaslifthishipstohitchhis
pantsup,thenzipup.

Suzanne knew how disheveled she looked. Knew her hair was uncombed, knew her face was

coveredinteartracks,knewherlipswereswollenfromhisbitingkisses.Shesmelledofsex.Shecould
feelhissemenbetweenherthighs.Sheknewallofthat,knewshewouldbemeetingfederalagentswho
wouldtakeonelookatherandknow.Shecouldn’tfinditinhertocare.

Johnturnedtheignition.“It’stime,”hesaid.Hisvoicewaslowandsteady.Shelookedathim,athis

carefullyexpressionlessfaceandwantedtoweep.

MidnightManwasback.

****

Theywerewaitingwherethey’dsaidthey’dbe—twounmarkedcarsthatscreamedFBIandBud’s

PD-issueCrownVictoria.JohnhadmadesurethatBudwouldbearoundtoeaseSuzanne’sway,atleast
for the first few days. Suzanne was going to be scared and lonely, kept under lock and key. It was an
obscenity,theideaofawomanaslovely,asvibrantasSuzannelockedin,herlifeessentiallyover.He
neededtoknowBudwouldbethereforher,atleastinthebeginning.

Thefeebsemergedfromtheircarsbeforehefinishedbraking.Therewerefouragents.Johncouldn’t

see the faces very clearly, but then he didn’t have to. They were essentially the same man. They were
dressed in the same clothes, were more or less the same height and had all read the same operation
manual.

Budgotoutofhiscarandcametostandbesidetheagents,toweringoverthem.Whiteplumescame

fromeveryone’smouth.Thetemperaturehaddroppedbelowzero.

JohnpropelledSuzanneforwardandshemovedwithintheconeoflightcastbyhisheadlights.He

couldseetheeyesoftheagentswidenwithsurpriseatthesightofher,andthenshutterdown.Hetrusted

their professionalism, knew that, technically, Suzanne would not only be safe with them, but would be
safefromthem.

Thatdidn’tmeantheyweren’tmen.They’dhavetobewithoutapulsenottoreacttoher.
She wasn’t as polished-looking as when he’d first met her. Her clothes were rumpled and her

makeupwasgone.Herhairneededcombing.Butshewasaheart-stopper,apotentmixofclassandsex.A
magnetforthemaleeye.

The instant they got a close look at her, they’d know. It wasn’t just the bee-stung lips or love-bite

he’djustgivenher.Itwasthewayshewalked,moved.Shewasawell-lovedwomanwho’djusthadsex
anditshowed.

Budcameforward.Heputhisarmaroundherandbentdowntotalktoher.Shenoddedathiswords.
John couldn’t hear what Bud was saying but it didn’t matter. It would be some bullshit meant to

reassureherthateverythingwouldbeallright.

Itwouldn’t.
“Okay,”oneofthefeebssaid,“let’sgo.”
Suzanne turned back to him, eyes glistening. She was ready to break and run to him for a final

embrace.Johncouldreaditinherbodylanguage.Hesteppedback.Ifhetookherinhisarms,he’dnever
lethergo.Suzannestaredathim,thenturnedwhenanagenttouchedherelbow.Onelastlingeringglance
athim,andsheslidintothebackseatoftheleadcar.Theagentsgotinandstartedthecars.

Bud was left standing, looking at him. They stared at each other and John could see that Bud

understood.

Aminutelater,Johnwatchedthetaillightsofthecarsastheytoppedahillanddisappeared.
JohnturnedbacktotheSUVandtookoffinahurry.Heknewwhathehadtodoandhehadtodoit

fast.

****

Thehunterstalkshisprey.Thepreyisalert,butthehunterisstealthyandpatient.Thehunterisan

expert and has done this before, has stalked and killed humans before. Humans leave spoor and have
habits,justasanimalpreydo.

Thehunterhasbeenlyinghereforfourdaysandfournights,sippingfrugallyfromacanteen,eating

nothing,eyesgluedtotheforty-powerspottingscopewithnightvision.

Thehunterhasmudandgreasepaintonhisface,isburiedbelly-downintherootpocketofagiant

oakandiswearingaghilliesuitdesignedtomeldintoawintryPacificNorthwestlandscape.Hesmells
like an animal, which is good. The other animals in the forest give him a wide berth because they
recognizehimforwhatheis—alargeanddangerouspredator.Heisinkillingmodeandtheotheranimals
sensethat.

Below, in the valley, is a large limestone villa, surrounded by guards. The hunter finds the guards

withtheirelaboratesecuritywatchesandthethicksurroundingwallstoppedwithbarbedwireridiculous.
Fromhisvantagepoint,anyonewhostepsoutofthevillastepsrightintohiscrosshairs.

The shot is already lined up, elevation has been calculated. When the prey is in the crosshairs,

windagewillbefactoredin.Thehunterknowshowtodothis,supremelywell.

The hunter’s comrades have given him intelligence. The prey is in the villa, secluded and alone,

except for the guards. The comrades have given the hunter watch times, schedules, a list of enemy
firepowerandtheirpromisetohelphim.Butthehunterhaschosentoactalone.Thisishisfight,hiswar.
Hestandsalone.Ifhehastodie,hewilldiealone.

Hewaits,dayafterday,nightafternight.
At midnight on the fourth night, a night so windless the hunter knows he could drive tacks into a

target, the prey steps out to stand for a moment. He is tall, blond, handsome, with cold features clearly
visibleinthenightscope.Hepausesforamoment,lookingaround,feelingsecure.Foolishlysecure.

He is surrounded by walls and guards. He doesn’t know they are as nothing. He bends to light a

cigaretteandthegreenflareinthenightvisiongogglesruinsthehunter’svisionforamoment.Hewaits.

Hewaitsforthepreytopullonhiscigarette,blowoutaleisurelyplumeofsmokewhichdissipates

slowlyinthecoldstillair.Waitsforthepreytoexchangepleasantrieswiththeguards.Waitsforhimto
pullinabreathofthepristinemountainair,secureinhissafetyandimmunity.

Anditisthen,whenthepreycrushesthecigarettebeneathhisheel,havingtakenalast,secureglance

athisrichandsafekingdom,startingtoturnbackinside,itisthenthatthehunterstrikes.

****

Somethingwashappeninginthelivingroom.Malevoiceswereraisedinexcitement.Thephonerang

constantly.Suzannedebatedbrieflygoingintoseewhatwasgoingon,butshedidn’treallycare.Inthe
fourdaysandfournightsshe’dbeenlockedupinthesafehouse,she’dlearnedtoturnheremotionsoff,
otherwiseshe’dhavegonemad.

Therewerenowindowsandsheknewthetimeofdayonlybecauseofherwristwatchandthesmall

TVinherroom.

Shedidn’tevenknowwhereshewas.She’dbeenflowntoasmallairport,butthey’dbeenmetbya

caroutonthetarmacintheGeneralAviationsectionandshecouldn’tseethenameoftheairport.What
diditmatter?Wherevershewas,shewasn’tfree.Wherevershewas,Johnwasn’twithher.

Thetimehadseemedinterminable.Budhadstayedwithherthefirstthreedaysbuthadhadtoleave

yesterday.

Thank God the debriefing had finally ended. She had told her story over and over, to agent after

agent. Finally, they had just left her alone. From the conversations of the agents looking after her, she
understoodthatthegrandjuryarraignmentwouldbesoon.Thentherewouldbeanothersafehouse.The
trial.Thenthenewlifewouldbegin.

Sheleafedthroughhermagazine,notbotheringtoreadthearticles.Hereyesblurredwithtiredness.

She’dcriedherselftosleepnightafternight,astoundedthatshehadsomanytearsinher.Lastnighthad
beennoexception.Nowitwasmorningandshehadanotherendlessdaytogetthrough.

Atsomepointinthefuture,thetearswouldstop.Theymust.Soon,shehoped.
Thedoortoherbedroomopenedandshelookedup.Throughthedoorintothelivingroom,shecould

seeatleasttenFBIagents,insteadoftheusualfour.Thephonerangagain,thefifthtimeinhalfanhour.
Whatwasgoingon?

She’dneverseenthemanwhowalkedinbefore,buthewasacloneoftheothers.Theywereallthe

same—mediumheight,blackcheapsuit,utterlyhumorless.“Ms.Barron?MayIhaveawordwithyou?”

OhGod,notanotherdebriefing.Sheputhermagazinedown.“Yes?”
“Outhere,please.”Heheldthedooropen,gesturingtowardthelivingroom.
Suppressingasigh,Suzannestoodupandfollowedthemanoutthedoor.Theconversationsgoingon

stoppedwhenshewalkedintotheroom.Alleyesturnedtoher.Whatwasgoingon?

Themantookherelbowandledhertoachair.Hesatdownnexttoher.“Ms.Barron,I’mSpecial

AgentAlanCrowleyandI’minchargeoftheCarsoncase.Therehavebeen…developments.Anunusual
setofcircumstances.”Hestoppedandlookedatherasifexpectingaresponse.

“Yes?”shesaid,finally.
“Ms.Barron,we’vereceivedwordthatseveralhoursagoPaulCarsonwasshotandkilled.”
Suzannestaredathim,uncomprehending.“What?”
“Anunknownassailant,asniper,shotPaulCarsonthroughthehead.Whichmeansthereisnolonger

afederalcaseagainsthim.Whichmeans,Ms.Barron,thatyouarefreetogo.”

“I—“ Suzanne looked around, at the vast display of FBI power, the safe house, back to Special

AgentCrowley.“I’mfreetogo?I’m…safe?”

Hesighed.“Yes.You’renotathreattothepeoplePaulCarsonwasworkingfor.Youwereathreatto

him, personally. Now that he’s been…taken out, no one would come after you. They’d just be creating
moreproblemsforthemselves.Ourstreetinformershaveassuredusofthis.Wewouldn’tbelettingyou
goifweweren’tcertainthatyou’resafe.Soyou’refreetogo.”

Freetogo.Free.To.Go.Suzanneblinked,wonderingifherexhaustionwasplayingtrickswithher

mind.SheopenedhermouthtoaskSpecialAgentCrowleytorepeatwhathe’dsaidwhenthefrontdoor
oftheapartmentopenedandBudsteppedin.

Oh,hownice.Budhadcometotakeherhome.ShesmiledatBudandthenfrozewhenBudmoved

aside.TherewasanothermanbehindBud,justastall,justasbroad-shoulderedbutwithclose-cropped
blackhairandgunmetaleyes.Thehaironthenapeofherneckrose.

Suzannestoodupslowly,shaking.Oh,God,shethoughtshe’dneverseehimagain.Shewantedto

callhisname,butherthroatwasclosed.Herlegscouldbarelyholdherup.

Suzanne looked at him hungrily. He looked leaner. Had he somehow lost weight in the past few

days?Linesofexhaustionclawedhisbeard-shadowedfaceandhewasfilthy.Hehadthelookofawild
animalabouthim.

Shetookonestep,thentwo,andthenranintoJohn’sarms.Hisarmsclosedaroundherfiercely,and

shebrokeintosobs.

“Wewon’teverfindtheweapon,willwe?”SpecialAgentCrowleyaskedbehindher.
John’seyeswerecoldashelookedattheagent.“Idon’tknowwhatthehellyou’retalkingabout.”
HebentandliftedSuzanneinhisarmsandsmileddownather,oneofhisraresmiles,lookingsoodd

inthatexhaustedunshavedface.Theagentswerestandingsilently,watchingthem.Nobodymadeamove
tostophimasheturnedwithherinhisarmsandwalkedout.

“Comelove,”hesaid,ashecarriedheroverthedoorstep,“let’sgohome.”

TheEnd

Dearreader,Ihopeyouenjoyedthisbook.Ifyoudid,I'dappreciateareviewontheAmazonpageand/or

onGoodreads.Ifyoulikedthisbook,youmightalsoenjoy:

THEMIDNIGHTTRILOGY

1.MidnightMan

2.MidnightRun–ComingSoon

3.MidnightAngel–ComingSoon

THEMENOFMIDNIGHT

1.MidnightVengeance

2.MidnightPromises

3.MidnightSecrets

4.MidnightFire

MIDNIGHTNOVELLA

MidnightShadows

WomanontheRun

Murphy'sLaw

THEDANGEROUSTRILOGY

DangerousLover

DangerousSecrets

DangerousPassion

THEPROTECTORSTRILOGY

IntotheCrossfire

HotterthanWildfire

Nightfire

GHOSTOPSTRILOGY

HeartofDanger

IDreamofDanger

BreakingDanger

NOVELLAS

FatalHeat

HotSecrets

RecklessNight

MidnightMan©2015byLisaMarieRice(SecondEdition).

PublishedbyLisaMarieRice

CoverDesign&Formattingby

Sweet'NSpicyDesigns

Allrightsreserved.Withoutlimitingtherightsundercopyrightreservedabove,nopartofthispublication
maybereproduced,storedinorintroducedintoaretrievalsystem,ortransmitted,inanyform,orbyany
means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written
permissionofboththecopyrightownerandtheabovepublisherofthisbook.

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,brands,media,andincidentsareeithertheproductof
the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and
trademarkownersofvariousproductsreferencedinthisworkoffiction,whichhavebeenusedwithout
permission.Thepublication/useofthesetrademarksisnotauthorized,associatedwith,orsponsoredby
thetrademarkowners.

ToAlfredoandDavid,withlove

AboutTheAuthor

LisaMarieRiceiseternally30yearsoldandwillneverage.Sheistallandwillowyandbeautiful.

Mendropatherfeetlikeripepears.Shehaswoneverymajorbookprizeintheworld.Sheisablackbelt
with advanced degrees in archaeology, nuclear physics, and Tibetan literature. She is a concert pianist.
Did I mention her Nobel Prize? Of course, Lisa Marie Rice is a virtual woman and exists only at the
keyboardwhenwritingromance.Shedisappearswhenthemonitorwinksoff.