 
# Wild On You

## Includes the Prequel, Wild Hearts

### Tina Wainscott

###

####

##### 
Wild On You

Bonus Edition

(Includes the prequel, Wild Hearts)

Copyright© 2019 by Tina Wainscott

(originally published by Random House – Love Swept)

ISBN: 9781945143526

WrittenMusings.com

U.S.A.

Format & Cover Design by WrittenMusings.com

This is a fictional work. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are solely the concepts and products of the author's imagination or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, without the prior permission in writing, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles.

For any other permission, please visit WrittenMusings.com for contact links.

# Contents

  * The Justiss Alliance Series
  * The Men of Justiss
  * Bonus Edition
  * Dedication
  * Wild Hearts
  * Chapter 1
  * Chapter 2
  * Chapter 3
  * Chapter 4
  * Chapter 5
  * Chapter 6
  * Chapter 7
  * Wild On You
  * Chapter 1
  * Chapter 2
  * Chapter 3
  * Chapter 4
  * Chapter 5
  * Chapter 6
  * Chapter 7
  * Chapter 8
  * Chapter 9
  * Chapter 10
  * Chapter 11
  * Chapter 12
  * Chapter 13
  * Chapter 14
  * Chapter 15
  * Chapter 16
  * Chapter 17
  * Chapter 18
  * Chapter 19
  * Chapter 20
  * About the Author
  * Acknowledgments

### 1

# The Justiss Alliance Series

_WILD HEARTS & WILD ON YOU_

_WILD WAYS_

_WILD NIGHTS_

### 2

# The Men of Justiss

Dear Reader,

You've probably heard that authors have characters who pester them to tell their stories. Well, for me, it was an _author_ pestering me. I started writing romantic suspense novels under my real name, Tina Wainscott, in 1995. As I evolved into more paranormal elements, I shifted to my pseudonym, Jaime Rush. And while I've had a ball exploring psychic abilities, dragons, and angels, Tina has been simmering on the back burner. Finally, she said, "Enough! I want to write good old-fashioned romantic suspense again." You do know that we writers are the crazy people who listen to the voices in our heads, right? So it should be no surprise that we have multiple personalities as well.

I set the muse loose and told her to find me some guys. I mean, some ideas. Here's what she came back with: five sexy SEALs whose careers are in tatters when a covert mission goes awry. An agency whose sole purpose is to attain justice for those who can't, even if it means playing outside the rules. The rather mysterious man who runs the agency. And, of course, women who give them all a run for their money. This was a way I could honor our military heroes, as well as fix some of the wrongs in the world—at least on paper.

I hope you'll take a wild ride with me and my SEALs!

### 3

# Bonus Edition

In the first part of this special edition, _Wild Hearts_ , meet the tough, fearless heroes that make up  the Justiss Alliance: Risk, Rath, Saxby, Knox, and Julian.  The second part, _Wild On You_ , is the first mission.

### 4

# Dedication

_To my nephew, Lance Corporal Robert John Newton. RJ joined the Marines right out of high school, dedicating his life to—and ultimately sacrificing it for—freedom. He continues to live in the hearts of the many whose lives he touched._

_Sadly, RJ is one of many young, talented, and brave individuals who have lost their lives while fighting for the betterment of our world. And so this book and series are dedicated to all of them, their families, and everyone who has felt the pride of having a soldier in the family, and to those who have felt the vicious bite that war delivers._

###

## Wild Hearts

###

## Chapter 1

This was not going to be like the Navy SEAL Team Six takedown of Bin Laden. Rick Yarbrough's team wasn't going to be lauded in the news, and there wouldn't be any movies made. They wouldn't be hailed as heroes. That was if things went well.

Rick was the first to sign on, no doubt substantiating his nickname: Risk. The boys in his team had followed suit, unwilling to be shown up by the Farm Boy, his other label. They'd all been arrogant enough to take this hit, knowing that if they failed, they'd be thrown under the bus. The official terminology: The U.S. government would disavow any knowledge of the mission. Meant the same damned thing.

So they couldn't fail. Wouldn't fail. And now Risk's team was crouched in the flat desertlike wilderness outside Laredo, Mexico, on a warm, moonless night. Surrounding a compound not unlike some they'd raided in Iraq. He checked his suppressed MP7, the perfect weapon for an infiltration like this. Discharging it would alert no one. The mission was simple: Take out Miguel Romero and his four top men execution-style and get out without anyone in the compound the wiser. Make it look like a hit by Los Negros, the most violent and invasive cartel. Let the shit fly afterward, with the U.S.'s nose nice and clean. They'd done it before with success.

And they would do it again.

On the signal, Risk and his teammates moved closer to the concrete wall surrounding the compound. Three guards patrolled the wall, their assault rifles plain as day in their NVGs—night vision goggles.

If the Mexican drug cartels could manufacture adrenaline, they'd have an even bigger customer base. Hot and sweet, it pulsed through Risk as they crept several steps closer. It was the only drug he needed.

The compound held the leaders of an anti-cartel group called El Martillo—the Hammer—that was targeting the growing corruption and bloodshed in Mexico. With cartel activity becoming the biggest organized-crime threat in the U.S., the government was taking public steps to support Mexican officials. They were also secretly funding and training members of El Martillo, a private organization that used as much violence as the cartels did.

The covert U.S. liaison, known only as the Wolf, was working closely with Miguel Romero, El Martillo's leader. The Wolf monitored progress and ascertained how much support the Hammer needed. And he'd found out that it was all a front. They wanted to shut down the cartels, all right—so they could take over the lucrative drug trafficking industry themselves. Using resources and weapons supplied by the U.S.

Sons of bitches.

As soon as the guard passed, they moved to the wall. _Showtime_. Quick as spiders, they scaled the rough concrete and dropped to the ground on the other side. The Wolf had given them specs on the whole compound, right down to each bush. He'd been off by about a foot, and Risk had to lurch to the side midfall to avoid landing in a bush. And making a lot of racket.

Salsa—Salsa Boy when they were ribbing him—landed several yards away, his feet making barely a sound. Julian Cuevas was as quiet as a snake when he moved, though his laugh was as loud as the salsa music he used for a ringtone.

Five other shadows fell in line as they followed the wall toward the door that the Wolf was leaving unlocked. A quick scan showed the guards making their rounds as usual. Still, Risk knew that every time you entered a building, someone could be waiting, armed and ready. He did a visual check of his team—all accounted for—since they hadn't worn the troop net that allowed them to communicate with each other. If they were caught, they couldn't look as though they were on official military business.

Cal Gutterson led the way into the dimly lit building. None of Risk's team had worked with him before, though he'd pulled some missions back when Mexico didn't want America nosing around in their cartel matters. Cal had been to this particular compound when it was held by another cartel. The tentative relations between the two countries were why this had to look like Los Negros. Otherwise, it would seem pretty bad to the world, Americans killing the "good guys." Others would be livid that the U.S. was funding "terrorists," no matter their stripes.

Risk crept to the back hallway, cleared it, then followed Gutterson to the right, where Romero was supposed to be sleeping. Saxby Cole, known as Sooch—short for "Southern charm"—and Knox Logan headed down another hall to take out Romero's brothers, while Julian and Rath Blackwood headed toward the back of the compound for their targets. There was nothing charming about Sax, or any of them, in black face paint and the dark fatigues Los Negros were known for.

Risk covered from the rear as Gutterson led the way. They flanked the target's door and listened. Not a sound; not even breathing. Gutterson turned the knob and pushed it open, his gun pointed and ready. Risk could make out two figures lying in the bed. The goal was to kill Miguel, leaving his wife none the wiser—and alive. Unless she aimed a weapon at them.

With the NVGs, Risk could see that Miguel slept on the left side, his assault rifle within easy reach. He wasn't reaching for it. Gutterson aimed at Miguel. Risk saw something strange on the man's pillow but didn't have time to gesture before Gutterson squeezed off two shots.

Though the wife didn't move, Risk saw the odd pattern on her pillow, too. He tapped Gutterson's shoulder and pointed at it.

Glass shattered as an assault rifle sprayed a line of bullets at them from outside the window. Risk's body reacted instantly, dropping him to his knees. Gutterson fell with a thud. Risk came from the side and fired back. He saw no one there, but they'd lost the element of stealth. The compound woke up. Risk could feel it and hear it in the clatter of guns and pounding footsteps.

Gutterson wasn't moving. Not even a groan when Risk shook him. Risk hoisted Gutterson over his shoulders and darted toward the door, watching both the hallway and the window for movement. Warm blood poured over his shoulder and made his shirt stick to his skin.

Risk swung his weapon right and left before stepping into the hallway. A shadow fell over the tiles on the floor, and he aimed the weapon at the person about to come around the corner. His finger stiffened on the trigger as his brain computed what he saw: a little girl, armed only with a teddy bear. _Holy shit._ The Wolf had said women and children were kept separate from those who might be targets. But here was a kid. Risk lowered his weapon and told her in his limited Spanish to hide. But the kid . . . hell, she was frozen right there, her big brown eyes reminding him of that deer-in-the-headlights saying.

Risk tightened his hold on Gutterson, one arm looped around his leg, with one hand gripping his sleeve and the other holding his rifle. He ran out of the hallway, a barrage of bullets zinging past them. Puffs of dust came out of the walls where the bullets hit. They weren't quite as troubling as the men waiting in the main living area, guns drawn. Risk ducked as the salvo cut across the room inches above him. He could hear suppressed weapons in other areas of the house, probably his teammates.

A woman screamed. Fucking hell. Women and children. The Wolf had either lied or screwed up.

Risk cut two of his assailants down at the knees. Hunching low, he ran for the door, now guarded only by a couple of bodies. The force of a bullet hit him in the chest and threw him to the floor. Gutterson fell in a heap. Pain thrummed through Risk, and he sucked in a ragged breath. The shooter approached from the side. Risk spotted the man's his MP7 on the floor, too far away.

The guy nudged him with a toe. Bare feet, so not prepared for this late-night attack. Risk let him think he was dead. _Three. Two. One._ He grabbed the man's ankle, jerked, and sent him backward; he hit hard and let out a pained grunt. His gun went off, spraying the ceiling and raining dust and plaster down on them.

Risk grabbed his own weapon and swung it before the guy had a chance to aim. Two _whump_ s later, the guy sagged. Risk patted his chest where the bullet had hit him. Thank God for body armor. Still, it hurt like hell.

"Moving," Saxby said as he entered the main living area, so Risk would know that his comrade was in the room. Sax took out another man who'd stepped out from the hallway entrance. Risk was terrified that the little girl was still frozen in the line of fire. Damn, he hated when kids got hurt because of what their family was up to. Or as a political statement. Or by abusive adults who couldn't channel their anger properly.

Any reason.

He spotted her hunched down in the corner, her bear a shield in front of her face. Alive, then.

Knox announced his entrance as he darted toward them.

"Gutterson's been hit," Risk said in a soft voice. "Condition unknown." No time to check for pulses, and it didn't matter anyway. Dead or alive, they would take him out of there. No man left behind, the military credo. His gut told him the guy was gone, but all he could focus on was hoisting Gutterson again. To survive, they had to compartmentalize everything. For the moment, it wasn't a comrade on his shoulders but simply weight that he had to transport. Any emotions or physical discomfort had to be shoved into boxes to be dealt with later.

Knox and Risk ran for the door. Saxby covered, sending a volley of shots somewhere behind them.

Rath ran in from the shadows and covered from the other side, sweeping his weapon back and forth and moving along with them. "Wolf not located," he said in a low voice. "Room was empty," he added to their unspoken question. They were supposed to put eyes on Wolf in a designated room, give him a few seconds to get into a safe position, and then shoot up the bed so he would look like a target as well.

Julian moved ahead and out the door, Rath right behind him. Rath really looked like Los Negros, with his dark beard and scruffy hair. He definitely didn't look like a redneck from Tennessee.

SEALs didn't have to follow strict military standards for grooming, which gave them a lot of leeway for blending in. They weren't wearing standard uniforms but a mishmash of various camos. Still, they obviously weren't blending in very well tonight. They waited for the all-clear. The guards who'd been outside had probably run into the building at the first sign of trouble and joined the firefight. But it was dumb to assume they were all inside—and dead.

"Clear," Julian called.

"Moving," Risk said, getting the answering confirmation from Knox before stepping out to the courtyard.

The tiniest click shot his attention to the catwalk that led along the inside of the wall where the guards patrolled. One man crouched low, aiming his semi-automatic. He let out an _oof_ and fell backward as Rath's bullets hit him before he could pull the trigger.

They ran across the open courtyard, the most vulnerable part of their escape. Julian shot out the lock at the gates and pushed them open, and Rath slipped out. "Clear," he called.

They passed through the gate and into the darkness toward the extraction point. Screams and shouting punctured the night, and footsteps pounded across the courtyard. They took the designated path through scrub that would camouflage them. Headlights flashed from the compound, then stopped. They could be driving right into an ambush, depending on whatever was left of El Martillo's soldiers. Time would tell.

The team ran in single file to be less of a visual target. Risk's shoulders were aching, his knees giving under the strain. This was what they trained for. His body would not fail him.

Knox came up beside him. "Pass him over."

"No time. I've got—"

"Just do it," Knox said, nudging in and taking the weight off of Risk's shoulders.

That was what they'd trained for, too, the uncanny knowing that bonded them as a team. As brothers.

The truck waiting for them was barely visible in the distance, even with the NVGs. Eventually, it became clearer. The truck would take them to the helicopter. Again, they couldn't chance anyone at the compound hearing a chopper, which would be a sure sign that this was official.

They clambered onto the truck, Sax laying Gutterson down. At the signal, the driver took off, pitching them over the rough terrain. Risk pressed a finger to the pulse point at Gutterson's neck. He shook his head. A moment of silence passed heavily over the group. But they had to move on.

"Did you get Target One?" Knox asked Risk. Miguel.

"Yes. And potentially no."

"Say what?"

"I think he and his wife were already dead. I can't be sure, but it looked like their pillows were covered in blood. Then again, it could have been some kind of pattern. Before I could investigate, someone shot at us from outside the window."

"Someone who knew you were coming," Rath said, his voice a low growl. "Who knew you'd be going to that room."

"The Wolf," Julian said. "He obviously lied about the kids and women not living there."

"Smells like a setup," Rath said. "There were kids' toys all over. I find it hard to believe they decided to stay in the main building tonight, out of the blue."

"But if this was a setup, there would have been more soldiers and a lot more bloodshed," Risk said. "And the women and children wouldn't have been present."

Saxby kept an eye on the darkness behind them. "If the Wolf had tipped them off, they would have had someone posted outside all the target rooms." He glanced back at the guys. "Who else got their targets? I don't think I got Target Two. By the time I reached Jose's bedroom, the gunfire had started. I fired into the room, but I can't be sure I hit him."

"I took out Target Three," Knox said. Julian and Rath confirmed that they had taken out their targets. But none of them felt comfortable saying it was a successful mission.

"So four confirmed dead, one unknown." Risk went back to that dark room in his mind. "Miguel and his wife, executed. If she were alive, she would have woken up at the sound of gunfire." Anger burned inside him. An innocent woman had been murdered.

"Something's fucked up with that," Rath said.

Their silence stood as agreement. There were too many questions. Once they were safely back in the U.S., Risk damn well wanted answers.

###

## Chapter 2

**Four days later . . .**

The five SEALs had been in isolation since the debacle they now referred to as the defuckle, courtesy of Rath's colorful -isms. Yeah, they'd each been debriefed right afterward. But had anybody answered _their_ questions? Fuck, no.

What they did figure was that something was going on, and they weren't going to like it. They'd been shut off from the world. No phone, television, or Internet. Even worse, they weren't doing anything. Not preparing. Not training. Not being deployed or even waiting to be deployed. Just getting on one another's nerves once they'd rehashed every single detail of the mission about a thousand times. They'd done everything as per plan. It wasn't their fault that intel was misleading.

Now, finally, they were sitting in some conference room with a bunch of brass, men and one woman who were introduced only cursorily. They all sat on one side of a long-assed conference table, stiff-shouldered and proper, while the team slouched on the other side with their knees spread wide. Risk was sure there was some psychological reason for the posture, but he didn't really care to delve into it at the moment.

Admiral Stevens began the show by clearing his throat, as if he needed to gain their attention. Hell, he had it. They'd been waiting for this for one hundred and twelve hours.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your patience while we analyzed the implications of your last mission. Unfortunately, while you terminated four of the five targets, there are complications. We've been assessing the fallout, and we felt that keeping you isolated was the best course of action until we could determine how to handle this."

He tossed two Mexican newspapers onto the table. Risk didn't have a chance to translate the headline; the pictures snagged his full attention. The one on top showed Gutterson, dead. Risk was pretty sure it had been taken right after he was hit. The other photos captured various moments during the takedown.

"Jose Romero survived, though he sustained two bullet wounds. He's accusing us of an unprovoked attack," Stevens said.

Julian, who could read Spanish, pointed to the words _Militares Americanos_. "How'd they know we're American?"

"And how did they get these pictures?" Rath asked.

Risk recognized his profile in one shot, Salsa wielding his weapon in another, though the face paint pretty much obliterated any recognizable features. "What the hell?"

Stevens tapped the newspaper. "The pictures came from security footage. I'm not sure how they recognized Gutterson, but they specified his name. They knew he was a SEAL because of his earlier work with them, and since we were in the region training, they put two and two together."

"The Wolf," Rath said. "What the hell happened to him?"

"He's MIA," another man said. "We figure he was found out. He's either dead or in hiding. We've had no contact from him since the assault. Jose now suspects that he was there solely to feed us inside information." Which was true in the end.

"We have a real PR problem," Stevens said. "El Martillo has been talking to the U.S. press as well." The admiral tossed several more newspapers on the table, the standard American variety. The same pictures, though, thank God, only Gutterson's name was exposed. Still, the sentiment was clear enough. WAS IT A ROGUE TEAM OF SEALS OR A MILITARY COVER-UP? one headline read. THE "ROGUE SIX" MURDER INNOCENT VICTIMS: ON THE TAKE FROM DRUG CARTELS? another one asked.

"The 'Rogue Six'?" Julian asked with a sneer. "They gave us a name, like they do with serial killers?"

"Jose's calling us terrorists, shouting to the world how America is in bed with drug cartels. It's the whole 'weapons of mass destruction' debacle all over again. We have zero proof that they're up to no good, other than our missing contact's word and pictures of cocaine that can't be materially connected to El Martillo. If we make public accusations, we're essentially confessing to the raid. And we'll have to admit to our own country that we've been covertly helping a violent regime."

"So we deny involvement. Gutterson was acting on his own," Rath said. "Pretend to commiserate and all that good shit. And we find the Wolf. Because there's something wonky about his part in this."

Risk had a real bad feeling. It was the same sick, churning feeling he got when his father sat him and his brothers down and told them their mother had been killed in a car accident.

The admiral gave them all a long, sober look. "Our denials are starting to sound hollow. We've gone over all the potential strategies. There aren't many. Waiting is not an option. Jose has threatened to retaliate if we don't do something to make amends. Not only does he want a so-called gift of weapons or money, but he wants us to admit culpability. He's hinted at harming American tourists in Mexico. We have to give them something."

"Like what?" Rath growled. " 'Cause you ain't sending my ass over there to be tried in some Mexican court. Sir," he added.

If Risk could have found a speck of humor, he would have laughed at their expressions.

The admiral, used to dealing with SEALs, hardly blinked. "We've been in talks with Jose, trying to find some equitable solution. Now that the American press has gotten involved, our own people are calling for justice. Especially since Jose released these." He set two more recent newspapers on the table. One showed the girl Risk had seen in the hallway, sprawled on the tile floor, her stuffed bear lying next to her.

Risk jabbed his fingers at the picture. "She was alive just before we pulled out. Those wounds don't even look real." His eyes went to the second picture: Miguel and his wife dead in their bed. "That's how they looked when we got there." He tapped the pillow in the picture. "These bloodstains were already there. Whoever was outside the window probably killed them first, then waited for us."

"Give us the Wolf's name," Rath said. "He's the only one who knew we were coming. It looks almost like he set this whole thing up."

"The Wolf has been a solid, trusted officer for years," the woman at the table said. "He hasn't been compromised."

Rath gave her a cold smile. "Let me find out."

The admiral flattened his hands on the table. "We're conducting our own search for him. Until then, we're the villains here, to the U.S. and Mexico. And they all want justice. We have to hold a hearing—closed, of course. We have to give the public what they're looking for."

"Our blood," Julian said, his voice menacingly low.

"In a manner of speaking. We can't admit that we sent you in on an official mission. Our story is that your team was doing a training exercise with Mexican security forces, which we've been doing in conjunction with their authorities for months now. Gutterson took it upon himself to target Romero's compound because he believed they were a front for an actual drug cartel." Stevens cleared his throat. "And you went with him."

"Which means El Martillo will be out for our blood," Risk said.

"We told Jose that you were following Gutterson's orders. They seemed to buy that he was an extremist who used his authority to command your participation. We were hoping his death would be enough, but they want more retribution. I believe the hearing, and any punishment that ensues, will suffice."

"And we're supposed to go quietly along?" Risk asked.

"That was the agreement, gentlemen. You knew the terms."

Risk leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, but I don't think we got all the facts."

* * *

**Three weeks later . . .**

Risk stalked down the hall with the rest of his team— _ex-_ fucking-team—to the back of the building where reporters weren't waiting for the "Rogue Six." At least they hadn't been court-martialed. Their commander had finagled that, which was damned nice, since they hadn't done anything wrong. Everyone else, however, thought they had. The worst part was they had to go along with it. No, the really worst part was they weren't active duty SEALs anymore.

The rear door opened, and the flunky they'd been following gestured to a black limo, complete with a guy in a suit standing beside the vehicle.

Risk, the first in the group, came to an abrupt stop. "What the—"

"A limo instead of a prison transport van," the flunky said with a smirk. "There ain't no justice these days."

For the thousandth time, Risk bit back words that wanted to explode. Only a few people knew the truth. This jack-off was not one of them. And it shouldn't bother him. _Get used to it._ But oh, buddy, did he want to smash the guy's smirk into his face.

The smirk disappeared, and Risk looked back to see that Rath had ripped the tie he'd just loosened into two pieces, the torn ends hanging from his fists. Rath's steely gaze speared the flunky's; still wearing his dark beard, he looked like a mountain man. A crazed, hack-you-into-pieces mountain man.

Sax patted Rath's shoulder, giving the flunky a mild look. "There's a reason his nickname is Psycho. But you go on, keep flapping your lips."

The flunky stepped back inside the building and pulled the door shut. A bolt clanged into place.

The driver stepped forward, his hand out. "I can take your bags, gentlemen."

Clearly, this guy knew nothing about their situation at all. But a limo? Something wasn't right . . . again. Risk checked the height of the vehicle, then made sure it didn't list to one side under the weight of explosives. He turned and saw the question on his comrades' faces. He bypassed the guy's outstretched hand, tossed his duffel into the open trunk, and ducked into the limo.

Saxby followed with the grace of a guy who'd been in a limo a time or three. "You think this is the navy's way of sayin' sorry?" he said under his breath as he dropped onto the leather seat.

Knox shook his head. "They let us hang but send us off in a fucking _limo_? Are you kidding me?" He slid in next, leaving Rath and Julian eyeing the vehicle with the kind of suspicion that had saved the team a time or two. Risk knew what they were thinking: a gift from El Martillo, perhaps? Or even more sinister, would their government go that far to shut them up?

Rath's dark gaze surveyed the civilian driver, checking for weapons. The guy looked like a weapon himself, six feet, four inches of solid muscle and sharp-as-a-knife features.

"Already cleared it. Just get in," Risk said.

Rath was probably considering whether he should flip off the gesture of the limo and walk. They each held a plane ticket to a destination of choice, another gracious gift from Uncle Sam, so the limo must be the transportation to the airport. Maybe it was supposed to throw off the press, who wouldn't be expecting something so flashy.

Julian tore off his suit jacket and wrenched the tie away before getting in. He muttered a string of curse words in Spanish.

Saxby thumped him on the arm and pitched his voice high. "Oh, Jules, even dirty words sound romantic when you say them in Spanish." They'd heard it enough times in the bars they frequented. Those two were the biggest chick magnets, pretty Latin boy and Mr. Honey-drippin' Charm.

Salsa slugged Sax in the biceps, clearly not in the mood for the slightest bit of humor. They sure as hell could use a laugh about now. Damn, Risk would take even a chuckle.

Rath had ditched his jacket somewhere on the walk there. Heh. That would keep the security twinkies busy for a while, clearing the area and examining the pile of fabric. While Risk was usually the first into a situation, Rath was the one bringing up the rear—and watching their asses. He released a resigned breath and got in. Once the door closed, he felt around the roof for bugs or cameras.

"Look, we signed on to this SEAL gig knowing we could lose life or limb," Risk said, though he obviously knew none of them wanted to hear it. "We lost our jobs instead."

"And our reputation," Saxby said.

"Our dignity," Rath added.

More than that. They each had a personal reason for wanting to be the best, the toughest, the ones the navy sent in for the most dangerous missions. The navy had lost too, though; their commander had been none too happy about losing five of his men all at once. He'd hinted at possible reinstatement down the road, but Risk wasn't betting on it.

Saxby had opened the mini-fridge and was pulling out a Heineken. "It's not the end of the world." He popped off the top with a bottle opener.

Rath sneered. "Not when you're going back to your rich family to be adored and coddled. Some of us have a storage shed waiting." And a good-for-nothing family they'd heard plenty about in stories that were funny and sad at the same time.

"We have to wade through the bullshit and go on," Knox said. That short statement could refer to either their situation or the divorce his wife had asked for recently.

Rath leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Don't you knuckleheads want to find out what really happened?"

Risk passed down the beers that Saxby kept handing to him. "It's the military, dude. We aren't going to know shit."

Rath took the beer and swigged half of it back. " _I'm_ going to know shit. I'm going to find out who the Wolf is. Then we're going to have a little chat."

Julian popped the top off his own bottle, bouncing it against the roof to land on Rath's knee. Probably on purpose. "After we spend a few months on our Hogs forgetting about all this, right? Don't tell me you're changing the plan."

Rath fell back against the seat, his mouth in a hard line. "No, we're going. I need fresh air, freedom, miles of asphalt between me and this defuckle. 'Sides, it's too hot to go back to Mexico right now."

Julian and Rath had bonded over their Harleys, and Risk had bonded with both of them over their dysfunctional childhoods. Not that they sat around whining. It was just something you knew when you met someone who'd been through the same shit you had. The same way Risk would see a military guy and know the hell he'd been through, even if he wasn't in uniform.

Knox tossed his empty beer bottle in the sliver of a garbage can. "I'd rather have lost a limb."

"Yeah, you lose a leg, people feel sorry for you," Julian said. "You die, you're a hero. We're failures." He threw up his hands. " _Tanto nadar para ahogarse en la orilla_."

"And what's that mean?" Knox asked.

"Basically that we spent so much effort to swim only to drown right by the shore."

Saxby's usually laid-back expression tightened as he jabbed his finger at Knox. "You think losing a limb is better than this, you're fucked in the head. Spend one day in a wheelchair having people either ignore you because they're uncomfortable, or give you a pity look, and you'd change your mind."

Knox held out his hand as a shield. "Whoa, brother. You can step down from the soapbox. I got your point." Risk could see the moment Knox realized that Saxby's diatribe was fueled by the war injuries of his cousin Chad. Knox's expression shifted to contrite, not one he wore often. "Sorry, Sooch."

Saxby gave him a nod. "We need to keep this in perspective. Getting angry or wishing for grievous bodily injury isn't going to help a damned thing."

"But finding out the truth will" Rath said. "The Wolf gave us false information. He—or someone he worked for—wanted El Martillo taken down a notch. Or scared into submission. Or at least they wanted the U.S. to get out of bed with them."

The boys sank into that possibility, all going quiet. "That makes some sense," Risk said at last. "Someone wanted Miguel and his wife dead, and they wanted the U.S. implicated."

The limo came to a stop, and Risk realized they hadn't been paying attention to where they were going. He felt all of them snap to attention, the energy bristling in that small space. They were in the back section of a mostly empty parking lot. The driver put the vehicle in park and got out. Rath's hand was on the door handle, already pushing it open.

The driver pulled the door open the rest of the way, and a man Risk had never seen approached the open door. Risk could feel every one of them tense into fight mode, though the body language appeared nonthreatening. The guy was tall and lean, dressed as a civvy but with a whiff of military to his bearing. He was probably early thirties and had obviously orchestrated the whole limo thing.

Bracing his hand on the roof, he leaned in, meeting each of their gazes. "My name is Chase Justiss. May I join you, gentlemen?"

"You a reporter?" Risk asked. " 'Cause we got nothing to say." Nothing they _could_ say, bound by confidentiality as they were. No one was willing to chance treason to clear his rep.

The man shook his head with a slight smile. "Definitely not a reporter." He lifted his jacket to show that he wasn't armed or wired. "Or a hit man. Or government. Or military. Did I cover everything?"

"I'm sure there's something we missed," groused Rath. "But you're gonna explain it to us in"—he glanced at his watch—"two seconds, 'cause I don't like guessing games. Or surprises."

The dude didn't seem a bit intimidated by Rath. In fact, his smile grew. "Whoa, soldier, hold your fire." He slipped into the limo the same easy way Saxby had. Even this farm boy could tell the guy's clothing was expensive, as if he'd stepped right out of one of those _GQ_ mags Saxby flipped through during their downtimes.

The guy settled in between Julian and Rath, each giving him a wide berth. The driver slid back in and pulled away. "With the press hovering around like a bunch of vultures, we don't want to attract any attention, and a limo sitting in a parking lot might do that." He handed each of them a business card with THE JUSTISS ALLIANCE embossed on the gray vellum, and beneath that, _Security and Risk Management_. Chase Justiss was identified as the CEO.

Julian flipped the card back at Chase, and it landed on his thigh. "I have no interest in being a security guard."

Chase didn't react, keeping his expression neutral and his posture lethally relaxed. "My company is a private security firm on the surface. And we do offer security for certain individuals, but that's not our primary objective. We obtain justice in situations that require maneuvering outside the constraints of the law. Sometimes we're contracted by governmental agencies that need off-the-record help with cases they can't crack. We also work with civilian companies and individuals. Occasionally, we do pro bono work for those who can't afford our fees. Those end up being our most meaningful cases."

"And you're, what, offering to get us justice?" Risk asked.

"Afraid not. Exposing a military cover-up isn't what TJA is after. I wouldn't want the agency to come under that kind of public scrutiny—or government retribution. I'm offering you a job." Chase's gaze swept across them. "I need men with your skills."

"Why would you want the likes of us?" Risk asked. "We went rogue, as the press likes to say."

Rath stretched out his legs, appearing casual and relaxed. "Or batshit crazy, like some of those politico bloggers are calling it. I like rogue better. Has a certain ring to it." He dipped his chin, giving them the look Risk often saw right before Rath gave up interrogating and shot the tango—terrorist. "Or psycho. That has a nice ring, too."

Chase smiled, not looking the least bit intimidated by Rath's drama. "I know your team didn't go rogue. You took the fall to save American lives. El Martillo—what's left of them, anyway—thinks you've been punished and humiliated, and we hope that's enough to appease the leader's brother."

"How in the hell do you know all this?" Risk asked, leaning forward. "No one released the information about Jose's threat."

"I smelled a cover-up as this whole El Martillo fiasco played out. I know how it works." Something shadowed the guy's eyes, there and gone in a flash. "I have a lot of contacts. The people who come to me for help are positioned in high places. Those relationships give me a certain amount of access."

Chase continued. "As to why I want the likes of you, TJA is a relatively new firm, but word of mouth is spreading fast. I need J-Men—the term my operatives call themselves—on call and ready to head to a job at a moment's notice. You're all trained, have experience with weapons and dangerous situations, and you've no doubt killed when necessary. TJA doesn't follow the red-tape road, which is why I need people who can think and act both as a team and independently. Who care enough about a mission to put their life on the line for it. Who believe in justice as much as I do. People who have been on the wrong end of justice usually make the best J-Men. Plus, as it turns out, you're suddenly available."

"Is that why you started the agency?" Risk asked.

"Yeah, what's your story?" Julian asked.

Chase smiled, but there was an edge in his gaze. "I've been there, had my name and reputation ruined. I know what you're going through firsthand. I won't ask you to divulge your secrets, and I expect the same from you."

He turned to Julian. "The Justiss Alliance takes cases selectively. No criminals, rock stars, or straight-out security work. Unless there are mitigating circumstances. If you sign on, you'll be paid well, even for the pro bono work. And TJA will never throw you under the bus. The credo applies: No man left behind. So far I haven't lost one operative." He slid them a sly smile. "But it's been close a few times."

Danger. Justice. The two tugged at Risk, the same way the prospect of becoming a SEAL had. "What kinds of missions would we be undertaking?"

"Corruption within governmental agencies. Drug rings. Human trafficking. You may hear about a situation that you think warrants our involvement. We discuss it and make the decision to pursue or not. There are some rules, but for the most part, I give my people autonomy in how they carry out their missions."

Risk was watching out the window, keeping track of where they were going. "It sounds too good to be true."

Chase smiled. "I grew up military, did my time doing the 'yes, sir,' 'no, sir,' shit. I don't want employees who will agree with me to my face while planning to separate my balls from my body behind my back." At the reluctant chuckles from the team, he said, "Yeah, I've had bosses like that, too. The loyalty I demand, I will earn." He nodded toward the card Risk was rubbing between his fingers. "I wrote names and numbers on the back of your cards. Some of my current team. Ask them what Justiss is all about. You won't find much on me or my agency if you're sniffing around. We keep a low profile."

"We." The guy kept using that pronoun rather than "I" when he referred to his company. Maybe he meant the team part of it.

"What are the rules?" Risk asked.

"No drinking while on a mission. No drug use at all. I'd prefer my operatives live in Miami, where headquarters is. As in the military, you'll be required to keep up your skills during downtime. We have resources on-site, like a range and hostage scenario training. And with an international airport right there, it's convenient for travel. Your assignments will be all over the country, maybe even overseas. Most of my operatives don't find relocating to Miami a hardship." He shot them a smile.

The limo had driven around the block and now returned to the parking lot. The driver got out and walked to the door, but he waited outside.

"I'm not asking for a commitment now," Chase said. "Get the piss out of your system. It'll take a month or so to do that and reintegrate into civilian life. That's the hardest part, especially when it happens unexpectedly. I don't want angry operatives; I want determined, loyal, and dedicated operatives. You are all of those things. Don't let the government destroy that."

He took them in with a level, sweeping gaze. "Call if you have any questions. That's my direct line on the card." He flicked the card back at Julian, and it landed on his lap. Then he closed the door and sauntered over to a black Maserati.

The boys didn't say a word until they reached the airport. The driver gave them a half-smile as he handed them their luggage and bade them farewell. Then what he said was "See you later." It wasn't a casual send-off. He figured they'd sign on.

Once they were out of earshot of him or anyone else, they stood in a tight circle.

"Who the hell was that guy?" Rath said, searching the crowd.

"Never seen him before," Risk said. "But I have to say, I'm intrigued."

Julian gave him the you're-an-idiot look. "Always the first to jump into a black hole or the night sky from the ass end of an airplane."

Risk smirked. "Now I don't feel so bad about going through your bag before we left our quarters this morning."

"If you cut holes in my briefs again, I'll—"

Risk fended off a fist coming at his biceps. "For old times' sake, buddy." One of his favorite pranks was cutting holes in his comrades' briefs. Built-in air-conditioning. He paid for it with retaliatory pranks. "Are you telling me"—he took all of them in—"that none of you are even a little intrigued by what that guy said? What his company is about? If it's legit, it rocks. It's everything we're about. And it's not military or government."

Not a one of them gave away his interest. But Risk saw it in Knox's face, and yeah, Saxby had that spark in his eyes.

"So you're going to do it?" Knox asked.

Risk slung his bag over his shoulder. "The only plan I'm making right now is going to Norway and then Pakistan to do some jumping. Get the piss out of my system." The guy knew about going through this kind of hell. He'd formed a company because of his experience. "But I'm sure going to keep it in mind." Risk lifted his cell phone. "Keep in touch. See you on the other side."

###

## Chapter 3

The last time Rath had come home to Breckinridge, Tennessee, he'd been one of the few in the Blackwood bunch to accomplish something. Now he was coming home a failure. He knew he'd always be a SEAL, but everyone else would consider him a fuckup and a nobody. It wasn't like he needed to prove himself to anyone, but that they'd see him that way ate away at the calm veneer he'd layered over his anger. The anger, inherited from his father, was always simmering below the surface. He'd worked as hard to keep it there as he had to break out of the Blackwood mold.

His ma was long gone, and probably lucky at that. Rath's dad was an angry man who used his fist to make his point more often than he used words. And they weren't pretty either. Though probably the first bit of abuse Rath had suffered was being stuck with the old family name, Rathmusen. He'd gotten plenty of ribbing over that as a kid. That had stopped when he'd shortened it to Rath—and adopted the attitude to go with it.

He did a visual check of his storage unit. No signs of tampering or water damage. Much more secure than storing his stuff at the family's barn. Rath pulled off the cover that shrouded his 1978 Harley Shovelhead and ran his hands over the gas tank with the American flag painted on it. A high school buddy had begged Rath for bail money. Instead of making a bad loan, Rath had offered to buy the bike from him.

The Shovel had been in rough shape, and Rath spent every spare minute of his senior year rebuilding the engine and making her pretty again. A local named Al had let him store it at his motorcycle shop and taught him how to fix all things Harley. Eventually, Al had let on that he'd been a SEAL, and Rath had soaked in his stories as much as he soaked in the mechanics stuff. He'd ridden the Shovel throughout his two years of college, when he'd considered taking over his uncle's rifle business. Then he'd toyed with the idea of becoming a motorcycle mechanic or restorer. He liked using his hands, fixing and making things.

He swung his leg over the seat and cranked the engine. She started on the second attempt. He patted the tank. _Thanks for the welcome, Betsy._ After putting on his helmet, he backed out of the unit, closed it up, and raced down the road that wound around Breckinridge.

Freedom. The idea of it both buffeted and buoyed him, same as the wind. Over five hundred pounds of vibrating metal and the roar of the dual mufflers took hold of his body and mind. He rode for an hour, long after he'd told himself it was time to head on over to see his family. A part of him was eager to lay eyes on them, but more parts dreaded it. Love and hate, pride and shame, all twisted together.

The forest on either side of the highway was lush and deep green. A recent rain left the air smelling of moist earth and wet, steaming asphalt. He pulled down the Blackwood gravel road leading into the woods. Memories of camping, hunting deer and turkey, growing up running free . . . damn, if he'd been a sentimental kind of guy, he'd be sucking it all in with a goofy grin.

Yeah, maybe he was, just a little. He'd missed his family, even the chuckleheads. Which was most of them, now that he thought about it.

Betsy, with her distinct sound, made sure everyone knew he was there. His core family was in the barn, tinkering with a truck that had been decrepit when he'd lived there. He'd barely stopped the bike when his brother Carlton flung himself at him, nearly tipping both of them and the bike to the ground.

Rath tightened his thigh muscles and held himself straight as they did a quick hug/backslap. "Chucklehead, you're going to knock us both on our asses." Damn, did he have to tell him every time? Well, yeah. It was Carlton, after all, his younger brother, whose heart was bigger than his brain.

Carlton stepped back. "When did you get in?"

"Just now." Rath found a place where the dirt and gravel was packed harder and got the bike up on the kickstand. "Came straight over."

Their dad ambled out, looking scrawnier than ever. And just as cranky. "How come you didn't let us know when you was coming? We could've picked you up at the airport."

Rath gave his dad a quick hug. "I know how y'all hate trekking to the airport. I asked Emily to give me a ride."

Sam, his other brother, hoo-hawed and did a hip thrust. "I bet you gave her a ride, too."

Rath shook his head. "It was just a ride to the storage unit. We're friends, nothing more."

They'd skinned that rabbit long before he enlisted in the navy. He was gone for months at a time, and she needed sex a lot more than every now and then. Said she was a sex addict, and he believed her. They had gotten busy whenever he'd come home on leave those first few years, but the older he got, the more particular he became about where he put his pecker. Yeah, she'd made it clear on the ride to the storage place that she was up for some slap 'n' tickle, but Rath had given her gas money and a polite rejection. No need to go back in life. Always move forward, that was one of his mottos.

Carlton ran over with an ice-cold can of beer, offering it up like a puppy with a bone.

Rath took it with one hand and ruffled his brother's hair with the other. "That's why you're my favorite brother." Except the beer had nothing to do with that truth. Rath took a long pull as he wandered over to inspect the truck. It looked as dilapidated as when he'd last seen it. "Finally thinking about doing something with this thing?"

"Thought we might actually try to restore it, but it's a mess," Carlton said.

"That's what happens when you neglect it for umpteen years." Rath knew his way around a wrench, after doing most of his own work on Betsy and his truck. He also knew that as soon as he rolled himself beneath the chassis, everybody would make some excuse to wander off and leave him to work on it alone. Been there, done that. He didn't need another T-shirt.

When Rath turned away from the truck, all three men were staring at him. "What?"

His dad was the first to ask the question that Rath had been expecting since he arrived. "You gonna tell us what happened over in Mex-ee-co?"

Carlton made some kind of snurfling sound. "Now you're just a fuckup like the rest of us." Then, obviously realizing how it sounded, he hitched his fat thumb toward their father. "That's what he said when we was watching the news and spotted you being corralled into the building."

His father showed not a speck of shame at having made the comment. "They didn't televise the hearings like that Benghazi crap."

"Not that it mattered," Sam said. "That was all a buncha BS. So what'd you all do, Rat, take a payoff from the cartels? Or did the whole team go nuts, like they was saying?"

Rath leaned against the truck, hoping the thing wouldn't collapse on him. He would ignore Sam's misuse of his name, as he always did. "I already told you, I can't talk about it." The government had given them each a check once they'd signed the don't-tell-a-soul-about-it contract. It was somewhere in his duffel bag.

"That's what you said on the phone, when they were listening," Sam said. "But now you're here, far away from ears."

"We weren't aligned with the cartels. We didn't go nuts. All I can say is that we were given bad information."

Sam murmured, "He fucked up. He just doesn't want to say, 'cause he's the big shot in the family. Mr. Navy SEAL, who's all important and can't say where he's going or what he's doing 'cause it's _top secret_." He made finger quotes that perfectly framed his sneering mug.

When Rath was younger, that kind of shit-talk would have incited him to pummel his brother. But he was thirty-four now, and he'd learned a lot about self-control in the SEALs. Besides, it would piss off Sam even more if he didn't react. And he did like pissing off his older brother.

Rath kept his face neutral. "And the top secret stuff hasn't changed. So now that we got that out of the way, what are you doing with your life? Still slinging hash at the Lazy Diner?" He already knew, because Emily had filled him in.

"He got fired a couple months ago," Carlton advised with a big grin. "Now he's helping Billy James with his lawn service."

Rath didn't need to rub it in that it was Sam's two thousandth job. He turned to his father. "How's Blackridge Rifles doing?"

"Same old, same old. Bert got an order for a hundred rifles couple months ago and couldn't make the deadline. The order got canceled."

Rath tamped down his irritation. Some of the best-made rifles out there, but Uncle Bert couldn't get motivated enough to make a successful business out of it.

"Why don't you go back to working for him?" his father suggested. "The company did good when you were there."

Wow, a compliment. Rath tried to keep the shock from his face. "And I was the only one who was doing the work. Put in seventy-two hours straight one time to make an order while Bert and the boys were out turkey hunting. I told him the only way I'm signing on is if I run it. And he won't agree to that, 'cause he knows I'll fire the lackeys. Which would be everyone." It was a sore point, a waste of a good product and able-bodied men. That was ultimately why he'd joined the navy, to get away from the insanity of it all.

"So, you gonna stay around for a bit?" his father asked, giving no indication whether he was happy about that prospect.

"Just a week. I can take care of some of those maintenance projects I'm sure you have waiting to be done." He'd already cataloged three of them, including the barn door that was hanging half off its hinges. "Then I'm hitting the road with one of the boys on my team. We're blowing off steam doing Route 66 on our Harleys. Or what's left of it, anyway."

Rath and Julian had made the commitment to ride precisely for an out in case their families tried to talk them into staying. Plus, they needed the time to decompress. And Rath needed to wait until things died down in Mexico. Patience was not his strong suit, but he would wait nonetheless. He'd put in his share of waiting for the okay on a mission many a time. Let his anger simmer. Because when he found the Wolf, he was going to make the guy sing.

###

## Chapter 4

Saxby Cole hadn't lost his acute awareness even while lounging in a hammock in his family's backyard with his eyes closed. He knew that Mary Lou Sansbury was tiptoeing across the grass toward him in the sandals with the French name that sounded like a flower. Espri-somethings.

And he smelled cookies. Homemade chocolate chip cookies.

A pretty woman bearing cookies should make him smile, but a frown pulled at his mouth instead. _Goodbye, peace and quiet, hello, interruption._

" 'Lo, M.L.," he said, his eyes still closed. He wanted to hold on to that peace for just a few seconds longer. _One, two . . ._

"How'd you know it was me?" The pout in her voice was clear.

He cracked an eye. Yep, she was wearing the sandals with the basket weaving on the heels, along with tight flowery capris and a white tank top. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"I wanted to plant one right on that luscious mouth of yours." Her pout transformed to a smile that was so red and glossy, a sliver of sun reflected off her lips and nearly blinded him. She tilted her head. "I suppose I should be happy that you didn't say someone else's name, what with all those man-hungry floozies traipsing over here bearing food."

His gaze slid to the tray of cookies she was balancing, along with two tall insulated cups. "And shame on every one of 'em." He sat up and took one of the cups and a cookie.

She gave him the perfect Southern indignant look while her apple cheeks burned as red as her lips. "It's just not like that at all. I baked a batch of pecan chocolate chip cookies for the church sale and remembered how you used to love them. Your mama made me bring out the lemonades."

" 'Course she did." And bless her heart. He took a long draw of the family's signature lemonade, feeling that nice burn of Gentleman Jack whiskey slide down his throat. He patted the hammock.

She eyed it dubiously, no doubt remembering the last time he'd offered her a seat and she'd gotten dumped right off. She wiggled her flower-covered ass right in front of him as she prepared to touch down. "Whew," she said when she got settled, her thigh pressed against his. "I can't believe you even suggested making out in this thing years ago. I can barely sit here without tipping."

He'd made a point to master the danged thing when he was in his teens, and that balance had come in handy many a time. Both for hammock sex and combat. "It's tricky, no doubt about it, but it can be done."

She frowned, and he realized he'd admitted to getting freaky in the hammock with someone else. Well, he'd never made her any promises.

She turned away and fanned her dewy face. "It's already humid, and it's only the first week of June. And in the morning yet. Summer's going to be a bitch."

"Smooth change of subject, darlin'."

"Coming from you, that's a compliment. You're a master, at least when I bring up certain subjects. Like making plans for the future."

He took a bite of the cookie, the chocolate melting in his mouth. "You'll raise a fortune with these."

"Touché." She gave him a contrite smile. "I must confess, I did bake them just for you. Not to woo you or anything, to be clear. I have other assets to offer 'sides my baking abilities."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Saxby could never understand "pretty white lies," as the girls liked to call them, or the head games some people played when it came to courtship.

She patted his shoulder. "I didn't want to embarrass you."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "When have you ever embarrassed _me_?"

"Let's see. Remember back in high school when we were at the diner and I was teasing you under the table?"

He searched for the memory and finally found it. "Well, darlin', that didn't embarrass me."

"What about after I accidentally knocked my iced tea in your lap, when you jumped up and your hard-on was apparent to everyone in the place?"

Oh yeah, he'd forgotten about that part. He shrugged. "A teenage boy with a hard-on certainly wouldn't raise any eyebrows."

"And I believe you flushed something fierce when I told you I loved you the last time you were home on leave. And that I'm all right with the Cole cheatin' gene as long as you don't go sniffing around in our home territory."

"You didn't embarrass me; you surprised me." And made him feel like a schmuck on behalf of his family. Yeah, the cheating gene went back generations. It was accepted: Marry a Cole and pretty much count on him cheating. His daddy used to haul him over to another parish and set him in a woman's living room in front of her television while he went down the hallway for an hour or two. Now Saxby knew why the cartoons had been turned up so loud.

Years later, his daddy had given him a conspiratorial wink. "You'll find that straying is in the blood," he'd said. "Just be discreet."

Saxby half suspected the men just used it as an excuse to cheat. Then again, he had yet to meet a woman who made him want to commit, so maybe it was real after all. A parade of women—he'd never call them floozies—and not a one had stirred his intellect or his heart. Other parts of him, but not the parts that really mattered.

He took a good look at M.L., whom he'd known his whole life. Nope, not her, either. He leaned back in the hammock, his hands tucked behind his head. "Darlin', tell me why you would enter into the holy union of matrimony while giving your husband permission to have sex with other women."

She carefully leaned down and placed a warm hand on either side of his face. "You really have to ask?"

He gave her a droll look. "I did, didn't I?"

"You're the best-looking, most interesting man in Cole, Louisiana. You're smart and sexy and rich. Maybe the Cole men cheat, but they otherwise take real good care of their women." She gestured back at the plantation house with the wraparound galleries on all three levels. Or maybe it was to include the land itself, with its oaks dripping with Spanish moss, stands of palms, and all the fancy plantings his mother had done over the years. "I could live like this even if you did stray once in a while. As long as you wear a condom."

"Hell, M.L., stop talking about me sticking my dick into any hole like you're discussing which laundry detergent you'd use on my tighty whities."

She gave him a smug look. "See, told you I'd embarrassed you. And you don't wear tighty whities. 'Least I've only seen those dark boxer briefs on your amazing body."

"You don't embarrass me. You just"—he held back the word _disturb_ —"astound me that you'd trade fidelity for a nice house and an 'interesting' man. Aren't you worth more than that?"

"Sax, honey, don't you know you're the most eligible man in this parish and the next? Come on, don't play that coy card with me. How many women have come by since you got back two weeks ago?"

It made him damned uncomfortable to be stuck with that label: _most eligible_. Like he was some product or reality TV show. "I don't know. It's not like I keep track."

She leaned even closer, her mouth only a hair's breadth from his. "Because there are so many. Or maybe you're just being polite by not giving me a number. But no one's gonna love you like I will." She ran her fingers down his shirt all the way to the front of his shorts as she said, "They're all thinking they're gonna change you, make you keep that big hard cock of yours right where it belongs. I'm smarter than that."

He merely raised his eyebrows at her blunt assessment of his cock. Well, nice of her to say, he supposed. "You're serious about just letting me go off and screw other women?"

"As long as you come home to me every night. So, you'll think about it?"

"That I will." Because it baffled him; not because he'd consider it for one second.

She planted a kiss on him, leaving a film of sticky lipstick behind. "Let's go to dinner tonight. You can take me to the Grand Plantation and give me your answer."

Sax resisted the urge to wipe off the residue, which would make him look like a five-year-old trying to get rid of cooties. He glanced at his watch, the one with the bullet scrape at the edge. "You're gonna give me approximately eight hours to decide on my future?"

"A girl can't wait around forever." She sat up, making him balance himself with the sudden movement. "I've been waiting around for years already, while you went off and played American hero. I'm sorry about what happened over there in Mexico, but I'm glad you're back. It's a good offer, Sax. A woman waiting at home for you, keeping things pretty, cooking your meals, and making you very satisfied." She winked. "You may not even want to stray. You did prove that you've got staying power, after all."

"How's that?"

"You stayed in the SEALs, put your life on the line, went through a whole buncha grueling stuff. If you can commit to that, sugar, you surely have it in you to commit to a woman." She kissed the tip of her finger and touched it to his nose.

As he watched her flounce up the walkway, her statement walloped him upside the head. He could make a commitment. Then again, look how that had turned out in the end.

Mary Lou traded a greeting with his cousin Chad, who was coming down the concrete walk in his wheelchair. Chad spun around after she passed and enjoyed the view for a few seconds before doing another fancy spin and continuing on toward Sax.

His father had installed the concrete walk before Chad came home from the hospital at Camp Lejeune. Chad, a lance corporal in the marines, was the reason Saxby couldn't get too upset about losing his job with the SEALs. Chad had lost both his legs courtesy of a roadside bomb.

Saxby offered a hand clasp when Chad rolled up to the hammock. "Hey, cuz, how's it going?"

"It'd be much better if I had chicks like that coming over all the time bearing food and boobs," Chad said, nodding back to where M.L. had gone. Chad had the Cole looks, though he'd never embraced the easy charm. Which probably gave him the best chance for fidelity.

Saxby leaned back against the edge of the hammock, keeping his balance. "It's not as pleasant as you'd think. Yeah, they're happy to give you both the baked cookie and the other kind of cookie, but they all want something in return. Like marriage."

"Even knowing the Cole reputation?"

"Yep, even with that. So, how's the job going?"

"Turns out I'm good at welding." Chad made a motion that flexed impressive biceps. The guy could lift himself off the chair to the ground, pass up the chair two steps, and walk up the steps with his hands to get back in.

"Do you enjoy it?" Saxby could remember putting in hours welding, assembling, and doing QA at the family's grill business. Cole Grills not only had some of the most kick-ass grills out there, they also employed a hundred and fifty people in town. For a while, Saxby had gotten so good at cooking on the wood-fire grills at family and company cookouts, he'd considered opening a restaurant. Then he'd caved and gone off to college.

Chad shrugged. "I'm happy to have the job, and the pay is good. Working for family isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Daddy and Granddad are fair bosses. I heard you're doing a good job. You're an inspiration to a lot of people, you know."

Chad scoffed. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're a hero for going over there and putting your ass on the line for your country." Knox and Julian were right. Being injured had elevated Chad to military hero/god status in town. And hell, the guy deserved it. "You could have crawled into a bottle and whined about how unfair life is. But you came home and worked like a crazy man modifying your house, busted your ass off doing PT. Learned how to maneuver that chair like an Olympic athlete. And you stayed positive."

Chad ran his hand through his short hair. "I have to be honest. I crawled into a bottle for a while, but I fell out of my chair once and was too damned drunk to get back up. I felt as helpless as I had in those months after the explosion, and I swore I wasn't going to feel that way again. I sobered up before I ever got back to town. Considering your career crashed and burned in a different way, the same could be said for you. You're not sitting around whining. And you can't even tell people what really happened. At least I've got a story to tell."

Saxby shook his head. "Losing my career and my status isn't the same as losing my legs. Complaining would feel like an insult to you and every guy who got sent home in a wheelchair, a cast, or a pine box."

Chad gave a long, slow nod. "I hear you. How about you? You enjoying being one of the top dogs at the company?"

"I don't know." Saxby had gone to college and pulled a 4.0, just as he'd done all through high school. It was expected in the Cole household. During college, 9/11 had happened. Then one of the local boys had gotten killed in Kabul. All the while Saxby had focused on college studies and partying, trying to push all of the tragedy into a box. He was days away from getting his degree so he could step into a cushy job in the offices. Then he'd had . . . well, he'd call it a breakdown of sorts. Because the box had opened, and everything inside it had exploded like a roadside bomb.

Life had come too easy, and some deep part of him resented that. Or maybe he just didn't feel like he deserved it. Saxby had never delved that deeply into his psyche to figure out which it was. He knew only that he couldn't stay in his comfy little life any longer. He needed to do something that mattered. So he'd gone from having everything handed to him to joining the navy with a SEAL contract.

For the first time, he'd had to work his ass off, just like everyone else in BUD/S. He had no privileges, no status. He did get care packages that the other guys envied and teased him about: boxes of Zapp's Spicy Cajun Crawtators potato chips, a Mardi Gras cake, coffee with chicory in it. The guys stopped teasing when he shared his bounty. Especially when his sisters started sending them care packages, too.

But that was it as far as spoiling went. Everything else was hard as hell. Not balancing-on-hammocks hard. Not assembling-stainless-steel-grills hard. Ass-kicking, near-drowning, the cold surf washing up over your face, getting screamed at, slogging through mud, running ten miles in a day, hard. And it felt good. When he graduated, one of the fifteen percent of his class who'd survived, he'd earned it.

"I went to college for four years to step into this job," Saxby said. "I told myself I deserved it. But I'm not sure I believe it, because it doesn't feel the same as when I graduated BUD/S or when the team completed a mission."

Chad was one of the few Cole men who understood. He nodded. "There's nothing like being out there, making a difference. It's hard to be on the sidelines." He gestured to his chair. "I'm lucky to be alive, but I'm just not ready to be done, ya know?"

Saxby's fingers tightened around the ropes of the hammock so hard that his knuckles ached. "That's exactly how I feel."

"But from what you've alluded to, returning to combat is as much out for you as it is for me. Even when I get my prosthetics."

Sax hadn't told anyone about Chase Justiss's offer. No need, when he had zero intention of signing on. He pushed off from the hammock. "Want to hit the weights?"

Chad spun his chair around on the grass as easily as he did on asphalt. "Sounds good."

They went into the gym on the property, a small but proper setup. Saxby tried to think about what he was going to say to Mary Lou that night. Nothing more than "No way in hell" came to mind. And yet it should appeal to him. She was a pretty woman with a fun personality. His mind kept straying to the years ahead of him, mirroring his father's management style: Friendly but strict. All business during work hours but your best friend outside the factory. And what about his husband style? Dividing his time and attention, being the good provider and father but not much more?

For a while, things looked exciting. One of the networks had approached them about doing one of those family-business reality shows. Ultimately, his father had declined. Too disruptive. Too intrusive. No doubt it would put a crimp on his straying.

Sax was still in the gym an hour after Chad had finished and headed to the showers. His abs burned, his biceps ached. And it felt good. He grabbed up a bottle of water as he headed out to his 'Vette. Instead of getting in, he walked right past it. Then he started to run. Down the drive. Up the road that ran along the Mississippi River. Past the chemical facility. On into town. His legs felt as though they'd disintegrate. His muscles burned, and he was drenched. Yet he couldn't stop running, like on those long sprints through the desert heat wearing sixty pounds of gear. Except that no one was forcing him to do this.

No one but a voice deep inside that sounded like a BUD/S instructor:

_What are you gonna do with your life? Whatcha got in you, boy, sand or rock?_

_Rock, sir!_

_Then gimme another mile. With a smile._

The sun was sinking low in the sky when Sax turned around and ran back to the plantation. It was only as he staggered down the driveway that he realized he'd completely forgotten about his date with Mary Lou. And her question.

But he knew the answer. He had a lot of answers now.

###

## Chapter 5

Julian Cuevas still dreamed of combat. Nearly every night he was on some mission or another. Not nightmares, though he occasionally had those. More of those than he cared to admit. In this dream, tangos were sneaking into their barracks and cuffing him. He could feel the cool metal snap around his wrist, followed by the click of another cuff around something else.

The metal around his wrist was real. He lurched up and found his older brother, Omar, and his cousin Luis standing in the dim light of his old bedroom.

" _El diablo!_ " Julian shouted, jerking the cuff that linked him to the iron headboard. "What the fuck?"

They regarded him warily, hands up in surrender. "We have orders," Luis said.

Omar said, "We need you, JuJu. You went off and did the patriotic thing, but now you belong here with us. Come on, you have to admit you've been enjoying being back in the fold."

"I've enjoyed seeing my family, yes. But—"

"The fine wines, the best clothing, the classiest restaurants. You missed that, no?"

"Not enough to become a criminal."

The lure of the good life. It had corrupted his family for generations, even before they came here from Puerto Rico. Running scams on tourists had grown into the Florida drug trade, and when that got too risky, they'd turned to money laundering and stock market scams. The mansions, the Ferraris, and all the women who migrated to the men who owned such things were a temptation when Julian was seventeen. Just being a member of the Cuevas family held an appeal to those looking in. Those who didn't mind the source of the money, that is.

Julian had participated in some of their schemes, drawn in before he knew better. When he saw himself sliding into "the good life," as they called it, he'd escaped in a way they could not begrudge—joining the military.

Omar looked affronted. "Not criminal. Entrepreneurial. Rebels. It's part of our history, our destiny. _Your_ destiny, brother. You were born to it, and you're good at it. Remember the car accidents when we were kids? We could cry on command, clutching our heads and acting so well that we should have gotten Oscars. Besides, we don't hurt anyone. It's not like we're robbing old ladies of their pensions. Look what the government did to you. You can get them back, guilt not included."

"What kind of life will you have now, with a questionable release from military service on your record?" Luis asked. "Especially if an employer figures out you were part of the Rogue Six?"

Julian had to quell the Latin temper that boiled under the surface; the SEALs had hammered self-control into him. "Who, exactly, gave the order to restrain me?"

Omar backed up toward the door. "Mama. You know how she can be when she wants something." He shrugged. "We tried everything else."

"Guilt. Obligation. Threats." They'd even used the kids, all crying—on command, beautifully, he might add—pleading with Uncle JuJu to stay. "And now you think you're going to, what, keep me cuffed to the bed indefinitely?"

The two were almost at the door, about to trip over the bag that was packed and ready for his departure that morning. "No. We've got one last resort."

"You do realize that I'll have to kill you when I get out."

Omar's laugh was tinged with a bit of uncertainty. "You wouldn't kill your own family."

"I would have said that my own family wouldn't restrain me, but sometimes we're wrong, aren't we?"

The moment they ducked out the door, a woman entered. Susana, in tight red pants and a low-cut black shirt, her long dark hair spilling down into her cleavage. All perfectly arranged, no doubt.

She closed the door behind her and approached the bed. "Mm, you look good there. We could have some fun."

"I'm too pissed to have fun." Did his family really think he'd cave to Susana? That she would keep him here? Apparently.

She sank to the edge of the bed beside him, the sexy smile gone. "You didn't call me when you got back to town. A whole week and not one call or text." She nodded toward his bag. "And you were going to leave without seeing me. That hurts, Julian. We were each other's first loves."

"And we were sixteen." Maybe he had loved her. He could remember that rush of emotion, the passion and hormones and possessiveness. They couldn't get enough of each other. "But we changed, grew up. You got into drugs."

She rubbed her nose, probably involuntarily. "A little coke, no big deal."

"You knew how I felt about it."

"I don't know why. Your brothers and cousins were doing it. Omar and I did a line together more than once."

"Jeez, you think that makes it all right? I saw what drugs did to some of my family. What it did to you. Are you still using?"

She shifted her gaze away, just for a second. "Not a lot. I'll quit if you stay. I promise."

"You have to quit for yourself, not someone else. It'll never work. Besides, I heard you were seeing Joaquin Escondido. I'm sure he keeps you supplied. Why would you come sniffing around me? I'm not giving you any of that shit."

Her eyes glistened with tears. "Joaquin is . . . well, he's not you, baby." She clutched at his free hand. "You never yelled at me or disrespected me."

"Does he hit you?" The thought of it tightened Julian's gut.

"Only once. I told him if he did it again, I'd call the police. You never lifted your hand, even when you were angry with me."

Which had been only because he'd caught her with a vial of cocaine in her purse. "Susana, you make your choices in life. You chose to do drugs, and you chose to be with Joaquin. And you can choose to leave both of them behind. But I'm not staying in this toxic environment to save you, because no one can save you but yourself." Lord knew he'd tried. "And you can't save yourself when you like where you are."

She'd been furious when he told her he was joining the navy. She didn't care about his need to fight for freedom or his need to escape his destiny. He had created his own destiny and, for the first time in his life, felt pride and purpose. How he'd held on to those through the grueling training and dangerous missions. The men he'd served with and under had fostered a respect he'd never felt for anyone in his family. Now he'd lost that pride and sense of purpose. Maybe after a month of riding with Rath, he'd find it again. But he wouldn't find it here with his crazy family. Or this broken woman.

"You can save me, JuJu," she said, leaning close and kissing him. "We can go back to being the way we were before I messed up."

He wasn't the same boy he was thirteen years ago. In fact, he didn't know who he was anymore, didn't know where he fit in the world. Though they'd never talked about it, he knew his SEAL brothers felt the same. Being wrenched from their place, their mission, and, in effect, their family had thrown them all off balance. He still looked for danger every time he went into a busy place. Still searched faces for the furtive gleam of a suicide bomber. He wasn't sure that would ever leave him. What he needed was to get on the road with Rath and find out who the hell he was now.

He kissed Susana back, because she was going to play a part in that objective. She didn't know it, but she was on his side now. He ran his free hand along her back, down over her soft, round ass. She moaned softly, whispering his name. It didn't move him the way it once did. He used to spring a hard-on from that whisper alone.

"Do you have a condom on you?" he asked between her fervent kisses.

"No, but we don't need one. I want to feel you, just you."

Yeah, probably hoping she'd get pregnant. "I'm not ready for fatherhood yet. Go get one from my brother."

She leaned back, her tears completely gone. "Don't you have one?"

"I didn't come home to get laid. Go, get one. And hurry. Tell him to get the key to the cuff, too. I can't love you properly if I've got one hand tied up." Omar wouldn't give it to her, but her request would buy a little more time. "You'll have to use that magic of yours to persuade him. You're very persuasive, baby. I know you can do it. And I'll reward you."

"I'll be right back." She dashed out.

Julian used his teeth to extract a pin from his watch; he used his mouth to maneuver it into the cuff's lock mechanism. Three tries and the cuff sprang open. He launched off the bed and locked the door, grabbed his bag, and ran to the balcony. A drop from the second floor was nothing. After surveying the area, he sent his bag down first to land in one of the planting beds. A bunch of flowers made the sacrifice for his freedom. He followed, landing in a crouch with hardly a sound. The bag hadn't been so quiet, but Julian didn't take a second to see if anyone had heard. He hoisted the bag and crept close to the foliage.

Damn, it felt good to be back in stealth mode, his pulse pounding at his throat. Somebody laughed in the near distance, and he went the other way toward the garage where his new bike waited. From the moment he'd arrived in Orlando, he'd been secretly shopping for a used Fatboy. He hardly had time to admire the beauty he'd picked up the day before. He'd purposely waited until yesterday before getting it. As proud as he was of the machine, he'd slipped out and, as quietly as possible, tucked it to the side of the multi-car garage that was so filled with vehicles that no one would notice the covered bike. Which meant no one would mess with it. And seeing how desperate his family was to keep him there, he knew he'd made a good decision.

Once the cover and his bag were stowed, he backed out, started it, and hightailed it on toward Nashville, where he and Rath were going to meet. He'd owned a non-Harley motorcycle in high school. Rath had spent many an hour regaling him with the attributes of Harleys and all his opinions on why they were the best. Julian had been convinced, and the two had spent one of their furloughs awhile back looking for a good used bike. His cousin had ended up buying it from him last year.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and smiled. Oh yeah, they were going to be having fits that he'd escaped. No, they would put it like this: "You left without even saying _goodbye_?" His mother would deny having any part of the scheme, blaming Omar and Luis. Or his father. Julian would keep in touch via Skype or Facebook. Other than that, he was staying clear of Orlando.

He arrived in Nashville around dinnertime, meeting Rath in the parking lot of a seafood restaurant. Rath hardly greeted him before assessing his bike, circling it with a smile. "Chromed accessories. A lot of upgrades." His smile turned into a cynical smirk "I bet you didn't install one of those accessories, did you?"

"Yeah, I know, 'a man's got to work on his own bike if he's going to get to know her.' " Julian had tried and failed to imitate Rath's Tennessee accent. "But I had no place to work on her, and I didn't want the family to know I even had the bike. And what, you going to give me a hard time because I didn't buy a piece of shit and restore it like you did?" He'd seen plenty of pictures of Betsy, from her rusty inception to her shining red-white-and-blue glory, displayed with the kind of pride a father shows over his offspring.

"It invests you."

"Most of the accessories came with it. But I'll put my own touches on it when we get to Rod's shop."

One of their stops was visiting a guy from their platoon who'd been injured on a raid and retired.

Rath knelt and ran his fingers down the angle of the tank."SS baloney cut mufflers. Ghost flames metallic paint job.. Coordinated grips and covers." He gave an approving nod and stood. "Nice ride. And more importantly, it's a Harley."

Rath had said he wouldn't ride with Julian if he bought some foreign bike. He'd pronounced it "furr-en," his redneck twang more evident when he was on a rant. Julian wasn't sure if he was kidding or not.

"How'd your homecoming go?" Julian asked, tucking his helmet beneath his arm.

"Shitty. But no surprise there. You?"

They headed toward the restaurant's entrance. "They cuffed me to the bed this morning and sent my ex in to seduce me into staying."

Rath turned to him with a skeptical expression. "You serious?"

"As hell. I sent her out for a condom and gave them all the slip."

Rath threw his head back and let out a bark of a laugh. "That's fucking hilarious."

"Yeah, I was laughing my ass off." Julian gave him a droll look. "As I picked the cuff lock, jumped off the balcony, and did an exfil from my own family's property."

Rath just shook his head, still grinning. "Makes me glad my family doesn't want me around that bad." His smile faded. "I spent the week working on all the maintenance projects everyone's too lazy to take care of. Oh, they had all kinds of excuses. Too hot. Too high up. Too hard." He made a jerk-off motion, dismissing them with a shake of his head.

Julian could laugh when it wasn't his family, especially imagining Rath's response. The man suffered no fools. "And then you got them all done in a week."

"Damn straight. The smartest guy in the family is my younger brother, Carlton, and he's probably got an IQ in the fifties. Smart common-sense-wise, anyway. When I get settled somewhere, I'm going to get him out of there."

The restaurant was kitschy, with crab traps, fake fish, and other seafood-related items hanging all over the walls. The large room was packed, conversation and laughter pushing in from all sides. Julian scanned the tables, the faces. He felt better once he'd seen no fanatical gleam, no one trying not to be noticed.

"Give us a table by the wall," Rath said to the hostess. He smiled as an afterthought. "Please."

It was hard to fit back into the social conventions of the civvy world. Julian had been about to say the same thing, though his mama had pounded in the need for _please_ and _thank you_ as soon as he'd returned.

They sat in chairs with their backs to a wall and a view of the room. Julian would probably never grow out of doing that.

"You still planning to head back to Mexico?" Julian asked once they'd ordered their drinks.

"Damn straight. I will find out the truth."

When Rath set his mind to something, he wouldn't be swayed. Julian knew it was pointless to argue, and after being on the receiving end of persuasion, he wasn't about to try. So he simply said, "Make sure it's about justice and not revenge."

"What's the diff?"

"Justice will keep your head straight. Revenge will skew your judgment."

Rath nodded, and they ordered when the waitress returned with their brews. "I don't want to think about anything other than the road for the next month."

Julian lifted his beer in a toast. "Here's to Route 66 and two rogue SEALs." After Rath clinked their mugs hard enough to send the head sloshing over the edge, Julian took a long drink. He didn't want to think about anything beyond the road, either. But he was thinking about it anyway. He was thinking about justice. Purpose.

Justiss.

###

## Chapter 6

Knox Logan had been back home on the family's ranch for two weeks before rallying the guts to go to the place where his sister's body had washed up at the south end of the property. Funny, he'd seen death and blood and broken bodies, some of them comrades, but none of that had numbed him to a seventeen-year-old memory.

_That's because you were responsible. You don't get to forget what she looked like, blue lips and pale skin, long hair a tangle of mud and leaves._

In the two more weeks since that ride to the river, he hadn't been back to the forlorn spot where his mother had planted a cross. He didn't need to see it; it lived in his mind, his nightmares.

He nudged his horse forward as he rode the fence line, checking for broken wires or downed posts. Funny how the only emotion he could ever feel was guilt. No, it wasn't funny at all, come to think of it.

The Montana sky was as big and blue as he remembered, the mental picture he held on to whenever he was in some hellhole or another. The air was as clear, the plains as vast, and the distant mountains as impressive.

But the skies were beginning to darken as the sun sank beyond those ridges. He took note of where he'd left off and kicked Bojangles into a full-out gallop down the well-worn path through the evergreens. He fell into rhythm with the animal's movements and felt something lift in his chest. The same feeling he got when he flew his plane. Freedom. Adrenaline. And a temporary lift in the heaviness of his being.

Too soon they broke out of the forest and into the pastures. As soon as Bojangles spotted the stables, he picked up speed. Knox's older brother, Ethan, opened the gate, and the horse slowed as he neared the barn.

"How many spots for us to mend?" Ethan asked as he strode into the barn a minute later.

"Found ten." Knox lifted his cell phone. "Got 'em marked on the GPS. We can head out tomorrow morning with the ATVs."

"How were the bugs?"

"The size of small prey birds. Which wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't forgotten bug spray." Knox pulled his shirt away from his chest. "Not that it would have mattered. Probably would have sweated it off in about two minutes." It was easy to bitch about the things that had annoyed him when he'd done this job as a kid. The heat, the bugs, getting poked by thorns and cut by barbed wire. Compared to what he'd suffered in the military, though, it wasn't all that bad.

One of the ranch hands took the horse and led him away. Growing up, Knox and Ethan were those ranch hands doing all the grunge work. Logan Ranch had become successful enough to hire on guys to handle that kind of stuff.

Ethan nodded toward the house with a somber expression. "Courtney's here, says she's not leaving until you sign the divorce papers. Cheating bitch has some nerve showing up after what she did to you. Mom didn't kick her out, but she's making her wait out on the porch."

Knox's chest tightened. Not at the prospect of seeing his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Not even at signing the papers, something he'd been putting off for over a week. Their marriage had been over for years, so that was merely a formality.

Ethan, as usual, wanted to prod the issue. "How come you don't seem as angry as the rest of us? Whoa, wait a minute. Did you cheat on her?"

"No."

"Yeah, I knew you wouldn't do that. Cheating's not in you."

Knox never would have cheated on Courtney, even if he'd been tempted to. Unlike some of his comrades, who were always looking for some action, he hadn't been interested in banging some stranger. In truth, he'd shut down that part of himself years ago.

Knox beckoned with a wave. "Come on up. There's something I need to straighten out."

"You know I got your back," Ethan said, illustrating by slapping him right between the shoulder blades.

"I know." Knox gave his brother a grateful smile.

He'd seen more of Courtney on a computer screen than in person these last ten years. As he approached the porch that wrapped around the house, he thought she didn't appear much different than she had when they'd married right out of high school. Except she looked sad. With a little bit of angry thrown in.

She came to her feet when she saw him approach, her expression wary. The lack of an iced tea or lemonade on the table next to her chair showed just how mad his mom was. She always did the hospitality thing.

The Logans hated Courtney, no doubt about it. They'd come to his defense just as they had after the defuckle, knowing that there was more to the story than he could tell. Believing in him. They wouldn't have accused him of screwing up a mission, just as they'd never accused him of being responsible for Callie's death.

Speaking of his mother, she must have been watching, because she stepped out onto the porch, too. Good. Saved him from having to call her to come out.

Courtney became even more wary at Mrs. Logan's appearance, though he could see her resignation at having to deal with his family's hostility. Once she'd been their darling. It had taken Knox a long time to figure out why. And to realize why he'd married her. He sure as hell wished he'd known then what he knew now. Hindsight and all that. It would have saved a lot of heartache.

"Can we talk alone?" Courtney asked the moment he reached the bottom step. She gripped the papers that would free her to marry her lover. She'd accused him of punishing her by withholding his signature. He didn't think he was, but honestly, maybe his pride was rebelling.

"No, there's something I need to say, and I want my family to hear it."

Her eyes fluttered in preparation for what she must have thought would be a rebuke. "Fine. Have your say. I'm a filthy, cheating whore. Isn't that right? I cheated on a man who was off risking his life for our country. I'm the worst sort of woman." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears as she took in his brother and then his mother. "I let you all down."

His mother had told him that was the sentiment in their small town. Despite the defuckle, he was considered a hero. He had made one appearance at a welcome-back gathering, but other than that, he'd sequestered himself at the ranch.

Knox leaned against the railing, meeting Courtney's gaze. "I let _you_ down long before you ever cheated."

"Knox, don't you let her off the hook," his mother said.

He didn't take his eyes off Courtney. "You remember when we started dating, how everyone said we were so perfect together? They put all these expectations on us."

She nodded, her eyes filled with raw hope that he was going to exonerate her. "Homecoming king and queen. And everyone writing in my yearbook how they expected to be invited to the wedding."

"So we gave them what they wanted without thinking about what we wanted. Or needed. Hell, we were kids. We didn't even know what we wanted. We only knew what we should want: the white picket fence, two point five kids, a nice little life. But what you needed was a husband who was there emotionally. Now I know I was never going to be the guy who could give you that. I'm just not capable of it."

Soft, quiet tears ran down Courtney's face. "I knew it sounded shallow, wanting a guy who was there for me while you were off at war. No one would understand that you weren't here even when you were _here_. When I tried to bring it up, you just got angry and accused me of trying to change you."

"That was me being too young and reacting out of guilt." He'd grown up fast in the SEALs, though, and had spent a lot of his precious downtime trying to figure out his marriage.

"I knew you were an introvert, that you needed to go off by yourself sometimes. I was okay with that. I knew that you hold a part of yourself deep inside, even back in high school. You were the unreachable, untouchable Knox."

He'd never heard that before. "I was?"

She nodded. "But _I_ was going to be the one to reach you. Because I was seventeen and invincible. Like you said, we were kids. What did I know about reaching a man's heart when he'd buried it so deep? Heck, I still don't know." She glanced at his mother, then back to him. "I suspect it has something to do with your sister's death. I tried to make it right somehow. But I couldn't."

Knox brushed her tears away. She was close to the truth. "You tried."

"Even when I told you I'd cheated, I wanted you to react, to show that you felt something for me. I would have taken angry. Hurt. I was hoping you'd fight for us."

Guilt pounded at him for not being able to give her even that. He had fought for his country. He had put a gun to a naval officer's head and demanded that he turn around and pick up his team when the fucker was going to hightail it because there was gunfire in the area. He would have put his life on the line for any of those guys, and he'd do it for Courtney, too. But he couldn't put his heart on the line for her. Or anyone.

His mother pulled out the little package of tissue she always kept in her pocket and handed it to Courtney. Thankfully, without saying anything.

"You had every right to find what I couldn't give you. I hope you and your guy are happy together. You deserve that." Knox held out his hand, and it took her a moment to realize he was asking for the papers. Her hands were shaking as she handed them to him.

"You mean that, don't you?" she asked, disbelief clear on her pretty face.

"Yeah, I do." There was a pen clipped to the top. She'd thought of everything. He laid the papers on the railing and signed, then handed them back to her.

She gave him a quick, hard hug. "Thank you," she whispered, and started down the steps. Then she turned back. "I hope you find what you're looking for, too, Knox. I hope you find the woman who can reach you. _You_ deserve that."

No, he didn't, but he nodded.

Nobody spoke until she'd gotten in her car. Then they started in.

"You let her off too easy," his mother said.

"Hell, you took the blame for the whole thing. You let her have the house, the car you bought for her." Ethan shook his head in disgust. "All you get out of the deal is your plane."

The plane was plenty. Knox kept his gaze on the driveway, watching her car disappear. "It _was_ my fault. I didn't marry her because I loved her the way a man should love a woman he's thinking about marrying." Not the kind of passion he heard about in country songs or the hot lust he heard in pop songs. Hell, he'd never felt that with anyone.

His mother stepped up beside him. "Are you saying you married her because everyone expected it? You weren't the kind of kid who gave in to peer pressure."

He turned to face her. "I married her for you and Dad." He might have laughed at the total shock on her face if he could find a speck of humor in all of this. "She brought you two out of your depression. When she was around, you smiled, laughed. It was the first time I'd seen you do that since Callie's death. I wanted to give that back to you more than anything. So I did, in the only way I could."

His mother put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Knox . . ."

He'd only recently come to realize that Courtney's coloring was similar to Callie's, and that maybe his parents—consciously or not—saw her as a grown-up version of the daughter they'd never get to see grow up. Knox had married her out of guilt, and that was the biggest travesty he'd committed, as far as she was concerned. She had married him, hoping to change him. Two kids without a clue.

"Please don't vilify her anymore. Tell your friends and your hairdresser and everyone else who loves sticking their noses into other people's business that it wasn't her fault. That we were just the wrong people to get married and were too young to know better. That's all they need to know."

He headed into the house before his mother could get any nosier. The smell of pork chops filled the air, but he wasn't really hungry. Callie's face stared at him from several of the walls covered in collections of family photographs. He and Ethan as gangly kids, Callie a toddler, their parents happy in their understated way. They'd never been lighthearted people, all about working hard and producing results.

His gaze fell on pictures of him and Ethan competing in various rodeos. One of Knox's belts was framed above a picture of him getting launched off a bucking horse. Although those were the post-Callie days, her pictures were still scattered throughout that timeline.

Like him, she'd loved wandering off to explore their vast property. When he'd started to head off toward the creek that day, she wanted to tag along. He'd told her to bug off. He had plans to meet a girl, the daughter of a neighboring rancher. It would be the first time for both of them; he'd stolen a condom from his older brother's stash. Like any fourteen-year-old, he'd been so focused on getting laid—or, more precisely, getting rid of his burden of virginity—he hadn't noticed that Callie was following at first. Soon he ditched her. Left her alone to fall into the creek and drown.

Knox made himself move on to the big, airy kitchen, where his father was cutting onions. He paused in his chopping. "Don't you look like a bucket of fun. Find any problems out there today?"

Knox pulled a cold beer from the fridge. "Nothing major. Ethan and I'll take care of it in the morning." He leaned against the counter and took a long draw of beer. "Next week I'm going to take the Cessna and meet the boys down in Texas for a couple of days."

His father gave him a long nod. "That'll be good for you." He waited, as though he knew there was more.

Knox grabbed another knife and started working on the green pepper sitting next to the cutting board. "Then I'm going down to Miami and talk to the guy with the private security firm. See about a job."

His father gave another nod as he dumped the onions into the pan. "Thought you might do that."

Knox sensed no recrimination in his voice; no disappointment, either. They'd never made him feel obligated to help run the ranch, especially knowing Knox needed to roam. "I'll be back in time for the cattle branding."

His father languidly stirred the onions. "You know, you can stop trying to atone for her death. It wasn't your fault."

Knox had heard the last sentiment before, though it had never rung true. But he'd never heard the first, and the blunt words twisted in his chest. Had his father been eavesdropping on his conversation with Courtney? "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Nearly killing yourself in the rodeo, chasing down terrorists in Afghanistan, and now running off to joining some security firm . . . yeah, son, I do. Nothing's going to bring her back. Especially you dying." His father put his hand on Knox's shoulder. "Just keep that in mind as you find something new to sink your teeth into."

Knox's throat tightened. This was the most his father had ever said about Callie's death. Or his part in it. "I will."

"That ex-wife of yours is right. You do deserve to be happy. So go on and be happy. Find a job that you can't wait to get up in the morning and get to. Find a woman who makes you feel the same way about coming home."

Knox swallowed the knot in his throat. "I'll try." He didn't know if it was possible. Wasn't sure he did deserve it. There was a part of him that was shut down, and he wasn't sure it could ever be revived. But he would try, because he owed that to them.

###

## Chapter 7

Risk Yarbrough pulled his laptop close and shifted to get comfortable on the hospital bed. The staff here was friendly and proficient, especially considering he was an American in Pakistan. One nurse was particularly friendly. He smiled, then frowned because she'd caught hell for it. Well, technically, it was the fact that she was giving him head—which, hey, is about as friendly as one can get—that got her into boo-coops of trouble.

His torn-up leg was mending fast, and soon he'd be out of there. Where next? He Googled _BASE jumping locales,_ looking for the next radical location. Trango Towers had been hell on him here. He'd had an off-heading canopy opening that had rammed him into the face of the rock. Which meant that he'd landed in a stunned and injured state, unable to fully get his balance. Not the best damned way to land.

The doctors and nurses all thought he was crazy, jumping off a stationary object and pulling his parachute so low to the ground. They had seen injuries and fatalities from other jumpers, regaling him with the gory details in their lyrical accents. Like he didn't already know, though he appreciated their warnings. He certainly couldn't explain that jacking up his adrenaline had kept him sane when he was a kid. After his mother died and his father worked him to death and beat him to expend his own grief and anger, Risk had numbed himself. Jumping off the barn roof or taking the horse they called Insanity for a ride was the only way he ever _felt_ anything. It still was, for the most part.

Except his fingers weren't typing anything about the jumping locations of buildings, antennas, spans (bridges), and earth (cliffs). They typed _Justiss Alliance Miami._ True to Chase's word, there wasn't much about it or him. In the world of transparency, one man and one company had eluded capture. Risk reached into his duffel bag, which he kept within a foot at all times, and pulled out the business card. It was bent and worn from the times when he'd been camping and the card had sort of ended up in his hand.

His gaze fell on the bandages, slated to come off in the next day or so. The thought of heading off to some other location to sneak onto private property or violate a park rule wasn't all that exciting at the moment. Injuries and near-death experiences had never deterred him. In fact, just the opposite. Figure out what went wrong and do it right the next time.

All at once, risking his life for fun seemed . . . well, stupid. Nothing like raiding a compound in the desert or rescuing a hostage. Doing something meaningful rather than getting a rush that was over about an hour after his feet touched the ground. This was where he'd been a year out of high school, freezing his ass off in Yosemite Park, waiting for dawn to break so he could pull his first jump of the day. A need for purpose hit him harder than any mountain. He'd signed on to the SEALs that time.

And this time? He flipped the card over, eyeing the names and numbers on the back. Returning to Merica, as Rath called it, was sounding better and better. The thought of seeing the boys, catching up beyond the occasional e-mail or text message, actually made his throat tighten. They were his second family, as important to him as his real brothers. He reached into his bag again and retrieved his cell phone.

He called Saxby, smiling at the sound of his voice when he answered with "Hey, bro. Whazzup?"

Risk flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Taking in a little downtime in Pakistan. I'm heading home in a couple of days, a week at the most. Call the boys and schedule a meet-up somewhere on Julian and Rath's route. I'm going to fly to Illinois and take my truck down from there."

"Sounds good to me. I'll get back to you when I've got something worked out."

Risk disconnected, feeling the heaviness in his chest lift at the thought of getting together with the boys. And finding a direction. He'd heard an earful from his most responsible brother, Will, when he'd gone home right after the defuckle.

Will had always lectured Risk on his "recklessness" and had about freaked when Risk announced he was signing on with the SEALs. Being the oldest brother, Will had taken a fatherly role where Risk was concerned. He'd insisted that Risk spend his senior year of high school with him and his wife after their father had broken his nose in a drunken rage.

Risk had been grateful for that year of normalcy even as he'd been unable to fathom living such a boring life. Matt, his younger brother, was a perpetual student, remaining in the safe, steady academic environment. Also boring.

Risk flipped his finger against the bent corner of the card. He was going to make two more calls to the United States, talk to these references, and find out what it was like to work for Chase Justiss. Then he was going to get the hell home.

* * *

The boys met at a roadside diner in Shamrock, Texas, coordinating with Salsa and Rath's return trip on what was left of Route 66.

Risk propped his leg on the table and hitched up his pant leg. The waitress, who had the unfortunate timing of appearing just then, gasped at the jagged scar, roughly one foot long and an inch wide in places.

Sue, as her name tag indicated, continued to approach despite the horror on her long, pretty face. "Why, bless your heart. Is that a shrapnel wound? My cousin's got one like that, only it's smaller."

"No, ma'am, a mountain got me." He could show her plenty of war wounds. If he were less than a gentleman, he could offer to show her the one that had gotten him the most ribbing.

She tsked and handed each of the guys a plastic menu. "Damn things. Turn your back on 'em for a second, and they'll take a bite right out of you."

Risk grinned. He liked this woman. "Yeah, at least it didn't have rabies."

The moment she'd taken their drink orders and retreated, Rath said, "Who-ee, look at Risk, working the lady even faster than Sooch."

Sax settled back in the blue vinyl booth with his trademark half-grin. "She already took my order, know what I mean?"

"Did not," Salsa said, his gaze hungrily scanning the menu. "You've only been here for five minutes."

Saxby curled his hand and blew on his fingernails. "That's right."

Knox elbowed him. "You're full of shit. Stop trying to blow smoke up our asses and figure out what you want. I'm so hungry I could eat a cow." He shook his head, his gaze on the menu. "Still acting like a couple of horny teenagers."

Knox was the only one of the five who'd been married; Risk remembered his Skype calls, trying to convince his wife to hold off on filing for divorce until he came home on leave. With a ninety-five percent divorce rate among SEALs, it wasn't a surprise that the marriage had crumbled. Still, it sucked for him. Risk wasn't going to be the one to ask if they'd managed to keep it together. And he didn't have to, once he checked Knox's ring finger. No sign of the wedding band, not even a tan line.

"How's the road?" Risk asked Salsa and Rath instead.

"The wind in our faces," Rath said, his smile breaking through his dark beard. "The rumble of the engine, the freedom to do what we want. Sleeping under the stars."

"Bugs in our teeth," Julian added. "Exhaust fumes. Numb balls at the end of the day. Prickly scalp from wearing a helmet for hours on end. Fuckin' awesome." But he grinned. "Staying away from my family . . . priceless."

"They still trying to get you to come back home?" Risk asked.

"About every other day. Calls and texts. First my younger brother, then the older one, then a cousin, then my father. Even my younger sister." He imitated them in Spanish, then translated. " 'Come home. It's your destiny. Your responsibility.' They figure, since my military career—and chance to escape—crashed and burned, what else is there but the family business?" He settled his hand over his crotch. "I'll take the numb balls, _muchas gracias_."

Of course, Sue chose that moment to bring the tray of drinks. She quickly shifted her focus from Julian's crude motion to each plastic glass.

"Excuse my ungentlemanly friend here," Saxby said in his soothing voice, giving her a wink. "Don't judge me by the company I keep."

And just like that, she was snared, focused on him instead of those glasses. She gave him a smile. "There's nothing to judge, sugar. I grew up with three brothers."

Sometimes Risk and Saxby would make a competition of who-gets-the-girl. Sooch had earned his nickname many a time. Sue took their orders and sauntered back to the kitchen. Sax shot Risk a challenging smile. _Are we on?_

Some small part of him responded, as it did to any challenge. The rest of him just wasn't into it, which seemed rather odd when he thought about it. For some reason, banging some chick and never seeing her again didn't appeal. Like BASE jumping, it was fun in the moment but left him hollow later. He waved it off and dumped four sugar packets into his iced tea. "Any of you been thinking about Chase Justiss's offer?"

Rath kicked back, his arms over his head. "Had enough of being at someone's beck and call." His dark brown eyes got even darker. " 'Sides, I'm heading down to Mexico to find out what happened."

"And get yourself killed," Saxby said. "They know what we look like, and they have pictures to keep our mugs fresh in their minds. Since they think we're assassins, they'll be keeping an eye out for us."

Rath had a determined gleam in his eyes, one Risk knew well. No one was going to talk him out of going. "Let us know before you go," Risk said.

"Why, you gonna pray for me?"

"Maybe we'll go down, too," Risk said.

Rath hitched his thumb at Julian. "I already told JuJu here, I'm not dragging any of you into this. This is a solitary mission. My ass on the line." Rath and Knox were loners at heart, used to being self-sufficient. Even BUD/S hadn't worked that out of them completely. Nor had the months of training and all deployments afterward. Yet Risk knew either man would put his life on the line to save his teammate. Their loyalty was bar none.

"Let us know anyway," Risk ordered. "In case you go MIA."

"Yeah, sure." Rath narrowed his eyes at Risk. "You really thinking about joining this security company?"

"It's more than that," Risk said. "It's the kind of thing we're good at. That we live for. Not rushing into armed compounds or engaging in firefights, but it's also not waiting around till the government decides to send us in. Or changing their mind once we're there and ready to rock and roll. But it _is_ about righting wrongs. Getting justice for people who can't. I talked to the two references. One did a stint in the marines, the other's a former cop. They see enough action to fuel their need for adrenaline. But they like being able to make a difference without having to deal with bureaucracy. And they think a lot of Chase Justiss. I'm going down to Miami next week to talk to him. Who's with me?"

Yeah, Risk had fantasies about bringing the team together again under Justiss's auspices. "We could all chip in on a boat, go fishing, hit the clubs. Do you guys have any idea how hot the women are supposed to be down there?"

"And how hot and muggy the weather is," Knox added.

"Yeah, buddy, but nothing like the deserts and jungles we've been in." Risk took in his comrades. Rath was the most closed. Julian was probably reluctant to get that close to his family in Orlando. Knox was hard to read, as usual. Saxby was bending his straws about eight ways. Risk recognized the call to adventure sparking in his eyes. Or maybe it was the hot women.

"I called the references, too," Sax admitted. "Just out of curiosity. One was a woman who's been with the agency for a year."

"Figures you'd get the female reference," Risk grumbled, but inside he was getting excited. If one of them signed on, eventually, they'd all sign on. He knew these guys better than anyone, even his own family. Being shot at, covering each other's asses with gunfire, and hauling an injured comrade out of a hot zone bonded people faster than anything. "You're intrigued. Admit it."

Saxby narrowed his eyes. "The last time you had that look in your eyes, we assaulted a compound in Laredo, Mexico."

Knox nodded. "Those so-called references could be Justiss's friends, his girlfriend." Ever the cynic.

Risk honed in on his likely cohort, Saxby. "What else you got to do? Aren't you tired of all those women fawning over you like you're a lap dog? Ooh, _Chihuahua_. Don't forget, I've seen it." Risk had gone home with Saxby on leave once. It was as sickly sweet as the delicious pecan pie and whiskey lemonade Sax's mom had plied them with. That was one time when Risk didn't jump into compete mode. No way was he dangling his rod over someone else's pond. Saxby was like the freaking king of Cole, especially since the town was named for his family.

"Yeah, yeah. I worked at the grill company for a while, unfortunately getting my daddy all excited, thinking I was going to settle in. I might have stayed if he'd taken the reality-show deal. One of the networks wanted to turn us into the latest family-business reality show." He waved his hand marquis-style. " 'Hot and Sultry Grillin'.' Or maybe 'Smokin' Louisiana.' What do you think?"

Julian snorted. "Better than 'Washing Dirty Money.' "

"Or 'Rifle Travesty,' " Rath added. "In a take off of _Duck Dynasty._ The best rifle company no one's ever heard of."

Sue brought a tray and set down the plates without having to ask who ordered what. "Need anything else, boys?" She was looking mostly at Sax, but she swung that smile back at Risk, too.

"I'm good," Risk said, picking up a piece of crispy bacon.

"I'll bet you are," she murmured as she headed off.

"Bet you fifty," Sax said, digging into his country-fried steak.

"She might do you both at the same time," Knox said, a bit of humor creeping into his expression. "You could save your money."

Risk and Saxby both made a face. "Two women," Saxby said, "sure. With another dude . . . no way."

Damn, how they'd gotten sidetracked. Risk dropped his fork on his plate, making a loud clatter. "I'm thinking about my future, not my dick. Can we focus here? I'm going down to talk to Chase so that maybe I can get some purpose back to my life. Who's with me?"

Rath shook his head as he shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Risk turned to Julian. "Purpose. Escape. Action. Doing the right thing. Everything we joined the SEALs for. We can have it again. You in?"

"Mountain Man and I are going to go down to Rod's. Remember him? He own a bike shop and hasn't taken a vacation in two years. We're going to spell him so he and his old lady can take off for a week. Go play in Justiss's playground and let me know what happens."

Risk could accept that. He focused on Saxby. "You're getting soft, buddy. Spoiled."

"Soft?" Saxby pulled up his T-shirt and thumped his knuckles against his six-pack. "You call this soft?"

"I sure don't." Sue had come up with a pitcher of iced tea, and she was practically drooling.

Risk was glad he hadn't taken the bet. But honestly, his head wasn't in _that_ head. He needed more than a roll in the sack.

"Why, thank you, darlin'," Sooch drawled, giving her his whole attention, just like he always did with the ladies.

She filled his glass first, then the others. "How's dinner?"

"Hot and tasty," Sax said in his deliberate way that always made the woman on the receiving end blush. Sue was no exception.

Damn, the boy had definitely gotten soft . . . in the brain, anyway. His focus would be on getting laid and not on his future, and Risk wanted to get to Miami tomorrow, now that he'd made his mind up to go.

Sax leaned back with a sigh and watched Sue sashay back to the kitchen. "She is hot. And I bet she'd be tasty."

The guys gave a general consent, too busy filling their pieholes to comment further.

Sax blew out a long breath and turned to Risk. "I did get soft the first month I was home. Ate every kind of pie available, drank whiskey lemonade, and slept till noon. A week ago, I lost interest in it all. I found myself in the gym crunching until my abs burned like one of our grills. I ran for five hours straight. I even blew off a date, forgot all about it as I ran and ran and ran. That's the best I've felt since the defuckle. And at the end, I realized I need something more than the cushy corporate life. I can't reenlist, don't want to go into law enforcement, so I called Chase."

"And?"

"Told him I was thinking about it, asked some questions. I liked what he had to say. I'm in."

Risk gave him a nod, even though he wanted to jump up and holler. He shifted his attention to Knox. "What about you, Maverick? The three of us can go down and do training and orientation together."

Knox leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest like he was going to be a big fat _no._ "You can drop that bulldozer look. I talked to Justiss last week. I'm already scheduled to fly down the week you're there."

Risk felt as though he'd been sucker-punched. But in a good way. He traded a high five with Knox. It would be only a matter of time before Julian and Rath signed on. Then the team would be together again. And he knew they were going to kick ass.

###

## Wild On You

###

## Chapter 1

The last time Rick Yarbrough climbed into this limo was right after the Navy court hearing that resulted in the discharge of his SEAL team. The man who provided that limo, Chase Justiss, had offered all five of them an intriguing job opportunity. Six and a half weeks later, Risk was an operational member of The Justiss Alliance. They were unofficially called J-Men, because two of Chase's operatives had a thing for some cult-classic movie called J-Men Forever.

Risk, Saxby, and Knox had undergone a week of orientation and training at Chase's Miami estate, nothing compared to the grueling thirty months of becoming a SEAL. Then again, they already possessed most of the requisite skills.

Chase leaned forward from the limo's plush interior and shook his hand. "Welcome to your first mission, Risk."

Nice. His new boss even remembered his nickname.

Chase was tall and lean, civilian but with a whiff of former military to his bearing. Government, he'd said, but was otherwise obtuse about his background. Or his reason for starting an agency that masqueraded as a private security firm.

Risk released his grip as he settled into the seat across from him. "You haven't told me what it is yet." Which was odd, now that he thought about it. He was used to being given only bits and pieces of an upcoming mission, but that was the military, after all.

"I didn't want to scare you off."

Risk rubbed his hands together. Oh, buddy, this was going to be good. "Fill me in."

What had sold Risk on joining was The Justiss Alliance's real purpose: obtaining justice for those who couldn't get it through normal channels. The government and law enforcement agencies had their limitations, after all.

Chase stretched out his long legs across the interior of the limo. "Some of our jobs come from government agencies that need off-the-record help. But as I said, some come from private citizens. I've known General Wunder a long time."

Which couldn't be that long, considering the guy was in his late twenties, like Risk, early thirties at the most. "Does this involve military matters, then?" He wasn't sure how he felt about sticking his nose in anything military. To be fair, his team had taken on the covert mission knowing full well that if they failed, the government would deny any knowledge of their infiltration; elected officials certainly would not admit to sending in a SEAL team to assassinate the leader of an organization aiming to shut down the violent cartels in Mexico. Nevertheless, anything military still left a bitter taste in Risk's mouth.

"Not at all. The general's retired. This is a private security detail assignment."

"So I'm guarding some retired military brass. Is he going overseas, consulting in Afghanistan or something?" His blood heated at the prospect of danger. Lurking assassins. Clearing vehicles of explosives, maybe even detonating one. His mouth actually watered. Damn, he'd been out of the action for way too long.

"You're guarding his daughter here in Virginia. He thinks her safety is being threatened."

Risk stared at Chase for several seconds. "I'm a babysitter?" he pushed out at last, trying not to sound too indignant. "You do recall my years of experience with weapons, interrogation? Running into buildings on moonlit nights, knowing there could be fighters waiting with guns? Tracking down bad guys in the frigid desert? You don't need to ease me in, if that's why you're giving me this gig."

Chase slid him a sly smile. "It's not going to be that easy."

Risk held back the hmph that wanted to escape. How hard could guarding a woman be? Unless she was a diplomat in a volatile foreign country, but Chase had said it was domestic. "What does this assignment have to do with the 'justice for all, no matter the cost' credo?"

"You'll see."

Color me skeptical.

The last time he trusted his commander, the mission screwed up his life. But Risk held his tongue and mustered as much trust as he could. He wanted this job to work out. After all, it wasn't like Chase was asking him to assassinate someone.

The limo left the private airfield that Chase's jet had flown him into. Risk had spent some time with his brother and his family in Pekin, Illinois, while awaiting his first assignment.

Risk regaled Chase with war stories, and Chase recounted some of The Justiss Alliance's missions during the two hour drive. The limo entered an exclusive neighborhood with massive brick homes set on large parcels of land. They pulled down a curved drive to a house with columns that reminded Risk of a government building, all square and landscaped with military precision. Risk hailed from an Illinois farming community where he'd worked until his muscles burned and his skin was leathery from the sun. This kind of money was a foreign concept.

Risk followed Chase up the steps, and a few seconds after chimes echoed inside the house, a man opened the door. The expression on his hard, square face transformed to relief when he took in Chase.

"Good to see you, son." He pumped Chase's hand, then pulled him in for one of those guy hugs. Chase didn't even buckle under the ham-sized hand slapping his back so hard that Risk expected him to cough up something.

"Glad we can help." Chase gestured for Risk to step up beside him and introduced the two men.

Risk knew the general was sizing him up as he crushed his hand in what was more like an arm-wrestling hold than a handshake. "Nice to meet you," Risk gritted out, gripping the man's hand just as hard.

The general gave him an approving nod and gestured for them to follow him. "Let's talk in my office."

Chase said, "I briefed him on the job but figured we would cover the specifics here."

Briefed. Yeah, like a sentence.

The general nodded for them to take the two leather seats in front of his desk, sinking down in his chair on the other side. "Someone tried to run down my daughter, Adeline, a week ago." He slid a folder across the desk. "Here's the police report. There was no proof it was intentional. It could have been a drunk driver. That's what Adeline wants to think, but even she admits she's made some enemies." He interlaced his fingers so tightly that they turned red. "I've included the detective's contact information in the paperwork. He hasn't turned up anything yet. And while he's a friend, he can only spend so much time on a dead-end investigation.

"In the meantime, whoever tried will no doubt try again. I insisted she move in here for a while, but with her comes a menagerie of animals she's rehabilitating, and they're driving me crazy. She's just as unhappy being here, so you're our compromise." That he directed to Risk. "I need someone who can not only protect her but keep her out of trouble. No protests, no investigations. She needs to sit tight and safe until we know who wants her dead or we can be sure that it was indeed an accident."

Risk's gaze went to the bookshelf behind the general and a collection of framed pictures of a blond girl at various ages. On a pony at maybe her sixth birthday party. Riding a horse at some equestrian event as a teen. Probably spoiled rotten. Great. Frickin' great. And Risk was a compromise, which meant she was going to be as cooperative as any bad guy he'd tried to wheedle information out of.

"Who'd she piss off?" Risk asked, then added, "Sir."

"There are several possibilities."

Risk nearly choked. "Several? How can one woman make that many people angry enough to potentially try killing her? Is she a liberal? Does she use racial slurs? Was she caught trying to drown puppies?"

The general sat back in his chair with a long-suffering sigh. "She's an animal hugger. You know, like a tree hugger. It started when she was a kid, saving baby birds that had fallen out of nests, finding homes for stray kittens. I figured her desire to help came from watching her mother work with her various charities. After her mother died—when Addie was twelve—that desire turned into a drive. First she kidnapped a neglected horse from a farm. Then she stole hound pups she thought were being abused and found them homes. She went looking for animals to save as though her life depended on it."

"Maybe she was trying to fill that empty hole you feel when your parent dies young," Risk found himself saying.

"I thought so, too. But I overheard her talking to her mother up in heaven, telling her about the puppies she'd saved and how she hoped that would make it up to her. When I asked her what she meant, she wouldn't say." He shook his head. "She doesn't always consider the law—or her common sense—when she's got an abused or neglected animal in her sights." He handed a folder to Risk. "The lead suspect is a guy who runs one of these traveling zoos. She's been launching protests against him for the last few weeks, and he made some threats. Nothing so obvious as 'I'm going to run you down.' More like 'You crazy animal people need to be hog-tied and trampled by the elephants you're trying to save!' He even filed a restraining order."

Risk studied photos of a middle-aged guy who looked like he was all kinds of pissed about having his picture taken. In another shot, a tiger cub didn't look any happier about being forced to pose with a young girl.

"Let me show you what I'm dealing with." The general pulled his keyboard close and began pecking at it. "What you'll be dealing with." He turned his monitor to show them a Facebook page. The ID read Addie Wunder, Animal Hugger. The general frowned. "She used my disparaging title as her organization's name. Just to poke at me, I suspect."

The big picture on top was a horse racing across an open field. In the corner was a picture of Addie, with the same blond hair and incredible blue eyes as in the pictures behind the general . . . except she was all grown up now.

Way grown up. Risk would guess her to be in her mid-twenties. In the most recent picture on her timeline, she was in front of a zoo, holding a sign protesting cruelty against a tiger cub, tight white pants and leopard-print tank top wrapped around a nice little figure. Her latest post called out to anyone in the Ruckersville area to protest the zoo's next stop. Farther down, a YouTube video proclaimed to expose a canned hunt in Georgia, with Addie's face frozen in passionate ire. Another picture showed her in a dark pink bikini, bathing dogs at a fund-raiser for a no-kill shelter. If Risk wrapped his hands around her waist, the tips of his fingers would probably touch. She had an amazing set of boobs, a bit more than a handful, firm and—

"I'm a poker player, son," the general said, pinning him with his gray eyes. "You're obviously not."

Risk cleared his throat. "Sorry, sir."

"Normally I'd worry about how you're looking at my daughter, a guy like you."

"Like me?" Risk bristled.

"Good-looking, muscular, with that dangerous gleam in his eyes. Let me dispel any notions you may have. She's gay."

Risk looked at that delicate heart-shaped face with the spark of rebellion. Please say it ain't so. "That's a shame, sir. I mean, coming from a guy's perspective."

General Wunder sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Look, I have no problem with anyone's preferences. To each his or her or them — their — own. Love is love. But I suspected she was lying to put me off the matchmaking trail. So I tested her. I've offered a thousand dollars to the guy who could expose her true preferences. Had a millionaire businessman try, a marine, even an Army captain. No one delivered."

Well, you didn't try a SEAL, sir. "Did she know?"

"Only that I was setting her up on blind dates, inviting candidates to dinner or charity events. Adeline was polite, but no interest."

"Is the offer still on the table?" Risk couldn't resist a challenge, especially when the prize was a saucy dish. The hundred thou would be nice, too.

"Not to someone like you. Stop bristling, boy, or you're going to grow spines. I'm not talking about what happened with your SEAL team in Mexico. Something smelled rank about that whole deal."

"That whole deal," the defuckle, as it was now referred to, had trashed Risk's military career. "You know about it?"

"I don't know anything. I suspect that your team took the fall for a black op. I never did trust that Hammer organization. Despite their alleged intentions, they've been implicated in bloodshed themselves. The pictures they leaked to the media, showing how the 'rogue SEALs' had recklessly killed women and children at the compound, were obviously staged. Chase assured me that there was a lot more to it than your team screwing up. It ranks that you all took the fall. It's really ranks that one of your own died."

Risk nodded in appreciation of the sentiment. "So what did you mean by someone like me?"

"You're an adrenaline junkie. I know that gleam, because I've seen it in my daughter's eyes since she was two—right before she climbed up the railing to the second floor. You'd feed off each other, probably get yourselves killed flying off some mountain on a kite or something."

Which sounded fun. Risk shifted his attention back to Addie's picture. "Bet she's vegan, too."

"Pescatarian, which means she eats fish occasionally." Wunder smirked. "She taught me the difference. But sometimes I see her eyeing the steak I'm having as she's eating that tofu crap." He grunted, shaking his head. Then his steely eyes focused on Risk. "You're to accompany Adeline to her home to unload the animals she brought here. Then she's to go to my brother's home in the Hamptons to lay low for a while."

Risk wanted to groan. An indeterminate amount of time lounging around some mansion with a hot lesbian. Could life be any more unfair?

Wunder dialed a number, engaging the speakerphone. "Adeline, where are you?"

"I'm loading the animals into the van." A strong but decidedly feminine voice.

"Please come to my office."

"Uh-oh. When you use that tone, I know it's not good," she said warily. "Does this have anything to do with the big shiny limo in the driveway?"

"Adeline, please."

"Coming, Father."

Risk wondered what it was like to grow up with a military father. He'd heard some of the guys on his teams talk about their military dads over the years, and not in a warm and fuzzy way.

Adeline pushed open the door a few minutes later and came to a standstill as she took in Risk and Chase. She was probably five-three, with the face of an angel. Her sandy blond hair was hastily tied into a ponytail that brushed her shoulders whenever she turned her head. She parted her hair to the side, and long bangs hung over the right side of her face. Her gaze snapped back to her father. "What's going on?"

The sight of her tripped Risk's heart. She wore cargo pants that rode low on her hips and a black shirt that came just shy of the waistband, showing a tantalizing strip of golden skin. In her arm she cradled a kitten that did not look domestic.

"Adeline, remember, I told you that you could return to your home with conditions."

"I'm the condition." Risk approached her with a grin, his hand outstretched. "I'm Rick Yarbrough. Nice to meet you. Call me Risk."

She eyed his hand dubiously but shifted the kitten so she could shake it. Damn, the feel of her palm sliding against his gave him another jolt. Nothing delicate about her hands or her handshake, though it wasn't bruising like her father's.

She took him in, her blue eyes assessing him from head to toe before shifting to her father. "He's a bodyguard, isn't he? You actually got me a bodyguard."

"He's ex-SEAL, trained to protect and to kill if necessary. You are not to go anywhere without him."

Risk liked that flare of rebellion in her eyes, the rise of one blond eyebrow. She had the eyes of an angel but the spark of a devil when she asked, "Even the bathroom?"

"Adeline, you know what I mean. And you are to lay low at your uncle's. No protests." Her father tapped the monitor. "I'll be watching your page. Let your followers, or whatever they're called, stomp around with signs. You stay away."

"I can't ask them to protest and then not show up myself." Addie—she was definitely not an Adeline—narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to unfriend you, Father."

"You will do no such thing. And you will take this young man with you, to the store, to that vegan restaurant that smells like hay, wherever. Except the bathroom. Or bedroom."

Addie's eyes slid to Risk at that last word. She made a sound like hmph. "If I've got a muscle-bound brute at my side, I'm not going to Uncle Crazy's. I mean, Uncle Macy's. I'll be bored out of my mind. That's my countercondition."

The general considered that for a moment and, as he probably did in many such interactions, gave in. "All right, go to your ranch, but stay there."

Thank God. A ranch sounded infinitely more interesting. Risk imagined the ranch that Knox, one of his SEAL teammates, had described growing up on in Montana. Riding the range. Wrangling and branding calves.

Addie spun on her heel. "I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes."

"Adeline."

She spun again and dutifully marched over to give her father a peck on the cheek. He pinched her cheeks in return, holding her fast. "Take this seriously. You are my only child. I don't want you hurt."

Her expression sobered. "I'll be careful."

Risk turned away, uncomfortable at the emotion in the man's voice. He turned back when he heard the general say, "Listen to Risk. If he says it's too dangerous to go somewhere, believe him. If he tells you to do something, do it. This guy's run missions that'd make your blood run cold. Trust him."

"Yes, Father."

Risk had a feeling she gave him that line often, then went off and did whatever the hell she wanted. At least the general had faith in him. But Risk knew Addie was going to be a handful. Chase's warning echoed in his mind: It's not going to be that easy.

Risk tipped his chin toward the monitor. "These guys who are after you are probably your friends, too."

She straightened, brushing her bangs from her face. "Then they're not my friends."

"I assume you don't personally know every friend or like or whatever the people are called who support your page. One of them could be the enemy, who sees everything you post. Including your schedule."

"Good point." General Wunder gave a little wave of his hand. "Unfriend everyone."

"No way!" She walked over to the monitor, looking like she was going to hug the thing. "I've got over four thousand friends. This page is how they know where to go, who to call, what letters to write." She gave her father a forced smile that showed off perfect white teeth. "How about if I ask the bodyguard to check every post to make sure I'm not giving away any intelligence?"

Oh, buddy, she was going to be a handful, all right. It was a damn good thing she went the other way. The general was spot-on; they'd feed off each other. Risk already felt an answering spark to her sassy attitude. And she was so tasty-looking that it was a punch in the gut to think she had no interest in men.

Lesbian. Vegetarian. Animal activist. Not going to happen between us. Make it a mantra.

"Risk will leave here with you," the general said. "He is on duty as of this moment."

She gave Risk a look that made him feel like a dog collar. "Well, come on, then. We're shipping out in ten minutes."

Or maybe he was the one with the collar. He bade Chase and the general goodbye and followed her out. Her white van was parked in the circle driveway behind the limo. Artemis, Chase's driver, already had Risk's bags out. One held clothes, the other weapons and gear.

Artemis—who Risk suspected was more than just a driver—slapped Risk's shoulder. "Good luck." With a grin, he nodded to a large cargo van, which featured a bumper sticker that read WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR THE EARTH TODAY? "I've seen them load in a llama, a horse, and two crates that contained creatures hissing like hellcats." He grinned. "Then there's the client."

A hellcat with two legs. Great.

"Are you coming or not?" the hellcat asked as she opened the driver's door to the van. She still held the kitten in one arm.

"Yes, ma'am." Risk grabbed up the bags, said goodbye to Artemis, and headed over. "Want me to drive?"

"Nope." She opened a storage area. "You can put your bags in here." She gave him another once-over. "You look like a bodyguard."

"I am one, so I'm thinking that's a good thing."

"No, it's not. Can you look . . . normal? Casual, I mean?"

Honestly, he was glad to get out of the button-down shirt and tie; they reminded him too much of that hearing. "Give me a sec." He checked to make sure he was out of the line of sight of the mansion and whipped off the tie, jamming it into the bag. Then he unbuttoned his dress shirt, stripped out of it, and pulled a blue-striped Polo shirt from the top of the bag. As the collar cleared his face, he caught sight of Addie watching him.

No, watching him. Her expression was perfectly placid, but her pupils were dilated, an involuntary response to arousal. She dropped her gaze to the cat in her arms and started baby-talking to it in an obvious diversionary move.

Interesting. He needed to investigate further. With a wince, he said, "Damn, forgot this shirt has one of those annoying tags that digs into the back of my neck." He stripped off the shirt and dug in his bag, all the while watching her in his peripheral vision.

Yep, she was watching him. He noticed that her lower lip had gone a little slack as he pulled out another shirt. She made the tiniest sound somewhere deep in her throat when he yanked it down over his head.

Very interesting. "You go both ways, don't you? Can you tell me how that works? I've always wondered how someone can be attracted to both genders. I guess it really opens up the dating pool, eh?"

She brushed her long bangs from her face. "I don't go both ways."

"Really? Because I thought . . . Ah, never mind." He put his clothing bag in the storage bin, closed it, and hefted the other one. "This one goes with me."

She eyed the bag. "What's in there?"

"Tools of my trade."

"You're . . . armed?"

"Of course. How else am I going to protect you? Wagging my finger and calling them dirty names sure isn't going to do it." He hoped she wasn't anti-weapon on top of everything else.

"I suppose not. I'm just not really around weapons much. Daddy keeps his out of sight, locked in a safe." She searched his person with her gaze.

"Don't worry. You can't even tell I'm armed, as you can see. My gun is in a SERPA, which is a retention holster." He lifted his shirt to show her the molded plastic holster. "It allows me to keep the gun in condition one, loaded and ready, but requires me to press a release button so it won't accidentally go off." He'd also need to put his finger on the trigger, but he didn't need to tell her that part. Or about the knife at the small of his back.

"If it's necessary."

He gave her a solemn nod. "It is, ma'am."

"And please don't call me ma'am. You're probably older than I am."

"You're right about that, ma— Should I just call you Addie? Or Miss Wunder?"

"Addie will do. Miss Wunder makes me sound like a porn star."

He had to temper his laugh. And he wouldn't tell her that she looked like one.

Her gaze swept over him again, but she quickly got into the van, making a point not to look his way. He chuckled as he walked around to the passenger side. Maybe she was in denial. A more intriguing thought popped into mind.

As soon as he got in and buckled up, she set the cat in his lap and shoved a bottle at him. "Feed her until the bottle's gone. Then you can put her in the crate in the back."

Three crates separated the horse and some other creature tied off on the other side. He raised his eyebrows. "Please?"

"Sorry. When I'm at my father's house, I'm used to requests being worded as orders." She gave him a gut-tightening, genuine smile. "Please."

Anything, doll. Yeah, those words had just about slipped out.

He looked at the kitten, which had sharp-as-shit teeth; he knew personally because it had thought his finger was the bottle's nipple and clamped on. He bit back a curse and shoved the nipple at the cat. "What is this thing? A tiger?"

She shot him a playfully derisive look. "It's a bobcat kitten. Too much for you?"

He took in the adorable face of the suckling cat. Then the puncture wounds on his finger. Yeah, as docile as the woman sitting next to him. He gave her a pointed look. "I can handle her." Both hers.

"That remains to be seen." She gave him a challenging look and buckled up. "Her name is Freedom. One of my supporters found three kittens on his land, no sign of the mom. They were emaciated and covered in fleas. I found a cat sanctuary that will raise them so they can be returned to the wild, but the habitat won't be ready for another week. I'm in charge of them until then. The other two are with a different foster mom."

Freedom was kneading Risk with her claws, purring away while puncturing his thighs. If the critter shifted a half inch, things could get dicey. Literally.

"She likes you," Addie said, staring at the kitten.

"You say that like you're surprised. Females love me." He gave her the smile that made every woman he'd used it on smile back. And sometimes more. Heck, even grandmas responded.

She frowned instead. "I'll bet you use that smile as your pickup line."

He felt the smile fade. "Okay, I believe you. You're gay."

Addie started the engine and pulled out. She handled the vehicle like a pro, taking corners efficiently without sending the van into tilt. Her arms were toned, though he doubted she did curls at a gym. She kept her attention on the road, studiously ignoring him. He wasn't about to let her get away with that.

"Have a girlfriend?" he asked.

Her eyes shifted to him briefly. "Shirley. She's my partner in Animal Huggers."

"Shirley."

He attached a hot redhead to the name and sank into a fantasy about the pinup girl and Addie tangling in the sheets of one of those outdoor beds by the sea. He walked up the steps into the private cabana and gave them the smile. Addie whispered something to Shirley, who nodded, and both women looked at him with hungry eyes. That same hunger he'd seen in Addie's eyes earlier. Addie crooked her finger at him.

"Oh, stop that."

Her snapping voice jerked him right out of the scene. "Stop what?" Good thing the cat was on his lap, even with its claws.

"You're fantasizing about me and some fictionalized version of Shirley, aren't you? And we're inviting you to join us, I bet."

Damn, no wonder he always lost at poker. No point in denying it, he supposed. "And you interrupted before I got to the good part."

"If two women are interested in each other, what makes you think they'll want some guy pushing in on their action?"

"Good question. But hey, it is a fantasy, after all."

She let out a breath, which made her bangs bounce. "I'm not gay."

Something in his chest twanged. Something lower twanged, too, and he realized that it was much better to see her as unavailable. "I won't fantasize about you and your girlfriend anymore. It was disrespectful."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not gay. I told my father I was because he was always trying to settle me down with some boring guy. It just sort of came out of my mouth in my frustration one night after the umpteenth 'Look who happened to stop by, honey.' I was only poking him, but he bought it. So I let him believe it, which I know was mean and terrible, but I was desperate at the time. Since Shirley is gay, and my best friend, I use her as my cover."

His whole body was pulling toward her now, which was really bad. "You may think you're pretending, but down deep inside, you do swing that way. And that's perfectly fine. Better than fine." He let his gaze scan her without giving away how hot she looked in that tight shirt. Or at least he hoped he didn't give it away. "You've got gay written all over you by the . . ." Except words failed him, because there was nothing but straightness as far as the eye could see. Come on, don't fight me on this. Play along.

"By what?"

He gestured vaguely at her head, groping for something to point out as evidence. "By that certain light in your eyes and the way you move."

Her mouth was getting tighter, her face redder. "By what light? And what way I move?" She came to a stop at a red light and turned to him.

He shrugged. "It's just a vibe. I can't put my finger on it."

She shifted the van into park, leaned over, and plastered her mouth against his. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging in, and the moment his lips involuntarily parted, she plunged her tongue inside. Oh, buddy, she was so straight. His hands went to her waist, but he was too busy concentrating on the feel of her tongue against his to pay attention to whether his fingers could go all the way around.

When she started to pull away, he held her fast for another trip around her mouth. Finally, she smacked his shoulders, and he let her go. She fell back into her seat, rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth. Her breaths were coming faster.

Now he was really glad the cat was covering his lap. "All right, I believe you."

Her eyes went from dreamy to narrowed. "You played me, didn't you?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I was hoping we could go with the gay angle while I'm guarding your body. I mean, acting as your bodyguard. I was desperately hanging on."

She frowned. "You want me to be gay?"

"Very much."

"And . . . why?"

"Because you're hot and you're my client, and those two facts are a bad combination as far as my professional integrity is concerned. Why did you need to prove that you're straight?"

"I . . ." Her mouth twisted as she seemed to search for the answer. "I don't know. The impulsive side of me didn't want to perpetuate the myth with you. Why did you suspect I was lying to begin with?"

"Because you ate me up with your eyes when I was changing shirts."

She somehow managed to roll her eyes and look embarrassed at the same time. "I suppose women go gaga over you all the time."

He chuckled. "Let's just say that if I find myself near an available woman who revs my engine, we usually end up together." His smile disappeared. "And you do. Which was why I realized that thinking you went the other way was actually a good idea. Light's green."

A horn blared behind her. She put the van into gear and pulled forward. "Well, no worries. That thing that happened between us, not happening again."

"No siree." He shook his head to further convince himself, because his body was having none of it. "I'm new to this civilian-bodyguard business, but I assume it would be unprofessional to bang my client."

"Bang . . ." She blew out a breath of indignation, which made her horse do the same. "Aren't you the romantic?"

"Sorry." He gave her a wooden smile. "Making love. Like that better?"

"I bet you've never made love in your life. But I'm sure you've banged plenty."

No, he probably hadn't made love to a woman, not with the appropriate feelings to match those words. He would comment only on the last part. "I don't think I've, ah, indulged any more than the average guy."

She arched her eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look. "Wow, you do have some modesty in there. Wait a minute. You said I revved your engine?"

He replayed his earlier words. Yep, he sure had. "In an off-limits manner of speaking."

"And keep it that way. You're totally not my type."

"Good." Before the words and what is your type could come out of his mouth, she went on.

"You're too arrogant. Too good-looking. Clearly a player, and I have no idea how to play that game, nor any interest in doing so. Besides, I have more important things on my plate than satisfying the hunger of my flesh."

She had to go and put it that way, didn't she? He focused on the second part of that sentence. "More important things like staying alive, I presume?"

"Like saving animals."

Oh, buddy, he wished she did play for the other team. Because protecting that beautiful body wrapped around all that sass was going to be boo-coops harder now that he'd tasted her sweet mouth.

###

## Chapter 2

Addie wanted to deck him. Flat-out deck him and then punch him and then . . . kiss him. No! _You do not want to kiss him again. Well, mostly you don't._

Why'd she go and tell him she was straight? That cover had saved her interminable hours of boring conversations, and now this man who technically worked for her father knew her secret.

She surreptitiously glanced his way. The guy was a player, all right. He oozed confidence, and why shouldn't he? Risk was built for sin, over six feet of solid muscle, short brown hair, and hazel eyes that were both world-weary and playful. She wasn't sure how he pulled that off. Probably worked at it in front of a mirror for weeks. He had great hands, and the feel of them on her waist had shot heat through her. If Freedom hadn't been on his lap, she might have crawled onto it herself.

_Bad idea, Addie. He'll mess with your head and your heart and leave you a mess when he moves on to the next conquest._

She needed to focus. The animals were more important than her love life. An activist friend of hers had fallen in love, leaving little time for the golden retriever rescue organization she'd founded while they dated and married; she'd lost her passion completely when he left her. Addie had decided long ago that giving up romance and family was worth pursuing her life's purpose. Nuns did it for their religion. Some corporate climbers did for their careers.

She thought of her mom, who was often torn between parental obligations and the charities whose boards she sat on. _Sometimes we have to sacrifice the things we want to do for the things we need to do. I'm sorry to miss your play, honey, but this event was set up long ago. You know I'll be there in spirit._

Back then Addie didn't know what sacrifice meant. So she'd wished with all of her heart that her mother could spend more time with her. Then she got her wish—in the most terrible way. Her mother grew tired and frail, hardly leaving the house unless it was to go to a doctor's appointment. Addie was sure she'd given her mother cancer with her selfish desires. Addie had learned the meaning of sacrifice and given up everything she wanted in order to get what she needed: her mom well. She'd put her wishing power to work every day. But she'd failed.

Risk lifted the empty bottle. "The kitten's asleep."

Darn, if he didn't look sexy-adorable with Freedom curled up on his lap, a content smile on her furry little lips. Wouldn't you like to be there instead?

No, no, no!

"Do you want to put her in her crate?" she asked.

He set the bottle aside. "She's fine now that she's not kneading me."

Very sharp claws. Risk's lap. She winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"No kidding. Cute little spitfire, though. Sweet but full of sass."

Watching his long fingers stroking her fur made Addie tingle in places that had no business tingling. Then she realized he'd been looking at her when he made that assessment, not the kitten.

She averted her gaze to the road. "That's why I do what I do. I don't see them as just animals but as God's creatures, like we are."

"Seeing them as that is one thing." He ran his finger down the bridge of Freedom's nose, and she curled up even tighter. "Protecting them, great. Doing crazy stunts that put your life in danger, a little over the edge."

She tamped down the anger at his assertion. "What kinds of things did you do in the SEALs? Sneak into enemy territory? Rescue hostages?"

"Along with detonating bombs, blowing off doors with explosives, all kinds of fun stuff. But that was for my country."

"To save lives, accomplish something." She nodded toward Freedom. "Same thing I do, except the lives I save are furry."

He was giving her his full attention now. "Is that what drives you? To accomplish?"

"My father was a five-star general. My mother was the force behind her charities' most successful events. I have a lot to live up to."

"You know, the guys who signed up for the SEALs training program out of a need to prove themselves to someone else were usually the first to ring the bell. To drop out."

"What about the guys who needed to prove themselves to themselves?"

"In the end, they failed, too. It has to come from somewhere deeper." He tilted his head. "So which is it for you? Are you trying to live up to your parents' achievements? Or prove your worth to yourself?"

It felt as though he were jabbing her soul with a stick. "I want to contribute something to the world. So you find detonating bombs . . . fun?"

"A couple weeks ago, I was BASE jumping from an altitude of over twenty thousand feet off Trango Towers in Pakistan. That was just for fun."

"What's BASE jumping?"

"BASE stands for 'building, antenna, span, and earth.' It's an offshoot of skydiving, where you jump off stationary objects. Last month I leaped off a mountain in Norway. Danger, excitement, accomplishment. I need the adrenaline rush."

"Why?"

The question seemed to take him off guard. Then he shrugged. "What can I say? I'm an adrenaline junkie."

"You used the word need, not want. Yet you seem like more than a shallow guy who lives for visceral thrills."

He seemed to consider his response, then glanced away. "Things got tough after my mother died when I was six." His jaw tensed. "I numbed myself. For a kid, it's easier to do that than deal. But you forget how to feel at all. Swinging from a rope out the second-floor barn opening or playing chicken with tractors was, ironically, a safe way for me to feel . . . something. The year after I graduated, I was that shallow guy. I traveled all over the country, skydiving, BASE jumping, mountain climbing. But you can almost die for no good reason only so many times before it starts to seem stupid."

"I thought it sounded stupid right from the get-go. So you decided to join the SEALs so you could almost die for good reasons."

He chuckled. "I suppose you could put it that way."

"Why aren't you in the SEALs anymore?"

"Long story. Your father was happy to tell me that you were gay, by the way."

Hm, way to avoid that subject. Then what he'd said hit her. "My father was happy about it?"

He gave her that hotter'n-sin smile. "I think he keyed in to the fact that we're both the kind of people who are willing to go to extremes for our causes. Said it was a good thing you were gay, because we'd feed off each other." He rubbed his fingers across his mouth, leveling his gaze on hers. "Which he was right about."

Something about that movement struck her as familiar. In fact, he looked familiar. She'd seen his handsome face, wide, strong jawline, and sinful mouth before, though she couldn't place where. "Except you use that drive to kill. I use it to save." Speaking of saving . . . She eyed the large sign for food and fuel and took the exit. "I have to go to the restroom." She pulled into a gas station and up to the tanks. "I'll put Freedom away." As she scooped up the sleeping cat, her hand slid right down the front of his lap. She lurched back, the blood flaming to her cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't . . . I mean, I wasn't . . ."

"Copping a feel?" He gave her a teasing smile as he picked up the cat and handed her to Addie. "Don't sweat it, doll."

Easy for him to say. She climbed into the back, settled the sleepy cat in her crate, then stepped out to start the gas pump.

Risk took over. "Go on to the restroom." He studied her for a second. "You're not going to run off, are you? You've got the gleam of the determined in your eyes. I saw that look from a guy I was interrogating right before he pulled a knife on me." He turned his arm to reveal a scar that ran along the back of it.

"What happened to the guy?"

"He told me what I needed to know."

She blinked, trying to clear away any kind of gleam. "I'm only determined to pee. Besides, I wouldn't ditch my animals with you."

"That would be wise. I've never had a pet."

That stopped her. "Never?"

"Pets wouldn't have lasted long around my father. He had the patience of a gnat and the temper of the Tasmanian devil. The only time I was around a dog was my senior year of high school, when I lived with my oldest brother and his wife. But Bongo wasn't my responsibility. I scratched his tummy, fed him when they asked me to, and that was about it."

"Why did you live with your brother?"

"Dad broke my nose." He touched the bump on the bridge. "I'd had enough of him." Even though he'd mentioned his father casually, she saw the shadow in Risk's eyes. "Your father beat you?"

"Oh, no, don't get that 'You poor thing, I'm going to save you,' look. The same one you wore when you talked about Freedom earlier."

She frowned. "Sorry, it's just the way I am. When I see the pain in their eyes, it just cracks my heart wide open. I will not save you. Humans are much more complicated than animals." She gave him an once-over. "You look more than capable of taking care of yourself. Be right back."

She could feel his eyes on her as she headed toward the building. She wasn't sure how that was possible, but she'd seen a documentary about how people could sense when they were being watched. It made her extremely self-conscious as she tried to put in a little but not too much wiggle in her walk.

Who cares? He's ex-military, a player, and a thrill seeker. So different from me.

She glanced at him, yes, watching her, before stepping into the bathroom. Nice of him to fill the tank for her. The moment she entered the bathroom, she checked one of her phone apps, then called Shirley. "It's me."

"You rousted a good crowd, kiddo. Everything still on target, or did your father change his mind and lock you up?"

"It's a go, but I've got a babysitter. Six feet of muscle and attitude, a retired SEAL, courtesy of Daddy dearest. With orders to keep me safe and contained."

"Does your father not know you at all?" Shirley asked in her droll voice.

"No, he doesn't." He'd been trying to make Addie into his ideal all her life, holding her up to standards she had no desire to meet. She cleared her voice of the melancholy. "So here's the new plan. I'm going to ditch the bodyguard at the protest. I'll take the other van and handle the cub-napping myself."

"Are you sure? He might be young, but tigers are a handful."

"I've got the collar and the meat. The poor thing was so underfed, he'd probably follow me to Idaho if I was giving him tidbits."

The traveling zoo had offered photo ops with a tiger cub they called Tigs. The USDA allowed people to use cubs between the ages of eight to twelve weeks old. After that, they became potentially dangerous. While Tigs was clearly older than twelve weeks, Bob Carrigan, the zoo's owner, kept him underfed to make him appear younger.

The poor cub barely had the energy to pose, much less handle the stress of transport and constant handling. Addie had alerted the authorities, but investigations progressed slowly, especially with a zoo that moved every few days. So she had to take drastic measures if the cub was to survive. According to previous violations, several of Carrigan's cubs died every year. He sold the cubs that survived to a black-market fur trader.

The protest was a decoy. Addie knew Carrigan would bypass his planned stop to avoid the publicity. The GPS transponder she'd attached to one of their trailers showed their new destination. She would sneak in and take the cub. Then she would rendezvous with the owner of a big-cat sanctuary who would provide the cub a good home. Addie needed to show up at the protest site so she wouldn't be implicated in the theft. Stealing animals wasn't the ideal way to save them, but sometimes an animal's fate warranted extreme action. This cub was going to die otherwise.

Addie leaned against the side of the stall. "Carrigan bypassed Ruckersville and stopped between that town and Charlottesville. I'll handle the cub, you handle the bodyguard. His name is Risk. Well, that's his nickname. All you have to do is ask him to help with the animals while I slip away." She snapped her fingers. "The goats! Have him bring them out to the pen. All three at once."

"They're already in the pen. Do you know how hard it was to get them in there to begin with?"

"Exactly. Put them back in the van. There's a reason for the expression 'goat rope.' That'll keep him busy. He won't be happy when he realizes I'm gone, but assure him that I'll be back in about two hours."

"You're going to stick me with the brawny, pissed-off SEAL? I think I'll take the tiger."

"Just use your charm on him."

Shirley snorted. "Yeah, I'll bat my eyelashes and discuss the hygienic issues surrounding oral sex."

"That's not charm."

"Have you ever talked to the male species?"

"This one might even turn you straight," Addie said. "He did me."

"You told him you're straight? This guy must be good."

"He sure is." His mouth on hers, tongue sparring with incredible agility . . . so good. She cleared her throat. "But I'm not going there. I've got more important things to do than fool around. Gotta go. See you in twenty."

Addie stepped outside and saw Risk heading her way.

"How come women take so freakin' long in the bathroom?" he asked, surveying her. Then he grinned. "Or were you prettying yourself up for me?"

She gave him a smirk. "Dream on, Romeo. Let's go."

It hit her that she never fussed with her appearance where men were concerned. She'd dash on some makeup and brush her hair but didn't care if she was pretty for some guy. Once inside the van, she glimpsed herself in the rearview mirror. Locks of hair had escaped her ponytail, the bane of fine hair. That was all she had time for as Risk got in on the passenger side. God forbid he'd catch her checking her reflection, and that man missed nothing.

She climbed into the back and checked on the animals, rubbing Rolling Stone's neck and whispering soothing things to him. "That's my good boy. So beautiful. You need to do the dog-and-pony show, sweetheart, show people that animal cruelty must be stopped. Then it's back home and extra sugar cubes." When she turned, Risk was watching her with what she swore was longing.

He focused on the scar along the horse's flank and then the poster showing how bad he'd looked when she found him a few months ago. "So you rescue, what, every type of animal?"

"I don't do reptiles. Or big cats. There are two great sanctuaries in Virginia who specialize in those. I don't do snakes at all." She shuddered. "Mostly I'm the facilitator. I get a call or Facebook e-mail about an animal in danger. I investigate and figure out the best course of action. Usually I try to coordinate with a sanctuary or, in the case of domestic animals, find them a home. Sometimes I end up rehabilitating them first."

She pulled out a photo-collage poster of tiger cubs in small cages with concrete floors, empty bowls of water, and food dishes covered with flies. "I also educate the public. People think it's cool to get their picture taken with cubs. They have no idea what kind of life they have, and how terrible being handled is for them. I've taken these photos at Carrigan's zoo over the past year."

"Your father told me you stole a horse when you were twelve."

"It broke my heart seeing that horse, all skin and bones. Animal control went out to investigate, but they said the horse wasn't in bad enough shape to confiscate. So I removed him myself. I've found that the owner doesn't usually report that an emaciated animal is missing. Why are you looking at me like that? And just how are you looking at me?" She saw a mixture of incredulity, perhaps a smidge of admiration.

He took her in as though drinking every angle and curve of her face. "You aren't like anyone I've ever known." His gaze settled on her mouth, and he rubbed his own in response.

This time the action clicked in her mind, thankfully taking her out of the moment, where she'd been about to lean forward and kiss him again. "I know who you are."

"Uh, yeah, we were introduced."

"I mean, you're one of the SEAL team who went rogue and killed the leader of El Martillo, that Mexican organization that's trying to abolish drug cartel violence. I remember the news footage where you were all being ushered into some government building. You rubbed your mouth that same way, and I thought you looked like that actor in Magic Mike."

"What's Magic Mike?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's not a movie that would be shown in the barracks. It's about a male stripper with a good heart."

He smirked. "I suppose you watched it for the story line."

"I did. Well, mostly. But that's not the point! Your team killed innocent people. Does my father know about this?"

"Yes, and we didn't go rogue. I can't divulge the details, but I don't want you thinking I'm some bloodthirsty soldier, so I'll give you the gist. I'll keep your secret from your father if you keep mine."

"Deal."

"We were following orders. Only they weren't official orders. We were told that El Martillo was only pretending to be a private organization out to shut down drug cartels, when in fact they're a cartel, too. Our mission was supposed to look like a cartel hit, but the OIC—officer in charge—got killed and ID'd. So it was either the U.S. be implicated in what looked like an unjustified assassination or blame it on a group of guys following their rogue OIC—a guy who couldn't defend himself."

"Women and children were killed."

"Someone shot the leader and his wife before we got there. It was a setup. He ambushed us, which is how the OIC was shot. Our intel assured us that there were no women or children living at the main compound. That intel lied. But we didn't shoot those people they showed in the pictures. The girl was alive when we left." His face tightened. "We think El Martillo faked some of the death pictures to generate sympathy—and outrage."

She knew there were cover-ups and covert missions and scapegoats in the military and government. That was why Chase Justiss had changed his name and now took justice into his own hands. "People were angry that you didn't get court-martialed and jail time."

"It was a mock hearing. We were fired to appease both the public and El Martillo."

She knew how hard SEALs trained and how much they valued their hard-won positions. If they survived, they usually retired quietly when their souls and bodies were worn out. Risk had been screwed royally for following orders.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, mirroring her earlier question. "And exactly how are you looking at me? Please, no pity. That's almost as bad as the derision. Look, the way I figure it, I was willing to lose life or limb for my country. I lost my career instead. I've survived a lot worse than that."

"You're not angry?"

His expression shuttered again. "I didn't say that. But it's a waste of time pissing and moaning about it."

She shook her head, replacing her sympathy and shock with a smile. "We should go." She wanted to know how he felt about losing everything in such a devastating way, but that would make her want to pull him close and soothe away the injustice. Which would, no doubt, lead to more kissing. And while her body thought that was a splendid idea, her mind was in charge.

They got back on the road, settling in the silence. She kept stopping herself from asking questions about Mexico. He'd already told her more than he should have. Instead, she tried to remember the news accounts. U.S. troops were there to teach Mexican authorities techniques to fight the drug trafficking war. El Martillo, which translated to the hammer in English, used just that sort of violent force against the cartels. There was plenty of speculation about a relationship, but the U.S. vehemently denied involvement with them. No one knew why the OIC had led the raid, though some thought he was in the cartels' pocket.

She needed to stop thinking about Risk and start planning the abduction. Handling a thirty-pound cub would be a challenge, but she had her kit ready. Instead of turning left toward the ranch, she went right.

"This isn't the way to your place." He held up his phone with the map on the screen.

"I'm making a small detour."

"Addie . . ."

She rolled her eyes. "You sound like my father. I need to make an appearance at the protest. I'm the one who instigated it. How would it look if I didn't show?"

"Like you were a smart woman."

"I'm not even sure the parking-lot incident was an attempt on my life."

"A car barreled at you, no lights. You think that happens all the time?" He brushed the edge of the bruise on her arm. "This from the near-miss?"

"Near-hit. They nearly hit me and did miss me. I never understood why it's called a near-miss when it was a miss."

"You almost get hit by a car and you're hung up on language?"

Okay, she was in denial. It had been damned frightening: engine revving, black car careening toward her. She'd hit the pavement, scraping up her arm and her favorite pair of jeans. That the car had torn off afterward—well, she'd figured it was a drunk driver scared sober by nearly hitting someone.

"But I have a bodyguard. Certainly it should be safe to attend with big, bad you beside me?"

He gave her a smirk. "I can't protect you if they're shooting from a distance."

"They won't shoot at me in a crowd." He considered her, and she remembered her father's order about listening to him. "Please?" she added, even though she hated to beg. "Just pop in, thank everyone for coming, and head out." She had a few tools of persuasion herself; she gave him her sweetest smile.

He caved in three seconds flat. "All right. But only for a few minutes. And stick close to me."

Stick close to him. That sounded more dangerous than anything else she'd ever done.

"There's our Wunder girl," Doug Crooke said, holding the binoculars to his eyes. "How can a cute little thing like that cause so much trouble?"

"Focus on the trouble, not the cute." Alan Bates called his boss. "You were right. We didn't scare her enough to keep her from showing up at the protest. We've got her in sight, but there are too many people here to do much about it."

"Stay on her," the boss said. "And don't do anything stupid," his voice hammered over the phone. "Like the hit-and-run, stupid idjits, trying to run her down in a parking lot."

Alan punched Doug's arm. "Yeah, well, I'm driving this time." He spotted someone in the passenger seat of the van. "Who's that with her?"

Doug adjusted the glasses. "It's a guy. Boyfriend?"

"According to her Facebook page, she's single," Alan said. "I didn't see any one guy posting a lot on her page." He'd had to troll through her posts to get a bead on her life and her schedule. Funny thing was, she kinda had a point about what they were doing being wrong, if you were the sort of person who put animals over profit or research. His ex had been the same way, always whining about what they were doing, which was why they'd broken up. As his boss liked to say, "God made animals so we can eat 'em, shoot 'em, use 'em, and stuff 'em." Besides, there was too much at stake to let her shut them down.

Wunder's van pulled into the makeshift parking lot. The guy stepped out, scanning the surroundings with a cold, calculating eye. When Wunder got out, the guy shadowed her, body tense and ready for action.

Alan said, "My guess is her daddy hired a bodyguard. That guy looks like he could tear someone apart with his bare hands. Or at least like he'd enjoy trying. And he's staying close to our prey."

"Probably some rent-a-cop or cop wannabe," the boss said. "Can you take him?"

Alan flexed his fists. He hadn't seen action in a long time, and the prospect felt good. "I could if it came to it. Even without Doug." The more he watched the guy, though, the more having Doug around sounded better. "The guy's ex-military, I bet. The way he moves, how he's constantly assessing his surroundings, it's like he's at an Afghanistan marketplace looking for suicide bombers."

"It'd be better to wait until she's alone. Keep a close eye on her. Eventually she'll go to a restroom, make a private call, something. I don't want her dead, not right off. I want her here, in one piece." His voice went deep and raw. "I'm going to have a little fun with her."

###

## Chapter 3

Addie and Risk wandered around the vacant land where the zoo was supposed to set up. More than a hundred people milled about, protest signs at the ready. She sighed with gratitude. Her wonderful supporters, along with the curious public and the valuable press. Several corrals contained rescued animals that were available for adoption. Animal Huggers' old brown van was positioned for a quick departure.

"That's Shirley." Addie waved at the woman with the six-foot-tall muscular frame. "She handles the care and feeding of the animals. I'm the public face of the organization, and she's the foundation."

"She's nothing like I pictured in the fantasy," Risk said.

"I can just imagine." She shook her head. "No, I don't want to imagine."

Shirley was even less concerned about appearances than Addie, her salt-and-pepper hair hanging to her waist in a thick braid. Even so, she was both handsome and feminine in her long denim skirt and bright pink blouse.

"She's the one person I can count on where the animals are concerned. She's as dedicated to their welfare as I am. If I were a lesbian, I'd marry her for sure."

He checked their surroundings with the same diligence he'd use doing surveillance in some war-torn city in the Middle East. "This is a good location as far as keeping you safe from snipers. Wide-open, flat terrain. But remember, stay close. The enemy could be in the crowd."

Addie hated thinking of lurking enemies as she surveyed all the passionate people who'd gathered. Shirley headed over, and Addie introduced them to each other. He shook her hand and made the appropriate noises, but he was surveying the crowd.

Shirley unabashedly took him in and muttered, "Yeah, I see what you mean." To Risk, who glanced her way at that comment, she said, "I could use your manly-man help with the goats. We need to get them to that pen over there, and it's a two-person job."

Addie waved that away. "Risk won't be able to handle them. Or did you have goats at your farm?"

"No goats, mostly corn and a few cows. But how hard can they be?" he said.

"Very difficult, especially all three at once." Addie gave Shirley a wink. "We'll each take one."

"I can handle them," Risk said, shaking his head at their lack of faith in him.

Shirley opened the back of the large old brown van where the goats were penned at the back. Toward the front of the cargo hold was the cage Addie would use for the tiger cub. The goats were in high-energy mode, pacing back and forth. Shirley handed Risk the three leads. "Just take them over there." She pointed to a metal corral.

Several people came up to Addie as he headed over, and she gave him a nod that was supposed to mean, I know them.

Stay close, he mouthed to her, then nearly fell as the goats wound themselves around his legs. Addie climbed into the back of the van and closed the doors, then stepped up to the cab. Shirley distracted Risk by attempting to take one of the leads, but he turned back toward Addie. His face went red when he realized she was starting the engine. As he lunged toward her, one of the goats stepped in his way and sent him tumbling to the ground. Addie pulled away, watching him untangle himself in the side mirror.

As soon as she got onto the highway, her phone rang. She didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Get back here." Risk sounded amazingly controlled.

Yeah, controlled combustion, maybe.

"I'll be back in about two hours. Hang tight. I'll be fine."

"Addie, dammit, you're supposed to listen to me—"

"Yeah, you know when I agreed to that? I didn't mean it. Look, it's not safe to talk on the phone and drive. See you in a bit." She disconnected. Immediately her phone rang. Did he have no sense of safety?

Okay, she felt bad about ditching him. She was his job, after all. After what he'd lost the last time things went badly with work, she knew he was bound to take her escape even harder.

But all would be fine. If anyone had been watching, they'd have seen her arrive in a white van. They'd be looking for that, not the brown van. She made a quick call to the sanctuary to let them know she was on target with delivery.

A short while later, she found the traveling zoo. She spotted the trailer where they kept the cub, off to the side. They'd procured a postage stamp of land that was little more than a parking lot for a closed gas station. Surrounding that was acres of woods, according to the satellite imagery. The zoo folks were busy setting up the tents.

Addie took several passes to assess the situation, tracking what the three employees were doing. She pulled off the road a short ways past the zoo and brought up the map on her iPhone. Roads crisscrossed the wooded area, maybe from old logging operations. One of them came within a few yards of the highway, and after some scrutiny, she was able to find it.

She followed the gravel road through the woods until she could see the back of the gas station. She wove around the trees to get closer, positioning the van and preparing the cage. A cooler held ten pounds of beef chunks. Addie grimaced at the scent of raw meat, something she hadn't smelled in a long time. She dropped several pieces into a metal bowl and put the remainder in a duffel bag packed with tools. Then she slipped on the kind of gloves butchers wear to protect their hands from knives, and grabbed the leash and collar. "Let's get you out of here, Tigs."

She crept up behind the cub's trailer. He eyed her warily as she approached. Poor thing had been ripped from his mother days after birth and sent on the road. Addie could see through the bars of the cage to where three men were trying to do the job of four as they put up the large tent. She gave the cub several pieces of meat to earn his trust and then slipped the collar around his neck while he scarfed up the next piece.

The breeze wreaked havoc with the tent setup, which worked in Addie's favor. She cut the lock on the cage door with bolt cutters, then stuffed them back in the bag. Another bit of meat lured the cub to the opening. Addie dropped more meat on the ground, gripping the end of the leash and ducking down out of sight. It didn't take long for the tiger to jump down and snatch them up.

A trail of steak led back toward the woods. The cub didn't even know he was on a leash until she reached the van. He didn't want to go inside, even with a bowl of beef to tempt him. She had to pick him up and wrestle him into the cage.

"I'm sorry, Tigs. I promise this is the last small cage you'll have to be in."

She fed the rest of the meat through the bars, and the cub momentarily forgot his fear and ate. She sensed that she wasn't alone and spun to find two men climbing into the back of the van.

"Get her," the skinny older one said.

The guy who was built like a block leaped at her. She skirted his grasp, but the cage impeded her escape. He grabbed her around the waist and tried to slap his hand over her mouth. She couldn't pry herself loose with the bulky gloves on. Which gave her an idea.

She grasped his hand and jammed it between the bars of the cage. The cat, feeling that his food was being threatened, bit the man. His scream rendered her deaf in that ear. She got loose enough to scramble out the back. The skinny man came around from the side of the van, his mouth in a snarl. "Troublemaking bitch," he spat out, reaching for her.

Being about thirty years younger than he was, she was able to outmaneuver him and swipe up the bag on the ground. She swung and let the full force of the bolt cutters inside nail him.

Dammit, she wasn't tall enough to hit him in the head. Still, the impact to his shoulder sent him staggering to the side. She couldn't run and leave the cub there. Couldn't scream for help because these idiots were probably with the zoo.

She faced the skinny guy, bolt cutters at the ready as he came toward her. "Get away from me!"

Despite the fact that he looked pissed off, he laughed. And pulled out a gun. "Drop the bag."

Fear closed her throat and strangled her heart. Her fingers wouldn't release their grip on the handles. Could she throw the bolt cutters at him and hit the gun? Yeah, like she was so Katniss from the 'Hunger Games.'. As her mind sorted through her few options, something hit her from behind. The bag flew from her hands. She hit the ground face-first, and a moment later a heavy weight settled on her back and mashed her into the dirt and pine needles. She saw legs straddling her, baggy denim material and black shoes on either side of her. The blocky guy was sitting on her! Struggling did no good at all. She couldn't budge him or move an inch.

"Hah! We got her," he said.

###

## Chapter 4

Risk had almost reached the back of the van. Almost. If he'd had something to grab on to, he would be standing on the back bumper instead of lying facedown in the dirt with the goats. Addie pulled out onto the highway and was quickly out of his reach. His chest hurt, and he was pretty sure it was more than just the exertion.

After his second call to her was dismissed, he raced to the white van they'd come in and reached for the keys the moment his ass hit the seat. Except no keys dangled from the ignition. Adrenaline kicked in. His vision narrowed, and his focus became laser-sharp. That focus honed in on Shirley, who was trying to wrangle the goats with the help of some of the supporters.

Within seconds, he was gripping her arm and pulling her close to whisper, "I bet you were in on this." It wasn't his fault it came out as more of a growl.

She must have picked up on his barely contained anger; she gave him a look of both wariness and guilt. "Addie just needs to take care of one little thing, and she said you wouldn't let her."

He turned to one of the helpers. "Take the rope." The guy did as he was told, relieving Shirley of goat duty. Risk led her away. "Let's have ourselves a chat, Shirley." It sounded like a request, but he gave her no choice as he escorted her to the white van. "My orders were to keep her from getting into trouble. What is she doing?"

"My orders are to keep you here until she gets back, in about two hours. Her father's just paranoid—"

"Have you read the police report about the hit-and-run attempt?" Dammit, his hands were shaking, he was so pissed. And worried. "First off, if she thought it was an accident, why did she report it to the cops? Second, did you see her injuries?" His stomach had clenched at the pictures showing the raw scrapes along Addie's arm. She'd looked shaken up and pale.

Obviously Shirley hadn't seen her injuries, by the shock on her face. "She said it was a few scrapes. Is that why she was wearing long sleeves in the summer?"

Risk had subtly trapped Shirley between his body and the van. "Someone wants her dead. Someone who knew she'd be here. Now she's off doing . . ."

He stared her down, and whatever she saw in his expression encouraged her to admit, "Stealing a tiger cub from the zoo that was supposed to be here."

Addie Wunder was the most maddening person he'd ever met. He'd been protecting her for under an hour, and she'd given him the slip. Using goats, for God's sake.

"Where did she go, Shirley?"

"She's going to kill me if—"

"Someone might kill her if you don't." He drilled her with the same expression he used on the bad guys. "Where is she?"

Shirley spilled, giving him directions and Addie's plan to approach from behind. "She usually hides the keys to the van beneath the seat."

He jammed his hand down there and found them. In three seconds, he was pulling out of the protest area. "Stealing a tiger cub. Son of a bitch." He remembered Chase saying this wasn't going to be an easy assignment, with that knowing smile.

Chase. If something happened to Addie, Risk would lose this job. Deservedly so. He couldn't take another fail, not so soon after the defuckle.

But it was Addie he was worried about. If something happened . . . Her sweet, impish grin and big blue eyes flashed to mind. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator. He forced himself to ease up. The last thing he needed was to be stopped in a vehicle that didn't belong to him, with a Glock 23 on his person. Even though he had a concealed-weapons permit, in addition to his security company ID, he didn't have time to get hassled.

He slowed when he got near the zoo's new site, looking for telltale signs of an entry point into the woods. He found one past the zoo and followed the trail of broken branches and saplings. A few minutes later, his heart gave a jolt at the sight of the brown van in the distance. Then his heart dropped to his feet when he saw another vehicle a short distance from the van.

Risk killed the engine, released the Glock from the holster, and made his way toward the van, alert for any movement. He heard Addie shout, "Get away from me!" and then oof as someone obviously hit the ground. And that oof sounded a lot like her.

He ran.

He had approached a suspicious scene many a time, had come up on potential ambushes, but he'd never felt before. All emotion usually fled in such scenarios, necessary for clarity of thought. Now fear pounded through him. All he could see was Addie's face, turned to the side against the ground, as he came around the front of the van. Then a bulky guy sitting on her as if she were a rodeo calf.

Sitting on her. Holy hell, Risk now knew the meaning of seeing red. An older guy stood to the side with a gun pointed at her. Neither man saw his approach, too focused on her. Risk shot the piece right out of his hand. The guy stumbled back, taken off-guard because Risk's gun was suppressed. His eyes bugged out at the sight of Risk's gun, aimed at him.

"Move away from her." Risk shifted his gun to the dude who looked like a wrestler, as square as a brick with no sign of a neck.

The man scrambled to his feet, Addie clamped in his arms like a shield. Coward. He stepped in front of the older guy. "Got you covered, Alan." He aimed a smug look at Risk. "Shoot us and hit the girl."

The guy was smarter than he looked. Especially when he pulled out a gun of his own and held it to Addie's side. "This doesn't concern you. This here girl's a criminal. We're taking her to the police." He nodded toward the van, though Risk couldn't see inside from his angle. "Caught her stealing."

Risk dared a glance at Addie's face, knowing it was going to kill him to see her fear. Yeah, she looked scared, all right, and just as pissed. Though her shirt and pants were covered in dirt, she seemed mostly unhurt. He was going to make damned sure she stayed that way, a tricky proposition, considering the two thugs had her and a gun.

"Then why don't I call the cops?" Risk reached for his phone.

The wrestler shoved his gun into Addie's side so hard that she yelped. "Don't touch the phone. We'll handle it."

Alan crooked his hand. "Gimme the gun, hotshot."

Without his gun, the odds of this situation working out well were not going to be in Risk's favor. No-neck pressed his muzzle into Addie's side even harder when Risk hesitated. If Addie were one of his SEAL team members, he'd give her a signal that would convey be ready to react. He met her eyes and lowered his chin just a bit. Amazingly, she blinked as if she'd gotten it.

"Gimme the dang gun!" Alan shouted.

Addie shoved the wrestler off balance so they both careened to the ground. As Alan went for the gun that had gone flying, Risk fired. The bullet hit his shoulder. Alan jerked back, and Risk dove into the scuffle happening between Addie and No-neck. He stopped at the sight of the guy holding the gun to her head.

"Back off, asshole! And drop your gun!" No-Neck jerked Addie to her feet, one hand gripping her arm. She grimaced at the muzzle jammed against her temple, her body stiff. "You all right, Alan?"

"I'll live." Alan got to his feet, holding his shoulder and wincing. Blood spurted out between his fingers. He aimed a hard look at Risk. "We're not fooling around. Drop the damned weapon."

Risk's fingers twitched as he assessed the situation. The man holding Addie was so tensed, anything could make him pull the trigger. Risk couldn't chance it. He tossed the Glock a few feet in front of him, already thinking about how best to retrieve his reserve weapon.

Alan grabbed Risk's brand-new gun and turned it to the side. "Nice. Always wanted one of these." He gestured with his chin. "Doug, put her in the van." He shoved the gun toward Risk when he reacted to those last words. "We're going to have a talk with the young lady here about violating the law, is all."

Risk had felt this kind of frustration and helplessness during an ambush in Afghanistan when one of his comrades had been captured . . . and then blown to bits only yards away. Risk's shrapnel scars were proof of what a lucky bastard he was. That brought him no comfort, not when his buddy was gone.

The wrestler—Doug—shoved Addie into the passenger side. Risk could see her pretending to be off-balance, so he had to struggle to keep the gun on her and close the door.

Addie, don't do anything crazy and get yourself shot.

Alan climbed in on the driver's side. Before he closed the door, he took a shot at Risk, who had seen it coming; he dove to the side, rolling on the ground. Before he could jump to his feet, the van backed toward him. He flattened, pulling his arms in straight, and the van rolled over him. Problem was, as soon as it cleared him, he was in plain sight—and directly in front of the van. He somersaulted out of the way a second before the front bumper would have driven into his head.

"Shoot him!" he heard Alan shout through the open driver's window.

"I'm having enough trouble keeping the crazy animal broad under control."

Addie, dammit—

Risk didn't have time to finish the thought. He grabbed the back bumper as the van had another try at him. He clamped his legs on to it, muscles straining at the lack of any real purchase. The van lurched forward, nearly dislodging him.

"Where is he?" Alan growled. "Look out your mirror."

"I don't see him."

The vehicle made a sudden stop, then started careening backward—right toward a big-assed oak tree. This time Risk could grab the rear door handle and pull himself to the side a second before the van hit the trunk. He barely held on by his fingertips as the vehicle pulled forward. The van turned in a circle as the son of a bitch looked for him.

Enough of this shit.

He hoisted himself up to the roof, landing as softly as possible. The last time he'd done this, it had been pitch dark in the godforsaken desert, and cold as hell. He clambered across the roof, staying low to keep his balance. Getting as good a grip as he could, he swung his body into the open driver's window, driving his feet into Alan's head.

He put so much pissed-off energy into it that he shoved Alan into Addie and sent her and the wrestler tumbling right out the passenger door. Risk seized his gun from the console as Alan lunged for the wheel. The poor cub was screaming up a storm, though at least the cage was still upright.

He didn't have time to worry about the cub or Alan; he jumped out the open passenger door in a dive roll. He ended up with an awkward grip on his Glock, and it flew out of his hand as he came up. Addie was wrestling for control of Doug's revolver, a sight that sent Risk's heart sputtering with fear. The guy was probably three times her size. And gun wrestling wasn't a great idea in itself.

Seeing Risk coming, Addie released her hold on it and scooted out of the way. Risk slammed his open hand into the side of Doug's head, sending him flat to the ground. But the bastard still gripped the gun. Doug brought the muzzle around, but Risk blocked him, then reached for it.

Doug pulled his arm back to punch Risk, but Addie latched on to his overcooked biceps to hold him back. Risk twisted around and kicked the guy in the abs. Addie grunted with the strain of trying to hold his arm.

"I've got it, Addie. Back off. You're going to get hurt."

She was looking beyond Risk, her eyes wide. "Watch out!"

He didn't need to look; he heard the van coming. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and sent them rolling across the ground. The van stopped, and Doug scurried inside. He aimed the gun at them, and Risk continued the roll as bullets spat dirt only inches away. He jerked her to her feet as another bullet hit a tree a foot away. He pulled her into the trees, where they grew too close together for the van to penetrate.

Stymied, Alan tore off in the other direction, and Risk heard another gunshot. No sign of it coming this way.

"They're taking my van!" she said between breaths, staring after the vehicle. "The cub . . ."

"Hell, woman, you almost got yourself killed, and you're worried about a tiger?"

Her chest rose and fell with her gasps. "That tiger is why I'm here."

He shook his head, but he couldn't stop looking her over to make sure she was unhurt. "Forget about the cat for a second. Are you all right?" The sight of those guys with her, the gun to her head . . . the memory clenched his stomach all over again.

"I'm fine." She shook her head a little too vigorously. "Totally fine."

Women in combat reacted differently to an attack, remaining steady in the moment and then getting an overload of adrenaline twenty minutes later. Men reacted in the moment, their adrenaline spiking immediately but fading faster.

He checked his watch. He'd be ready. "Come on, I need to get my gun." The Glock lay on the disturbed earth where they'd fought. He scooped up and checked it, then saw what they'd shot at the last time: the SUV's rear tire. "They wanted to make sure we didn't follow in the car they brought."

"Now we can find out who it's registered to."

"I doubt it." He checked the interior and saw the wires hanging down. "It's stolen. Hotwired." He pointed to a roll of duct tape and some plastic ties between the front seats. "These guys aren't just trying to scare you, Addie. Do you see that now?"

She nodded, looking so vulnerable and scared that it was all he could do not to stalk over and pull her into his arms. He needed her to be scared.

He pointed to a wrinkled glove. "They wore gloves, which means they didn't leave any prints."

Three men were running through the woods toward them. More goons. Risk hauled her toward the van he'd brought. When he headed to the driver's side, she ran to the passenger side. The men faded into the distance as he hauled ass out of there.

Once they were on the highway, Risk said, "Your little scheme was a goat rope, for sure, but figuring out how we're going to manage this situation is a real mess. I ought to throw you over my knee and spank you for sneaking off like that."

"You wouldn't dare."

He shook his head. "Don't dare me. Because I will."

She gave him an indignant look with a flare of challenge in her eyes. "You wouldn't, because that would be very unprofessional."

"Maybe so, but you know what Chase tells us as well as our clients? We run our missions in the best way we see fit. And right now I'm fit to lay you across my thighs and smack that behind of yours for putting yourself in danger." And scaring the hell out of me.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You're bluffing."

He pulled down a country lane and out of sight of the highway, then stopped the van. She looked around nervously, and her eyes grew big when he stood up. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Not bluffing." He scooped her up around that little waist and carried her between the seats to the back. He had to follow through, because if he didn't, she'd never take his threats seriously.

"Hey, put me down!"

"Yes, ma'am." And he did, facedown over his thighs. When she wriggled, he placed a hand on her lower back to hold her still. Then he smacked that fine, tight ass of hers.

She squealed. "I can't believe you—"

Another smack. Another squeal.

"Did your dad ever wallop you for misbehaving?" he asked.

"No, never!"

"Well, he should have." Another smack. He let his hand rest on her behind for just a second before giving her one more.

She wasn't trying to wriggle off his lap anymore. Interesting.

He liked her there, maybe a bit too much. He leaned down close to her ear. "Don't run off. Don't disobey me. And don't dare me. It's how I earned my nickname."

At that she slid off, rubbing her behind and shooting him a pout. "That was uncalled for." Behind the shock and annoyance lurked a spark of heat. Very interesting.

"So was leaving me to the goats."

She threw herself into the passenger seat, then winced. "They had duct tape and cable ties."

"Yes." He took a seat, facing her. "They were going to abduct you. They don't want you dead; they want you for some other reason. And I'll guarantee it isn't good."

She shivered, and her adrenaline rush started to kick in. She was trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around her. "You shot that guy."

He merely nodded.

Her face had gone pale, and it hit him: Unlike him, she wasn't used to this kind of violence. Shooting a guy in the shoulder was nothing for him. Hell, at least he hadn't splattered the guy's brains all over. And yeah, he'd done that before, too.

He placed his hand on her thigh. "You all right?"

She met his gaze. "And he tried to run you over."

"Yep." Having guys trying to kill him was all in a day's work. It wasn't personal. He was just another "evil American" to those brainwashed soldiers. For Addie, this was very personal. They wanted her.

She stared at his hand, dirty and scraped. Then she gathered it in her hands like it was some delicate thing. It made him feel funny, that gentle touch. "All because I ran off."

"Which you're not going to do again." He brushed her chin with his other hand, lifting her face to look at him. "It's okay. Breathe. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three."

She obeyed, thank God. He watched as her imminent freak-out dissipated with each breath. Only when the determined gleam returned to her eyes did he realize he was still touching her chin. Her skin was soft, like silk. He reluctantly pulled away.

She stared at his hand that she was still holding. "I'm not letting them get away with this. They took that cub."

"And, uh, tried to kill you. Let's not forget that part."

"Yeah, that pretty much sucked."

Ah, she was shoving it in a box. He knew that box well. His own, at least.

"We should call the police," he said. "We're talking attempted kidnapping here. Attempted homicide."

She was shaking her head. "You'll end up in the news again. Chase might fire you for losing me. I might get arrested for stealing the cub. Those men would probably kill the cub to get rid of evidence that would tie them to me once it hits the news. Oh God, it would be all over the news, how I was trying to steal the cub and got ambushed. And my father would know I defied him." She implored him with those pretty blue eyes. "You know how things can get really screwed up, Risk. How you think you're doing the right thing and everything goes to hell."

"Don't you pull that card on me." Or those big eyes tugging at me .

"We don't know who they are, and we have no proof of anything—other than that I was stealing a tiger cub. So you're off the job, my father locks me up, and the police investigate. Maybe. Or maybe they think I'm one of those extremists who brought this on herself."

He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

She released his hand and slapped his arm. "No! I've only done slightly illegal things to save an animal in a desperate situation."

When he couldn't help wincing, she said, "I didn't slap you that hard!"

"I landed on that side when I jumped out of the van."

She brushed her hand down the side of his arm, wiping away the dirt. "I'm sorry. I put you in a bad situation. And . . . you saved my life. If you hadn't been there . . . I don't even want to think about what would have happened."

The soft feel of her fingers tingled down his arm. "That's my job." It was nice to save lives rather than just taking them.

Her hand came to a stop, resting against his arm. "We have to figure this out on our own. Find out who's behind it, get proof, and go to the police with something they can use. That's how we're going to keep me safe, Risk. Instead of sitting around twiddling our thumbs and waiting for what? Someone to call and say, 'Okay, we've got the perps. Go back to your life now'? No, it's going to be, 'Well, we just don't know.' My father won't be able to justify keeping you on. I'm sure you're not cheap. If these people want me bad enough, they'll wait it out." She put her finger to his collarbone. "You're not a sitting-around kind of guy."

Dammit, he felt the lure of the chase, the pull of Addie herself. Oh yeah, he and Addie were a dangerous combination, all right. But you already knew that.

"Addie, my job is to keep you safe. Snooping around a potential murderer does not fit that description."

She released a long sigh, appearing to capitulate. "Then we hole up at my ranch and wait. You can help me with the animals. I know you're really good with goats."

Risk let out a harrumph. He knew the police weren't getting anywhere, which wasn't their fault. And the would-be kidnappers had left few clues. First names and descriptions might help, but not if they were hired thugs. A surveillance camera might have caught the guys stealing the car, but that was a long shot.

"We'll wait on contacting the police. For now."

She smiled in relief, and that alone was almost worth having given in.

A cell phone rang, trilling with a woman singing about wanting to get a little bit closer. Addie wrestled the phone out of a pocket halfway down her thigh. "Shirley," she said before answering. She listened to whatever the woman was saying in a rather shrill voice. "What? . . . Oh no . . . I'm on my way. I don't have to check with the hunky— Oh." She cut a glance to him. "Yeah, I do actually . . . He's saying what?" She made a pained face. "Okay, keep me updated." She disconnected.

"Since I doubt Shirley sounds shrill and excited often, something must be going on at the protest."

"Carrigan showed up. He's telling everyone, including the press, that I stole his cub." She bit the tip of her finger. "He's playing the victim, harassed by the crazy activist woman."

"And what was that about checking in with the hunky . . ."

She gave him a quick, forced smile. "She suggested I come down, but she knew I had to check in with you. Hunky was her word."

He gave her the same kind of forced smile. "Nice of her to notice. You're not going. That's the last place you need to be right now."

"No, you're right."

He blinked. "You're agreeing?" Then he narrowed his eyes. "Or are you planning on ditching me?"

"I won't do that again. Shirley can handle him, and it'll become more volatile if I'm there. I tend to get excited, while she stays calm." She stared off, her mind obviously working on something. "I'm wondering . . . why is Carrigan making such a big public stink?"

"Because he thinks you stole his tiger?"

"Or maybe this was a setup. Think about it: Carrigan has two guys waiting here to see if I'll take the bait. If I do, he grabs me and does . . . well, whatever he was going to do. Which I don't want to think about. And he has a backup plan if he can't get me. Hide the tiger, play the victim, and make me look bad."

"It's a leap, Addie."

"We have to start somewhere. Carrigan hates me. I've been, er, trying to educate him for a year. I've given him and his crew mortality reports on traveling tiger cubs, scientific evidence proving their cortisol levels stay elevated for up to two weeks after a short trip. Plus accusations about the company that buys his cubs when they're no longer useful. And he's got the accommodations to hold someone captive, if that's what he was going to do. The man has cages, after all. There's an easy way to figure out if he's behind this."

He planted his elbows on his thighs and rubbed his eyes. "I'm afraid to ask."

She gave a quick wave of her hand. "You're not afraid of anything. But my plan is easy peasy. When the zoo opens, we see if he's got a tiger cub. Tigs had a small tear on the tip of his right ear. I'd recognize him anywhere." This time her smile was imploring. "Can we go? Please? I've got disguises."

"On one condition. You have to promise you will listen to me. On everything. You see why it's so important now, don't you?"

"I do. It's just that, all my life, I've been under my parents' control. My mom, when she was alive, with her manners and societal rules. My father with his military mentality."

"But that was more of a power thing or a parental thing," Risk said. "I'm controlling you out of a save-your-life thing. It's different."

"Part of me understands, but part is saying that it's still someone telling me what to do." She took him in for a second. "Okay, it's childhood triggers. I get that. I fought my father over my organization, my vegetarianism, everything, it seems. But I held my ground. I know I have to be careful. I'm not stupid."

"No, but you're blind. You see your goal but not what's around it. Like how adrenaline makes your vision narrow to only your adversary so that you miss the guys coming up from the sides. Let me be your peripheral vision." When she hesitated, he went on. "I'll make you a deal. You follow my orders, and I'll give you a wild card. I'll let you call the shots one time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But not if we're engaging the enemy. I'm in charge there. And not when we're planning a mission. You'll have to defer to my expertise in those matters."

"What's left?"

He knew his eyes sparked at the thought of what was left, because hers did, too. "I'm sure there will be some situation where you can play that card. Is it a deal?"

"Deal."

"And you'll do as I say? No argument, no hesitation?"

"None at all."

"If I tell you to move, you move. If I tell you to jump, you jump." And if I tell you to kiss me—

She tilted her head. "Don't I ask how high?"

"No, you just jump. Then you wait for my next command."

"Yes, sir." She gave him a salute.

He liked her all sweet and submissive. Not the contrite way she was with her father but more of an eager submissiveness. A rare thing, he was sure, and only because she felt bad about putting him in a sticky situation. And she wanted him to cooperate with her plan. He tipped her chin up and gave her his most serious commander's look. "And you will not give me the slip."

She gave him a sheepish but genuine smile. "I promise."

Oh, buddy. She might have promised to obey him, but she had him wrapped around her finger.

###

## Chapter 5

"You spanked me." It hit Addie, really hit her, about ten minutes down the road. No pun intended.

Risk rested his fingers on the steering wheel, arching his eyebrows as he glanced over at her. "And you just realized this?"

"Of course not. I kind of pushed it to the side because it was so . . . so . . . unbelievable. It's only just now sinking in." He had laid her over his lap and put his hand on her derriere. And some deep, depraved part of her had liked it. Not that she'd admit it. It was bad enough admitting it to herself. "Are you into that sort of thing? What do they call it? BDSM?"

"Not up to this point, though it was interesting. Very interesting."

She felt her face flush. "Because of the control?"

He seemed to give that some thought. "Nah. I don't have a subversive need to control. Or punish, as I can see you're going to ask next." He shrugged. "Maybe I just liked having a reason to put my hand on your ass."

He was so candid about it that she wondered if he was serious. Given the way his words ricocheted through her, she decided he was playing with her. "Well, don't do it again." Had she sounded forceful enough? Indignant?

"Then, as I said, don't dare me. I can't resist a dare, not one like that. That's how I ended up swimming with a shark once."

She shook her head. "And you call my saving a tiger a crazy stunt."

"Consider this: When I was out there raiding compounds, or BASE jumping, I had both training and the proper equipment. You are in no way equipped to tangle with criminals. You are gutsy, I'll give you that. But you have no martial arts skills or weapons."

"You think I'm gutsy?" She couldn't help her smile.

Now it was his turn to shake his head. "Nope, definitely nothing easy about this," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not a thing, Addie. Not a thing."

Well, be that way. She busied herself posting to her Facebook page and answering e-mails from her phone. And true to her word, she ran everything by him before pressing the post button.

Risk neared the site of the protest a short time later. Shirley had texted that Carrigan and the press were gone, and so were most of the protesters. The rally was over.

"Shirley said she had plenty of help loading the animals on this end." Addie watched him surveying the surroundings. She could easily imagine him doing the same as his team approached a pass in the mountains of Afghanistan. The mental picture of him in fatigues, that yummy, fit body on full alert, stirred her in places that had no business being stirred.

"The enemy had a plan. They watched this site until you showed up, then waited for an opportunity." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Which you gave them by sneaking off. They'll likely pull back, take care of the bullet wound, and regroup. It should buy us a little time so we can figure out what we're going to do. But how long we stay at the ranch depends on how safe the layout is. Are there places where someone can hide? Is there vegetation growing up next to the house? How close is the nearest hospital?"

She rubbed her arms. "Now you're creeping me out."

"Just being logical." He continued to study the area with calculating eyes. "We can't relax, because we're not dealing with predictable, logical people. You never are when it comes to war, and make no mistake: To them, this is war."

"I suppose anyone who would be willing to kidnap a woman isn't logical."

"And whoever's behind this probably feels justified to go after you. He figures you violated his rights, so he's going to violate yours. He's hired two guys who are loyal to his cause and are comfortable using violence. I'll still need to stay very close, even when you're sleeping."

"How close?"

The words had tumbled out. He gave her a speculative look. Hm, what expression did she have on her face? Horror? Or anticipation?

"I'm not going to climb into bed with you, Addie. That would be . . . unprofessional." He cleared his throat. "We'll do some Internet research on Carrigan tonight, see if we can connect the guys who tried to grab you to him in some way. If we can find one picture of the zoo with a thug in the background, that would help. Maybe Chase can pull up employee records. And you should call the detective who's handling your hit-and-run. If Carrigan's making public accusations, he's probably going to file charges against you. You want to give the detective a heads-up, without admitting to attempted theft, of course. Or to violating your restraining order."

Her stomach tightened at that prospect, but she called the detective while Risk drove the final stretch to the ranch. When she hung up, she said, "Carrigan hasn't filed charges."

"Which actually makes him look more suspicious. He probably doesn't want the police snooping around."

A short while later, Addie directed him down the road and through the gates to her ranch. Even though he felt they had some downtime, he was on full alert as he drove along the perimeter. He peppered her with questions about her volunteers, her property, and the various buildings. Her protector. The thought shivered through her.

They met up with Shirley at the corrals. He rubbed his hands together. "I'll take the goats."

The boss watched the veterinary student sew up the bullet wound in Alan's shoulder. Good thing the kid had been on hand. He wouldn't ask a lot of questions.

The young man nodded toward Doug. "You'd best be careful hunting with that one."

"Yeah, you bet. I appreciate your help. And your silence. No need to get Doug in trouble, after all. Look at all the shit Cheney had to deal with."

The kid shook his head as he made the final stitch. "Poor guy was the brunt of jokes for years." He finished the cleanup and left with a nice wad of cash toward his tuition. Silence, as it turned out, wasn't golden; it was green.

Once he was gone, Alan said, "That coulda been a mess, boss."

The three wandered over to the incoming animal pens.

"It could have also been a triumph. But it wasn't. Instead it was a big fat failure." The boss was trying to get a handle on how they could have come so close to capturing the woman who'd been causing him grief, and been thwarted. "So you had her, and then the bodyguard showed up out of nowhere." That wasn't his only disappointment. He'd been dreaming of making her pay, fantasies of blood and begging, maybe letting her think she was going to live just before he took her life.

Alan scowled as he looked at the bandage on his shoulder. "Son of a bitch shot the gun right out of my hand."

"He's going to make it a lot harder for us to get our hands on her. But he's an obstacle, and obstacles can be surmounted."

Alan winced when he moved his arm. "I want him dead. Just for being a good shot."

The boss scrubbed his fingers through his thinning hair as he considered the cub in the cage. "Worked out nice that she was already stealing the cub. She'll be blamed." At least he could find something to smile about. "Addie Wunder will do anything to find this critter. She was willing to steal it once, which means she'll be coming here before long, sniffing around. When she and her bodyguard do, we'll be ready for 'em."

Risk handled the goats very well—out of sheer stubbornness, Addie suspected. He led them one by one to their large corral and barn area. She brought the other animals to the long large barn to the right of that, and Shirley took them inside to their stalls. Addie's orders were to stay within his sight, which required her to make sure he was within her sight. Which meant looking at him a lot. No hardship there. His biceps bulged as he gripped the ropes. His muscles clenched quite nicely when he used his weight as leverage. Every time he searched for her, she waved.

"Aw, you and the hunk are so damned cute," Shirley said as they escorted the other animals into their respective areas.

As usual, Addie wasn't sure if she was being facetious. "We are not 'cute.' We aren't anything." When she saw Shirley was about to refute that, Addie changed the subject. "Did Carrigan give you a hard time? Threaten you in any way?" Addie had left out the near-kidnapping part of what had happened behind the zoo. Shirley would freak.

"Nah. He thinks I'm one of your minions. And I let him."

"Minions? That makes me sound like some evil mastermind."

"You're way too sensitive, my little girly friend. You never worry about what you sound like when you're making those protest videos."

Addie couldn't really argue. "So he shouldn't have any reason to harm you, but be careful anyway."

"I am ever vigilant. And I've got a sweet Smith and Wesson Fifty-seven in case of trouble. You ought to think about arming yourself, too."

"I am armed." Addie nodded toward the hunk. Er, Risk. "So, what were people saying when Carrigan showed up accusing me of theft?"

Shirley closed the gate. "Took you long enough to ask that. 'Course, you were busy making cow eyes at the hunk."

"I was not making cow eyes!" Addie lowered her voice lest the hunk hear. "I have to stay in his sights. He is guarding my body, after all." Guarding her body but threatening her heart. "What did they say? Did they believe him?"

Shirley shrugged. "They know you're extreme, Addie. It's not a stretch. But they didn't want to get caught up in anything illegal, so they scooted pretty quick. Maybe that was his intention all along."

Her supporters thought she was too extreme. The idea punched her right in the chest. "Carrigan is trying to make me out to be the bad guy! Son of a bitch."

"I know you're upset when you cuss," Shirley teased, no doubt trying to lighten her mood.

Remember how Risk had talked her out of her panic attack earlier, she took several breaths. "I think we've got all the animals put away. Thanks for everything you did today."

"Anything for you, kiddo. Night. Sleep tight with that hunk of yours."

"I'm not sleeping with him!" Addie whispered as Shirley headed out the other end of the barn. Shirley just shook her head as she exited. Addie turned back toward Risk, who was maneuvering the last goat into the corral. "Need some help?"

"I've got it, thanks."

"I'll be in the barn when you're done." She made one last pass down the long, wide walkway in the center to be sure the animals were tucked in properly, whispering good night to each one. She paused by Rolling Stone's stall. "Your mane is all tangled, big guy. Let's give you a quick brush-out."

Footsteps on the hard-packed dirt drew her gaze to Risk, who was coming up the middle of the walkway, silhouetted by the fading light behind him. He had a slight swagger, like a cowboy who'd been wrangling colts all day.

"Everything's away," he said, coming up beside her. "I saw Shirley heading out."

"Yeah, she lives in a double-wide on the other side of the ranch. Setting up her home here made sense. She's always on hand." At the time, she'd needed a place to stay.

Risk glanced around. "You have boo-coops of animals here."

"Boo-coops? Is that supposed to be French?"

He chuckled. "It's as exotic as I get, language-wise, other than some dirty words in Arabic." He inhaled deeply. "I always loved the smell of wood and fresh hay. Reminds me of hanging out in the barn."

"With the animals?" she asked, thinking it must be a pleasant memory, to judge by the soft smile on his face.

"More specifically, without my father. We had a couple of cows, and it was my job to feed them. They were nice animals." He watched as she stroked the horse. "Is this one of your stolen animals?"

"No." She gave him a mock-insulted look. "I don't steal all of them. Most, like Rolling Stone here, I got through, ah, gentle persuasion. Some people aren't intentionally cruel. They just can't manage what they have and don't know how to ask for help. Or maybe no one's ever taken care of them, so they don't know how to take care of others."

"You have a big heart, Addie."

His tender words made that heart step up a beat. She focused on the horse. "It took a while for Rolling Stone to trust me. We connect through food and gentle touch." She took Risk's hand and ran it along the horse's neck. She felt odd holding his hand . . . and nice. Tell me about your dad. Did he hit you a lot?"

She watched his expression close right up. "Addie—"

Her phone dinged, and she fought the compulsion to look at it. That particular tone meant a Facebook post.

"You'd better check that," he said. Discussion over. "Might be our guys posting a threat."

She checked her Facebook app. One of her supporters had sent her an email. "You're on the news. And you're not going to like it."

Addie pulled up the Internet and then the local news station's website. Risk sidled up next to her, leaning in close. He had an earthy scent, which made sense, since he'd rolled in the dirt.

The attractive female journalist started the news footage. "The saga between Carrigan's Zoo and Addie Wunder continues. The activist who founded Animal Huggers has launched protests at the zoo's last four locations. While Carrigan has been cited by the USDA in the past for violations of animal care and improper medical care, his record has been clear for the last year."

"That's because they haven't been checking on him," Addie grumbled.

The shot panned to Carrigan, his gray sideburns-turned-beard moving with his angry words. "Wunder has overstepped her boundaries! Like a common thief, she stole my tiger cub. And fired shots to keep my people away. My God, she could have hit someone."

Addie's mouth dropped open. "He can't really think I was shooting to warn them away!"

Carrigan turned toward the crowd, whose signs were drooping. "That's the woman you're supporting. It's perfectly legal for me to own a tiger. It's not legal for her to steal it. I'm just a guy trying to make a living, to support my family and my four employees, and to entertain people. Wunder thinks she's above the law because she's trying to save cute animals. Bah. She's a crazy activist."

Shirley, who was several inches taller than Carrigan, stepped up to the camera. "She's not crazy. I've worked with her for three years, and she's a dedicated animal rights advocate."

"Today she went too far. And she's going to pay."

The journalist returned to the screen. "CBA News did investigate, and Ms. Wunder has been cited on several occasions for trespassing."

Addie let out a sound of abject frustration. "They're making me out to be the bad guy! And Carrigan's playing the victim!"

"Trespassing?" Risk asked.

"How do you think I verify a claim of animal abuse? I have to check it out." She shook her phone. "I'm very careful. And I'm not crazy, I'm... motivated."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "When you put yourself out there, you have to face criticism. That one big, well-known organization has a lot of supporters, but they have a lot of detractors, too. Hell, you can hardly do anything online these days without being rated or liked or whatever."

His hands felt good on her, comforting and strong. "Do you think I'm crazy?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter what I think. You believe in what you're doing."

She plucked his hands from her. "You do think I'm crazy."

He appeared to be mildly amused at her indignation, which just made her more annoyed.

"I wouldn't say 'crazy.' More like . . ." He scratched his chin and seemed to search for the right words. "Dogged, with a side of over-the-edge."

"Hmph."

Her phone rang, Bon Jovi's "It's My Life" pounding out of the speaker. "My father's ringtone."

"Ah, yes, I see the connection."

"The song reminds me to stand up to him. But I don't want to talk to him right now. He saw the news. He's going to yell at me."

Risk curled his fingers in a gimme gesture. She thought she might love him right then and there. Well, not love-love.

"Yes, sir. This is Risk . . . She's fine. She's busy getting the animals back into their pens, so I offered to take the call."

She moved a distance away and yelled out, "Hi, Daddy!" Just to let him know she was, indeed, all right. Then she came up close to hear what he was saying. Or yelling, as the case was.

"I know my daughter had something to do with that tiger going missing. And you were supposed to be keeping her out of trouble!"

Risk bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, sir, I certainly was. But your daughter is very . . . resourceful. She ducked out on me, a failing on my part."

Uh-oh. Risk was getting into trouble. She didn't want that, especially after everything he'd been through. She tried to take the phone, but he shook his head.

Her father used the recriminating voice she knew well. "I should have you removed from the assignment. If you can't keep an eye on one slip of a girl—"

"You do know your daughter, don't you?"

Addie shook her head. Her father didn't know this side of her, not really.

"I know that she's headstrong and passionate when it comes to those animals, but this man is accusing her of theft. Did she steal the tiger?"

"No, sir, she did not."

Not entirely a lie. Addie grasped Risk's arm, silently imploring him not to tell her father what had happened. If he knew how she'd been threatened, he'd throw her in a locked room for sure.

"Sir, Addie and I have talked at length about her actions. She has promised that she will not sneak away from me or there will be repercussions." He shot her a stomach-tightening look that made her think he was talking about spanking her again. "I assure you that she will not misbehave anymore."

"I think the best course of action, for my heart's sake, is to have you bring her back here."

Addie shook her head emphatically. Her fingers were still wrapped around Risk's arm, and they felt rather nice there.

"Sir, I understand your shaken confidence, but I guarantee that I have her safety in hand. Your daughter obviously inherited her compassion and need to help others from her mother. Haven't you considered that she inherited her strength, courage, and smarts from you?"

Oh, you're good, she mouthed. But his words filled her with a warmth that made her eyes sting.

"Well, yes. Of course."

"Then trust us."

Us. The word rolled through her. She took the phone. "Daddy, I escaped from Risk because I played a trick on him. In his defense, he tracked me down immediately and wrangled an agreement out of me for total compliance."

"Total? Or the pretend compliance you give me?"

Damn, he knew.

She met Risk's eyes, and something in her tummy tickled. "I have pledged my obedience to him."

"I'd like to know how he accomplished that."

She coughed to cover the choking sound that had escaped at the thought of revealing that. "He's very persuasive. Probably a skill he learned in the SEALs."

"I'll feel better about the situation when I put eyes on you at the benefit dinner tomorrow night."

The dinner! "I don't know if it's a good idea to attend, considering everything that's going on."

"It's a very good idea, Adeline. Considering that man's accusations, your appearance would show my friends and acquaintances that you are not guilty. Which you're not." A pause. "Right?"

"Right." Dammit, he was blackmailing her. "I suppose."

"You'll have Risk with you, and Chase is sending another of his operatives to guard the perimeter. With the wackos out in full force, you can't be too careful. I suggest you present Risk as a . . . Boyfriend would be the simplest explanation. Certainly not bodyguard. We don't want to stir up any questions. Could you manage to appear heterosexual for the evening?"

Addie couldn't help glancing at Risk, who was clearly hearing everything her father was saying because he wore a roguish grin. Flashes of their kiss and his hand on her derriere skittered across her mind. "I could, uh, manage that. Sure."

"It's not that I'm ashamed of you," he added quickly. "I just need time to . . . get used to everything you are."

Poor über-traditional Daddy. Poor Addie, too. She had formed her own charity, had dipped her toe into the political waters by lobbying for animal rights bills, but that wasn't enough to make her father proud.

"We'll see you at the dinner, Daddy." She disconnected and met Risk's gaze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you take that call."

Risk was giving her an amused, contemplative look. "It's interesting how strong and brave you are, except around your father."

She gave him a fake smile. "Yeah, interesting." But he was right. She leaned against the gate and scratched Rama the llama's neck. "After my mom died, I wanted to make up for her loss somehow, by being what he wanted." Her heart still sank under her grief. "Ultimately I couldn't fill his expectations without losing myself completely, but I try where I can. Thanks for saying that to my dad about my inheriting his smarts and all. I'd like to think I inherited a lot of my traits from Mom."

"I'm sorry," he said. "My mother died when I was six."

"I'm sorry, too." At least she'd gotten one tidbit out of him.

"I imagine it's harder for a girl to lose her mom. She's the one who teaches you how to put on makeup and to stay away from guys who will break your heart."

"Guys like you?"

His smile was soft, melancholy. "Yeah, exactly like me."

Rama nuzzled her, and Risk's eyes glimmered with longing. She'd seen that before, when she'd been talking to Rolling Stone in the van. Maybe he needed some cheek rubbing, too.

"You don't like talking about your childhood," Addie said.

"Not really. It's in the past. As Rath, one of the boys on the team, likes to say, 'If you spend too much time looking back, you're going to run into something.'"

"I like that philosophy." Though, as their gazes locked, she knew she should be thinking about another piece of wisdom: Don't play with fire.

He seemed to tear his gaze away. "Speaking of making your father happy, what's this charity ball about?"

"It's not a ball with dancing and whatnot. It's more of a formal dinner with people talking about their projects or charities. It was something my mother started as a way to connect philanthropists with lesser-known charities. I was going to attend, until the hit-and-run. Then I decided to stay low."

"That was your excuse, anyway."

She did not like how he could see right through her with those discerning eyes. "I'm not into formal events. How do you feel about wearing a tux? Didn't think about that, huh? If you're going as my date, you'll have to dress the part."

"I suppose I'll have to rent one." He gave her a sardonic grin. "All mine are back on the farm."

"You have a farm?" Yes, she was pitifully desperate to know more about this man.

"I grew up on a farm. My old man still owns it, though it's just about ground down. He finds the inside of a bottle of whiskey much more appealing than working. We should probably go inside."

She'd wormed a little more out of him. "I've got a few more things to do before we go in." She dumped food into Rama's bin.

Risk leaned against the gate next to her. "What's this guy's story?"

"He was doing the pay-to-ride thing at a petting zoo, and he was in a lot of pain. Llamas can't bear more than fifty pounds on their spines, and the owner hadn't imposed a weight maximum. I couldn't convince him to set limits, so I educated the visitors. Who, in turn, raised a stink on Rama's behalf. So the owner decided to sell Rama to me."

Risk seemed to study Rama's big brown eyes. "He looks happy. At least I think he does."

"They give off a certain energy when they're content. That's what you're picking up." She didn't pick up that kind of energy from Risk, though right now he seemed in a good place. "Rama was very distrustful at first. He wouldn't come near me and would only eat after I left." She grabbed a carrot from the fridge and held it out. Rama came right over and took it.

She took Risk's hand and led him past an empty stall with wire mesh. "That's where Freedom stayed. Shirley said the refuge picked up the kitten earlier." She moved on to another stall, where potbellied pigs were reclining on the hay-covered floor. "This is Elma and Chew-eeze. They were two of fourteen pigs owned by one lady. Or should I say hoarded?"

"Oh, I get it. Like Thelma and Louise."

She grinned. "Exactly. I renamed them." She tugged him down to the stall at the end. "And this is the resident ass, Hollywood. You'll probably hear him braying away in the night. His last owners were aggressive toward him, so he became antagonistic." The brown donkey sauntered over and rested his head against her palm. "As you can see, he's very sweet."

Risk definitely had a contented look in his eyes. And something else. Her fingers were still wrapped around his, and she involuntarily squeezed.

"You are so incredibly . . ." He gathered her face in his hands, leaned down, and covered her mouth with his. The impact hit her like a tidal wave. It was different than the first kiss. This one was tender, sweet, but quickly grew hotter. She might have had something to do with that. Her mouth had automatically softened and opened, and he had taken that as an invitation to slide his tongue in.

Addie lost herself in the languid way he kissed, as if he had all the time in the world. Yes, decadence, like sun tea on a hot afternoon or a slab of dark chocolate melting on her tongue. She lost awareness of her surroundings. Sights, sounds, smells, all disappeared, leaving only the sensation of her heart pounding like crazy and her mouth being made love to in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her hands moved of their own volition, sliding up his chest to his shoulders . . . kneading them like a purring kitten!

His hands trailed down her back. Her body shifted closer to his without even asking for her permission. She felt his erection against her stomach, hard and long, and it stirred her down to her bones. He wanted her. Her, with no makeup, no curves.

He let out a low murmur and wrapped his hands over her derriere, pulling her closer yet. Now all of her was plastered against that hard, strong body. She'd never felt so safe, so alive. She drew her hands back down his chest, her thumbs brushing over the taut nubs of his nipples.

Was that humming sound coming from her throat? Yes. She was making noises, something she'd never done before. His hands moved up her hips, to her waist. She involuntarily pressed her breasts against his stomach, aching for those hands to move up higher . . . higher . . .

She fought to come back to herself, straining for a nugget of sanity. Opening her eyes didn't help. He seemed as lost as she was.

"Zucchini," she uttered between kisses.

He cracked open one eye. "What?"

"Zucchini," she repeated, taking advantage of his puzzlement to step back. "I was looking for a word that wasn't sexy. The opposite of sexy, in fact. To bring me back to my senses." Her mouth still tingled, and she fought the urge to put her fingers over it. "To bring us back to our senses, because we really shouldn't be doing this. That. What we were doing."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, you're right. I had no intention of kissing you, honest. But you have this light in your eyes when you're talking about the animals, and your dimples were showing as you smiled, and you were so damned compelling."

"No one's ever wanted to kiss me because I was talking about my animal rescues." And no one had ever called her compelling. It made her feel dizzy, as if she were spinning on the inside.

He quirked his brows. "And no one's ever called out a vegetable when I was kissing her. You're definitely a first for me, Addie."

A huge smile hijacked her face, but she quickly wiped it off. It felt very close to the smile he'd just described.

"But you do realize," he added, "that you chose a phallic vegetable."

Oh, geez, she had. "I used to say puppies or chickens. Safe words that would break me out of any temptation I might be feeling. But it's been so long since I've felt temptation that I'm out of practice."

"How long has it been?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, more than a couple of years."

"Years? So you're against engaging in a long-term relationship?"

"I don't want anything distracting me from my purpose. I need to give a hundred percent to my cause." She went back a few stalls to the fridge, pulled out another carrot, and returned to Risk. "Here, give this to your new buddy."

His fingers brushing hers, the carrot sliding from her hand, even that felt erotic. Geez, was her mind in the gutter! He held it out, and Hollywood gently took it.

"What about you?" she asked. "Ever been married or in a serious relationship?"

Risk stroked Hollywood's mane. "When I was in the SEALs, I had no time to give a relationship, no dedication to spare. And like you, I didn't need the distraction."

"No, not when you're in life-and-death situations on a daily basis."

"Even on those rare times when I was home, I wasn't really there. If you're a SEAL, your head is always in the last mission. You watch the news, anticipating when your team will be called back. It's not fair to any of the people in your life, but especially a girlfriend. I admit that I felt relief when I had to say goodbye and head off for deployment. Cutting ties was easy because there were no ties on my end."

"But now . . ." She let the words she was about to say trail off. Now that you're not in the military, you can consider a relationship. She definitely didn't want to go there. "Now you're guarding little ole me. Probably a bit of a letdown, huh?"

"You are definitely not a letdown, Addie. I had lots of reasons not to get involved when I was a SEAL, including a ninety-five-percent divorce rate in the teams. And I'm in no position to fall for anyone right now. I'm stitching my life together, trying to reintegrate into the civvy world and learn a new job. And that job is to keep you safe, which means keeping my head straight—and keeping my hands off you and my mouth away from the sweetest lips I've ever tasted." His heated gaze swept over her. "And that might be my biggest challenge yet."

###

## Chapter 6

Risk spent the night outside Addie's bedroom window, on the porch that wrapped around her house. He'd had to triple-assure her that he liked sleeping outside. He'd done it plenty of times in his youth and in the SEALs. It was optimal for hearing intruders. He'd heard plenty of noise: crickets, the frogs in the pond, and Hollywood's braying. And he'd heard—or maybe sensed—Addie at her window checking on him. He was glad she hadn't come out. That was another reason to sleep on the porch. Less temptation.

'Cause you did so well yesterday in the barn.

Oh, buddy, he'd thrashed himself plenty over that. And he'd replayed the kiss and the way her tight, sweet ass had felt in his hands umpteen times.

He'd been sexually attracted to many women, but each encounter was like climbing a new mountain—exciting in the planning and execution, empty afterward. The return of his numb state had gotten worse recently; the prospect of a one- or two-night stand left him empty before it even happened.

But when Addie stepped out onto the porch, looking deliciously rumpled and adorably sleepy in dark pink pajamas that clung to her trim body, his heart went pit-a-pat in a way it never had.

She handed him a mug of coffee. "Milk and sugar are inside if you need them."

Their fingers brushed as he took the mug adorned with a menagerie of cartoon animals and the words ANIMAL HUGGERS. "Thanks. You're an angel."

She tilted her head. "How'd you sleep?"

He scratched his jaw, feeling the rough stubble. "Like a baby. You?" He took a sip of the richest coffee he'd ever had. And possibly the best.

She smiled. "Like I had a bodyguard sleeping outside my window. Safe, I mean."

He nodded. "Good. That's how you should feel." He pulled his gaze from her to the ranch beyond. "You have a nice place here."

When they'd walked up to the house the night before, his first thought had been It's perfect. It wasn't, though. The paint was about a year away from needing to be refreshed; a couple of the shutters were askew. The porch that ran along the entire exterior looked a little crooked; his fingers itched to grab hold of some tools and work on it. Yet it was still perfect, in a way he couldn't pinpoint.

She followed his gaze, a soft smile on her face. "It's no Taj Mahal, but it's perfect for me."

He couldn't help glance over at the use of the very word he'd thought. He shrugged. "The Taj is overrated. This place is livable. Comfortable. Your outbuildings are in good shape; the barn is sturdy and well built." Beyond the railings and porch lay a stretch of grass and then the barn and various other buildings. A big corral gave one of her volunteers plenty of room to work with a horse he was trying to gentle. Beyond that, pastureland accommodated several other horses, the llama, and one bony cow.

Addie leaned against the railing, surveying her kingdom with the smile of a benevolent queen. "I took over the property from a guy who couldn't make his payments. He had dreams of owning a small farm but no clue how to run one. Now he volunteers, so he's seeing his dream stay alive, in a way. And he's great at carpentry; he maintains all of the buildings and fences in his spare time." She released a contented sigh. "I love coming out here in the mornings for a few minutes and just taking it all in. The little hill in the distance, the apple trees over there to the right, with the absolute best winesaps ever. My animals, healing and thriving. It's so peaceful." She glanced his way. "At least until I think about all the work that needs to be done. Speaking of, I need to feed you. I'm not the best cook, but I can throw some eggs in a pan. You don't look like a wholegrain-and-nut-cereal kind of guy."

He glanced down at himself, in loose jersey pants and faded T-shirt. "I sure hope not. Don't suppose you have bacon—scratch that. I forgot you're vegan."

Risk remembered her father saying how she had eyed his steak once. Addie had given up meat because she thought it was the right thing to do. The same way she'd given up romantic relationships. And right now she was eyeing him as if he were a juicy steak.

"I'm a lacto vegetarian, and you're lucky I am. Otherwise I wouldn't even have eggs in the house. Mostly I only eat the eggs from my free-range chickens." She gave him a grin that caused that pit-a-pat thing again. "Happy chickens, happy eggs."

Who couldn't be happy around you? He was damned happy those words hadn't popped out of his mouth.

He followed her into the house, with its simple decor and comfortable-looking furniture. Nothing fussy or fancy but definitely homey. The kitchen was open to a small dining area and the living room. She set a pan on the stove and turned on the gas, then got a carton of eggs and butter from the fridge.

He pulled his thoughts to their morning plan. First they were going to check out the zoo and see if the tiger cub was there. That was the easiest place to start, since it was open to the public. If the cub wasn't there, they would check out Carrigan's personal property. Chase had found his address after Risk had filled him in last night.

He walked up behind her as she expertly cracked eggs into a sizzling pan. "Can I help?"

She started, spilling half of an egg on the stovetop. "I've got it, thanks. Sit and relax at the table."

"I'll pour us some orange juice if you've got some. The only time I can sit and watch someone cook for me is when I'm paying them to. You're going to have to give me something to do." Sorry, sweetheart, you're not getting me out of your hair that easily.

She blew out a breath, ruffling the bangs that fell over her right eyebrow. "Okay, you can get two plates out of that cabinet. Glasses are in the next one."

She had a quaint country-style kitchen, with white cabinets and slate-gray countertops. Her refrigerator was covered with magnets of animals, no surprise, and one of those magnetic-word kits. She'd pieced together a few to read: EVERY DAY BRINGS NEW BEGINNINGS.

She wasn't looking, so he added a couple of words to the end: AND CRAZY SURPRISES. Too bad the set didn't include the word zucchini.

"Okay, we're ready."

These were no diner eggs, with the yolks messily bleeding across the white plates. The bread, however, was perfectly toasted. If he pretended he was eating a couple of slices of extra-crispy bacon, it was heaven. Or maybe that was the gal sitting across the table from him, poking the corner of her toast into the yolk.

Her cell phone, sitting on the windowsill, rang. She grabbed it up. "I don't recognize the number."

"Answer it and put it on speaker," Risk said.

"Please," she said, mirroring his earlier request, even raising her eyebrows as he had done.

He gave her a smile. "Sorry, used to orders, not requests."

"Addie Wunder," she answered, shooting him a smirk.

"Do you own an old brown utility van?" the man on the other end asked.

"Yes! You found it?"

"I'm with Walter's Towing. It was reported as being in a parking lot in a tow-away zone after-hours. The key's in it."

Risk and Addie both started talking at once, but she pushed out her question first. "This might sound like a crazy question, but is there a tiger cub in the back?"

"There's a cage but no animal inside."

"Did you start the engine?" Risk asked.

The guy on the other end paused. "Uh, yeah, to move it on the lot. Why?"

"As long as it didn't explode, you're fine."

Now the guy sputtered, but Risk asked for the address, thanked the guy, and hung up.

"Are you serious about it exploding?" she asked.

"As your bodyguard, I have to consider every possibility. They obviously didn't rig it. I also have to make sure the towing company is real and not a setup. I'm going to use your computer to case it via satellite, look for vulnerable areas where the enemy could be waiting, for purposes of following or taking a sniper shot."

She simply stared at him for a moment. Swallowed. "I didn't even think about any of that."

"That's why you have me. Let me deal with the tow company employees. I'll do a scan of the van to make sure nothing's been tampered with. And you will wait until I give you the all-clear."

She saluted, but she didn't seem sassy about it. In fact, her blue eyes were filled with anguish. "That poor cub."

Risk pushed to his feet. "We're going to find Tigs, Addie. I promise." The words were out before he could think better of making a promise like that. But she nodded with such relief and gratitude, he could hardly regret it.

She called Shirley and arranged to take her and another volunteer to the van so they could bring it back. He washed up in the guest bathroom, brushing his teeth, then setting his clothes and sleeping bag in the bedroom. Of course, he and Addie couldn't just show up at the zoo as themselves. They had decided on going as a city couple.

Sneaking around in disguise was obviously nothing new for Addie. That made sense, since these places she investigated would be on the lookout for her. It wasn't like she was a low-key personality on the activist scene. He remembered the picture of her washing cars on her Facebook page and shook his head as he sat down at Addie's computer. He checked out the tow yard, all escape routes, and then took note of the closest hospital, firehouse, and police, per his general instructions. He ran every what-if scenario and mentally prepared for all.

When she came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, his knees went weak. "I'm ready," she said, as though she weren't wearing the tightest jeans he'd ever seen, with a wide gold belt and a white-and-red-striped top that molded an enormous set of boobs he was pretty sure she didn't actually possess. Her lips were ruby-red, with a mole drawn over one lip, and they were pursed as she searched for something. "Ah, there it is." She grabbed up her bag and strode to the door in four-inch heels, which made her ass wiggle outrageously. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her? He held back his reaction, pasting a professionally bland expression on his face.

She took him in, a quick up-and-down. "You're not ready."

"I'm waiting until after we pick up the van, in case they're watching. Which is why you have to stay out of sight. Otherwise, your cover will be blown." Another good reason to keep her safely in the car.

With those heels, she was closer to his height. He came to a stop right in front of her, fluffed her curly-haired wig, then settled his hands over the spaghetti straps on her shoulders. "Impressive. I hardly recognize you. Do you have a name to go with this getup?"

"Babbette Shankshire." She gave him a crooked smile. "I bet this is the kind of woman you usually go for." She gave her boobs a playful squeeze. "Much more than I have. Or want, for that matter."

Do not even think about squeezing them, Yarbrough. But he'd rather squeeze the real thing, and the smooth mounds of cleavage were all her.

He mentally went back to the first part of what she'd said, because he sensed a question lurking there. "I don't usually go for the flashy type." And at the moment, he didn't want to think about any woman but the one in front of him.

She angled those ridiculously boo-coops of boobs toward him. "Go ahead. You can squeeze them. I know you want to."

"Addie, you are too much. Seriously, too much." But when she pushed them out even farther, he obliged. "Spongy, with a nice spring to them."

The door opened, and Shirley stepped inside. She stopped with her mouth open. "Adeline Wunder, I did not offer to do the morning duties so you and your hunky bodyguard could do some booby squeezing."

Addie blew out a breath, nonplussed. "You always insist on doing the morning duties, and I was just showing him my fake boobies." She turned toward the door and gave Shirley the playful smile that made his heart go bump. "Wanna squeeze 'em?"

Shirley rolled her eyes. "You're not my type. Anyhoo, Charlie and I are ready to head out, if the two of you can pry yourselves away from each other."

"We'll meet you in fifteen minutes." After she left, Addie turned to him. "Still fantasizing about Shirley and me?"

"Doll, my fantasies are much more interesting now that I know you're straight."

From inside the car a safe distance away, Addie watched Risk inspect the van, check the engine, then crawl beneath it. She thought of him doing the same in Iraq or Afghanistan, where explosives and ambushes were a part of everyday life. The idea of him being in that kind of danger, surviving horrendous conditions on barely edible food, made her swallow a lump in her throat. And now he was protecting her.

Cripes, he looked ten kinds of yummy with his five o'clock shadow accenting his wide jawline. He pulled himself from beneath the van, jumped to his feet, and waved them over.

Shirley regarded her with a frown as they joined him. "This is serious shit, isn't it?" She pinned Risk with a look. "You keep her safe, you hear?"

He was clearly trying not to smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Shirley and Charlie left, and Risk followed them for about fifteen minutes. He really considered every dark possibility. Finally he turned toward to the zoo.

"I need to stop at a restroom and do my change-up," he said a few minutes later. "But I'm not leaving you in the car alone."

"I'm certainly not going into the men's room with you."

He slanted her a grin. "Figured you'd say that." He pulled into a gas station. "So I'll go in the women's room with you."

"We're going into a restroom . . . together?"

"If you're worried about what people will think—"

"They'll assume we were getting it on in there."

"Only if we come out with big grins."

She smacked his rock-hard arm. But the thought of being so engulfed by passion that they'd run into a restroom had her feeling a bit warm. Public restrooms are not romantic, she chanted to herself. Neither were barns, but when Risk had kissed her, everything had fallen away.

A few minutes later, they were closed in the small room. Risk went right to work, pulling out some kind of disguise kit from his duffel bag and studying the palette of earth tones. "This is definitely not something I learned in SEALs. When we took a disguise, it was more clothing-based, not cosmetic. Other than painting our faces black when we undertook a night op." He made his cheeks more defined and deemphasized his wide jaws. Next, he filled in his eyebrows so they appeared darker. He left the stubble as it was. Then he rubbed some mousse into his hair, spiking it up. "I doubt the knuckleheads noticed my eye color, so I'm skipping the contacts."

He pulled off his shirt and donned a silky button-down with long sleeves. She was so caught up in the contours of his chest, she almost didn't notice that he was unzipping his khakis. He caught himself just as he was about to shove them down, and she quickly spun around. Having watched the male-stripper movie just recently, she didn't have to pull from deep in her imagination to picture his body at the swish of clothing.

"Let's hit it," he said a few seconds later.

But oh, he was so much better than an image on a screen or in her mind. She drank him in, the gray shirt unbuttoned to his upper chest, charcoal linen pants that fit just tightly enough to show off muscular thighs, and a thick gold necklace.

"Hm, who should you be?" She tapped her chin as she surveyed him. "Sebastian Arsenault." Then she ran her finger across his stubble. "I like this. Very bad-boy-ish. I've never kissed a man with a five o'clock shadow." Quickly, she turned and opened the door. "And I won't now."

A mother and daughter were standing outside the door waiting. Addie could hear the little girl say, "Mommy, there was a man and a woman in there. What were they doing?"

"Never you mind that," the woman said in a terse voice.

Addie wanted to die from embarrassment. "Corrupting a child!" she whispered as they walked outside.

"If we'd gone into the men's room and there'd been a guy waiting, he'd have just given me a thumbs-up."

Addie rolled her eyes.

Thirty minutes later, they found a spot at the zoo's makeshift parking area and paid the entrance fee. A smattering of people wandered around the exhibits. A few kids were squealing at a camel that was sticking its nose between the bars. Another girl was giggling on a pony ride. It was hard for Addie to get excited about these kinds of zoos; all she could think about was how stressful it was for the animals. But she had to pretend.

Risk steered her from exhibit to exhibit, his arm casually looped around her shoulders. She didn't have to pretend to like that, no siree. When she leaned too close, though, she could feel his gun at his waist, beneath his loose shirt.

Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

At least she hadn't babbled that out loud, like she had with the whole squeeze my boobs thing. Sheesh, Addie, have you lost your mind? She had, but it had felt good at the time. Carefree, flirty. Things she never got to be.

And you should not be flirty now. You're on a mission.

The zoo was crammed into a much smaller space than normal, so the cages and corrals were nearly touching. It sprawled from the parking area of the defunct gas station onto the grassy area. Green clumps of recently mowed weeds and grass dotted the ground.

On their first trip around the grounds, they searched for the tiger, for Alan, and for his thug buddy. Tigs wasn't on display. No sign of the thugs, either, though they could be in the off-limits area where the RVs and tractor-trailers were set up.

Risk led her right up to the yellow tape that blocked off further access and gestured toward one of the RVs. Though he was talking about how his brother had taken one just like that out west, she knew he was really searching. Unfortunately they saw no sign of anyone, nor could she spot the traveling cage from which she'd broken Tigs out.

They wandered back to the zoo. They passed a zebra roaming a small, fenced-in area and paused in front of two chimpanzees sitting listlessly in their cages. A family was making monkey noises, trying to get them to react. Finally the family gave up and moved on.

Risk continued to watch the chimps. "They look sad. Can't say I blame them. Being gawked at is no fun, let me tell you."

Addie wished she could see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. "I bet you got a lot of that during the trial."

"People either scorned us or feared us, as though we would go psycho at any moment. Even knowing the truth, it was still annoying."

It was probably downright hurtful, but Risk wasn't going to admit that. "It must have been terrible," she coaxed.

"I'm just glad it's over."

He moved on to where miniature horses paced the length of their small pen, signaling an end to that particular conversation. She followed with a sigh. It was nothing personal. She knew that men didn't open up and share all the pain in their heart. Her father had said very little, had shown no grief, after her mother's death. She'd seen only his stoic acceptance, and Risk wore that same expression.

As she did with every pen, she assessed the conditions. "At least they all have clean water bowls, fresh food, and shelter from the sun. Maybe Carrigan's gotten the hint."

They passed kids scrambling in and out of a castle bounce house and stopped in front of a covered tent with chickens, goats, ducks, and bunnies in various sections that allowed for petting.

Next to that sat a photo-op tent; the sign read, GET YOUR PICTURE WITH A PYTHON, $10. A teenage girl grimaced as she kept the huge snake from wrapping completely around her neck. Addie leaned around to look at the back of the sign, which read, GET YOUR PICTURE WITH A TIGER CUB, $50.

"Ready for your picture?" asked the guy holding the snake as the girl rushed out. Addie thought it was Carrigan's son, Ted. He'd always seemed most sympathetic, or at least he hadn't shut her out completely when she'd tried to talk to him.

Addie shuddered as the snake flicked its tongue in her direction. "God, no."

Risk didn't so much as flinch as the snake's flickering tongue inched closer to his arm. "My girl here came to get a picture with the baby tiger. We drove all the way from D.C."

Ted shook his head. "Sorry, we don't have the cub anymore. Guess you didn't see my dad on the news last night. Some crazy animal rights chick stole it."

Addie had to force herself not to react. She hated the word crazy. Extreme, maybe. Fiercely dedicated, definitely. She looked at Risk, her mouth in a pout. "Honey . . ."

"Don't you have another one?" Risk asked. "In the back, maybe? My Babbette has been whining—I mean, begging me to bring her here, and I won't hear the end of it if you don't get her a tiger to pose with." He whipped out his wallet and extracted a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "Make it happen, and I'll double the fee."

She leaned up and kissed Risk's cheek. "Oh, Sebastian, you're just the sweetest." She rubbed his chest in small circles, batting her eyes at Ted. "He's always willing to do anything to make me happy." And right at that moment, her hand was very happy, sliding over the contours of Risk's pecs.

Ted eyed the bill, chewing his lower lip as he contemplated. He gestured for them to follow. "Come with me."

Her heart jumped. This was it. They'd eye the tiger, bring in the authorities, and it would be over.

Though Risk left his arm casually around her, she felt his body tense. Of course, if Tigs were here, that meant these guys were the ones who'd tried to abduct her. Maybe they didn't recognize her, maybe they did. She and Risk had to be ready for anything.

They followed Ted around the back of the RVs, out of sight of the zoo. She could see Risk's eyes shifting back and forth, surveying their surroundings. His fingers had tightened on her shoulder, but his other hand rested against his stomach—near his gun.

Ted was looking around, too; no one was in sight. He crooked his finger as he came around the corner of a trailer, where she could see the bars of a cage. Addie could hardly breathe as she prepared to see Tigs.

It wasn't Tigs. A black animal with a thick tail sat in the cage, looking suspiciously out at them. Ted presented it as though it were a wonderful surprise. "How about a picture with a bearcat? A bear and a cat, like two for one. He's not technically available for photo ops." He nodded toward Risk's pocket, where he'd tucked the hundred-dollar-bill. "But I'm willing to arrange something under the circumstances."

Addie didn't have to hide her disappointment or fake it. "It looks like a big ole possum." She gave Risk an imploring look. "Honey, I want a picture with a tiger. I told you we should have come earlier."

Risk sighed, aiming his world-weary look at Ted. "When will you be getting another one?"

Ted shook his head. "I'm sorry to say that we probably won't. You see, the travel is really hard on them. A lot of 'em die while we're on the road, and the place my father sends them to once they get too big for safe handling, well, we just found out it isn't very nice. The crazy activist lady's been telling us that for the last year. I checked in to it, and she's right. I can hook you up with any other animal for your picture."

Addie couldn't believe it. Had she actually gotten through to at least one of them? Or could they see through her disguise? She tugged on Risk's shirt. "I don't want to hurt any tiger babies. Let's go, honey."

"Hey!" Carrigan came around the corner. "Don saw you bringing people back here." His beady eyes settled on her and Risk. "This area is not for the public." His gaze lingered on them. In suspicion? Addie did her best to keep her expression placid.

Ted slung his hand in her direction. "This here gal was really bumming that she couldn't get a picture with the tiger. I was just showing her our newest resident, thinking maybe we could use him."

"He's not for handling." Carrigan reached toward them. "You'll have to—"

Risk had him turned around with one arm cocked at an awkward angle behind his back so fast, Addie didn't even see it happen.

"I was just going to guide you back to the public area!" Carrigan yelled, his face red.

Risk was eerily cool and controlled. He released the man. "Sorry. I just got out of the military. I'm a little jumpy."

Carrigan quickly stepped back, rubbing his shoulder. "I'll say."

Ted had stood there with his mouth open the whole time. It was all Addie could do to squelch a burst of laughter at their shell-shocked expressions. Risk took her hand and led them away, watching both men from the corner of his eye. His body didn't relax one bit as they made their way to the parking area.

As he opened the passenger door of her red SUV for her, he did one last thorough survey. "No one's paying attention to us. If they knew who we really were, they'd be watching at least." He closed the door and got in. She liked his vigilance, the way his energy changed when he was in soldier mode.

He turned to her and caught her with who knew what expression on her face. She shifted her thoughts. "Tigs wasn't there. And I think Ted would have told us if there'd been any chance of scoring that bill. Poor Tigs. Where could he be?"

Risk pulled onto the highway, still watching the rearview mirror. "Poor us. We just eliminated the number one suspect. Remember, Addie, this is about you, not the tiger."

"It's about both of us. We're both in big trouble."

He was driving because he'd used his "I'm in control" card: He'd been trained in evasive driving tactics. Like they'd ever be chased. Then she remembered the hit-and-run and decided not to argue.

She sat back in her seat, running her fingers up and down the seat belt. "You were absolutely amazing when you had Carrigan in that lock. If I'd blinked, I'd have missed it."

"The guy had no right to touch you."

He'd done that because of her? The edge of propriety in his voice gave her a shiver. "Remind me not to put my hand on you without warning."

"You can put your hand anywhere you want. I wouldn't react like that."

She arched an eyebrow. "Anywhere?"

He slid her a heated look. "Oh, doll, don't go there with me. You're my client." Nothing more. That was what he hadn't said. But she'd bet he was thinking it.

And you should be thinking it, too. She took in his profile, that slightly crooked nose, strong chin, and a mouth she knew was totally kissable.

"I'm hungry," he said, as though reading her thoughts. "Know of any decent diners in the area? I'm in the mood for something good and greasy."

Oh, that kind of hungry. Her stomach growled. "I know the perfect place, not far from the ranch. But I don't want to go in there like this."

He gave her an appraising look. "But Babbette, you look so hot."

Hmph. How could she feel jealous of herself? "Sorry, time for her to go bye-bye. At least parts of her." She wriggled out of the overly padded bra and tossed it into the back.

"You know what they say: More than a handful is a waste."

"Hah. Guys only say that to women with small breasts to make them feel better. You know you want double-D's."

He laughed, a soft, low sound that trickled right through her. "Addie, what you have is perfectly fine. More than fine. Why is it that you assume I go for buxom women?"

She shed her wig and shook out her hair. "Because guys who look like you usually do. At least that's the way it was in high school, when I was interested in dating. No one gave me a second glance, especially when I was standing near the real Babbette." Her classmate Babbette had a woman's body at fifteen, while Addie hadn't even sniffed at curves until she was almost twenty. She glanced down at her barely-B's. And still hadn't.

"You're talking about hormonal, prepubescent, oversexed boys. You can't judge your effect on men based on that."

What was her effect on him? She didn't dare ask. Well, she had an idea. Because back at the barn, that hadn't been a pistol in his pocket . . .

###

## Chapter 7

Forty-five minutes later, Addie and Risk pulled up to a diner appropriately called the Greasy Spoon. The small whitewashed building sported an enormous spoon on its roof. She gave him a grin when he read the sign, turned to her, and said, "Perfect."

They got out of the car and came around to the front. "When I'm on a mission, I figure out how to get what I want," she said. "Or in this case, what you want: greasy food." The word mission triggered a realization: Having a man in her life would screw up her dedication. She'd been so distracted by Risk that she'd missed celebrating a very important point. "The zoo might give up having tiger cubs. I got one of them to listen—to actually listen—to me!" She spun around and, caught up in her revelry, wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped up and down. "I made a difference!" When she came to a stop, her smile faded. And her heartbeat stepped up. "You're looking at me the way you did in the barn, right before you kissed me."

His hands had automatically gone around her waist. "Mm-hmm. Because you've got that same light in your eyes. I know it sounds crazy, but it turns me on big-time. I've seen women get all excited about chocolate or a pair of shoes." He shook his head. "I never could wrap my head around that. But there's something so damned sexy about your passion." His fingers tightened on her. "Because your heart is in your beautiful smile and in your voice and in the way you move, and Addie, it's making me crazy. You're making me crazy."

His words melted through her. He found her attractive—sexy!—for the very reasons that the few other guys who'd been in her life had found exasperating. "If it's any consolation, you're making me crazy, too."

That earned a slight lift at the corner of his mouth. "This job would be a lot easier if you were gay."

She blew out a breath that made her bangs bounce. "It would make my life easier, too."

But that reminded her that she was a job to him. She was getting in the way of his duties and distracting him, too. Even knowing that they shouldn't be standing in each other's arms, she couldn't make herself step away.

He ran his fingers through his hair and released her. "We'd better go inside before I give in and sate my other hunger." His gaze slid from her mouth down her body before he turned toward the entrance.

He was hungry for this body? She held back the question as she walked through the door that Risk was holding open.

Once they were seated, a server with a Babbette build came over and handed them each a menu. Her spoon-shaped name tag read kayla. Her eyes lit on Risk as he took the menu from her. "You're cute." She quickly looked to Addie. "I mean, the two of you are cute together." She nodded toward the front window, where their little celebratory hug-turned-almost-something-else had been in full view of the entire diner. "At first we thought maybe you were proposing to her. Is this a celebratory meal?"

"No," both Risk and Addie said at the same time. "Just a personal victory," Addie added sheepishly.

"Bet she'd say yes," Kayla said with a wink. "Drink orders?"

Addie was glad to see that Risk was just as thrown by the observation as she was. "Iced tea, sweet," he said after a moment.

After Addie dittoed that and Kayla went to the kitchen, Addie broke out in laughter. "At least we know we'll be convincing tonight."

He sat back in the booth and shook his head. "They thought I was proposing to you."

She followed his gaze to the other patrons in the diner, which was about a third full at this time of day. Some of the diners, mostly the women, were giving them the kind of smile one gives to, say, the newly engaged. Embarrassed, she slid her gaze to the wall beyond. It was covered in spoons. She'd been so preoccupied, she hadn't noticed that there were spoons mounted on every horizontal surface, including the wall next to their table. They all bore signatures and sayings written in marker.

Kayla delivered their teas. "Y'all can buy a spoon for a buck. Sign it, we'll give you the glue, and you find a spot for it."

"I'll take one," Addie said.

Kayla reached into her apron pocket and handed Addie a spoon and her choice of colored markers. "Some couples buy two and mount them side by side or cross them." She gave Risk an expectant look.

He pointed to the menu. "Country-fried steak, hash browns, and two eggs over well," he said. "With a side of bacon, please."

Addie couldn't help wrinkle her nose. Not only the bacon but all of that grease. Still, that was why she'd brought him here, right? And he was clearly happy about it. "Chicken salad, but hold the chicken. Oil and vinegar dressing, please."

"I'll take her chicken," Risk said, handing the menus to the server. He looked at her from across the table. "No lecture on eating animal flesh?"

"I don't lecture. People have to make their own choices."

He looked relieved as he took a long drink of his tea. "The only time I ever went out with a vegan, she spent the whole meal going on about how awful animals are treated."

"I bet she was a one-time date."

"And a short one. Thanks for not being that way." He tapped his teaspoon on the table. "Though your being annoying as hell would make it easier to be around you, ironic as that sounds."

"Same with you. If you were an overbearing jerk . . ." I wouldn't want you, either. But he wasn't. And she did. Their gazes locked, and for a moment she was lost in the heat of his hazel eyes.

He cleared his throat. "Speaking of my being a professional and focusing on my job, I think it's safe to eliminate the zoo from the suspect list. I understand there is a list."

She showed him an inch between her finger and thumb. "Just a small one."

"Who else might want you captured? Or dead?"

She'd been unwrapping her straw, and at those words, she simply froze. "Sorry. When you put it that bluntly, it's hard to wrap my head around." Risk had been living a life where death was part of a day's work. She jammed the straw into her glass and drank as she thought about his question. "I would say the the director of research at the North Carolina College of Medicine. I was responsible for exposing the abuse of cats being tested for medical studies that ended up having no scientific basis.

"I was tipped off by a student who sneaked me into the lab. I took pictures of these poor, tortured cats and made them public. The U.S. Department of Agriculture cited the college for violating the Animal Welfare Act, which cost the program their NIH—National Institutes of Health—funding. The director, Maynard Williams, was very angry when the lab was shut down." Her eyes widened. "They could store a tiger cub in one of the cages they used for the cats. No one would know, since the lab is closed. And . . . theoretically, they could put me in one of the bigger cages. Wouldn't that be poetic justice in Williams's mind?" The thought of it shuddered through her.

Risk didn't like the idea, either, to judge by his scowl. "I'll have Chase run him, see if he's got any priors that would indicate a capacity for violence. If you trashed his program, it may have pushed him over the edge. Something I learned from Chase is that docile people can go ape-shit if they feel justified or persecuted. And if Williams was overseeing this barbaric program, he's not the most ethical kind of guy." He texted Chase the information, then looked up at her. "Think about the people you saw at the college. Can you place either of those thugs there?"

"Not that I recall. But I was mostly sneaking around at night with Gil."

"Who's Gil?"

"The guy who tipped me off. I'll call him. I kept his name out of the proceedings, so he should still be attending college."

"Gil who?" Risk started typing again.

"He's the tipster, not the one behind all this."

"Never hurts to check out everyone. Last name, city of residence?"

She blew out an exasperated breath. It was no use trying to convince him. She could see that set soldier's expression. "Sanderson. I imagine he lives in or near Callowell, where the college is located."

Risk typed that in, then made a quick call to Chase to update him on their next course of action. By the time he finished, the food had arrived.

Risk's face lit up at the sight of breaded steak draped in a blanket of white gravy, hash browns glistening with butter, and especially the bacon. Addie did not light up at the sight of her salad.

Kayla chuckled as she took in the dichotomy of plates. "You'd be surprised at how many couples come in here and order just like this. Then she gives in to temptation and ends up eating half his food."

"I'm not going to give in to temptation," Addie said, probably too fast.

"She's a vegetarian," Risk added with a slow nod.

"Well, bless your heart." Kayla sauntered off.

Addie narrowed her eyes. "Who was the 'bless your heart' aimed at?"

Risk grinned. "Probably me." He tucked in to his high-fat, animal-laden meal.

"I don't know how you can eat that and stay in the shape you're in." She speared a forkful of lettuce.

"I can eat this way once in a while because of the shape I'm in. I run, work out. I've never been one to sit around eating potato chips and watching television."

"That's obvious." And now it was obvious that she'd noticed.

He grinned. "Why, thank you."

That smile did funny things to her heart, so she clarified. "It was just an observation, not a compliment."

His grin didn't waver as he chomped on the piece of bacon he was holding. "I'll take it as I see fit. And I see fit to take it as a compliment."

She swallowed back the sound of frustration and stuffed a piece of lettuce in her mouth. As they ate, she pretended not to notice him enjoying his meal. Oh, and he was. He even used the last piece of country-fried steak to mop up the remaining gravy on the plate. _Sheesh_.

She pulled her gaze from all that enjoyment and popped the cap off the purple marker she'd chosen. Risk and Addie . . . not. Instead, she wrote fight for animal rights on the bowl and her website on the handle. "I'm going to call Gil, see if he's noticed anything strange going on at the research lab."

"Sit over beside me so I can hear him." Risk gave her a broad smile as he patted the bench beside him. "Please."

How could she resist any request when he put it like that? And with that smile? Easily, Addie! You could easily resist. And you will.

Except now she was going to have to sit right up against him, shoulder to shoulder and ear to ear. She kept an inch between them, but he snuggled up next to her and pressed his cheek against hers. He smelled good, some kind of citrusy cologne or aftershave. His stubble was pleasantly raspy against her skin.

As she was pondering why that rough sensation was pleasant, and coming to the conclusion that it was because it felt so very masculine, Gil answered after three rings with a breathless "Addie! You finally called me back. You know, I left all those messages, and all I got was one text with a 'Hi, sorry but too busy to chat right now.'"

"Well, you called a lot. And I've got way too much going on to spend an hour on the phone, as lovely as our chats were." Okay, they weren't lovely. If she were honest, she'd tell him they were boring. He'd rambled on, skating from subject to subject as he discussed the minutiae of his day, his past, anything at all. "How's it going?"

Mistake. He launched into a dissertation about his life since the lab was shut down. Maybe he didn't have many people to talk to. Though she tried to break in several times, in the end she was too polite to cut him off, even with Risk making the kill it sign by drawing the edge of his hand across his throat. "Gil," she finally managed. "Has there been anything strange going on at the lab lately?"

Risk leaned in again, all hard, warm, male. She pushed the thought away.

"I don't really go to that area of the campus anymore," Gil said. "But I can check it out for you. Why, you got a bead on more experiments?" His voice heightened with the same edge of excitement it had held when they'd plotted to expose the experiments.

"Someone is trying to frame me for stealing a tiger from a zoo. And that someone is bad news. For me and the cub."

"I'll check it out. We can be partners in crime again, Addie. It was fun sneaking around, playing spy. Saving lives."

"Yeah . . . fun." If that was what he considered fun. But it had been exciting. And gratifying. "Is Maynard still working at the college?"

"He is, though not as director, since there's no lab to direct at the moment."

"Does he still seem angry?"

"He doesn't look like a happy camper, that's for sure."

Addie and Risk traded a glance. A likely suspect. She turned her attention back to Gil. "Do a little snooping, see if there's any activity in the lab."

"You bet. I'll check tonight. Do you remember the last time when we—"

"Gil, I have to go." She knew anything that started with those words would go on forever. He'd relive their exploits, reminiscing over every call and meeting. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Man, the guy likes to ramble," Risk said when she disconnected. "You are way too nice."

"I can't help it. He was a big help in stopping those experiments. I think he got attached to the drama, though."

"I think he got attached to more than that," Risk muttered.

Before Addie could ask what he meant, Kayla came with the check. Risk insisted on paying, leaving a big tip. Then he helped Addie find a good spot on the wall to glue her spoon.

When she stepped back, and the spoon held its spot, Risk patted her shoulder. "All right, Addie Wunder, Animal Hugger. Let's get me a tux."

She felt a trill of excitement. Oh, boy. Some part of her was becoming just a little attached to playing Risk's girlfriend.

###

## Chapter 8

It had been bad enough watching Risk get measured for his tux, the female clerk at the bridal store wrapping the tape around his chest and biceps, and calling out numbers she was clearly impressed with. Harder yet to look at all those posters of happy brides and grooms and remember how the people in the diner had thought Risk had just proposed. With his arms around Addie, that smile on his face . . .

Now she had to see him in that tux, breathtakingly handsome as he waited for her in the living room. She'd never been one to swoon over a guy in a tux, and she'd met plenty during her father's matchmaking escapades. "Wow" was all she could say. All she should say.

"Wow back atcha," he said, his gaze sweeping over her. "This is better than Babbette."

She spun to show him how the gossamer fabric of her dress flared. The way he was taking her in made her heart thrum. She'd taken the time and effort to curl her hair and apply makeup. For the event, of course. She cleared her throat. "This isn't me, either. I'm cargo pants and stretch shirts."

"They're all different sides of you. And the reason I know that is because you wear them so well." He brushed her bangs back from her cheek. "Tonight you're a princess."

She could fall into that smile and the breathy way he'd said that last word. She clasped her hands in front of her and grabbed on to logic. "No, I'm just the cargo-pants girl who felt really weird being in a bridal shop today."

"I saw you looking at the posters with a little smile on your face." His finger brushed the corner of her mouth. "Right here."

His touch sent squirmies through her tummy, especially since he lingered at her bottom lip. She stepped back and grabbed up her purse. "Because it felt weird being with a guy who was getting fitted for a tux. I've never dreamed of being a bride or planned my color scheme. I dream of liberating animals."

"You're probably the only woman I've known who doesn't want that fantasy."

"Do you want that fantasy?"

He blinked. That had taken him off guard. "I can't say my fantasies ever went quite that far. Just up through the fun parts before that."

"Through the banging part, you mean."

He obviously didn't pick up her droll tone, because he grinned. "Yeah, right up until the awkward morning-after 'Where is this going?' conversation."

"You're such a player."

He shrugged, looking nonplussed. "It was the only option on the table until recently."

"And now?" Damn, those words again.

He let his gaze settle on her for a moment. "Now I have to see if this job pans out, and rethink my future."

Did that mean he might be open for a relationship? That if the right woman came along, he would commit for the first time in his life?

You are so not that woman, Addie, so pull your gaze off him and walk to the door.

A short while later, he escorted her into the historic mansion where the dinner was being held, his fingertips on her back. Her bare back, since the dress dipped down to her waist. She liked them there, maybe a little too much.

"We don't have to perpetuate the boyfriend thing just yet," she whispered as she took in the grand room, still being set up.

"This isn't my boyfriend persona," he said softly, leaning close as they walked. "This is my gentleman persona. The boyfriend would be doing this." He drew his fingertips all the way to the base of her spine. "And he'd be thinking of where to duck behind these drapes to make you pant and moan."

Warmth flushed her cheeks; her imagination was kicking in. "I'm glad you made that distinction. I guess I'm not familiar with dating gestures."

He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear. "I can educate you."

His warm breath washing down her neck, along with those words, made another part of her body thrum. Or, more precisely, throb.

"Zucchini," she said, and backed away.

"Hello, honey." Her father's voice made her turn around. He gave her one of his stiff hugs, then shook Risk's hand. "You two make a handsome couple."

Handsome? Really? It always seemed an odd compliment more suited to describe, perhaps, a male pairing. But she latched on to the word couple. And the smile on her father's face.

Risk trailed his finger down her back, giving her a subtle wink. "Your daughter looks spectacular, doesn't she?"

She shivered at both his touch and the compliment.

Her father smiled. "She does indeed." He turned to Risk. "Your associates are here. They're checking out the perimeter." He gestured toward the roomful of square tables, all set up for an elegant meal. "As you requested, you'll be seated with your back against the wall and a view of the entrance." He pointed at a table off to the side, next to a draped wall.

"Mom had the idea to arrange it like this," Addie told Risk. "Each table accommodates four couples, allowing them a more intimate forum to get to know each other."

"Intimate," Risk repeated, his gaze on the table. He'd said the word in a very neutral way, but something in her body responded to it. "A couple on each side. Good face-to-face. No trying to converse with someone a distance down a long table." He scanned the room with his soldier's face, no doubt looking for weak areas or places where the enemy could hide. Or infiltrate.

She wasn't sure which she liked better, Risk with his five o'clock shadow or Risk with his clean shave. It was interesting to imagine the shadow version in the tux. Or out of it.

Stop that!

"Risk." They all turned to find a man in a tux approaching. He was about Risk's age, with light green eyes and thick eyelashes no man should possess. He did a hand-slap-hug thing with Risk. "Good to see you." Then he turned his attention to Addie and held out his hand. "Hello, darlin', I'm Saxby Cole, this knucklehead's friend and associate." He nodded toward Risk. "I'm sure he's told you all about me." His voice dripped with Southern charm, so even knucklehead didn't sound like an insult.

"Nice to meet you; I'm Addie. And no, he didn't mention you."

Saxby gave Risk a sly smile. " 'Course he didn't. Because he knew once I laid eyes on your beauty, I'd want to kick him off the job and take his place." He took her outstretched hand and kissed the back of it. Boy, was this one a player. Even though he was clearly teasing, she knew there was some truth to his words.

"Knock it off," Risk said.

Her father chuckled. "My daughter doesn't drive on your road." He looked at Addie. "Is that how you'd say it? Or climb your kind of tree? I rather like putting it that way." When he saw Saxby's puzzled expression, he put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close. "She's gay."

Oh, sure, now he was accepting her sexual preference. "Daddy, I'm not gay."

Her father swung an incredulous look at her. "What?"

"I like men. I'm completely hetero."

Now he gave Risk an admiring smile. "You're good, son. Real good."

Risk's shoulders puffed up. "Thank you, sir. I pride myself on—"

She elbowed him, then turned to her father. "I've never been gay. I told you that so you'd stop setting me up on all of those boring dates. I'm sorry."

He merely stared at her for a moment. It was the first time she'd seen her father at a loss for words. Suddenly, she realized that Saxby was still holding her hand. He wore one of those Well, now, this is interesting smiles, but he had the grace to plant one more kiss on her hand and release her. "A pleasure to meet you, Addie. Risk, Knox, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"Knox?" she asked.

"That would be me."

She spun at the voice right behind her. "I didn't even hear you come up behind me!"

Risk patted Knox's shoulder. "That's one of our skills—sneakiness. Knox, this is Addie."

Knox had choppy light brown hair and soulful brown eyes that also held the shadow of world-weariness without the playful aspect Risk's held. He bowed slightly as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Goodness, she wondered if the prerequisites of being a SEAL included gorgeousness and charm. Knox, though, looked much more serious than his comrades.

Risk leaned close. "Stay near your father until I get back."

The three men drifted off, pointing out exits and the room layout.

She turned to her father, and oh, yeah, he was giving her the look. Disappointment. Disbelief. Anger. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I was at the end of my rope with your sneaky setups, and it just popped out of my mouth. When you just now accepted me as gay, it pushed out the truth the same way. I don't like lying. I only want you to be all right with who I am: a vegetarian, an animal activist, and someone who's a little impulsive."

"A little! Stealing animals, sneaking onto . . ." He curtailed his diatribe and let out a soft sigh instead. "I'm sorry, too. I've been trying to cram you into a life that's not you. I'll try, Adeline."

"Can you start by calling me Addie?" She wrinkled her nose. "I am so not an Adeline."

He tilted his head. "I suppose you're not. Never have been."

"Excuse me, sir," one of the coordinators said, and asked several setup questions.

As always, Risk kept watching her. It made her hyper-aware of everything she did. It's just his job. Remember that.

Though it wasn't her job to watch him, she did. She could tell the guys had the kind of camaraderie built from spending a lot of time together in dangerous situations. They easily went from discussing line of fire to bursting out in laughter.

A short while later, people started filtering in. Risk immediately came to her side as his associates strode off to their positions. "Ready to rumble?" he asked.

"As ready as I'm ever going to be."

He escorted her to the entrance. She played her mother's role, greeting guests as they arrived in a receiving line. Only a couple mentioned the brouhaha of Carrigan's accusations. She would need to address it to the group as a whole when the time came. Many wanted to know who the gorgeous guy standing next to her was. Most of these people had known her since she was a teenager or longer. She'd never brought a date to an event.

When she said "This is my boyfriend, Risk" the first time, boyfriend felt foreign on her tongue. It must have sounded odd to him, too, because he glanced her way.

"How sweet," said the lady who ran the youth home, giving him a grandmotherly smile. "You must be very special."

"Oh, he is," Addie said, wrapping her fingers around his big upper arm. "He definitely is." Doing that felt oddly natural, as did leaning in to him.

Later, benefactors and charity representatives mingled near the open bar. Risk left her side only to get her a glass of white wine. She rarely drank alcohol, but the Riesling went down smooth and sweet. It stole over her, relaxing the tension at fielding questions about her organization, Carrigan, and Risk.

"How'd you two meet?" one lady asked.

Addie hadn't thought about that question, and her wine-softened brain scrambled for an answer. Which Risk provided, and he was smoother than the wine. "I accidentally stumbled across her Animal Huggers Facebook page. I like animals, but hey, I gotta be honest. When I saw pictures of a gorgeous woman in a bikini washing cars for a fund-raiser, and then I watched her impassioned videos . . ." He shook his head, a grin on his face. "You know it wasn't the animals that got me to that first protest."

The woman's husband barked in laugher and slapped him on the back. "Smart move, my boy. I own this building, and when Gilda came in to ask about renting it for a cancer survivors' costume ball, I let her use it for free. On the stipulation that she be my contact throughout the planning."

Addie watched the couple, who'd been married for three years. Gilda leaned toward her husband, flashing him smiles as he talked. She often touched him, just a graze of her fingers on his arm or shoulder.

As Addie thought to mirror her actions, she realized she was already doing it. Risk drew his hand from her back up to her neck, where his fingers gently massaged the tense muscles, and she wondered if he was cognizant of the motion.

Chimes sounded, signaling that dinner was about to be served. Risk made eye contact with Saxby, who had remained at the perimeter of the room and still managed to look like he belonged there. Knox was outside, pretending to be a guest sneaking a smoke.

Risk's hand was splayed across her lower back as he escorted her to their table. She knew the three couples at their table only informally. They all introduced themselves once they were seated.

At the podium, her father welcomed everyone to the gathering and invited all to enjoy the meal. An orchestra started playing soft, elegant music from the stage.

Risk picked up the placard in front of her table setting, bearing a green V. "More lettuce?"

"Fish," she said. "Delicious, healthy fish."

Which launched a discussion with the lady to her right about restricted diets, since her placard represented a gluten-free meal. Risk made conversation with the man to his left about the military as salads were served and then cleared away. Addie tried to tune in to Risk's conversation, but the woman kept talking about food intolerances versus allergies. Addie heard bits and pieces, gun talk, something about getting shot. They were trading shrapnel stories, for God's sake.

"It was hard for me to sit down for a few days, that's for sure," Risk was saying.

She had her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. "You were shot in the . . ." She smiled and took a sip.

"Yes, I was." Risk's eyes said, Wanna see the scar? But he merely gave her a long-suffering sigh. "The worst part was getting teased by the guys."

Their meals were served next. Hers, a beautiful plate of salmon and vegetables. Risk's, a piece of cow flesh. He cut in to it and let out an "Ahhh, cooked to perfection."

She couldn't help but glance over. It was red in the center, bloody juice pooling on the plate. The aroma hinted at spices and pepper, with a touch of chargrill. He stabbed one piece and shoved it into his mouth. "Mm, mm, mm. Tender. Juicy," he said around his food. "How's your fish?"

She blinked, realizing she'd been too busy watching him to even start. "Delicious." She took a forkful and ate. Yeah, it was good.

"I don't know how you could give up steak, Addie. You know, God put animals on the earth for us to consume. They're gifts. Just like that fish."

The fish that was alive once, too. She wasn't going to get into the treatment of cows, not at the table with guests who were eating steak as well. "I'll stick to the fish, thank you."

"It's not good to give up things that your body wants. Craves." He gave her a look that made her think he wasn't talking about steak. "The craving doesn't go away, you know. It sits dormant, waiting until you're weak. Then it overtakes you." He stabbed another piece of steak and stuck it in his mouth. His jaws flexed as he chewed slowly, his gaze on hers.

"That's why you have to be strong in your convictions when you give up things you know aren't good for you." She took a bite of salmon.

"But you can't always be strong. No one is strong a hundred percent of the time."

A few months ago, she'd cruised past the butcher's case at the grocery store, rows of deep red marbled steaks calling out to her. The memory of the taste had made her mouth water. Like it was watering now.

She had given up a lot. Friendships. Relationships. Having a life. She swallowed a piece of salmon.

Sex.

She wanted that more than a taste of steak. Damn. Giving up everything had worked fine all these years. She'd blotted out that need for it and hadn't even indulged in looking. Except for that film about the male strippers and those salad-dressing ads where the guy kept losing his shirt. Sometimes she'd backed up the DVR to watch it again.

And now Risk had come in and . . . unblotted it.

He gave her a slow grin that twined right to the core of her. "You want it, don't you?" he said in a low voice meant just for her.

The wine must be getting to her, because she almost nodded. Okay, she wanted it. Not the steak. Well, maybe the steak a little, but she wanted Risk. A lot.

"Absolutely not," she said with as much conviction as she could muster and tucked in to her fish with abandon.

The steak smelled good, but so did Risk. Now it was some woodsy cologne that made her think of hiking trails, canoe rides . . . and sex.

Sex in a canoe. Or just off a hiking trail, tucked in a copse of saplings, his arms sliding over her derriere, his mouth covering hers—

"Ma'am, are you finished?"

A man's voice shoved her right out of the fantasy, and she came back to the present, where the waiter's hand hovered over her completely empty plate.

"Yes, I'm quite done."

Risk had cleaned his plate, too, and he looked immensely satisfied. She liked that expression on his face. Like he'd just taken her in a canoe in the middle of the lake, with the sun slanting down—

"A penny for your thoughts," he said, soft and husky right next to her ear. " 'Cause you look like you're having some good ones. Are you thinking about a big, fat, juicy steak?"

A big, fat, juicy something. She cleared her throat. "Dessert. I'm thinking that I want something sweet in my mouth."

"Mm, me, too."

She had to stop drinking this wine, because he didn't seem to be talking about food any more than she was.

"More wine?" Risk asked, tilting the bottle toward her glass.

No, no more wine! "Yes, please."

After he poured, he read the label. "I'm not much of a wine kind of guy, but this stuff isn't bad." He held his glass up in a toast. When she reluctantly raised hers, he clinked them together. "Every day brings new beginnings."

She couldn't help grinning. "And crazy surprises."

"You noticed." He looked pleased as he took what she suspected was a pretend drink.

"I like it." Especially since he was one of those crazy surprises. She took another sip, feeling that warm buzz flow through her.

Slices of chocolate mousse cake were set in front of each person, except the gluten-free lady, who got ice cream.

Risk leaned close to Addie. This time he smelled like chocolate. "I'm not sure you can eat this. It's made from moose."

She playfully smacked his arm. "No one keeps me from chocolate." It melted on her tongue, sweet and rich. Didn't chocolate have endorphins, some kind of chemical that made you horny?

Oh no, she was in trouble.

On second thought, it was something that made you happy. That was why people ate it when they were heartbroken. She hoped it wasn't the horny thing, 'cause she already had enough of that going on.

She leaned close to him this time, her lips brushing the shell of his ear when she whispered, "If you were my boyfriend, what exactly would you do to me behind these drapes to make me pant and moan? I'm just . . . curious. You know, the educating thing you were talking about earlier."

He gave her a wicked grin. "I'd have to show you."

"It's not like we could actually go behind the drapes. They're right next to the wall. It would be rather obvious. Just tell me." To fortify her canoe fantasies. It had been so long since she'd had sex, she wasn't sure she could fill in the part between the kissing and the sort-of satisfied feeling afterward.

His hand curled over her thigh beneath the table. "It's a show and not a tell kind of thing." He moved higher over the silky fabric.

"You wouldn't dare. Not with all these people right here."

"Oh, doll, what did I tell you about daring me to do something?"

Heat uncoiled deep in her tummy. "I wasn't daring you, exactly. Just pointing out how crazy that would be. How . . . impossible."

"Sounds like a dare to me." His hand slid down to her knee and slipped beneath her dress. The feel of his warm palm on her skin jolted her. Then he moved up. "The servers can't come up behind us because of the wall," he whispered, heat engulfing her ear. "The tablecloth is hiding what I'm doing. Not impossible at all."

"Risk," she whispered but wasn't sure if it was a plea for him to stop . . . or to continue.

"Yeah, baby," he said, louder this time, giving her his full attention. His fingers found the edge of her panties, sliding back and forth just beneath the edge. "You need something?"

She could only give him a long, slow nod. Even as a logical part of her brain screamed no. His hand slid beneath her panties, cupping her. A pleasurable warmth washed over her as his fingers nestled in her hair. He moved back and forth in a slow rhythm, his fingertips barely sliding over her throbbing clit. She pulled in a breath so suddenly that she started to cough.

"Are you all right, dear?" the lady across from her asked.

"I'm fine." Addie chugged half the glass of wine and calmed her cough reflex.

Risk continued moving, his finger sliding over her in slow circles. She realized she was still holding her fork—clutching it, really. Chocolate cake was not interesting anymore. She set the fork down; otherwise, she was sure she'd bend the damned thing. Or drop it on her plate. Her heart did a little pitter-patter thing, making it hard to breathe.

When Risk withdrew his hand, she thought he'd come to his senses. Her body was not happy about that prospect. No, it's good. Sane. But he slid to the side of her panties and jerked his finger. She felt the scrap of fabric fall away.

Oh my God, he'd just torn off her panties. Right there in the dining room of this lovely mansion. She might have worried about them falling to the floor, where a server would pick them up, thinking they were her napkin. Except that Risk was pulling her leg over to his thigh so that her legs were spread. When the air hit her, she realized she was wet. What was she, some wanton hussy?

Now that she was closer to him, he could make her crazy without moving his arm in any obvious way. He continued using his right hand to eat while it looked like his left hand was resting on his lap.

Oh, but it wasn't resting. His hand slid down her inner thigh, slowly, agonizingly making its way back to her apex. Hurry up, dammit.

Yep. She was a wanton hussy.

His fingers found her again, fluttering over every part of her at once. A symphony of sensations flowed through her, warm honey and hot lust. He was sliding leisurely over her folds. Everyone at the table receded into a haze. The orchestra became muted noise. He dipped one finger into her opening, pulling it nearly all the way out, then inserting even deeper.

"Coffee, ma'am?" The voice drifted from some distant place.

"We're good, thanks," Risk said, looking every bit like a man simply enjoying the evening. With a little of the cat-who-ate-the-canary look going on.

Oh, she was so good. And while he was stroking inside her, his thumb began sliding against her clit. The dual sensations rocked through her. Her fingers curled into the tablecloth; she was having trouble breathing. She was going to fall apart right there in a roomful of people. With her father two tables away.

She had to stop. This was madness. "Zucchini," she uttered on a breath, giving him a stern look. "Zucchini."

Then she realized everyone at the table had heard her.

Risk didn't stop moving that wicked hand of his as he addressed the puzzled faces. "She craves the weirdest things." He turned to her. "We'll get some zucchini from your garden when we get home."

She slapped her hand down on his thigh, gripping it hard and giving him an imploring look. Intense pleasure vibrated through her. Her breaths were coming in short pants.

"Addie, what do you grow in your garden?"

The question floated above her for a moment, then slowly penetrated. "Pardon?" she asked, trying to focus on the lady across the way, who was waiting for a response.

"Besides zucchini. I have a small garden . . . should have seen my tomatoes last year . . . radishes . . ."

The words became a buzz as pleasure overtook Addie. She tilted her head back, fixating on the crystal chandelier as her entire body quaked. The orgasm rocked through her like a freight train. "Oh my God!" shot out before she could restrain herself.

"Addie gets very excited about radishes," she heard Risk say. Bless him. And curse him!

The woman looked a little surprised. "And zucchini, apparently." She smiled. "It's good to see a young woman so enthusiastic about vegetables."

Her husband patted her leg. "Remember how excited you used to get when the first vegetables of the season started growing." He turned his attention to Addie. "This must be your first garden."

She pulled her leg back as the aftershocks pulsed through her. "Yes, it's definitely a first." She fanned her face. "It's warm in here."

The microphone squawked, and she heard her father's voice. "I hope you all enjoyed dinner. Someone seemed to enjoy it a lot more than the others."

The crowd tittered, and Addie flamed once more. Had the whole room heard her come? She didn't dare look at Risk, keeping her gaze on the small stage.

"As you know, my wife, Carol, started this dinner years ago in an effort to bring like-minded people together. I think it would be appropriate to ask my daughter, Adeline—Addie—to come up and say a few words."

All moisture fled Addie's throat. She blinked as the group applauded and started looking around for said daughter.

Her.

She was going to have to say a few words to this gathering when she had not one brain cell left. She pushed to her feet, and her torn panties dropped to the floor. Risk snatched them up and tucked them in his pocket.

No brain cells and no panties!

On wobbly legs, she made her way around the tables to the front, where her father gave her a peck on the cheek. He whispered, "Clear up the zoo misunderstanding while you're at it."

She stepped up to the podium and stared out at the sea of people. Normally she had no trouble talking to crowds or cameras. But all she could see was Risk, off to the side, looking sympathetic.

"Thank you all for coming." It was certainly my pleasure to come tonight. She gave her head a little shake to throw out those kinds of thoughts and talked about her mom's passion for philanthropy. Thank God her Animal Hugger persona stepped up and started rattling off what her organization was up to—minus the tiger-stealing attempt and threats to her life. She ignored the way the air flowed freely all around the still-throbbing, heated part of her, and ended with a succinct rebuttal of the wild accusations against her.

Her legs were rubbery as she made her way back to the table. Risk was applauding. "Nice recovery."

"Did I make any sense up there?"

"Perfect."

As she glowed under his compliment, it hit her: This was why she didn't get involved with men. She'd lost sight of her goals—to meet people who could support her organization or help her pass legislature.

No, you pretty much lost your mind.

And it had felt so good. "We can't do that again," she whispered as her father wrapped up his talk and invited the guests to mingle.

Risk rubbed the tips of his fingers together. "Don't be so negative. I could get you to come three or four more times."

Her body shivered at the thought, but her mind had taken over firmly. Nothing like being thrown in the spotlight to chase away both the afterglow and the wine buzz. "The only reason that happened was because you got me tipsy." She brushed her hair back from her face. "I can't believe I did that. Or that you did."

He arched an eyebrow. "The wine wasn't the only reason."

Before she could argue further, her father walked over. "You seemed a little distracted up there, but you did a good job." He turned to Risk. "And you must be making my daughter feel very safe. She looks . . ." He studied her for a moment. "Content. I've never seen her like that, with a glow on her face." He patted Risk's shoulder. "If you have something to do with that, keep it up."

"Yes, sir." When the general moved on, Risk turned to Addie, who was totally thrown off by her father's comment. "You heard him. That was an order."

"You're impossible. Just . . . impossible."

"Addie, you know better than to utter those words to me. Because I make the impossible happen."

###

## Chapter 9

Risk sat back in the rocking chair on Addie's porch, his feet propped up on the rail. His cold bottle didn't contain beer, like Saxby's and Knox's did. He was on duty. They hadn't turned on the light, so they could see the surrounding yard better. Only the spill of moonlight illuminated their silhouettes.

"Reminds me of old times," Sax said, tipping back his bottle. "Sitting outside, with the moon giving the landscape that weird two-dimensional look, making sure no nasty bastards are sneaking up."

Knox was quiet, as usual, staring off a thousand miles away. If he was troubled by his divorce, he hid it well. Then again, he'd always been in the shadows, even before they'd started killing people.

Risk drank his bottle of cherry soda, the sweetness prickling down his throat. He wasn't in the mood for reminiscing about the good old days. "It's nothing like old times." At the moment, he was all right with that. Maybe at peace for the first time since the mission had gone awry.

Sax chuckled. "I guess not. Guarding a vegetarian activist. That's priceless."

Hadn't he thought the same thing? "Yeah, priceless."

Addie had kept Risk at arm's length the rest of the evening and had retired early. Yeah, they were definitely a dangerous combination. He'd never done anything like that, gotten a woman off in a roomful of people that included her father. Hell, what was he thinking?

That she needed to get off. And that he wanted to be the one to do it. He was glad Sax and Knox had decided to hang out for the night instead of flying back to Miami. It allayed any temptation Risk might have to discuss with Addie what had happened. Or to have a repeat performance in private.

"She's a sweet number," Saxby said.

"Don't even go there." The order had come out a little harsh, and Sax would no doubt pick up on it. Even Knox pulled out of his thoughts and glanced over.

Sax lifted his hands. "Whoa, dude. Don't want to tread on your territory. I was just sayin'—"

"Well, don't say. She doesn't need some guy fucking with her head. Or any other part of her body." Including him. "She's only interested in her organization."

Sax laughed. "I think you've got a hard-on for her. Now, that's priceless. Risk wants the one woman who's not interested."

The old Risk would have relished telling them about his accomplishment that night. The outrageousness of it would floor them. But it was too personal. No, he'd keep that to himself, along with the fact that he did have a hard-on for her. And the panic on her face when her father had said how contented she looked with him. Risk thought that had rocked her more than the fact that she'd had an orgasm in a crowded room.

He definitely would not divulge that he had that scrap of silky fabric tucked into his pocket. Maybe it was a bit sick and twisted to be moving the fabric between his fingers and remembering how her breath had hitched when they were still on her.

Knox's feet hit the wood deck as a sound split the night air. "What the hell is that?"

"Hollywood," Risk said with a chuckle. "The resident ass. Meaning donkey."

Sax shook his head. "Guess you'd know that, being the farm boy and all."

"The only ass on our farm was my dad." Those were memories he definitely didn't want to revisit. "Addie's got a whole farm right here. Pigs, goats, horses, llamas. And she loves every one of them."

Knox settled back in the chair. "Everyone should have that thing that gets them out of bed every day."

"Isn't that why we joined The Justiss Alliance?" Saxby asked. "It was too hard to transition from fighting and strategizing to running a company."

Risk nodded. It was damned hard to fit back into the normal world. "Addie's as focused on her organization as we were in the SEALs. Everything else takes a backseat. Family. Relationships."

Sax shrugged. "Didn't interfere with my relationships."

"I don't count banging some woman you met in a bar as a relationship," Risk said. He turned to Knox. "Would you say being on the teams factored in to your divorce?"

"It didn't help." Knox wasn't elaborating. All he'd ever said was that he hadn't been the right guy for her. He'd let the cheating bitch off easy, if you asked Risk. But nobody was asking, and he wasn't probing.

Saxby finished his beer and set it on the railing. "Julian's coming to the compound tomorrow."

"Yeah? Is he in now?" Risk asked.

"Says he's checking it out, that doing nothing is driving him nuts."

Risk tapped his chest. "Guys like us, we need purpose. Remember how hard it was waiting for the next mission? Or the okay to deploy?" Even though they'd kept busy training, every guy on the team had known they were essentially waiting. They'd lived for the adrenaline rush of getting the word. "So you two must be getting antsy."

"A bit," Saxby said. "I can spell you for a couple of days. Must be tough being on duty twenty-four/seven."

"You're not horning in on my assignment, buddy." Or my woman. Risk blinked. Where had that come from?

Sax chuckled. "You definitely got a hard-on for her."

Damn, how had he figured that? Risk knew better than to out-and-out deny it. "I like her. She has a good heart."

Saxby gave him an exaggerated nod. "Sure, you like her. For her goodness. 'Cause that's what you're after in a woman."

He was talking about the old Risk. It hit Risk then, that he was referring to an old Risk. Which meant there was a new one. What did the new one want?

One of those bridal posters popped into his mind. The shock of it nearly made him lose his grip on his bottle. But hadn't he felt a whiff of longing when Knox was video-chatting with his then-wife when things were going well? While the guys had teased him about the "Love you, honeys," hadn't they all been hiding a smidgen of jealousy?

Risk had spent a few days with his brother and wife, watching them trade heated looks. Glancing touches. Muffled giggles from their bedroom late at night that had him flopping around in bed like a fish on land. Not just sex but real intimacy.

"Chase says he's working on assignments for both of us, but he's not spilling on the details," Sax said.

"Yeah, he's a tight-lipped bastard. Watch out for that."

Knox chuckled. "Like assigning us to guard vegetarian activists? I want something a little meatier than that, no offense."

Risk shook his head, a smile on his face. "None taken. I thought the same thing—he's got me on babysitting duty? Hell. But it's more challenging than I ever could have imagined." Especially the whole you-can't-fall-for-a-client thing.

Knox propped his boots up on the railing. "I'm going home to Montana tomorrow to help with the cattle branding. I promised the family I'd be around for that, but hopefully I'll have an assignment soon."

"And while the cowboy over there gets to play rodeo, I'll be hanging with Julian at the estate, shooting in the range, hitting the beach." Sax's rubbing-it-in grin faded. "Okay, I'm jonesing to get back to work."

Addie's phone rang with the song about getting a little bit closer. Risk's inclination was to hover outside her window to ascertain if it was something he needed to be in on. That would be an invasion of her privacy, so he waited. He heard her voice but not what she was saying. It had a strange effect on him, like eating a hot meal after living on MREs—meals ready to eat—in the desert for a week.

A few minutes later, she stepped out onto the porch. She wore pajama bottoms and a tank top; he couldn't see much of her face because of the shadows. He stood, as his mom had taught him to when a woman entered a space. Sax and Knox did the same.

"Hey, guys." She came to a stop a few feet from Risk, as though she didn't trust herself to get too close. He could see her tousled hair now, the moonlight on her nose and chin. She seemed to take him in, shirtless, her gaze drifting down to his feet, then back to his face. "Reminiscing?"

"A bit," he said. About you, doll. "Did you hear from your college informant?"

"Yes. He said there were lights on but the blinds were all drawn. We should check it out." She took a quick, agitated breath. "Can we check it out?"

He wondered if she could see his grin. He liked having control over her. When would she call in her marker and order him around? Now, that was something to think about. Hell, if it didn't make him harder. "We'll head out in the morning," he said.

"Need any backup?" Sax asked.

"We're just checking out the facility. If we find something, I'll call Chase to send you in."

She gave a nod, wrapped her arms around herself, and headed back to the door. "Good night," she called before closing the door.

Oh, buddy. He should take a break from her. But he wouldn't. Couldn't. It felt like he was sliding down a slippery slope. And he wasn't sure he wanted to stop.

###

## Chapter 10

Risk was frying eggs when Addie wandered into the kitchen. She looked deliciously sleepy and rumpled, as though the scent of food had drawn her directly from bed, like a sleepwalker. He didn't need or expect a woman to look all made up first thing in the morning. He knew some who did, sneaking out of bed early to put on their makeup.

"Morning, sunshine," he said.

She stopped, obviously taken aback.

"What?" he asked.

"That just sounds so . . . intimate."

There was that word again.

"Like we just had a night of crazy, hot sex?"

"Yeah, like that."

Would you like to? Luckily he hadn't spoken the words. He shrugged. "It's an innocent morning greeting, nothing more."

She arched an eyebrow. "There's nothing innocent about you, Rick Yarbrough." Her gaze went to the holster at his waist and then skipped away from it. She peered into the pan and inhaled, closing her eyes briefly. "No one's made me breakfast in I don't know how long." She pushed her lower lip out in a pout. "Your eggs look a lot prettier than mine."

"Yes, they do. But yours tasted just fine."

"Where are your friends?"

"They headed out first thing this morning."

She opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Then remained standing by the closed door looking at his new arrangement of magnetic words:MINDLESS CRAVINGS ABOVE AND BEYOND. She shot him a look of mock pique. "You've been playing with my words."

He winked. "I've been playing with more than that, doll."

Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. "Yeah, we need to talk about that."

"Finally. I thought you were going to pretend it didn't happen. It was outrageous, that's what you're going to say, right?" He hefted the pan and flipped the eggs, then set them back on the heat.

She pulled down two glasses from the cabinet and leaned her hip against the counter. "It was, yes."

"And inappropriate."

"Definitely and—"

"The best sex you've had in a while."

"Because I haven't had any in a while."

He killed the heat and moved closer. "And you loved it."

She stepped back and pulled two plates down from another cabinet. "You're not letting me talk about it."

He lowered his chin. "No, I'm not. But that was a pretty close, right?"

"Well—"

"And you're going to say we can't do it again, that I interfered with your purpose for the evening."

"Yeah, pretty much. Thank you for putting it so succinctly. I probably would have rambled on until I got to the point." She held out her plate. "Just one egg for me, please."

He slipped one egg on her plate, then set a piece of toast beside it. He slid his eggs on his plate and cut his piece of toast into four thin sticks.

"Pretending they're French toast?" she asked, taking her plate to the table.

"I'm pretending they're bacon."

She shook her head as she returned to the kitchen and poured two glasses of orange juice. "What are you, obsessed with bacon?"

"Yes. Why, yes, I am. There's something about those crispy, wavy strips, fresh out of the grease. Even the fat tastes good. But I can make do with the toast." Their fingers brushed as he took the glass of orange juice from her.

She sat down, cut into her egg, and dipped the toast into the soft yolk. "I saw a human-interest piece on television about a couple who had a bacon wedding. The men had bacon boutonnieres, and the bride had a bacon bouquet. They had bacon on their cake, and guests threw bacon bits instead of rice." She gave him an amazing smile that created dimples at the sides of her mouth. "I guess you could say it was love at first pork."

He groaned even as he grinned. "But I like the idea." Was he really saying that he liked the idea of a wedding? Any kind of wedding?

She took a couple bites of egg and chased them down with orange juice. "This is great. Thanks for breakfast. And by the way, last night . . . thanks for—"

"It was my pleasure." And oh, buddy, he meant that.

She slapped her hands down on the table. "Would you stop interrupting me? Sheesh. I'm not talking about that. I meant not trying to tempt me with your steak. Some people do that, floating it in front of my nose."

He planted his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his joined hands. "Were you tempted by my steak, Addie?"

Those cheeks flushed again. "Why do I think you're not talking about what was on your plate?"

"Oh, I am. Thing is, you were eying it with a dash of longing. You've looked at me like that, too. But back to the steak: I respect your preferences even if I disagree. I respect your wishes, too. If you don't want me to touch you, I won't." Because he shouldn't. Even so, the question "Do you want me to touch you?" popped out.

Though her mouth worked, nothing came out. Then finally, "No. Yes. No, absolutely not. I can't go there."

"Good. I'm glad you said that, because we need to keep this professional." Even though I know you're lying.

After taking another bite, she asked, "Where are my panties?" She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and shook her head. "God, that sounded bad. Oh yeah, because it was bad!"

He pulled the bit of fabric out of his pocket and handed it to her. She grabbed it and tucked it away in her lap. "Please tell me you had them in there intending to give them to me and for no other reason."

"Okay."

"That did not sound like a definitive answer. It sounded like an 'I'm going to tell her what she wants to hear' answer."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his stomach, giving her a contrite look. "You interrupted me. What I was going to say was okay, I'm a sick puppy. I like running my fingers over the fabric and remembering how you felt beneath it."

Her mouth dropped open for a moment. "You're serious."

He held out his hand in a gimme gesture. "I'll take them back if you don't want them anymore."

She shook her head and finished the last bite of egg. "I don't even know how to deal with you."

"I can give you some instruction." When she looked totally flummoxed, he added, "I'm only teasing you." The lie relaxed her, and she finished her toast without any further blushing. He leaned his head back and rubbed his hand over his face. "Addie, you do crazy things to me. Provocative stuff just rolls out of my mouth. And clearly I do crazy things to you, too. We're a dangerous combination. I promise, I'll be on my best behavior from now on." He could swear she looked disappointed. It was probably his imagination. "Thing is, I need to focus if I'm going to keep you safe. I don't want to screw up, and I don't want to let Chase down. Even though he didn't expressly forbid sexual relationships between his J-Men—that's what we're called—and clients, I'm sure it would be frowned upon."

She took her plate to the sink, rinsing and setting it in the dishwasher. Her ass jiggled nicely with her scrubbing motion. Risk, you gotta stop noticing that kind of thing.

He brought the glasses to the sink. "I mapped out the route to Callowell, North Carolina, last night. It will take about four hours to reach the college. Maybe a little longer in the van, which I assume you'll want to take in case the tiger's there."

"Definitely. I can store plenty of food and any vitamins and medicines he may immediately require."

"And I'm driving."

"But—"

"Remember, I'm in charge. You follow my orders."

"Control freak." But she didn't look all that annoyed.

"Truth is, I can't stand sitting in the passenger seat, twiddling my thumbs. You take a shower first, then I'll get mine, and we'll head out."

One of the things Chase had taught them was not to take a shower at the same time as your client. Unless, of course, you were taking a shower with your client. But no, that would be a bad idea.

A very bad idea, he told his body, which was responding to the thought.

He cleaned up the kitchen and tried not to imagine Addie naked in the shower. Hell, it hadn't been that long since he'd had sex. No way should he be this horny. He was twenty-nine, not some oversexed teenage boy.

She emerged a half hour later, smelling clean and fresh, her hair damp. He wanted to run his fingers through the strands to help them dry more. She was in white shorts and a blue-and-white-striped shirt. Nothing overtly sexy, but he wanted to pull her into his arms at the mere sight of her.

"I'll grab my shower, and then we're out of here," he said.

The shower was nice and cool. No cold shower for him. He'd done that enough during his military time—cold water, lukewarm coffee, and tepid food. She'd let him use her bathroom, and the soap and shampoo smelled just like her. Not flowery, but definitely not masculine. She didn't have a ton of products piled up on her shower shelf or on her bathroom counter. He liked that, too, that she didn't go to any trouble to be something she wasn't. Except with her father.

His gun sat on the counter, condition one in the SERPA holster. After digging around in his bag, he pulled on his briefs. "Son of a bitch!"

"What's wrong?" Addie called from the other side of the door.

He opened the door and turned sideways to show her the big square hole cut into the back of his black boxer shorts. "Sax got me with my own prank. The boys on the team, we were always playing practical jokes on each other. I was the one who cut holes and told them it was air-conditioning."

She shook her head. "You guys are just weird."

"It was a way to relieve the tension. Damn, I'm off my game."

"Is that the scar you were talking about at dinner?"

The question made him realize he was standing in his skivvies with half his ass showing. He faced her. "Yeah."

Her soft gaze was on his chest. She walked closer, touching a scar just south of his nipple. "Is this from the war?" Her gentle touch rippled through him.

"Just a graze from a bullet."

She drew her finger down to an old scar across his right ab. "And this?"

"Jumped from the barn roof into a stack of hay when I was a kid. Didn't know there was a rake buried in it."

She was taking in his body, studying every contour. She touched the scar on his arm that he'd shown her at the gas station. "I can't imagine facing a guy with a knife."

He shrugged. "You get numbed to people trying to kill you after a while,."

She met his gaze. "Thank you. For your service," she added when he obviously didn't understand. "For the time you spent, for every scar you incurred. My father wouldn't talk about his scars or what he went through when he was in combat. But hearing you, seeing the evidence of what you sacrificed, brings it home to me."

He'd never heard more heartfelt gratitude, and it stirred him deep inside. "It was my honor."

She brushed the scar on his chest again with her fingertip. "All those times you almost died for a reason . . . I'm glad you didn't." She seemed to struggle to step back and leave.

He was glad she had, because he had been that close to pulling her up against him and tasting that gratitude firsthand.

If Addie had ever considered going back to college, Callowell would be a great place to go. The downtown bustled with cafés, music shops, and lots of mini-parks where students studied or shared a cup of coffee. Once Risk found a parking spot, she said, "You're going to stay a few feet away, right?"

"Are you sure that's wise?" He turned off the engine.

"Gil's timid, shy. You would totally intimidate him."

Risk hitched his thumb toward his chest. "Li'l ole me?"

She gave him a playful push, her hand briefly molding to the contours of hard muscle. Which reminded her of how mushy she'd gotten at the sight of the scars on his body. Focus, Addie! "You need to stay a few feet behind and act like you're not with me when we approach the café."

He looked intimidating even when he furrowed his eyebrows. "And who's in charge here, exactly?"

She tilted her head. "You are, O master of war and strategy."

The grin that broke out on his face wasn't intimidating at all. "I like the sound of that. Can you say it again?"

She punched his arm. "Focus, Yarbrough."

His grin didn't waver. "You think I'm intimidating?"

She took the opportunity to let her gaze drift down over him. "If I were a geeky guy who weighed about a hundred and twenty pounds, yeah, totally. Just to be clear, you don't intimidate me." Tempted her, turned her on, but no intimidation there.

"Good, because that's not my goal. But just because this guy is wimpy or geeky doesn't mean he's harmless. Hell, I faced down a hundred-pound teenager aiming an AK-47 at me. You can't judge a person by his skinny exterior."

"But Gil isn't a suspect. It's his boss I'm concerned about."

"Gil isn't a likely suspect. That's all I'm willing to allow. The guy's a perpetual student, hasn't held down a job other than on campus."

"You checked him out?"

"Of course. And I know you're wondering, so I'll tell you: He has no criminal past. On the surface he seems all right." He tapped his temple. "It's what's going on in here that concerns me."

"I wasn't wondering. Three feet away." She held up three fingers and then exited the van. Forcing him to get out and follow her. It was nice to have a little bit of power for a change.

She spotted Gil at one of the outdoor café tables and waved. He jumped up and dashed over. His skinny arms wrapped around her, and he nearly lifted her off the ground. "It's so good to see you! I've missed you."

She really couldn't say the same, in all honesty. She liked him and admired his tenacity in helping her to expose the university lab. But he was too clingy. She patted his back and wrangled herself out of his hold. "It's good to see you, too."

He led her by the hand to the table, even pushing in her chair for her. "I ordered you a caramel macchiato, your favorite. Gosh, it's just like old times, sitting here conspiring, heads together, whispering." His hands were clamped over her arm, and she tried to free herself. Gil's gaze zeroed in on something behind her, something that worried him. Something tall. Something Risk, no doubt.

She turned to see Risk standing right behind her and then, of all things, pulling out the chair next to hers and plopping down. He thrust his hand out to Gil. "Nice to meet you. I'm Risk."

Gil's hand was swallowed in Risk's grip, and he winced, probably at the strength of it. "W-who are you?"

Addie wanted to do things to Risk under the table, but they wouldn't make him smile or gasp. She shot him a look before returning her attention to Gil. "Risk is my b—boyfriend." She didn't want to identify him as her bodyguard.

Gil's gaze bounced between her and Risk. His voice sounded petulant when he said, "You always told me that you were too busy and dedicated to your organization to have a boyfriend."

She gave him a forced smile. "Yeah. I did. I can't really explain how I ended up having one." That was the truth. Clearly Risk was getting way too comfortable in the boyfriend role. She was going to have to set him straight.

Gil started to grab for her hand, flicked a glance to Risk, then let his fingers rest on the tabletop. "You haven't said anything about a boyfriend on your Facebook page."

She patted his hand. "Let's move past the boyfriend issue, shall we? I'm not here to discuss my love life, I'm here to talk about a missing tiger cub. You saw suspicious activity in the defunct lab?"

"Yeah, but I figured we'd be investigating together, you know, just the two of us."

"Let's focus on the current situation," she said. "What did you see?"

"Pretty much what I told you. There were lights on inside the lab, people whispering inside. I thought we could have dinner and figure out a plan. Alone."

Addie had to fight from rolling her eyes. What was it about men, anyway? One wasn't listening to her, and the other one was all about reminiscing, just the two of them. "You can see how that would be inappropriate, going off with you and leaving Risk all by himself."

Risk leaned forward, his hands braced on his thighs. "We can go over the plan right here. So how's Maynard been acting lately? Has he been secretive, cagey?"

Gil shifted his gaze to her. "You know how he is, always a little off. Walks around like he's got a pencil up his butt." He did a bang-up imitation that made Addie giggle, down to the way the man clutched his satchel to his chest as though someone might steal it. "Remember how we could hardly not laugh?"

Risk did not appear amused. Hah. Served him right.

She cleared her throat. "So nothing out of the norm?"

Gil noticed Risk's expression, and all of his animation fled. "Not a thing." He opened a leather briefcase and pulled out some sketches, which he laid on the table. "Here's the layout of the lab, as you'll recall. When we undertook our operation, we came in through the exterior door here." He pointed to a door. "I checked. The doors were locked, even when the lights were on. So we'll have to come in through the sciences building here. We're not supposed to go in after hours, but I have a key card." He whipped out a sketch showing the floor plan. "We'll come in through the administration side, down the hallway here, and take this interior door to the lab." Another glance at Risk. "But I can't get him in."

Risk leaned in closer. "She goes nowhere without me."

Addie patted his arm. "He's a bit insecure. Won't let me out of his sight."

Gil lowered his voice. "Addie, I'm already not supposed to be bringing you in. Especially after what you did. I could get into big trouble."

"I know," she said. "And I appreciate that, I do, but—"

"She goes nowhere without me," Risk repeated. To punctuate that he was brooking no further argument, he crossed his arms over his chest, sat back in the chair, and widened his legs.

Addie could only roll her eyes. What a caveman. "So where do we meet?"

Risk studied the two sketches as she and Gil made plans to rendezvous behind the lab. Gil snatched the plans and hurried off to class.

Addie swung around to Risk. "What are you doing?"

"That guy's squirrelly. Talk about out of the norm."

"And you didn't trust me to be three feet away with him? What did you think he was going to do, shove me into his coffee cup and run?"

"No, I expected him to try to ditch me so he could be alone with you, which he did. The guy's so gone for you, it's pitiful. Did you two bang each other when you were involved in the first investigation?"

Her mouth dropped open. "No! I wasn't even thinking about him that way."

"Mark my word, he's thinking about you that way. He's using your affiliation to bring you close. And you fell for it."

Addie could only sputter. "So gone for me? Don't be ridiculous. He's just excited about the prospect of being involved in a conspiracy. He got a taste of adrenaline and wants more, that's all."

"The guy's hot for you. He was majorly disappointed when you said I was your boyfriend. How can you not see it? You really don't see it, do you? Remind me to make it very clear if I fall for you, because you don't have a clue about men."

"You being a player and all, I guess you're an expert on these matters." She planted her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her upturned palm. "So enlighten me. What does it mean when a guy diddles you under the table?"

"It means he could see how much you needed to be diddled." He'd grimaced at the last word. "Keep your mind—and eyes—open on this guy. I don't trust him."

###

## Chapter 11

They found a wings-and-beer restaurant a short drive from the college. It was one of those places that should have been called a boobs-and-really-short-shorts restaurant, as far as Addie was concerned. Interestingly, Risk didn't seem to notice, or if he did—of course he did—he was being very discreet about it.

"You have this boyfriend thing down pat," she said, taking a sip of her iced tea.

"How's that?" He settled back in his chair across from her, his full attention on her.

"You haven't ogled the waitresses. Even the real boyfriends are visually straying."

He glanced around as though just noticing all the hotties. Still, she saw no interest flare in his eyes. Then he turned back to her. "I used to go for that type, yeah. Now, not so much."

"See, that's what the perfect boyfriend would do and say. At least I think he would."

"Knox was my role model for how a committed guy with self-respect acted. Never once did he come close to straying or even flirting. I have to admit, I like playing the part of the boyfriend. Damn, Addie, don't look like I just proposed. I'm just saying I like the part."

She checked her expression. Panic. Good thing he couldn't know how her heart had jumped or the way her blood had heated up about ten degrees. Addie, get away from that subject. "Well, you have the overprotective, overbearing part down pat."

"Good, since that's my job."

What she'd wanted was an apology, maybe a speck of contriteness. She should have known better.

They paid the bill and wandered down a set of wooden steps to a small observation deck that overlooked a river. Pop music poured out of the speakers, and a cool breeze fanned up from the water flowing over the rocks several feet below. She settled against the railing, all too aware of Risk beside her.

"Addie, I should let one of the other Justiss guys take over for me."

She spun to face him, feeling panic of a different sort. "Why?"

"Don't you think it's a good idea? Considering?"

"You saved my life. You're overpro— I mean protective and competent."

"The problem is, I'm pretty sure it's not right to want to do this with my client." He drew his finger down below her chin and tilted it up. "Or this." He covered her mouth with his, moving slowly back and forth. She automatically opened to his kiss, and it was the most natural thing for her tongue to touch his.

He let out a low groan, sliding his hands down her backside and cupping her behind. "Or this," he murmured, pulling her flush against his pelvis. And his rock-hard erection. He buried his face in her neck, making her shiver. "I want to make you gasp and pant when you can enjoy yourself and not have to make conversation about vegetables." His mouth found her ear, sucking on the lobe. "I want to taste you this time." His tongue traced the edge of her ear, making her gasp as she imagined it on other parts of her body.

She felt a flutter at her diaphragm, in her heartbeat. "Risk, I—"

"Don't want this, I know, don't want a guy muddling your mind. And oh, do I want to muddle your mind. I can't stop, Addie, so you have to say the word."

Which was damned hard to do when he was sucking down the side of her neck. She pushed out, "You keep interrupting me."

"See how rude I am. Obnoxious, even." He reached the crook of her neck. "Here I am, ravishing you with probably a hundred college kids watching, and I don't care."

The sound of conversation, punctuated by laughter, drifted from the restaurant. She cracked an eye to see for herself, but the restaurant and decks filled with people were blocked by layers of lush green maple leaves. "They can't see us. There's a tree in the way."

"That's not what you're supposed to be telling me, doll."

She managed a soft laugh as his gentle nip on her shoulder sent chills right through her. "You're worried about college kids watching after what you did to me during a formal dinner?"

He chuckled, low and husky. "Yeah, I guess you're right. See, I have no sense of propriety. If I were you, I'd shove me back and tell me what a Neanderthal I am."

"Since you like to put words in my mouth, I don't need to." She shivered as his lips moved up the front of her throat.

"I'd like to put more than words in your mouth." His fingers squeezed her butt, hoisting her even closer. "See how crude I am? I'd smack me, tell me to bug off."

She would have if her imagination hadn't been supplying erotic images of that hard steel rod gripped in her hand, her thumb sliding over the slick tip, her mouth making him gasp and groan the same way he'd done to her. So in the end, all she did was make murmuring noises as his mouth found hers again.

His hands slid down to her wrists, and he anchored them at her sides. "Addie, why in the name of all that's good and proper aren't you stopping me?" With a heavy breath, he stepped back. "Or at least invoking the name of a phallic veggie?"

Her body tingled everywhere he'd touched and kissed and even places he hadn't. It took some effort to pull her thoughts together. She was surprised he wasn't telling her what she was thinking. "Wait a minute. You wanted me to stop you?"

"We both know we shouldn't be doing the tongue tango. Since I obviously can't control myself around you, I was counting on you to be the levelheaded one. Because whatever this is between us clearly distresses you. I saw the panic in your eyes when I mentioned liking the boyfriend role. And I get it. I'm the steak you shouldn't want, and it's tying you up in knots. I like you, Addie, and I hate that I'm stressing you out. I also like my job. I don't want to mess it up."

She managed to pull back, even when she wanted to lean forward and feel all of that hard, muscular body. "You make a good point. We both have a lot to lose. But I don't want anyone else to protect me. Sure, there's an . . . attraction between us." Small understatement, but that sounded better than fiery lust combined with genuine affection. "Come on, we're adults. With discipline. You of all people should have loads of that. So we just control ourselves." She arched an eyebrow. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

He rubbed his forehead. "That's the problem, Addie. I don't want to get rid of you at all."

Discipline. Control. Risk grunted as he drove into the heart of the campus. Addie was right. He should have boo-coops of both. He'd spent hours holding one position in the dark while a group of terrorists passed within yards, waiting for the right opportunity and not taking the first one. He'd survived the grueling BUD/S training. So why was one woman making him lose his head?

Or your heart?

He blinked at those unbidden words. Yeah, it was more than lust or infatuation that he felt for Addie. He wasn't sure how much more, though. Thinking about going further with her was like standing at the edge of a cliff. Would he feel the same as he did after a BASE jump, ready to move on to the next adventure? Which would really muddle her mind. Or would he get addicted to one slightly neurotic vegetarian animal rights activist?

Addie referred to her map as she pointed at one of the many large brick buildings. "It's right after Mandella Hall."

He passed the School of Medicine building as he got into the right lane. The campus was picture-perfect, with its planters of flowers, low stone walls, and precise landscaping. Students of all ages wandered down well-lit sidewalks or congregated under the shelter of bus stops.

He turned in to a near-empty parking lot of a one-story building identified as the Hallman Sciences Lab. Gil stepped out from around the corner and waved them toward a jog between that building and the next, where the van would be inconspicuous. Especially since the security lights didn't reach the area.

If they found the tiger in the lab, they'd call the police. Once the authorities cleared the scene, Risk and Addie would take the tiger to the refuge. Risk got out and walked around to the front, where Gil was telling Addie he'd already ascertained that the admin staff were all gone for the day. He conveyed his unhappiness at Risk's presence with a combination sulk/sneer. More than displeasure, actually, which corroborated Risk's suspicion that the guy had it for Addie.

They followed Gil wordlessly to the door he'd shown them on his floor plan. He pulled out a key card and tried to jam it in the slot. The guy was nervous, his hands shaking. He finally got it and, as with a hotel room lock, a green light lit up. Gil slid the card back into his pocket as he turned the doorknob. He gestured for Risk to precede him into the dimly lit hallway.

Risk assessed what he could see as he stepped up to the open doorway. Then a surge of electricity rocketed through him. He convulsed, every muscle clenching while black dots flashed in front of his eyes. What the—

Taser. Gil had Tasered him. And the son of a bitch was going to hit him again. He saw it coming, the black device clutched in Gil's hand, but Risk couldn't do a damned thing to stop it. Another jolt liquefied his knees and sent him to the ground. As his thoughts scattered and his body shook, he reached for his Glock.

Addie's scream was cut short when Gil hit her with the Taser, too and pushed her through the open doorway. Risk tried to lift the gun, but Gil stepped on his wrist with his black-and-white sneakers. Then he jammed his hand into Risk's pocket and snagged his keys.

"Help!" Gil screamed. "Guy with a gun! Call campus security!"

Risk heard other people shoot into panic mode. Screams. Footsteps running away. He could see his hand on the gun but couldn't move his finger on the trigger. Not that it mattered; he'd never get a good shot off while he was thrashing around like a fish out of water. Worse, he might hit an innocent person.

The door closed behind Gil. Where was Addie? She'd fallen inside the building. Oh, hell. His body was out of control, his mind barely able to string thoughts together. It did string together one thought: Two men in uniform were aiming guns at him.

He released his gun and pushed it away from him. It took everything in him to push out the words "K-kidnapped. Woo . . . wooman." He pointed to the door where that freak had taken Addie.

One of the campus cops swiped the gun while the other rolled him facedown in the grass and cuffed him. Risk couldn't put up one iota of resistance, though his mind fought.

He heard a voice intone, "We have an inebriated male by Building F. Armed. Was armed," he added. "Call in reinforcements."

"I'm not nee . . . nebriated." Good God, he could barely talk. Having his mouth pushed into the grass wasn't helping. "Tasered."

"We know you're tired," the other guy said. "It's probably been a long night. Started drinking early, huh? We're giving you a ride to someplace nice and comfy."

Risk rolled over, rage flooding his face with heat. "A woman's . . . kidnapped . . . you idiot. Gil Sanderson . . . student, just took her in there." He jerked his head to the door. "I'm her bodyguard." Amazing what a little anger could do. Or maybe the Taser's effects were beginning to wear off.

In the flashing blue lights, it was hard to tell whether the guy was taking him seriously. It quickly became obvious. "Not much of a bodyguard if you're on the ground and she's in there, are you? Look, we'll get this all straightened—"

"Get in that God-blasted building right now!" Risk raged, trying to get to his knees.

One of the men aimed a gun at him while the other walked to the window and peered in. "I don't see anything."

"Take it easy there, buddy," the gun wielder said.

"I can't take it easy, you knucklehead. Gil hauled her into the lab, the one that got shut down. My ID's in my wallet. I work for The Justiss Alliance." He tilted his hips so they could extract his wallet. "Call the number on the back. Chase Justiss will verify."

Then Chase would no doubt fire him. But not before Risk found Addie. Fear pounded through him at the thought of her. Gil looked harmless, if a bit weaselly, but he obviously was far from it. Risk had way miscalculated the guy's intentions. He'd thought Gil was in love with her, not in cahoots with the bad guys.

The cop pulled out Risk's wallet and opened it. "It does say he's an associate of The Justiss Alliance, whatever that is."

"Private security firm," Risk said, what he was supposed to tell anyone who had a need to know. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted to the guy peering in the window. "Get the hell in there and find her!"

The cop jumped, then used his key card to open the door.

"Be careful," Risk called. "The guy's armed with a Taser, and he may have two thugs helping him." And who knew what else? Then he remembered something and turned to face the second cop, who still had the gun aimed at him. "He took my keys." Panic suffused him. Gil was going to take her off campus. "See if there's a white van parked behind the lab."

Sirens pierced the air. The police. Get here. Quick.

The cop who'd gone inside the building came back. "The lights are on in the lab, but no one's in there. The back door was open."

Risk asked, "Was there a white van out back?"

"Nope."

He'd taken her. Risk had failed, and the son of a bitch had taken her.

Two cop cars screeched into the parking lot. They were either going to help—or make matters worse.

Pain and shock seized Addie as Gil dragged her down the slick hallway. Her mouth wouldn't work, wouldn't utter words like "What are you doing? Are you crazy?" She thought she might get sick, not only from whatever that thing he'd touched her with had done, but from the sight of Risk convulsing on the ground.

Gil must be the one behind the attack. He was breathlessly uttering something as he neared the door at the end of the hallway, though she couldn't hear over the buzzing in her head. A sign on the door announced that the lab was closed indefinitely and to see Dean Williams for permission to enter. Obviously Gil didn't need permission, because he slid his card into the lock and opened the door.

Fluorescent bulbs washed the lab in the harsh light when Gil flicked them on. Empty cages lined the walls, but none held a sorry little tiger cub. Or any other animal. What was he going to do with her? She tried to fight him, but her muscles had turned to cooked pasta. He pulled her to a door at the far end of the lab marked EXIT. He pushed that open and dragged her outside . . . right to her van.

It took him several minutes to strap her into the passenger seat, because she kept drooping to the floor. He managed to buckle her in, sat in the driver's seat, and started the van.

She saw blue flashing lights coming from somewhere. Gil was muttering faster. He glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road that led out of the campus. "You'll thank me for this later."

Say what? In no way could she imagine thanking him. Yes, he was crazy. She tried to gather her thoughts, but they did no good in a mouth that wouldn't work. Her lips were two floppy things that did little more than mash together and mumble. He was still holding that little black device. A Taser, obviously. He'd used it on her and Risk. To get her away and do what with her? Was he working with Maynard? Where were the two thugs?

A few minutes later, Gil pulled up to a small house in what appeared to be a nice little neighborhood. "Sorry about this," he said. Before she could try to ask what he was sorry about, it became glaringly apparent—he Tasered her again. Then he ran around the other side, unbuckled her, and helped her to his door. A neighbor was sweeping her porch but stopped to watch. Addie tried to say, Help me.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sanchez," Gil called out pleasantly, even if his voice sounded strained. "My girlfriend had a few too many margaritas."

Addie tried to shake her head, imploring the woman with her eyes. The woman shook her head in disgust and went back to sweeping. Addie was escorted into the house. He ushered her to an eat-in kitchen and eased her onto one of the two chairs. The sight of the duct tape lying on the table sent her heartbeat rocketing. Especially when he took the roll, fumbled with scissors as he cut off a length of it, then wrapped her wrists together. He knelt down and attached each of her ankles to the legs of the chair with more tape. He ran into the living room and turned on the television. Loud. Where were the thugs? Or the man behind this?

Gil returned, and maybe she was a bit delusional, but she swore he looked almost apologetic. "I know you think this is extreme, but once the Taser wears off and you stop wanting to kill me, you'll see why I had to take this desperate action." He leaned closer, his nose almost next to hers as he stared into her eyes. "So I'll explain now."

She finally got her mouth to work. "You lied about the lab activity to lure me here." Her words were slightly slurred, but she thought they were intelligible.

"Yes." He released a contrite breath as he pulled the other chair close and sat down facing her. "You stopped answering my e-mails."

Whaaa? What did that have to do with Maynard wanting her dead? She decided to play along. "You sent me four a day. I told you I don't have time to chat."

"Just a page or two about your day would have sufficed. But all I got at the end was a hi. I wrote you ten-page letters, and you spared me one word. What am I suppose to do with that, Addie?" He awkwardly pulled her bound hands into his. "I missed our time together. So when you asked, yes, I fibbed about there being activity. Maynard doesn't even work here anymore. He left two months ago."

Risk had been right. Gil liked her. Liked her. But in an insane kind of way. "And you planned to kidnap me all along?"

He laughed as though that were the most preposterous idea he'd ever heard. "Of course not."

"No, of course. How silly of me to think it. That came later?" Keep him calm and talking. She surreptitiously searched the kitchen for something she could use as a weapon. What looked like a cast-iron pan sat on the stovetop. Now to get loose.

"When I saw your boyfriend, I was heartbroken. Big, handsome, not at all the kind of guy I thought you'd go for." He gave her a disappointed shake of his head. "Then I saw that Mr. Steroids was a bully. He had you under his control, kowtowing and scared. When you looked in my eyes, you were pleading for my help. Since he wouldn't let you out of his sight, I had to get creative." He gave her a brilliant smile. "Smart, huh?"

She dropped her head for a moment, relief rushing through her. "Smart isn't exactly the word I'd use."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you the plan in advance. I'm sure I scared you."

"Scared, also not the word I would use." At least not without shitless attached to it. She blew out a breath, dislodging the lock of hair over her eye. "I wasn't pleading for your help, Gil. Risk isn't really my boyfriend. He's my bodyguard. The boyfriend story is our cover because I don't want to go around telling everyone I have a bodyguard."

Gil blinked as he tried to assimilate that. "He's . . . your bodyguard."

"Yes. Someone is trying to kill me. And at this moment, you are suspect number one. You need to get me back. Now."

Panic fluttered across his face. "He'll kill me. You know those steroid guys—a bodyguard, oh geez—he'll go berserko on me."

She wouldn't mention his military background. "He doesn't take steroids. He just looks big compared to you. But you did Taser him. Maybe if you take me back right away, apologize, and explain . . ."

Gil lurched to his feet so fast, the chair fell back. "I made him look like one of those gun-wielding wackos." He rubbed his forehead as he paced. "When he pulled his gun, I screamed. Everyone's so on edge with all these campus shootings."

Addie tried to wiggle her hands free. The thought of Risk being held at gunpoint, maybe getting shot by some paranoid campus cop, froze her. "Let me call him, so we can set the record straight." She wanted to tell Gil how nuts, not extreme, this had been. But instinctively, she knew that would panic him. "Gil. Look at me, Gil. It'll be fine. Risk is a good guy. He'll understand." The first part of that was true. "But the sooner we can get this cleared up, the better."

He nodded, then went digging in a kitchen drawer for a pair of scissors. When he returned, he stood in front of her with the points facing her. "Addie, you know I only did this for your own good, right?"

"Yes, Gil, you're a very nice person." Damn, that was hard to say.

"I'm going to get into big trouble, aren't I? I didn't think it through, really. When I saw you and him, something snapped. I thought you were in danger."

"Gil, cut me loose already!" She couldn't do the gentle thing anymore. She needed to get back to Risk. God, he must be freaking by now.

Gil snipped the tape at her wrists, then freed her ankles. She lunged out of the chair, grabbed his arm, and hauled him out the door. "You're coming with me so you can explain yourself, because no one's going to believe me."

She navigated toward the flashing blue lights as soon as she entered the campus grounds. Two regular police cars were parked where this had all started. Gil cringed at the sight. She came to a stop when she saw Risk with his hands cuffed behind him, two cops flanking him. Risk spotted the van, and his dirt-smudged face visibly changed to relief. He shouted something to the cops and started toward her.

She got out and ran toward him. Her body collided with his, her hands going to his face. "Are you all right?"

"Addie, you were Tasered and hauled out of here by that"—his gaze found Gil behind her—"freak and you're asking if I'm okay?"

"I'm fine." She stalked over to Gil and hauled him over to the gathered group of officers. "This is Gil Sanderson. He has some explaining to do."

###

## Chapter 12

Risk caught only glimpses of Addie at the police station during the hours when they were separately interviewed. So he knew she was all right. Shaken up, yes, but in one piece. He wanted to do more than just see her. He wanted to touch her, put his arms around her, and make sure she was all right inside.

He'd really bungled this whole bodyguard thing. Keep his client safe: big fat fail. He'd lost her twice. Stay objective and uninvolved personally: shot to hell. Because he didn't want to hold her. Be honest, buddy. You need to hold her.

The need pulsed through him. Made his fingers curl over the arms of his chair so hard that he looked for dents in the plastic. For the record—two of them.

The detective who was questioning him didn't seem to notice. Poor guy was trying to untangle the facts. They'd consulted with the detective assigned to Addie's near-hit, which muddied the waters even more.

The local detective shook his head. "It's certainly interesting. I'm going to have your statement typed up. Then you can sign it and be on your way." He headed out to the hallway. "Please stay here, Mr. Yarbrough. I'll be back in a few minutes."

At least Risk wasn't cuffed anymore. That had been beyond humiliating. It had been frustrating as hell not being able to do anything. He hadn't felt that hamstrung since the mission before last, when they'd been deployed to rescue a hostage and then been held off. Made to wait. Then ultimately shipped back home only to learn that the hostage had been murdered. This situation had been far worse because of his personal involvement, his hostage with a beautiful face, a big heart, dimples—

"Risk."

Wow, he could even hear her whisper in his head, so clear and real—

"Risk!"

He jerked around to see her standing in the open doorway. Two of the detectives stood behind her, discussing something. Risk launched out of his chair and nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, squeeze her tight against his chest. The moment he got near, she said, "Your boss is here."

He could hear the screech in his head as he turned in the direction where Addie was nodding. Chase strode down the hallway as though he ran the place, conversing with the man who probably did run it.

Risk took a moment to soak in the sight of Addie, looking disheveled but smiling. At him. "You all right?"

"I'm okay," she said.

Risk tore his gaze from her and focused on Chase, who didn't look pissed or disappointed, though he had to be both. He must have flown here on his private jet , no doubt ready to fire Risk. The replacement was probably here. He hoped it wasn't Saxby. On second thought, he wanted one of his boys on the case. He trusted them with his life. And Addie's.

"Yes, he's one of mine," Chase said to the man next to him. He flashed Risk a smile. "Having fun yet?"

Risk snorted. "A ball." Once he'd signed the statement, the police captain thanked everyone for their cooperation and released them.

"Where's Sanderson?" Risk asked.

"He's in the holding cell," the captain said. "Ms. Wunder has decided not to press charges, given his motivation for kidnapping her."

Chase clapped his hand on Risk's back. "Glad to know my operative has been overbearing, controlling, and . . . What was his other accusation?"

"A bully," Addie said. "Gil imagined some scenario where I was silently pleading for his help."

"Guy's got a hero complex," Risk muttered. He'd seen it in the military, men out to avenge something or another; 9/11 was the biggest motivator. Or a comrade's death. One guy's brother had been a Marine and was killed in action. A good motive was fine as long as it didn't blind you to reason. Which it had for Sanderson.

"We're going to keep him for as long as we can, give him time to think about his actions. Ms. Wunder has already chewed him out royally." The captain's mouth quirked. "I think that was more punishment than being arrested."

Addie's smile held an edge. "My adrenaline rush kicked in. I let him have it."

Risk chuckled. "Oh, buddy, I wish I'd seen that."

He got his Glock back and holstered it as soon as he stepped outside the station. He tried to keep his focus on Chase, not Addie. It was too hard to look at her and not gather her in his arms. "I'm sorry you had to fly up and deal with this mess, Chase."

"It was my choice, and hey, any time I can use the jet. I'm working on getting my pilot's license."

"You're being way too easy on me."

"I told you, I stand by my team. And I find it helps to discuss things face-to-face. Why don't you two come back to Miami with me?" He took them in, sympathy clear in his eyes. "Looks like you could both use a couple of days to decompress. We can discuss our next steps."

It didn't sound like he was getting fired, but Risk wasn't betting on it. Chase wouldn't explode and make a decision off the cuff. From what Risk had seen of the guy, he was methodical. Thoughtful. Unemotional. The way Risk should have been.

Risk's gaze involuntarily went to Addie. "Sound good to you?"

She nodded, the strain of the night—hell, probably the last few days—showing around her eyes and mouth. Again, he struggled to keep his distance.

"I'll have to call Shirley and arrange to get the van back to the ranch," she said.

"How's your girlfriend handling all this?" Chase asked.

Addie blinked, giving away her surprise at the question. "Actually—"

"They're not partners-partners anymore," Risk cut in when he sensed she was about to come clean. Already on thin ice, he really didn't want Chase to pick up on the chemistry between him and Addie; better that he think there was no chance anything was going on. "We'll need to get our overnight bags from the van." And Risk's kit, with his backup weaponry.

Chase crooked his hand, and a Lincoln Town Car sidled up to them. "We'll go to the van and then the airfield." Artemis stepped out to open the door and gave them the subtle greeting Risk now expected.

Once they were all inside the car and on their way, Chase leaned toward Artemis. "Please find someone to drive Addie's van up to Virginia."

"On it."

Chase settled in to the backseat and checked his phone with the practiced hand of someone who was never out of touch. He was probably already making arrangements with the operative who would take over Addie's case. And that was a good thing.

Addie sat beside Risk, her thigh brushing his. Maybe she was aching to touch him, too. He applied the slightest pressure back and met her gaze. Those baby blues were filled with need, much worse than flaring with desire. He was so screwed.

Two tortuous hours later, Risk still hadn't been able to pull Addie into his arms. They sat on the jet at the little table, going over the events leading up to Addie's capture. She even drew a diagram of the building.

Risk shook his head. "It was a goat fuck."

"You mean a goat rope," Addie said. "That's how I escaped from him," she reminded Chase.

"No, this assignment has been a goat fuck. I fucked up, Chase. There's no point in sugarcoating it. I lost my client twice. I learn from my mistakes, but I'll understand if you pull me off the case. Or even if you fire me." There. He'd laid it out there because he couldn't take any more waiting and wondering.

Addie shook her head. "Don't do that, Chase. You should see how diligent he is. He slept on my porch so he could hear anyone coming up to the house. He didn't leave my side at my father's charity function." Her cheeks got a little pink. "And he was on to Gil right from the start. Not the fact that he had plans to kidnap me, but he saw right through Gil's devotion to my cause."

Her praise warmed Risk. "I could tell the guy was fixated on her. As much as I'd like to attribute it to my razor-sharp instincts, it was pretty obvious."

She slumped back in her chair. "Not to me. But then I'm not used to men being interested in me like that."

"I think it's more like Addie is too focused on her mission to even notice," Risk said. No way could there be a lack of male interest.

Chase sat back in his chair, drawing the knob end of his pen across his lips as he seemed to consider the situation. "Given the scenario you laid out, Risk, there's no way you could have foreseen what this guy was going to do. You cased him for a gun, but a Taser is smaller and looks more like a cell phone. He would have taken any of my people by surprise, even the most experienced. You didn't fail."

A wave of relief crashed over Risk. "Good to know" was all he said. "But there was the goat rope, too."

Chase grinned. "I did warn you that this wasn't going to be an easy job. But I might not have made it clear enough. You couldn't have expected her to ditch you like that."

"No, but he was suspicious, keeping a sharp eye on me," Addie said, still defending him. "The goats did take him off guard, I have to admit. But he forced my whereabouts out of Shirley like that." She snapped her fingers. "And he was there within a short time. He saved my life, Chase."

But it had been close, too damned close. Just the memory of her beneath that cretin made Risk curl his fingers over the edge of the leather chair. He relaxed them before he inflicted dents.

Addie leaned forward, facing Chase. "I'm comfortable with Risk. I want him."

Those last words washed over him, too, as forceful as that wave. Yep, screwed.

"As my bodyguard," she added quickly.

Chase set the pen down. "Then it's settled. Risk stays on this job."

Relief and tension twisted inside Risk. He and Addie were bound to give in to this heat raging between them. Then things would really get sticky.

Oh yeah. Very screwed.

He couldn't believe that Addie Wunder hadn't encroached on his property in search of her precious tiger cub yet. He'd been ready for her and the bodyguard, but so far, not a whiff of them.

Could it be that she didn't suspect him?

He walked up to the cub's cage and knelt down to its level. The critter mewled, cocking its head at him. "You fed this thing today?" he asked Alan, who'd followed him in, along with Doug.

"Yep, boss. Just like you said, we're giving it all the meat it wants. It's starting to fatten up."

The boss tapped the cage bars. "You, my furry friend, are going to pull double duty. You'll be bait first, a commodity later." But he was getting impatient. He needed to move things along.

Alan rubbed near his shoulder wound. "What're we gonna do with Wunder once we have her?" He snarled, showing his crooked yellow teeth. "I know what I want to do with her."

The boss came to his feet. "What's that?"

Doug's smile was more of a leer. "Cut off her tits and—"

"You don't get to do anything to her." Alan interrupted what no doubt would have been some gruesome scene inspired by all those horror flicks Doug was always watching. "I got shot because of her. I get to punish her."

The boss shook his head. "It's my operation she's been messing with. What did you call me a minute ago?"

Alan swallowed. "The boss?"

"That's right." He jabbed at his own chest. "Which means I call the shots around here. I have something very special in mind for Miss Wunder. A very fitting kind of punishment. She's going to become a commodity, too. But just for me."

All through his youth, he'd been looked down on. Ridiculed. He'd been as poor as dirt and not much better-looking. Every day he'd walked two miles to school in shoes on the verge of falling apart, whatever hand-me-downs his mother could wrangle. Even though most of the kids in town didn't have a lot of money, they laughed at him. Made fun of his greasy hair, his ragged wrong-sized clothes, and the dust he accumulated during that long walk. Called him Pigpen, dammit.

He'd worked hard to get to where he was, to gain the respect and cooperation of those around him. Addie Wunder had almost toppled it all with her holier-than-thou antics. He had the perfect way to regain his self-respect. She was going to pay in spades.

Someone was gently shaking her shoulder. Addie slowly swam up from the depths of a dream. A hand caressed her shoulder, and a soft male voice said, "Time to wake up, sunshine."

Risk. She smiled and snuggled a little deeper into the sheets. He had a great voice, strong and gentle at the same time. Why wasn't his hand moving lower than her shoulder? She remembered how it felt down there—

Her eyes snapped open. Not a dream.

Risk sat on the edge of her bed, grinning. "You look so damn cute in the morning."

"What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"I knocked twice, but you didn't answer. I got worried."

She pushed up to a sitting position, orienting herself to her current reality. Chase's estate. By the time they'd arrived, she'd been so blasted tired—she'd fallen asleep on the plane—she hardly remembered arriving at the airport. "You carried me in, didn't you?" Or was that a dream, how his strong arms had scooped her up effortlessly and carried her first to the limo, then down a lit pathway to a house?

"You were out. Even murmured in your sleep."

She sat up straighter. "What did I say?" Hopefully not how good it had felt with his arms around her.

He rolled his eyes and said in a high-pitched voice, " 'Oh, Risk, don't leave me in this big ole bed all by myself.' "

She threw the pillow at him. "Did not." She hoped. It was a big bed.

He caught the pillow just before it smacked him in the face. "Maybe I was dreaming."

His grin walloped her harder than any pillow could. He smelled clean from the shower, like soap. His freshly shaved face begged her to run her fingers across the smooth skin. His hair was damp, and she wanted to fluff the short strands.

As if reading her thoughts, he ruffled her hair. "Come on, sleepyhead. Chase called a meeting at zero-ten-hundred. That's ten o'clock in the civilian world. We gotta get some chow before then." He scooted off the bed and headed to the door. "Do you realize I've seen you first thing in the morning, twice, without having spent the night with you?"

"Just think, you skipped right past the fun parts and straight to the awkward morning-after 'where is this going?' conversation."

He laughed. "You remembered. I hope you don't remember everything I say. Sometimes things come out of my mouth without me checking to make sure they're appropriate."

"Things you don't mean?"

"No, I mean everything I say. I just don't always know better to keep them inside." He tapped the door frame. "I'll be back in twenty minutes to get you for breakfast."

She shivered. He didn't mean to get her for breakfast. Sheesh. Now look who's thinking of nothing but sex.

She'd accused him of being a player when he'd told her about the morning-after conversation. And maybe he had been, but he sure didn't act like one. When he looked at her sometimes, the intensity wasn't just sexual desire. I like playing the part of the boyfriend. She was liking him in that role, too, and she didn't want a boyfriend. But you want Risk. She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes. My, did she want him. Fear and panic coiled in her tummy. Don't give in! Think about Animal Huggers. Think about—

Her mother's image popped into her mind. First the vibrant woman who always seemed to have a dozen things going at once. Then the sickly woman who spent all day in bed, an ever-growing collection of prescription medicines on her nightstand.

I'll live up to you, Mom.

Exactly twenty minutes later, a knock sounded on her door. "Boy, are you punctual," she said when she opened it.

He gave her a bright smile. "Why, thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment. Give me three more minutes." She ducked back into her bathroom and ran some eyeliner beneath her eyes. Fluffed her hair one more time. Rolled her eyes at her reflection before stepping out.

She hadn't noticed what he was wearing earlier, too caught up in his smile. Now she did. Khaki shorts that came to midthigh showcased muscular legs dusted with golden hair. His black tank top did the same for his shoulders and arms. She actually had to check to make sure she wasn't drooling.

"It's already hot and muggy out there," he warned, sliding on a pair of sunglasses as he stepped out the front door.

"Ew." A blanket of moisture, tempered only by an ocean breeze, wrapped around her. She looked out to that ocean, several steps from the back of the house. Across the bay was the city of Miami, all sparkling and shiny in the morning light. "Are we on an island?"

"A man-made one, according to Chase." He led the way down a stamped concrete path that wove through a profusion of lush green plants and a riot of blooming flowers that perfumed the air. "He told me that this little island was the home of some Mafia don back in the seventies. When his empire fell apart after he was assassinated, it sat derelict for a few years. Chase bought the whole island for a song. He showed us pictures; it was a jungle. The main house, which looked like a castle, was literally crumbling apart, and the flora and fauna had taken over everything. The house we're staying in is one of the two buildings he didn't tear down. He restored it to accommodate guests and new operatives who haven't figured out where they want to live yet. Like Sax, and Knox, and me. Julian's here checking out TJA—The Justiss Alliance."

She ran her hand through the bright papery flowers of a bush, only to pull back when a thorn pricked her finger. "Julian? I haven't met him." She stuck it in her mouth to nurse her small wound.

"He's one of the boys on my team. He and Rath—short for Rathmusen, if you can believe that—hit the remaining parts of Route 66 on their Harleys to run off some steam and clear their heads. A lot of military guys do that after they're out, and we all needed it bad. But Julian's starting to feel restless to get back to work."

"Must be nice, having some of your team around."

His smile was genuine and breathtaking in the morning light. "Yeah, it's boo-coops of cool. No one gets you like the guys you lived with, fought with, and almost died with a time or two. We're like brothers."

Suddenly she wanted to get him. To be someone he could confide in. "Must be hard to integrate back into civilian life."

"It's a bitch. You spew out all of this lingo that no one gets. Civvies give you this confuzzled look"—he imitated it, which was oh so adorable—"and then you realize, oh, they don't know what you're talking about. Doesn't everyone know what MREs, booger eaters, and poodle shooters mean?"

She laughed. "Sometimes I'd overhear my father talking and think he was speaking another language. An alien tongue of acronyms."

He chuckled. "I've learned to curtail my use of lingo so I don't spend half the conversation explaining."

She took him in, with his scars and memories and the gait of a man who had lived a life most people couldn't even imagine. She would never get him, not really. Which is all right, since you can't have him anyway.

Better to direct her attention to their surroundings. The island was a jungle no more. Everything was trimmed and pruned. Some trees and plants even sported signs with both common and scientific names.

"Is Chase a botanist?" she asked, pausing by a pond where pink spoonbills and great blue herons hunted for breakfast.

"I think the guy just likes showpieces. From his cars to his house to everything here. It's like his own personal paradise. He's got pink flamingos and other exotic birds I've never even seen."

"He's a man who likes to control his environment. That happens sometimes when your life spins out of control. You want to go the opposite way. Is he a controlling boss?"

Risk shook his head as they continued down the path. "He gives us a lot of leeway, at least compared to the military. But I don't know much about him personally. He keeps his past on the down-low."

Addie knew Chase's past because of her father's long friendship with him, but it wasn't her place to reveal his secrets. They came up on a large metal building. Only the second floor had windows. "What's in there?" she asked.

"A shooting range and indoor pool, though not for leisure activities. It's for practicing water maneuvers in the dark. And over there beyond those mango trees is a derelict house for hostage rescue training. There are paper targets with a man holding a woman, and you have to identify who's who. You go in, clear the house, and try not to accidentally take out any hostages. Reminds me a lot of SEAL training."

"And you love doing it," she said.

His face glowed, probably not unlike the glow he'd noticed when she was introducing him to the animals. Right before he kissed her.

"It's in my blood." He slid her a grin. "If I'm not shooting something, I'm just not happy."

Which reminded her how different they were. But with his smile, it didn't matter at the moment.

They wound through more foliage and approached a newer house. Though it wasn't ostentatious, it spoke of quality and luxury. Covered in wood siding, it blended perfectly with the landscaping. Out front, a rock waterfall splashed into a large pond that barely revealed the orange koi swimming in its depths. A leopard-spotted frog rested on a lily pad that floated next to an enormous purple flower. Frothy tree ferns stretched out over the water.

They went up the stone steps to the front door, which Risk opened for her. "Even though we have a kitchen at the house where we're staying, we all come here. He has a cook."

"Must be nice."

Risk sniffed the air, which was filled with the scent of . . . "Bacon," he said, a sigh in his voice.

Well, she knew the way to his heart. Should she need to know, she quickly added. Which she didn't.

She imagined a lush woman or an austere French man at the stove; a burly Mexican man didn't even make it to the short list. Especially when he smiled as they entered the well-lit kitchen and showed several gold teeth.

"Hey, Mr. Risk!" He did a high-five with Risk, then turned to her. "And you brought a pretty lady with you." He wagged thick dark eyebrows. "Ooh, you get lucky last night, eh?"

Risk put his hands on her shoulders. "This is Addie, and she's a client. Addie, this is Montezuma, as in the revenge of. But you won't have that, because his cooking is phenomenal. Chase found him on a trip down to the Caribbean and hired him on the spot."

Montezuma reminded her of a Mexican version of a sumo wrestler, big and square, with a handshake to rival her father's. "Nice to meet you, Montezuma," she said.

He didn't bother to look chagrined at his faux pas, which, oddly enough, made her like him more. Especially when he said, "It's a pleasure, my lady. And please, call me Monte. What can I make you for breakfast? Anything you like. Omelet. French toast. Chorizo and scrambled eggs. Bacon, ham—"

"She's a vegetarian," Risk broke in, shaking his head woefully. "No meat."

"Vegetable omelet, then? I have fresh spinach and peppers, tomatoes from the garden."

"Sounds wonderful, thanks."

Monte guided them to a wooden table situated in an octagonal breakfast nook. "Sit, sit. Coffee? Orange juice?"

"Yes, please," she said to both. Sugar and caffeine would do her a lot of good as she tried to assimilate her surroundings.

"Cappuccino, latte, espresso?" Monte asked, gesturing to a fancy automated machine on the counter. "Cream, skim, two percent milk?"

"Just a regular coffee and regular milk, please."

A pan of bacon snapped and sizzled on the enormous gas stove in the enormous kitchen. She could tell that Chase spent a lot of time here, or at least planned to. Out back, a waterfall splashed into a large black-finished pool, making the water's surface sparkle in the sunshine. Beyond that, the bay gave the sun a much larger canvas on which to dance. No city from this angle, only distant land.

Monte set a glass and mug in front of her, then returned with bowls of sugar and creamer, a little spoon, and a napkin. Risk didn't have to tell Monte what he wanted; the cook already knew, bringing a mug and a glass.

"Fresh-squeezed orange juice," she said on a breath as it tingled across her tongue. "Oh my God, I want one of him."

Risk chuckled. "As Chase says, it's like having a Jewish mother. He fusses and coddles, but no guilt."

Monte set the plate of bacon behind the napkin holder, out of her line of sight. Within minutes, Risk's fried eggs and her omelet came out, presented so perfectly that she hardly wanted to cut in to it.

"This is amazing," she said on the first bite, the cheese melting in her mouth. "Thank you."

Monte bowed to her. "I'll leave you to your breakfast, mis amigos."

The scent of the meat curled around her senses. In the same way Risk was doing. She focused on her omelet.

Risk bit the end of his bacon with a crunch. "When I'm rich, I'm going to get one of him, too. He cooks bacon to perfection. I gather Chase inherited a wad and made some good investments. He's also been doing research and development work that's gotten him some big bucks as far as military contracts. Like a smart bullet."

"A smart bullet?"

"It has a microprocessor in it. You lase the target, and that transmits data to the gun, which programs the bullet. It tracks right to the target. Our team was just beginning to use them." His words dropped off, but she heard the before we got tanked.

Weapons, bullets, lasers . . . it was all a different world to her. Risk was a different world, and so were the feelings she was having about him. Warm, gushy feelings that made her think of the incident under the table. Her body was screaming out for more of that decadence. More of Risk.

He met her gaze across the table. "I see you eyeing my bacon like you want to devour it." He snapped off another piece with his teeth. "You could have all the bacon you wanted, Addie. Just say the word."

Was he really talking about bacon? Her body sure wasn't thinking about bacon.

Footsteps drew their attention toward the hallway. Saxby and another man barreled into the kitchen. Sax beelined to the espresso machine, stuck his mug beneath the spout, and pressed a couple of buttons. "Plain old regular coffee would do just fine, but there's not a standard coffeepot in the place."

The other guy headed right over to Risk, a grin on his handsome face. "Hey, Risk." The morning light made his dark brown hair shine like chocolate, and his skin gleamed like mocha latte, heavy on the latte.

"Salsa Boy." Risk and the man did a fist bump. "Good to see you." He nodded toward Addie. "This is Addie Wunder. Addie, Salsa. Also known as Salsa Boy."

"Or Julian," he added, giving her a put-upon expression as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"We dubbed him Salsa Boy because of his ringtone. Some salsa band from Puerto Rico."

Julian snatched one of Risk's pieces of bacon. "Thankfully, Boy got dropped over time."

Addie curled her fingers around her mug handle and settled back in her chair, enjoying their camaraderie. "How did Risk get off so easily?"

"Risk came with his nickname, but we had a few choice ones for him, too. He was Farm Boy at the beginning."

Sax sank down into one of the vacant seats. "And AC. Because the son of a bitch liked to cut holes in our boxers. How'd you like having some air conditioning yourself, buddy boy?"

Like a memory tucked away for future perusal, the image of that square cut into Risk's boxer briefs came to mind. Addie tried to push it away, but it stuck there, in full color.

She turned to Saxby. "And what's your nickname?"

"It started out as Mr. Southern Charm, but as all long nicknames do, it got truncated to Sooch."

"And sometimes Smooch," Julian added, tilting his chair back precariously, his shoe on the edge of the table. "When he's working the ladies."

"In the SEALs," Risk explained, "you don't get to choose your own nickname. The boys stick one to you. Usually based on either your personality or some embarrassing incident."

"Remember Upchucker?" Sax asked. "Guy lost his cookies during Hell Week in BUD/S, what, a dozen times."

"He graduated, but the name stuck for years." Risk drained the last of his orange juice and got to his feet.

Addie stood, too. "You guys are awful."

Risk splayed his hand over his chest. "Wasn't us. Some guy named Stinker passed on the word. Guess how he got his nickname?"

Addie raised her hand as she headed to the coffee machine. "I don't want to know."

It felt strange being in a room with so much testosterone. Then Chase ducked his head in, adding to it. "You all ready?"

Everyone filled their mugs, the espresso machine whirring and clicking, and then they followed Chase outside and down the path to the huge metal building. There was no formal reception area, only a lounge. On the other side of a glass wall was a large open space divided into lanes. Two men and one woman stood at chest-high stations popping off rounds with their semi-automatics and decimating paper targets. That was about all Addie knew of guns, that there were revolvers and semi-autos. And rifles and shotguns. She wasn't against guns as a rule, but she sure wanted nothing to do with handling one.

They followed Chase up some stairs to a second level, where a long carpeted hallway sported several doors. The second door led into a large conference room with an oblong table in the center. The tall-backed leather chairs made soft whuffing sounds when the guys dropped down into them. Addie made a point to gently—and quietly—settle into hers.

Chase gestured to Saxby and Julian. "I asked them to sit in so they could get a feel for how we work. Is that all right?" This he directed to Addie.

"Sure. The more, the merrier."

"You and Risk have eliminated two of the suspects in your assault. We need more options if we're going to figure out who's behind this."

"I've been going down the list of people I've pissed off recently."

Julian's sleek eyebrows bobbed up. "There's a list?"

"Yeah, I know," Risk said, shaking his head. "I said the same thing."

She ignored them. "Most people are annoyed. Some get angry, but they know, deep down, that they're in the wrong. There is one guy who might be angry enough to try to hurt me. He's serving two years on felony charges because I exposed his illegal canned-hunting operation. He was yelling about his God-given rights to kill animals on his own blankety-blank property and wasn't this America and not some Communist blankety-blank country."

Risk leaned in closer. "He would have been a good one to bring up, oh, say, right at the beginning."

"But he's in jail. And his wife is the one who tipped me off in the first place, so she wouldn't try to off me."

"What's a canned hunt?" Julian asked. "Like where you go shooting cans or something?"

Risk nodded his head toward Julian. "City of Orlando boy here. Never hunted a thing until we went over to Iraq."

"I fished,"Julian said, shoring up his shoulders.

"Yeah, those big, bad snooks." Risk shook his head, obviously enjoying teasing his comrade. "It's where you pay to hunt an animal in an enclosed space. Some guy in our BUD/S class was bragging about bagging a lion in Tennessee. Turned out to be at some facility that buys unwanted exotic animals from owners and zoos, so basically the twinkie was shooting a semi-tame animal. He was one of the ninety percent of our SEAL training class who rang the bell and quit, no surprise." He turned back to Addie. "So what did you do to this guy?"

"I sneaked onto his private land and took video of animals in cages that were about to be hunted. Elrod, the property owner, was showing a client the mountain lion he'd chosen to hunt. She had been a pet that the original owner realized was too much to handle." The memory of that doomed cat still made her ache. "Her name was Burgundy. The so-called hunter was saying how he liked that Elrod's hunts accommodated people on tight time frames or with little hunting expertise. They injected a microchip transponder into the animal so its location could be narrowed down if the client needed the extra help or was getting impatient. But since the animal was going to be released into a smaller enclosure, Elrod assured the client that he could probably bag it down without the chip."

Risk frowned in disgust. "Poor cat didn't have a chance."

"None of them do. It goes against the principles—and honor—of fair-chase hunting. Even ethical hunters decry the practice as degrading the reputation of hunting. I went directly to the local sheriff. That was a big mistake. He was more concerned about my trespassing than what I'd discovered. Oh, he couched it as concern for me."

"Well, yeah," Risk said. "You could have been accidentally shot, since I'm guessing you weren't wearing a bright orange safety vest. Or purposely shot, if this guy is capable of hiring thugs to assault you."

Addie stared at her fingers tapping on the table, knowing he was right. "I took a chance, I know. And it was for nothing. The sheriff took the memory chip from my camera and transferred the footage to his computer. He acted shocked, muttering about ethical treatment of animals, everything I wanted to hear. He assured me he would look into it and thanked me for my civic duty. It was only after I left that I discovered he'd deleted the pictures and videos from the chip. I went back to his office to get a copy, and he fed me a line about it being evidence, blah blah blah. When I got testy, he threatened to book me for trespassing. I saw that the whole concerned-about-me-and-the-animals thing had been an act. He was covering for Elrod. Maybe they're friends, or maybe it's the small-town thing, but he wasn't going to do squat about it. The second time I sneaked onto his land—"

"The second time?" Risk pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained expression.

"That was the only way I could get proof. I went back and waited for hours until the next client arrived. This time the target was a bear who had been in commercials and even appeared in a movie. I not only took the footage to higher authorities, I leaked it to the press." Addie faced the men at the table. "They ran with it, condemning the hunting of pets. Some of these operations actually change the genetics of deer and elk to increase their size and racks so they can't move like a normal animal. Can you imagine what would happen if one of those mutated animals escapes and breeds with the natural population?"

Risk had the dreamy look that overtook him whenever she got impassioned about something—right before he kissed her. Which she was pretty sure he wouldn't do here.

Chase woke up his laptop. "Give me the guy's name, state of residence, and anything else you have on him."

She pulled out her smartphone and called up Walter Elrod's file, reciting everything, beginning with the name of his establishment, Live Shot Game Preserve.

Chase typed it all in, then looked up at her. "The two guys who jumped you were not anyone you saw at his property, obviously, since you would have recognized them. He could have hired someone to take you out from jail. Or they could be people he knows or employees. Give me their descriptions."

"I only saw glimpses of them. Everything happened so fast." She'd been so terrified.

Risk rattled off a thorough description of both men. Show-off.

"But why would he hire someone to come after me now?" she asked.

Chase sat back in his chair. "Maybe he's smart enough to wait awhile, so he's not an obvious suspect. Maybe he's been simmering all this time, thinking of nothing but you while he sits in his cell. He thinks he has justification. You sent him to jail, dinged his business and reputation. And his wife left. Doesn't matter if he's been a bastard their whole marriage, he'll blame you. I'll find out if he's got a propensity for violence."

"The guy does hunt animals," Risk said. "Weak, tame animals."

"And he's armed," Sax pointed out. "Probably has a whole collection of rifles. He's got the means to pull off an assault. Or murder."

She shivered.

"Sorry, Addie, but we have to assume the worst," Chase said. "He wasn't going to take you away to give you a stern lecture."

"I know. Believe me, I'm not one to mince the truth. What scares me the most is the thought that this guy might have Tigs. That's the tiger cub," she clarified.

Risk just stared at her. "That scares you more than, say, this guy trying to off you?"

"Right now I'm pretty darned safe." She gestured to the table. "But poor little Tigs is not."

Chase gave her a smile. "So let's see how Mr. Elrod's life is going nowadays. Is he a model prisoner or a troublemaker? I'll find out who his family is and if they match these descriptions. See if his land is still being used as a hunting preserve. Anyone else you can think of? Even if you don't consider them angry enough to take a shot at you."

She listed off a few others.

Chase typed in the information and closed the laptop. "Julian, we'll meet back here in two hours and continue to go over your possible employment. Then you and Saxby can do some hostage work in the haunted house so I can see your skills."

Julian's eyes widened. "Haunted house?"

"It's an old house that's still on the property from the Mafia-don days. Some of my operatives have claimed to feel cold spots or get a hair-on-end feeling. You're not afraid of ghosts, are you?" Chase asked with a teasing smile.

Julian slapped his fist into his palm. "I'll kick their gauzy asses."

"And what do we do, boss?" Risk asked, coming to his feet.

"Chase, not boss." Chase gave him a stern look. "I know the whole commander thing is conditioned into you, but we're a team. If it makes you feel better, here are your orders, soldier: Get Addie a bathing suit and some shorts. Enjoy the property, use the boat. Just don't get too relaxed."

"That won't be a problem around Addie, sir."

###

## Chapter 13

Risk hadn't explained to Addie exactly what he'd meant by his comment to Chase, though she'd asked a dozen times. What could he tell her? That nothing about his body was relaxed around her? After seeing her lying in bed this morning, all he could think about was waking up after a long night of sex and partaking in more.

He was thinking of it now, as she stepped out of her room in a white two-piece bathing suit. It wasn't even a tiny bikini. This one went all the way up to her waist and covered more chest than he'd prefer.

She paused, making him realize that he was staring. "What? Too much? Too little? I hate shopping for bathing suits."

"You could have asked my opinion. But no, you disappeared into the dressing room, then came out fully clothed a few minutes later. I would have been happy to give it to you."

She arched an eyebrow and said in a husky voice, "I bet you would have."

His cock actually twitched at the provocative way she'd said that. Thank God it didn't twitch when her gaze fell over his baggy trunks. "No tight number? I pegged you for one of those small, tight suits that men who have no business wearing. You, however, would do it justice."

"I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those, but thank you."

She was taking him in, hopefully not seeing his erection. Her eyes widened in horror. Damn. Surely she'd seen a guy with a hard-on before.

"Ouch," she said, a sympathetic wince on her face.

"Don't worry, it's only mildly uncomfortable." Okay, the unresolved ache was a lot more than that. Except . . . she was looking much lower.

She knelt down, her knees cracking softly. "How'd you get this?" Her finger traced over the smooth skin of the jagged scar that ran down his leg. "Roadside bomb? Helicopter crash? I can't imagine the horrors you went through over there. Please don't say your dad did it."

He wanted to tell her some heart-wrenching war story to capitalize on her sympathetic expression, but he couldn't lie. "A BASE-jumping accident. Remember how I mentioned my jump off of Trango Towers?"

"Yes. Twenty thousand feet up, which is absolutely ridiculous."

"I had an off-heading canopy opening that rammed me into the face of the rock. So I landed in a stunned and pain-riddled state and couldn't quite get my balance. It wasn't pretty. I'm not sure if it was the rock face or the landing that ripped into my leg. Some damned jagged bit."

She rose, her patriotic sympathy gone. "You're absolutely crazy. All for an adrenaline thrill?"

"Yep to both." Only one kind of rush had dominated his mind lately. Was wanting Addie just another thrill? He hoped so.

He tossed over his shoulder the towels he'd brought and escorted her to the pool. The mental image of the two of them in a tub of swirling hot water in that serene setting made him walk even faster. He had to stop himself from grabbing her hand and hauling her with him.

The moment his feet hit the pool deck, he dropped the towels and dove into the pool just to cool off. When he burst up on the other side, she was kicking off her flimsy flip-flops while watching him. He pulled himself out and wandered to the hot tub, which was situated beneath a rock overhang and the waterfall. It gave the tub a dark, private feel. Too dark. Too private.

Addie was dipping her foot into the pool water. Part of him hoped she would take a dip way over there. Less temptation. He pressed a button that started the jets, and sank into the heavenly water. Even though his head was leaned back, eyes closed, he knew the moment she joined him. He couldn't help grin when she let out the same kind of sigh.

"Mm, that sound brings back memories of a certain dinner event." He fought not to open his eyes and look at her.

"That was terribly unfair of you. And don't interrupt me like you always do," she warned. "You get me all hot and bothered, and I can't really enjoy it because—"

"Oh, sweetheart, you were enjoying it."

She punched him. "I think you liked tormenting me."

He cracked an eye, enjoying her petulant expression. "Maybe a little."

She punched him again.

"If it's any consolation, I was feeling the torment, too."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you were." Her voice lowered. "We need to cut this conversation. Your friends are coming."

He leaned back, this time in prayer. Please stay over there. Don't be boneheads and butt into my—

Water splashed him in the face.

"Wake up," Saxby said. "I don't want to have to pull your sorry ass out of here if you slip under the surface. Water's hot enough to boil crawfish." He sank in with all the grace of a manatee. "We're not interrupting anything, I hope." He obviously wasn't thinking they were interrupting that kind of anything, since she was a client.

Julian angled himself in and propped his arms along the outer edge. "So far, I like what I see. Chase seems competent, and he definitely has the facilities, resources, and technology to make things happen. I'm meeting up with Rath tomorrow to break the news: I'm officially done with the road. It's been a blast, but I need something to do. I can tell Rath's feeling the same, but he doesn't want to sign on with any 'somebody telling me what to do' organized establishment, as he puts it."

Risk laughed. "I can hear him saying that, too." He jerked when something touched his thigh. Way up high on his leg, right next to his balls. The water, milky white with roiling bubbles, obliterated any visual on what was going on down there. He kept a calm expression and eyed the two pranksters on the other side of the tub. Nah, they wouldn't be trying to make him freak, and they wouldn't be touching him like that.

Which left Addie, who had a decidedly impish look on her face.

Delicate fingers stroked up and down his thigh. Even through the material, her short nails were like an on switch for his cock.

"Is Rath still being psycho about going after the . . ." Sax glanced at Addie, then back to Julian. "Wolf?"

Risk nodded toward Addie. "I gave her a thumbnail version of what happened. She recognized me as one of the Rogue Six, so I had to explain." He turned to her. "Wolf was the code name for the agent who gave us bad information."

"Ohhhh," she said, drawing the word out.

Her fingers curled around his stiffie, which made him do another of those jerking motions.

"Yeah," Julian said. "Dude's getting scary. You saw him with that whole mountain-man look. But it's the gleam in his eyes that's got me worried. I've stayed on the road with him, hoping he'd give it up and look into The Justiss Alliance, but I think he's just biding his time."

She was pretending to listen to the guys, her whole focus on them. Well, not her whole focus, because her fingers were making swirls up and down his cock that had his body quivering. "So he wants revenge," she said. "And you're worried he's going to get hurt."

Julian and Sax both nodded.

Her fingers slid to his waistband and then beneath. And now it was her skin that moved over his skin, walking provocatively across his pelvis. She brushed the length of his dick, just enough of a touch to feed his hunger but definitely a tease. The corner of her mouth turned up slightly, giving away her deviousness.

He loved devious. And he hated devious. Because she had put him in the same position that he'd put her in. He made affirmative sounds about Julian's concerns but wasn't mentally part of the conversation. Then she wrapped her hand around his cock. He nearly let out a sigh of Good God, about time. He gripped the rounded edge of the seat as she stroked up and down the length of him. Nice and slow.

Okay, he could handle this. Wasn't his middle name control?

No, not with Addie.

But he could keep himself from coming. That would not be cool.

Then she stroked a little faster. When she got to the top, she let her thumb slide over his head and that strip of skin, which made him suck in a breath, then have to cough to cover it. The rumble of the hot tub seemed louder than their voices all of a sudden. Or was that the roar of blood in his ears?

The rush of pleasure built, threatening to explode. If she continued, he definitely wasn't going to maintain control. He clamped his hand over hers to stop her motion and gave her a subtle shake of his head. Could they leave the hot tub and dash off to the cabana without arousing suspicion?

"So I figure if I join TJA, too, he'll see that coming aboard is a much better idea than skulking around Mexico looking for some guy who's probably dead," Julian was saying. "And we're all still working together."

Her hand continued stroking despite his hold. Which made him feel like he was stroking himself, so he let go. "Stop . . . stop him . . .from going."

Julian narrowed his eyes at him. "I think the heat's getting to you. Rath's not going to take orders from me, you know that."

"Yes. Yes, the heat is getting to me. I can't stand it anymore."

He lurched from the hot tub, splashing water everywhere as he ran across the deck—and lost control about halfway to the cabana.

"Okay, we're even," Risk said as he steered the boat toward the docks outside the Bayside Restaurant.

"Even?"

"Yeah, the whole 'getting off while having to make polite conversation' torment. I didn't realize how difficult a wonderful thing could be."

"Hm. I thought I was just doing the wonderful part, since I got to come and you didn't." She gave him an innocent smile while he eyed her with suspicion. Okay, it had been a bit of both kinds of getting even. "Did you, uh . . ."

He arched an eyebrow. "Come?"

"I like the phrase get completion better."

His mouth twisted in a half grin. "I got completion during my sprint. That was a first."

"You could have stayed in the hot tub."

"No way could I come and not give myself away. I make noise."

Suddenly she wanted to hear that noise, the evidence of the pleasure she'd given him. Wanted to feel him thrust into her as he made it. She swallowed back her own sound. "Is it a growl? Or more like a grunt? I've never heard a guy make noise before other than a long exhale."

"I've never had to categorize it."

"Humor me. I'm curious."

"It's a combination of both, actually " He arched one eyebrow at her. "You do realize that talking about orgasms is its own kind of torture where we're concerned?"

She winced. "You're right. Forget I asked."

He turned the wheel and expertly maneuvered into the last tight space available. She was so busy enjoying the view of his tight shorts across his tight butt, as he leaned over to secure the boat, she nearly forgot that she was probably supposed to be helping. She jumped up to play first mate.

Once they had the boat secured, he helped her onto the wooden dock. He rested his hand on her back as they wandered up to the entrance. It felt as warm as the sun, warm and right and a little proprietary. Her mind screeched to a halt as it replayed the "right" part. Not right, just . . . nice. Yeah, let's go with that.

The restaurant's decor was dark wood with intimate seating areas. Just as she panicked at the thought of them tucked into a cozy spot, Risk requested a table outside on the deck. Even out there, the tables were covered in linen cloths and adorned with flower-and-shell centerpieces. Soft music drifted from hidden speakers, and the breeze caressed the flowers of the potted plants scattered throughout. Darn, still romantic.

After they ordered drinks, she asked, "Did you insist on being seated here so we could watch the boat?"

"Yep. Never hurts to keep an eye on our transportation."

She couldn't imagine how difficult it was to transition to civilian life for someone used to living on the edge. She picked up her menu but kept her gaze on him. "You're like a cat. Even when they're sleeping, their radar is going. You never relax, do you?"

"I do. But not while I'm operational. I'd bet my left nut that we're perfectly safe here, at least from your predators. No way could they have traced me to Chase or followed us down here. Still, it never hurts to be vigilant."

Just the mention of his left nut brought back the way he'd felt in her hand back at the hot tub. Big. Hard. Tempting.

Their iced teas arrived, and they placed their food orders. Was he ordering steak just to tempt her?

Damn, he was tempting. Having control over him, even as she'd held all that male power in her hand, had been nearly as erotic as his bringing her to life beneath the table. His whole body had quivered, his thigh muscles tightening. And the way his breath had caught . . .

She really had to expunge those thoughts. Wanting Risk was like wanting steak. So good and so bad all at once. She'd been doing just fine all these years without. Sure, she'd been around steak. And good-looking men. But none had ever tempted her one iota. Until Risk came along.

"Addie, I'd give you twenty dollars for your thoughts right now."

She blinked to find him studying her. "They're not for sale."

He sprawled back in his chair, legs spread in that easy masculine way. "Yeah, that's probably wise."

The server arrived with their dinners a short while later. He set the grouper almondine in front of her and then passed her to set down Risk's meal. The aroma of seasoned beef wafted past her, making her mouth water.

She tried to tell herself that the fish was awesome. It was cooked to perfection, moist and flaky and everything grouper should be. But honestly, it wasn't satisfying. Not like Risk's meal. Oh, he was trying to downplay it, not even making any of those pleasurable sounds. However, when the waiter came over to ask how their meals were, Risk said, "Incredible." And he meant it. Then he set his fork and knife down on the edge of the plate and propped his chin on his upturned hand. "I promise I'm not trying to make this hard on you. I really do like steak. And bacon. Maybe it's a farm-boy thing, but I like meat. And you know what, Addie? So do you. I know you gave it up because you think you should. Because it's the right thing to do, in your opinion. As I said, I respect that. But the way you are looking at me is making me want to satisfy you on some serious level. So pick one: steak or sex."

All righty, then. He'd called her on it and laid out a huge temptation all at once. And oh, Lordy, he was tempting. She ached to give in.

Just when the word sex wanted to pop out of her mouth, Risk held out a piece of steak that was speared on his fork. "I won't tell anyone. I won't judge you." When she struggled visibly with the offering, he added, "One taste of the forbidden won't kill you. You can tell yourself that it probably won't be as good as you remember."

Was he talking about the sex option? She knew, down to her bones, that sex with Risk would be oh, so good.

Her resistance crumbled, and she leaned forward. He placed the bite in her mouth. While guilt and recriminations screamed inside her head, her lips wrapped around that juicy piece of steak. Her tongue sang. She closed her eyes and chewed.

Only after she swallowed did she realize Risk had been watching her the entire time. His smile wasn't smug but pleased. "See, that wasn't so bad."

"It was delicious and wonderful and I want more of it. That's always the problem with giving in to something you want and shouldn't have."

He cut another piece of steak. "So what if I give you one more bite of steak and tell you that's all you can have? Take the issue of wanting more right off the table? Will that help?"

She eyed the square he was holding out. "Maybe."

"I'm going to give you the steak, but you can't have any more. That's an order."

She nodded, and he slowly brought the juicy bite to her mouth. There was something oddly erotic about his feeding her. It reminded her of the way she felt when he was spanking her. She liked it but knew she shouldn't. Her mouth closed over the bite, and she savored it more, knowing she wasn't getting another bite.

"Why are you smiling like that as you watch me ignore my code of ethics?" she asked after she'd swallowed.

"It has nothing to do with corrupting you, if that's what you're thinking. It's the first time I've seen you actually enjoy eating. I've watched you pick at salads, poke at fish, and I know you're telling yourself that it's good. But you never close your eyes and savor it."

"I do savor those things sometimes. When they're done right." She tucked in to her fish now, sticking a bite into her mouth and following it with a spear of broccoli.

"How about sex?"

She nearly choked, patting her chest to facilitate breathing. "Come again?"

He leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Exactly."

Damn, she felt her cheeks flush. "I meant repeat that."

"And I meant come again. This time I want you to be able to scream and moan as much as your heart desires."

Her appetite fled. "I won't, because we're sharing a house with two of your friends. Like that won't be awkward. And I'm not setting foot in the haunted house, so don't go there at all."

She was rambling, because every nerve in her body—especially the nerves down there—had gone on super-alert. They all wanted to come again. And, well, so did she.

Risk lifted a finger, which made her think of the way that finger had driven her crazy. "One time. We give in, let ourselves go a little crazy because we deserve it, and then you're cut off. Just like with the steak. You can enjoy it because you won't be tempted to partake again. The option will be off the table."

She watched him put another piece of beef in his mouth as he let her consider it. Her body was screaming a big fat yes! Her brain was backpedaling, but it wasn't making much headway.

"So if we do this, it's just one time. Even if I beg you, naked, you won't give in?"

"Don't beg naked. That might be too much to resist."

"You have to promise. Naked begging or not, you won't have sex with me."

That was the moment when the server decided to refill their iced teas. He cleared his throat and turned away.

She covered her face. "You make me crazy."

"Back at you, babe." Risk pushed his plate away even though half the steak was still sitting there. "I promise, even with naked begging, I will not give in. Besides, getting all hot and bothered when there's potentially someone out there trying to hurt you is a really bad idea. We have the perfect opportunity while we're here in Miami, a small window."

She snorted. "Like the one that was cut into the back of your briefs?"

He smirked. "I'm trying to be serious. After this one time, we put our complete focus on finding out who's behind your assault. When you're safe, you'll go back to being a celibate vegetarian, and I'll go on to another job. We'll write and talk on the phone, but eventually we'll drift apart. Feel better about it now?"

"Okay," she said on a long exhale. Now that her body had permission, it shot into a heightened sensual awareness. She felt throbbing between her legs, and he hadn't even touched her yet. "Go on, finish your meal."

Risk waved the server down. "I'm not in the mood for steak anymore." He aimed a heated look at her. "But I am in the mood for a vegetarian."

All of her nerve endings went up in flames. Whoosh. God, she wanted this man.

The server brought their bill, and Risk shoved cash at him. "Thanks for everything," he said, taking Addie's hand and leading her toward the stairs that went directly down to the docks.

She would follow him into the haunted house if it meant she could totally let go. Hmm, maybe that's what the ghostly sounds were all about, moans and groans of a whole different sort. Risk glanced her way when she giggled at the thought. She was giddy. Giddy! She occasionally got that way when her blood sugar took a dive. Clearly she was in need of something sweet. Immediately. And Risk fit that bill nicely.

She made her way to the open bow, balancing on bare feet as the boat bounced off the waves. Everything looked brighter, clearer, as he steered away from the docks area. The sun hovered above the skyline of Miami in the distance, shiny and sparkly and— Okay, she was imagining things. The wind tangled in her hair the way she wanted Risk's fingers to. The wind buffeted her and created a chop across the water's surface.

She wished he'd go faster.

The sort-of sentence he'd made on her fridge came back to her: MINDLESS CRAVINGS ABOVE AND BEYOND.

He had that right. Every cell of her body craved him. The feel of him beneath her hands, his touch on her. Though he'd been scanning the horizon, his gaze slid to her. Heat fired in his hazel eyes. She loved being a craving, relished that this sexy, skilled man wanted her so badly. His hair didn't move at all, but the breeze snapped at his cotton shirt. He once said he could make the impossible happen, and he was doing it again. Offering her a sensual experience without expectations. Her body would be completely sated and her mind would have nothing to panic over.

Right in the middle of the huge bay, he cut the engine. Not one boat in sight. He had a hungry look in his eyes as he came around the transom toward her. Her heart thrummed tight and fast in her chest as she stepped toward him. They crashed together, his hands cupping her face, his mouth devouring hers. She twined her fingers in his short hair, sliding through the soft brush of it. His erection, so hard it was almost painful, pressed against her stomach. She ground herself against it, reveling in the evidence of his wanting her.

He braced his feet on the deck, balancing both of them as his hands slid down her backside. He squeezed her butt and made low growling sounds that vibrated through her. She'd never made any kind of noise, but something like a soft whimper came from deep in her throat.

He pulled away with what looked like great effort, taking her in with eyes filled with heat. And deep longing. "Addie," he whispered, kissing her, his tongue sliding against hers.

She loved hearing her name whispered hoarsely like that, as though he needed her and only her or he would die. "Risk," she said, and it sounded the same. How had she come to want—need—him so much?

Just for right now, she told herself. Right now I can let myself need him more than air.

His hands roamed down the front of her shirt, sliding over her breasts on the way down to her hem. He tugged the shirt out of her pants and pulled it over her head. After tossing it on the bench, he unsnapped the clasp at the front of her bra. It joined her shirt. Though she wasn't Babbette, he took her in as though she were the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. He trailed his fingers up her stomach, tracing crescents beneath the globes of her breasts before covering them with his hands. She arched in to his touch. He squeezed her breasts gently, his thumbs trailing over her rigid nipples, and kissed her again.

She blindly unbuttoned his shirt, and he shrugged out of it. He unhooked his holster and set it on the captain's chair. Gilded in the setting sunlight, he looked like a Greek god. She had this insane urge to tell him how beautiful he was, perfect even with his scars. Before she could embarrass herself, he laid her down on the long bench and took one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasped softly, her breasts so sensitive with desire; his gentle sucking drove heat right down between her legs.

God, that was weird. She wriggled as the sensation coiled through her, finding his thigh between her legs. He moved to her other breast, and the cool air tightened her damp peak even more. She dug her fingers into his hair, her fingers stroking his ears.

His hands spanned her stomach, then moved down to her waistband. Yes, touch me, touch me, some wanton part of her begged. She moved her pelvis against his hand, and within seconds her pants and panties were down her legs and somewhere on the deck. His outrageous touching at the dinner had woken a hungry, wild part of her that had been whispering in her ear ever since.

He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh and slid his thumb between her folds. "Mm, nice and wet for me."

Only for you. She'd never gotten wet just wanting a guy before. She moved against his thumb, needing more of his touch. His mouth trailed down her stomach as he touched everywhere but that throbbing nub. Was he trying to drive her crazy?

Then she felt his hot mouth on her. Her hips bucked involuntarily in response to something she'd never experienced. He pressed softly against her for a moment, and then she felt an odd sensation: He was sucking gently on her. His hands angled her thighs farther apart, exposing all of her to him. His tongue lapped over her clit, and she panted as the tidal wave of pleasure rolled closer.

"Addie, girl, you can't go over yet. It's way too soon." He spread her folds and lapped in the space on either side of her clit. Barely touching. Enough to make her gasp but not enough to send her over the edge.

She gripped the side of the bench with one hand, the railing with the other. "No, it's . . . perfect timing."

He chuckled, and the sound vibrated against her. Even that sent great pulsing waves over her. His mouth moved down, and he dipped his tongue inside her. His fingers stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as he made love to her with his tongue. She had no idea that the skin around her entrance could be so erotic, too. His hands slid beneath her behind and held her aloft for better access.

His tongue stroked her clit, one quick swipe that made the pulsing start all over. Her fingers actually hurt from her desperate grip, and her chest felt as though it were going to explode.

"Risk," she pleaded.

He licked her, backing away when she convulsed. "Yes, doll?" Oh, that endearment that did things to her all by itself. Even if it was filled with teasing ignorance. "Something I can do for you?"

She moved her hands to his shoulders so he'd feel what she needed. Her nails dug in. "Let. Me. Come."

Another touch of the tip of his tongue to her. "You sure? You seem to really be enjoying yourself."

"I'm in agony."

"Maybe that's where the expression comes from, the agony"—another flick of that wicked tongue—"and the ecstasy."

She was panting. "I want . . . the ecstasy now. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nice."

Did he send her over? Nooooooo. He slipped his finger inside her and slid it back and forth a few times. His fingertip rubbed against the wall of her, and then, finally, thankyougod, he laved her and sent her over.

A breathless scream emerged from her mouth the moment the wave crashed over her. Every muscle in her body went rigid as she arched and curled her toes with it. As powerful as that damned Taser but a hundred thousand times better.

Then his mouth came back down, and he stroked her some more.

"What are you doing?" she managed.

"Last time you told me I couldn't do that again," he murmured as he continued sliding his tongue over a nub so sensitive she thought it might erupt in flames. "And I told you I could. Make you come again."

Her body convulsed as another orgasm took her. She gasped, writhing in mindless pleasure.

"I could even do it one more time."

She twisted to the side and managed to say, "No, I don't think I could take any more." With rubbery arms, she wrestled with his pants, finally unzipping them and pushing them down his hips and thighs. He kicked them off. Holy Playgirl magazine, he was gorgeous. His erection thrust skyward out of neatly trimmed hair. For a moment she could do nothing but take him in, standing in the golden light.

"You keep looking at me like that, and I'm going to have to take you right here and now," he said in a husky voice.

"You are . . . just beautiful."

She thought he might smirk at the description or wave it off. Instead he grinned. "Back atcha, doll."

Because she was sitting and he was standing, all of his male glory was at face level. She pulled him closer and kissed down the length of him. Her hands squeezed his behind, tight and firm, finger sliding over the smooth scar.

He braced his hands on her shoulders and tilted his head back, surrendering to her. She ran her tongue up and down, nice and slow. As she held him, tasted him, the need for him to be inside her grew stronger. He'd turned her into a sex fiend!

Just this once¸ she reminded herself. One wild, decadent time with him. She wrapped her hand around his erection and pulled the tip into her mouth. It was her turn to tease him. She sucked and nipped and took him fully in, listening carefully to his breathing. When he sounded on the verge of release, his fingers mindlessly tunneling through her hair, she went back to playing. Because she didn't want him to come like this. She wanted him inside her.

"Bang me," she ordered, using his earlier vernacular. "Now." At his surprised expression, she added, "Please."

He grabbed his pants and pulled his wallet out of the back pocket, then extracted a condom. Within seconds, he had it smoothed down over his penis.

"Now you look all gift-wrapped," she said with a grin.

"Just for you, doll."

He picked her up, and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. He sat her on the cabinet that held the sink and eased into her. She gripped his shoulders as he filled her, stretched her, then pulled out to slide back in. Taking it slow for her, because he knew it had been a long time. Something more dangerous than desire filled her heart at that. She focused on the physical, much safer.

When he'd completely filled her, she got that tickly sensation deep in her belly, only stronger. He felt good, so good, enveloping her as he thrust in and out. Too good.

"You okay?" he asked, and she realized he'd been watching her.

She nodded and smiled. "I'm great."

"Mm, yes, you are," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her. His hands slid up and down her back, making her feel secure and safe and cherished. He moved at a languid pace, apparently in no hurry to go over the edge.

No wonder she'd been all right with giving up sex. It had never been like this. Had never made her feel so alive.

Because you've never felt the way you do about Risk.

One hand slid up in her hair, alighting all of those delightful pressure points with his soft strokes. Oh, geez, her pressure points were being lit up all over! She felt a quiver deep within, a foreign sensation that was at once uncomfortable and unbelievably pleasurable. He tugged her hair back, exposing her neck to him. He kissed his way from the place beneath her ear to the crook of her shoulder, then across to the hollow of her collarbone. She braced her hands on the cabinet and surrendered back. He took full advantage, his lips closing over her peak. He sucked gently, pushing that odd sensation solidly onto the unbelievably pleasurable side.

She stroked the side of his face, over his shoulder, and down his muscled biceps. Who was this woman who touched him so easily, who had put her mouth on him and enjoyed it? Who had given herself to him, body and soul? Some hidden part of her personality had come out to play, reveling in being in Risk's arms, instinctively moving with him. This part of her wasn't afraid to let him know what felt good, letting out breathy screams and panting gasps.

He picked her up and laid her on the bench, coming down to claim her mouth. He pulled one of her legs up by his hip, and she curled her foot over his lower back. Each powerful thrust drove him deeper inside her, and his kisses increased in intensity as well. She gripped the sides of his chest, feeling as though she might shoot away like a rocket if she didn't hold on to him. Her face felt hot, her body on fire.

Then it took her, though she didn't know what it was. She gasped as her insides twisted and turned. Oh, an internal orgasm!

"Addie," he whispered, then drove one final time into her. His body shuddered, and he groaned and growled in her ear. She could feel his penis pulsing inside her, hot and hard. He jerked her against him, which tilted them off balance on the narrow bench. They fell to the deck between the bench seats, with her landing on top of him.

His eyes held the hazy, dreamy quality of the sated. "Holy shit, Addie." He reached up and smoothed her hair back from her face.

She blinked. "Yeah. That's what I was thinking."

He held out his hand, staring at it like some alien appendage. "I'm shaking."

She didn't know what that meant, but it clearly wasn't normal for him. Maybe he made love to every woman this intensely, maybe even uttered an expletive afterward. But he didn't tremble.

She sat up, straddling him. "How are we not going to do this again?"

###

## Chapter 14

Addie paced in her bedroom, rubbing her forehead. "You'll say no, even if I beg." She gave him a worried look. "Right?"

Risk watched her from his chair, still wanting her. He was standing on the edge of that cliff, but the urge to fall had nothing to do with chasing another temporary thrill. Or the need to feel something. Because he felt . . . everything. Right here, without doing anything physical. And yet this kind of falling would be the riskiest thing he'd ever done.

"Risk?"

He blinked, coming back to present. "I didn't know it was going to be that good, Addie."

She whirled on him. "You can't renege. You promised. This"—she gestured to include both of them—"will ruin everything."

He hated seeing her in distress, but he didn't quite understand it. "What will be ruined, exactly?"

"Everything I've worked for. Everything I am. I don't even know who that woman on the boat was. She was wanton and lascivious and—"

"Satisfied." He angled his legs out in front of him, loosely crossing his arms. "She was very, very satisfied. Like she discovered what's been missing in her life."

"Sex?"

"Me."

Color bloomed on her face. "Oh, no. You're supposed to be a player. But you're not looking at me like you're planning on playing in someone else's yard as soon as this is done."

He couldn't help smiling at the analogy. "I kinda like your yard. Even if it has a braying ass and pigs. Look, Addie, don't panic. I'm not asking you to marry me. Hell, we've only known each other a few days. I'm just saying you took me by surprise. I didn't expect to . . ."

. . . fall in love with you.

And there he went, falling right off that cliff, because that was what he'd gone and done. "Like you," he finished. Lame. He wouldn't tell her that she'd broken through his numb shell. She was already spooked. But wait. He hadn't told her anything, so it had to be her response to him that had her all knotted up.

She knelt in front of him, angst on her face. "We were only supposed to . . . bang."

Risk grimaced. "I don't like that word coming from you." He brushed her hair from her face. "We had mind-blowing sex. Let's leave it at that."

That seemed to placate her. He hadn't called it making love, after all.

"Is it that good with everyone?" she asked.

He wasn't going to lie. "Nope."

"With some of them, though, right? Maybe better?"

"Nope. And if you keep kneeling in front of me like that, you're going to give me ideas." He pushed to his feet, gathering her hands and pulling her up with him. "We were good together. What are you so afraid of?"

She opened her mouth and seemed to struggle with her words. "I don't know who I am when I'm with you."

"Tell me who you are when you're not with me. Maybe that will help."

She pulled her hands free. "I'm . . . Well, I've got a purpose. When I'm on the phone with a senator or some zoo, or tweeting, I'm the animals' crusader."

"Ah, and when you're having mind-numbing sex with me, you're not that woman in the cape, saving all animal kind. Because you're doing something just for yourself."

She released a quick breath. "Yes, exactly. It feels selfish. And unproductive."

"Actually, having orgasms is very productive. I'm serious," he added at her skeptical look. "It increases blood circulation and expends calories. But there's nothing wrong with doing something just for pleasure. It doesn't have to be sex. It can be going to the movies. Taking an afternoon off and—"

"That's how it starts. An hour here, a day there, and eventually I don't want to make that call. I don't care as much about my purpose because I'm caring about . . . something else. Or someone else."

She was looking at him like he was that someone. He could see that it terrified her, the thought of not putting one hundred percent into her organization. So much that he tested another thought.

"Your father said you ramped up your animal rescues after your mother died. Are you trying to save your mother somehow with each animal you save?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But you want to make it up to her. Saving the puppies was your little-girl way of making something up to her. What was it?"

She flinched as though he'd slapped her. "Who told you that?"

"Your father, when he was talking about your drive to save animals. He's trying to understand you, Addie. And so am I. Help me."

She turned away, trying to shut him out. "I was a kid. Who knows what I meant?"

He gently took hold of her chin, making her face him. "Do you feel responsible for her death, maybe in some subconscious way?"

Her chin quivered. She shifted her gaze away, drifting to some other place. "I used to wish that she'd be home more often," she whispered. "That she wouldn't work so much. Then I got my wish."

"And you think your wish brought her illness?"

She shook her head, pulling herself back to the present. "Of course not. I know I didn't cause her death."

"Knowing it and feeling it are two different things. I knew logically that I didn't have to jump off a mountain to break out of my numbness. But that never changed my need for it. That's the thing about kids. They get ideas that stick in their heads well into adulthood."

She crossed her arms over her chest, erecting her armor. "I think you should leave."

He sensed that pushing too hard would backfire. After all, she could snap her fingers and he'd be replaced.

"I get that you don't want to lose your passion for your organization. That you think if you feel it for something—or someone—else, it will be diluted. But you have enough passion for more than one thing. Hell, Addie, I've never seen a woman with so much of it." He stepped closer, sensing her tighten right up. "I don't know if you're punishing yourself or trying to redeem yourself. I want to know, but letting me too close freaks you out. So out of respect for both my job and your wishes, I will not touch you in any provocative way."

"Or talk to me in that flirty-but-not-overtly-flirty way."

"Can you give me an example of what you mean? I'm not sure I understand."

"The time that you . . ." Her cheeks flushed. "Just no flirting."

"Yes, ma'am."

She breathed out in relief, no doubt happy that he wouldn't be providing any temptation for what she so clearly wanted. "Thank you."

"But I feel obligated to remind you that I promised you could call the shots one time. Not when we're engaging the enemy. Or planning a mission. You asked me what was left. If you come knocking on my bedroom door wanting anything, anything at all, and you invoke that wild card . . ." He shrugged. "I can't very well renege, can I?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You had to go and say that, didn't you?"

"I probably shouldn't have. No, I definitely shouldn't have. Scratch that."

"It doesn't matter; I won't be knocking."

"Good. Because that would put me in a real tight spot. My word versus my honor." He shook his head at the thought of it, then softly tapped his knuckles to her arm. "Stay strong, Addie girl."

After he closed the door behind him, he heard her groan of frustration. Yeah, I feel your pain, doll. He knew that throwing the wild card out there was bad. Bad for her resolve, bad for his professional integrity. The best approach for many reasons would be to wait until this assignment was over and then pursue her full-bore. Take his chances that she wouldn't push him away once she didn't have to be in his company. For now, he had to adhere to his own promise not to touch her.

He went back to his room and tried to relax. It took him only fifteen minutes to get completely, utterly restless. He called Chase. "I'm going to hit the range. Can your security guy keep an eye on Addie?"

"Sure thing. Sax and Julian are shooting, too. I'm wrapping up a few more pieces of information on your canned-hunt guy, and then we'll have a meeting. I'll come get you in the range."

"Great." Risk hung up and grabbed his gun; annihilating some targets was just what he needed.

Chase had top-notch security measures in place. Risk felt compelled to wave at the cameras whenever he spotted them. Those cameras also lessened the temptation to grab Addie and get a little crazy in the bushes or the pool.

He pressed his finger in the reading device, got buzzed in, and nodded to the boys when he entered the shooting area. There was something oddly comforting about the sound of gunfire and the shells hitting the floor.

Julian and Sax pulled off their earmuffs, cleared their guns, and wandered over. Risk was instantly alert at their sly smiles.

"How was dinner?" Sax asked. "Nice and romantic?"

Risk had a sudden panicky thought that there was a camera on the boat. But no, he'd checked before even thinking about cutting the engine. "Just nice. Our relationship is strictly business. Platonic." Except that sounded hollow to his own ears. Apparently to theirs as well, because they both snorted.

"Either you're full of shit or you're blind as shit, and I think it's the first," Julian said.

Sax was studying him as though he were a specimen. Risk tried like hell to keep a straight face, but he must have failed. Sax said, "Me, too. 'Cause there was nothing platonic about what was going on in the hot tub earlier. Talk, Farm Boy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The way she was looking at you, and the way you were looking at her . . ." Sax rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't feeling each other up under the water."

Julian grimaced. "You weren't, were you? I don't even want to think about those implications."

"Then don't," Risk said. Whew, at least they didn't know for sure. "That would be uncool, spreading my jism in the hot tub."

"You did race off awfully fast," Julian said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I had to take a piss. Don't make too much of it. And it would be unprofessional to . . . bang my client." He couldn't call it anything else without totally giving it away.

He signed out a box of target ammo, grabbed his gun, and walked to one of the firing stations. Unfortunately, they tagged right along with him.

"It's all right, buddy," Sax said. "We won't say a word about it."

"Drop it," Risk said. Denying it wasn't going to do a lick of good. These knuckleheads would see right through him.

Sax elbowed Julian. "He hesitated before he used the word bang. Which means he was thinking of other words. Making love, maybe?"

Risk shot them a quelling look before opening his box. And damn, he fumbled the flaps.

"I've never seen him like this," Julian said. "Fumbling. Looking conflicted. Ignoring us."

"I'm busy loading my magazine," Risk said through gritted teeth.

"Which you could do with your eyes closed," Sax pointed out. Accurately.

Risk thumped the magazine against Sax's chest. "What part of drop it did you not understand? 'Cause I'm happy to spell it out for you."

Sax raised his hands in surrender, but he was still grinning. "You like this gal, don't you? I mean like her. You should have seen your face when she was talking about sneaking onto the hunting property. You looked like you were about to shit yourself."

Yeah, he'd probably given that away. "All the times I was doing crazy stuff like jumping off the barn roof, and my older brother was so pissed off. Now I understand what I put him through." The thought of Addie inserting herself into dangerous situations had washed him in cold dread.

"When she was going on about the canned hunts, you got a different look on your face. Face it, dude, you've never been good at hiding what's going on inside your head." Julian nudged Sax. "That's why he always loses at poker."

Sax shook his head. "But he just keeps on trying."

Risk knew he'd been had. He had never gotten so touchy about any woman. "She's a good woman," he said, and slid his earmuffs on. He didn't want to endure any more questioning. Unfortunately, the earmuffs were the ones that muffled the racket of gunfire but allowed you to hear conversation. Unfortunate because he heard Julian say, "I don't think he likes her. I think our boy's in love."

Addie had a handle on this Risk thing. She did. Really. Goodness, it wasn't as though she'd become mindless.

MINDLESS CRAVINGS ABOVE AND BEYOND.

She shook her head. That bit of wording was waiting for her at home. Maybe she'd ask Shirley to change it up for her. No, better not. Addie would have to explain why Risk had put those words there. And why she needed them gone.

She opened her laptop and tried to immerse herself in the posts on her Facebook page. Chase had warned her about posting photos, because there were ways to find out where they'd been taken. Some kind of code that smartphone cameras embedded in the picture.

Addie itched to respond to several posts about Carrigan's accusations. Her fingers literally twitched over the keys, but she held back. People would have to wonder. Speculate. Once this was all over, she could clear everything up. She was having serious social networking withdrawal. Carrigan obviously had not filed any charges yet; the detective would have notified her.

She Googled Trango Towers and found several videos of crazy people jumping off. Falling horrifyingly fast, banging into the rock face, then pulling their canopies to drift to the ground. Risk had done that. She didn't want him to do it ever again.

But you have no say in his life. Focus on your own life.

She needed to check in with Shirley. Her finger hovered over Risk's contact in her list. She forced herself to scroll farther down.

"Hey, kiddo," Shirley answered. "I was just kicking back about to watch one of my DVR'd 'Big Bang Theory' shows. Everything okay on your end?"

Addie was going to update her on their plans. Check in on the animals. But what came out was "I had meat" on a whine.

"Oh, honey, it's all right. We all give in to temptation once in a while. I had a hamburger a couple of years ago. And yeah, it was so good, with the juice running down my chin. But later my stomach felt weird and unsettled, and that did it for any future temptation. How do you feel now?"

"Like I want more. Like I want it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and maybe a snack and—"

"You're not talking about meat, are you? 'Cause there's something a bit too lustful in your voice for a burger."

Addie bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I had two bites of Risk's steak. And then I had Risk."

Shirley chuckled. "Well, honey, that's not surprising."

"Not surprising? Not surprising! Do you not know me at all? I'm focused. I'm driven. I don't have room in my life for a man."

"And you're lonely. Believe me, it takes one to know one. A woman needs love, needs the touch of another person. A woman needs to be made love to. You've told me for years about how you don't want a man in your life, don't need that kind of distraction and yada-yada. What I've heard was 'I keep telling myself I don't want that, but I do.' You're human, honey."

"But I don't want to be human. I want to be . . . " Super animal crusader, complete with a cape? Bah. Risk was right. It does sound ridiculous. "I want to be stronger than my baser needs."

"Good luck with that. I knew you were in trouble when I saw the way he was looking at you."

Addie tucked her bent knees to her chest. "How was he looking at me?"

"Ha. I knew you'd ask. If you're not interested in pursuing anything with him, I probably shouldn't tell you."

"Out with it," she barked.

At least Shirley didn't laugh again, treacherous woman. "Like he wanted you. No, more like a longing. The guy's not good at hiding it, which is kinda refreshing. People are always masking their feelings. Even to themselves."

Longing. Risk had looked at her with longing. That settled into her chest like a hundred butterflies. "What did you see in my eyes when I looked at him?" Damn, had she really asked that question? Because Shirley would tell her the truth.

"You were a tangle of emotions. You had that longing, too, but I could see you trying to fight it. Look, even I can appreciate the fact that the guy's gorgeous. Has a great smile. And that protective instinct. If you'd seen his face when he realized you'd given him the slip, man, he was scared for you. One look at him and I knew you were a goner, girlfriend. It was just a matter of time. So, how was it? No details, just an overall impression."

"Oh my God." She rubbed her hand over her face.

Shirley chuckled this time. "Better than anyone else?"

"I can't even remember what anyone else was like. Not only did he totally satisfy me physically, the way he said my name . . ." Longing. "It was more than sex. And that scared me."

"Did he call it making love? That's a big clue about where someone's head is."

"No, but he didn't like when I called it banging. And he was shaking afterward, which I think freaked him out a little."

"Oh, honey, you are so lucky."

"Lucky? I'm not lucky. A gorgeous, sexy man and fantastic lover is tempting me into having more sex with him. How is that lucky?"

Shirley was out-and-out laughing. "No, you're . . . right. It's . . . terrible. Awful."

"I thought you of all people would understand that what we do requires a huge commitment. And sacrifice."

"It does. But purpose doesn't hold you tight when lightning cracks across the sky. Victory doesn't fill you with sexual pleasure. If I had a woman who looked at me like that and made me feel like you feel, I would grab on with both hands."

Just the thought of doing that with Risk made Addie shiver. "And you wouldn't be able to dedicate as much time to the animals."

"Nope. Because I'd have a life I need and deserve. So do you."

Addie blew out a breath. "You're supposed to tell me how important our work is, how we're those people who give up everything to be the champion of those without voices."

"Sorry to let you down. Look, I'm not telling you to marry the guy and have a kid or three. I'm just saying you deserve him. For a couple of days or a couple of months, however long it might last. So enjoy him right now."

Addie walked to the window, seeing the manicured foliage in the dying light. "I don't know."

"So don't know. Just do. I've been staring at Sheldon's open mouth on the frozen TV screen for several minutes. Since I don't have a beautiful woman wanting to pleasure me, I'm going to watch my show. Stop overthinking and follow your heart. Good night."

Easy for her to say. Would it have been so hard for Shirley to just say, Don't do it! No, she'd told Addie to do it!

Do it, do it, do it, some part of her chanted. The part that had woken up at Risk's touch and was trying to shove crusader Addie into the background.

If she did decide to treat herself to some more Risk, she would have to use her wild card to order him to do it. How humiliating would that be? But she wasn't going to give in, even if her body was alighting at the thought.

A knock on the door jarred her. Annoyingly, her heart jumped at the prospect of Risk standing on the other side. She could imagine him leaning against the door frame with a provocative smile. So when she opened the door and found Chase there, she could feel her expression fall.

"Sorry, it's not Risk."

"Oh, I . . . It's fine."

"You looked a little disappointed."

And most women would not be disappointed to find Chase Justiss at their door. "I just expected to find him there, that's all. No big deal," she felt compelled to add.

"I've got some intelligence on Walter Elrod. I thought we should convene with Risk and discuss our plan of action."

The cub. That was what she needed to be focusing on, not Risk. "Great. I'm so anxious to see the sweet little thing."

"Risk?" Chase asked, arching his eyebrow.

"No!" God, could she have shoved that word out any faster? "The tiger. I'm so worried about him." Yeah, so worried that you were losing your mind on a boat just a short time ago. Guilt nipped at her. She'd let her mom down.

She didn't like Chase's knowing smile as he backed up. "Of course. What was I thinking?"

She followed him out of the house and down the path. They hadn't knocked on Risk's door. She was not going to ask where he was. Still, she searched for him as they walked toward the big metal building.

"Risk and the guys are in the range. You ever handle a gun?"

"Noooo," she said, the word drawing out. "Never wanted to."

"With what you said you do—sneaking onto people's property, for instance—you should consider arming yourself."

He pressed his thumb into the silver box at the door, and it opened. She glanced at the camera poised over the door. The guy had serious security issues.

The sound of gunfire bounced across the building when they entered, though it was muffled behind the thick Plexiglas wall. Probably bulletproof glass. Risk stood with his legs hip width apart, body straight and strong, shooting the hell out of a paper zombie's chest. He jerked with each shot but held his position. She was not into guns, but she had to admit, he looked damned sexy. Capable. Good.

Yeah, he was all of those things.

He released the magazine, eyed the barrel, set both pieces on the table, and turned toward the door. His gaze went right to her, and he gave her a wave that seemed intimate somehow. That word again. And they'd been intimate, all right. Chase probably had picked up on it, because he was good, too. Risk's two SEAL buddies gave her the kind of grin that made her think they knew she and Risk had the best sex of her life on the boat. Maybe she was imagining it; maybe she was being paranoid.

Or maybe their attraction was just that obvious.

Risk came out the door and asked Chase, "You have intel on Elrod?"

Chase nodded. "I think we may have our guy."

###

## Chapter 15

Risk purposely sat across the conference table from Addie and not next to her. Then he realized that looking across the table at her was likely to be more hazardous, given his not-so-poker face. He shifted his attention to Chase. "What do we have?"

Chase crossed his ankle over his knee. "Walter Elrod is out of jail. He was released early, about a month ago. I spoke with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation to see if we could approach this from a legal standpoint if we found evidence. They can't step in unless they're called by the local authorities. As you learned, Addie, the local authorities won't touch Elrod. Besides his indictment, he had one other complaint lodged against him about five years ago: an assault charge that was dropped because the guy went missing."

Addie planted her elbows on the table. "Maybe he went into hiding, like Elrod's wife. She was afraid, so she must know Elrod is a dangerous man."

"Or Elrod killed the guy," Risk said. "Have you heard from his wife recently?"

"Not since the trial. She sent me one quick e-mail through Facebook, letting me know she was lying low. Elrod always left her out of his dealings, but someone involved in the operation kept her informed. Maybe she can find out if he's holding a tiger cub."

Chase nodded. "Try to touch base with her and find out. According to the detective who's working on your near-hit-and-run and the assault at the zoo, if we can find evidence of the tiger in Elrod's possession, he may be able to finagle a search warrant. It's trickier when evidence is gathered by a trespassing civilian, but not impossible." He pulled up a YouTube channel and turned the laptop toward them. "Walter Elrod is very vocal. He's posted rants on subjects ranging from gun control to a man's right to do whatever he wants on his own property. He never admits he hosts canned hunting. The man's not stupid. But he's volatile."

They watched two of his rants—yes, the right word for them. Just like Addie had said, he raged about his rights, and wasn't this "America and not some Commie country?"

Chase closed his laptop. "That's what we're dealing with. He feels justified to protect his rights. And he has the means to do it, which ties in to those rights—bearing arms and hunting."

"And he has cages to hold animals," Addie said.

Chase stood. "We need to proceed with caution."

When they all headed back downstairs, Addie paused as she took in the range. Then she turned to Risk. "Could you teach me to shoot?"

The request startled him for more than one reason. "Absolutely. It'd be a good idea to know how to use a gun. To carry one."

"Yeah, that's what Chase said, too. And he's right. You're both right."

Oddly, it wasn't fear that he saw in her eyes. No, determination gleamed in those blue depths, and hell, he'd give her anything she wanted, looking at him like that.

Well, except that. Because he'd promised. He'd told himself that he wouldn't be alone with her where temptation would beckon. He was sure the boys would join them in the range, because if anyone was shooting, they were in. Practicing for them was probably like grabbing a cigarette for smokers. If one was doing it, the others would, too.

But the bastards headed out with Chase, leaving Addie and Risk alone in the cavernous space. Well, wasn't that sweet of the boys? Not.

Risk went to the cabinet and perused the selection. Chase's gun cabinets were a wet dream, containing every type of gun, every caliber, even Tasers and a couple of crossbows. "A good gun for you is the .38 Special." He pulled it off its hook and showed it to her. "This is an LCR, which stands for lightweight compact revolver. That makes it a good gun for a woman's smaller hands, as well as a good conceal gun. It's a double-action, which means that pulling the trigger cocks and shoots it. Tell me how it feels." He held it out to her. "The gun is unloaded."

"Okay."

He shook his head. "Never take anyone's word for it. Check for yourself." He slid his thumb over the release button and pushed out the cylinder to show her. She leaned closer and checked the barrel. "Very good," he said.

"I saw you do it earlier."

He snapped the cylinder back into the frame. "Always treat it as though it is loaded. Know where the muzzle is pointed at all times." He tapped the end of the gun to show her. "Unless you intend to shoot, keep it pointed down at a forty-five-degree angle."

She slid her fingers against his as she took the gun. It was odd to enjoy that bit of contact over the cool metal of a revolver, but there it was.

He waited until he knew she had a good hold on it before releasing her. She was staring at it as though it might turn into a snake, but her grip was solid. All wrong but solid.

"Let me show you the proper way to hold it." He came up behind her, wrapped his body around hers, and positioned her hands in the correct way. "Always keep your trigger finger straight until you're ready to pull it. Thumbs on the same side." Damn, he liked the feel of her plastered against him. "Perfect." In more ways than one.

When she turned to give him a smile, her cheek brushed his, and her mouth was way too close. Discipline. What the hell had happened to his discipline? He stepped back, barely wrangling it under control. "Let's go into the range, and you can fire a few rounds." He grabbed up the ammo and led her to one of the lanes, then instructed her to squeeze off a few empty rounds to get the feel for it. "Ready for the real thing?"

She nodded. "It feels strange to hold a weapon."

"Chase likes to remind us not to call it a weapon, though that's what I call it, too. It's a tool that can be used as a weapon. Go ahead and load the cylinder."

She inserted one cartridge and looked at him for approval.

"Exactly."

She continued to load. "It's almost . . . sexual, don't you think?" She held up one cartridge. "They even look phallic."

He guided her hand to shove that one in. "Let's not go there."

"Sorry. After our . . . experience on the boat, my brain is going there a lot."

She gave him a smile that was both provocative and innocent at the same damned time. He wasn't sure how she managed that, or whether she was doing it on purpose, but it had an instantaneous effect on his body. "A lot of me is going there lately, but we have an agreement." He guided her hand down because she'd turned to him and inadvertently shifted the gun in his direction.

"Sorry. I got distracted."

"Never get distracted when you're holding a loaded gun." He shifted her toward the target. His hands slid to her hips. "Stand with your legs a little wider than shoulder width apart."

"See, for example, when you said that, all I can think of is you nudging my legs apart—"

"Addie." He lowered his head. "Are you trying to drive me crazy? Because it's working."

More of that guileless look. "I'm just trying to learn how to shoot."

He shifted her so that she was facing the target, because it was all he could do not to kiss that look right off her face. Guileless, his ass. "Then shoot."

She gave her shoulders a little shake. "You don't have to get testy about it."

Testy. She was calling him testy? Why was she teasing him? It was Addie who'd been adamant about no more physical contact. Now she was wiggling her ass as she got into shooting position. Testing him.

Yes, that's exactly what she was doing. There was only one reason he could think of for her to do that: She'd changed her mind. He could see the hunger in her eyes, a hunger he recognized down to his bones. So she wanted to goad him into making the overture. No way. He had to live up to his word. It was a matter of honor. Unless she played her wild card. But maybe he could nudge her toward doing just that.

Two can play at that game, sweetheart. And while it would stretch his resolve thin, he was going to give it right back to her. As her teacher, he had to assess her posture and alignment. Which meant checking out her backside, and oh, what a nice backside it was. He ran his hands along her upper thigh, pulling her legs apart just another inch. While he'd been doing that, he let the front of his body just barely touch the back of hers. Then he ran his hands down her arms and shifted their angle. He leaned right next to her ear and whispered, "Now you're perfect."

He thought she shivered. His hands remained at her wrists. "Do you know if you're right- or left-eye-dominant?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sight the bull's-eye with both eyes open. You want the center square between the two notches on the gun's sight. See it?" He'd left himself plastered against her.

She nodded, which rubbed her cheek against his. Okay, this was as tough on him as it was on her. He had withstood grueling conditions and powered through; he could power through the raging hunger for Addie without giving in.

"Now close your right eye. Is the gun still pointing at the target?"

"Yes."

"Then you're left-eye-dominant. You want to aim with that eye. Are you ready to pull the trigger, Addie?"

She must have picked up the subtext in his voice, because she turned to him. "Uh . . . yes."

"Good. And you're not scared, right? You should never be afraid to shoot."

"I'm not scared. I have some trepidation. Nervousness. It's good to try things that make you uncomfortable. That makes your heart race."

"Mmm, glad you feel that way." He backed away from her. "A .38 is strong enough to stop an assailant if you hit him in the right place. Might as well start with a sufficient caliber. When you pull the trigger, you'll feel some recoil." He saw her narrow her eyes; she was probably wondering if there was subtext in that, too. Just to make it clear, he arched his eyebrow. "Once you shoot, you're going to like it. It's immensely satisfying to send a bullet screaming into the target. You'll feel a rush of power so compelling, you'll want to do it again. And again." He guided her arms back to face the target, since her body had swiveled as he'd talked. "Just remember that you're dealing with something powerful. And dangerous."

"Don't I know it." She quickly averted her gaze to the target. She was way out of her league if she thought she was going to tempt him beyond reason.

Except . . . hadn't she already? Because he had totally forgotten about ear protection. "Hold your position." He retrieved muffs from the cabinet and placed one on her head. Then he put on his. "Take a deep breath, exhale, and pull the trigger." Her first shot nailed the body-shaped target in the lower hip. "At least you hit the guy. You've got four more shots in the gun before you have to reload."

She let out the rest of them in steady succession, set the gun down, and smiled at her handiwork as he brought the target close. "I kept them all on the bad guy," she said with a huge grin.

"Nice job."

Her eyes were sparkling with triumph. "You're right. I do want to shoot more. It feels empowering."

"Load her up and go for it."

She went through three more rounds, getting a little more accurate with each one, before setting the gun down. With the muzzle faced in a safe direction, God love her. Her grin was still in place. "I want to do it again."

His cock twitched. Whoa, there, buddy, she's talking about shooting. Or is she? "You can shoot all you want," he said.

"I don't mean at this exact time, but I definitely want to shoot some more. Maybe tomorrow."

"Come get me whenever you want." He gave her a pointed look. "Just say the word."

She bit her lower lip, and her eyes reflected all kinds of conflict. Because she wasn't talking about shooting anymore. "I'll keep that in mind."

She had made him promise not to give in, even if she begged. He hoped she didn't beg. He wasn't sure he could resist, despite the fact that she had clothes on.

They put the gun and ammo away and walked out into the warm night air.

"Who are you waving at?" she asked when he closed the door behind them.

"Security camera." Risk pointed up at where it was discreetly mounted. "Let's go send Elrod's ex-wife a message."

They walked down the softly lit path toward the guesthouse. He felt the absurd urge to take her hand. Addie was clearly at war with herself, wanting the thrill and knowing she shouldn't have it. He knew that battle because it raged inside him, too. Addie needed to be very sure she wanted to go there, because she'd drown in guilt over taking something for herself. He couldn't push, pull, or cajole her. It had to be her decision, one hundred percent, so he wouldn't feel bad about it.

He followed her into her bedroom, where she surveyed the ceilings. "There are no cameras in here, I hope."

"No. Just outside the front door."

"Not that I think Chase is a perv or anything."

Risk chuckled. "No, he seems like a good guy."

"He suspects there's something between us, by the way. Not that he came out and said so, but when I was talking about seeing the sweet little thing, he thought I meant you. I was talking about the cub."

Risk laughed. "Crafty son of a bitch. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he was testing you. Did you pass?"

She set her laptop on the bed, plugged it in, and fired it up. "I pretended I had no idea."

"Yeah, you do guileless very well."

She continued looking guileless. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mmm-hm. Well, the boys are on to us, too. They were poking fun at me earlier. And I don't do guileless well. Hell, your father called me on the way I was looking at your picture on your Facebook page. That was when he warned me away, said we'd be a dangerous combo. He was right."

"How were you looking at my picture? And which one?"

"It was you in that dark pink bikini, washing cars. And I was thinking that I could do this." He wrapped his hands around her waist. "Wondering if my fingers could touch. Not quite. Then I thought your boobs were the perfect size, just a little more than a handful." He held out his hands an inch in front of those perfect mounds. "And I was right."

Her cheeks went all pink. "So you noticed my waist before my boobs?"

He let his hands drop before he gave in to temptation. "Actually I noticed your smile first, then your amazing eyes. In all fairness to my mindless male libido, that was before the bikini picture. I can't honestly say I would have noticed your eyes before your boobs. But you looked amazing in that bikini. And you looked damned good in the not-quite-bikini today, too."

Her gaze was locked to his. "Thanks."

If they stayed like that for one more second, he was going to give in. He cleared his throat and held on to his honor. "You were going to send the ex-wife an email."

She blinked and seemed to force herself to look at the laptop. He sat behind her as she logged on to her Facebook page and then went to the e-mail. She had to scroll through about a thousand e-mails before getting to the old one from Ursula. Addie dashed off a quick Hope you're doing well. Do you have a way to find out if your ex has a tiger cub available for hunting? He may have stolen the cub when he assaulted me.

She set the laptop on the nightstand and scooted off the bed. He forced himself to the door. "I'd better go." Before I do something I shouldn't.

Except she was coming closer. "Risk, you've introduced me to a few firsts."

He should just nod and open the door. His fingers closed over the knob. "Such as?"

"Having an orgasm in a roomful of people, for one. Shooting a firearm."

"And you did very well. At the shooting, I mean. Both, really."

"Experiencing an internal orgasm. On a boat. All firsts. Eating meat was a first in a long time, anyway."

Whew, she was back on a safer subject. "And you liked it."

She nodded. "I have to admit, I enjoyed eating that steak. But I don't want to eat meat again."

"Duly noted."

"But I liked the other things. And I want to do them again." She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. "It felt so good with your body around mine, you inside me. I never imagined that feeling so . . . right. So I'm skipping past the begging and using my wild card." A shadow of doubt crossed her face. "Unless you don't want to."

"Cripes, Addie, I get a hard-on every time you look at me." He pulled her closer so she could feel it for herself, then drew his finger from her chin down to her collarbone. "I don't want you thrashing yourself afterward."

"I won't, because it's just for tonight." She ran her hands over the front of his shirt. "That's all you want, right? You're not looking for a long-term thing. You said you felt relieved when you had to say goodbye."

Yes, he had, but he didn't feel relief at the thought of cutting ties with Addie. "Nope, not looking for something permanent." He didn't want to scare her away from this moment.

"So when you're finished with this job, we'll promise to keep in touch. You'll get busy with another assignment, and I'll be out with my cape, saving animal kind, and we'll drift apart, like you said. Right?"

He felt a sinking at her prediction. Yes, his own prediction, but he'd only been trying to quell her fears. Maybe she was doing the same. "Right."

He cupped those perfectly sized breasts in his hands, and she closed her eyes and inhaled softly, as though she'd been waiting all day. He brushed his thumbs over the pebbles of her nipples and took her mouth. She opened to him immediately, sliding her tongue against his and leaning in to his palms. Her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt as she devoured his mouth.

Addie had clearly become addicted to his touch. And he would use that craving to get her addicted to him. All of him.

Within seconds, they were naked, falling onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Damn, he craved her, too. He nudged his knee between her legs and pushed gently against her apex as his hand explored her body. Her skin was silky smooth and soft, and he visually soaked in every inch of her.

"You're beautiful, Addie."

She had a dreamy look on her face, her cheeks rosy from increased blood flow. She traced her hand down his chest, over his stomach, and circled his cock with her fingers. "You, too. Though I guess it's emasculating to be called beautiful."

He chuckled. "I can handle it." She had called him that before, and he'd liked it. No woman had ever called him that before.

She arched an eyebrow. "I bet." Then she started stroking down the length of him, and he wasn't chuckling anymore. "That was another first," she said. "Going down on you."

He let out a low groan, but it was as much over her words as her stroking. "Well, you did a damned fine job."

She grinned. "I could practice more."

I am so in love with this woman. This time the knowledge settled in, right down to his bones. She pushed him back on the bed, straddled him, and moved her mouth over his pecs. Her sex snuggled right against the base of his cock, slick and hot. She stroked him as she kissed across his body, drawing her hands over his hardened nipples and his abs. And to judge by the way she was looking at him, she appreciated every ridge . . . especially that ridge.

He was the only man she'd ever gone down on. She'd come internally only with him. He suspected that she'd never been so responsive with anyone else. Damn, damn, damn.

She scraped her teeth lightly across his head, then pulled him fully into her mouth. She alternated hard sucking with soft licking, and it about drove him crazy. Since he knew she wasn't experienced, he could draw one conclusion about the amazing way she was making him feel—she was enjoying it.

He swam through the fog of pleasure and lifted his head. She was watching him, and though her mouth was preoccupied, a smile lit her eyes.

She sat up, and yep, she was grinning. "I like watching the muscles of your face contort, and how your mouth goes a little slack, like you're completely lost."

"Oh, I'm definitely lost." In more ways than one.

He pulled her up and flipped her over so that he was hovering over her. He dipped down in a low push-up, kissing her. His cock pressed in to her stomach, sandwiched between their bodies. Though it was throbbing with the need for release, he was in no hurry. This wasn't the urgent lovemaking on the boat. They were in the privacy of her room, on a comfortable bed, and they had all night.

She had a hazy gleam in her eye, like she'd had at the benefit dinner after drinking a little too much wine. Since she'd had nothing alcoholic recently, he knew the hazy, dreamy quality was all about this, this moment, pleasure.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms over his shoulders. He cocooned her with his body, remembering how she'd said she liked having his body around hers. Yeah, he'd get to the inside-her part soon enough. For now he liked having her close, her body perfectly tucked in the confines of his. She felt right there.

He rolled them to their sides and drew his fingers over the planes of her face, tracing her soft lips. Her blue-eyed gaze was locked to his. He gently scraped his fingers through the waves of her hair and then massaged along the shell of her ears. She let out long sighs, a smile stretching across her face.

"I thought guys wanted to get right to it," she said.

"If that's been your experience, you've been with the wrong guys."

"I can see that." She paused. "Does that mean you're the right guy?"

"It makes me the only guy."

Before she could get panicky about what that might mean, he gave her something else to focus on. Like his mouth on her nipple, sucking and licking until she curled her fingers on his shoulders. He kissed across her stomach and then did a raspberry that had her writhing and bursting out in laughter.

"I love that sound," he said, and sent her into another fit just to hear more of it.

When she could catch her breath, she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a menace, Risk Yarbrough."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

She had no idea. Or maybe she did.

He gentled his kisses as he traveled lower on her stomach, and he trailed his fingers down her leg. Moving it aside, stroking her soft skin, and then sliding his finger into her wet vagina. She gasped and hitched her breath when his mouth came down over her. She was so ready, he wasn't even able to tease her. Her body shuddered after three strokes of his tongue. So he made her come three more times.

"Oh my God, I'm exhausted," she said on a rush of breath.

He slid up beside her. "No rest for the wicked, babe."

She brushed her fingers over his face. "I liked when we were pretending to be boyfriend/girlfriend."

He kissed her fingertips as they moved across his mouth. "I like this better."

"Mmm," she said, being totally noncommittal.

He gave her a tug as he rolled onto his back so that she was straddling him again. "My pretend girlfriend likes being on top."

She wiggled, and because she was sitting on his cock, the action sent a spasm of pleasure through him. "She does, huh?"

"And she knows I like the view, watching her hips thrust in and out and those exquisite breasts bouncing with her movements. And the look on her face when the orgasm hits."

"You think she can take control well?" Tiny creases of tension had formed at the corners of her mouth.

"Very well. I have a lot of faith in my girlfriend." He reached up and drew his hand from her collarbone down to her stomach. "I also like that she's not terribly experienced."

The lines eased as she smiled. "I do read a lot of sexy novels."

"There you go. No worries." He laid his arms above his head. "I'm at your mercy."

She sighed as she took him in. "You're a sex god. You know that, don't you?"

"Sex god?" He considered that. "I like the sound of it."

She smacked his chest. "Don't let it go to your head."

"How am I not supposed to let it go to my head? I mean, a guy only gets called a sex god maybe once in his life."

She shook her head, but she was smiling as she reached for the condom package he'd thrown on the nightstand when they'd stripped off their clothes. "I'm getting slaphappy from lack of good sleep and an abundance of stress. I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean to say it, actually. I was thinking it, and then it sort of rolled out of my mouth."

She took his erection in one hand and worked the condom over him with the other. It took several agonizing seconds before she was kissing across his chest and flicking her tongue at his nipples as she eased onto his shaft.

Heaven. Frickin' heaven, as she sheathed him with her heat. Heaven with a cherry on top as she moved, at first tentatively, then with more confidence. He anchored his hands at her hips and caught her rhythm. She braced her hands on his waist and arched so that he took in the creamy column of her throat. Just the sight of her, completely caught up in the pleasure they were creating, was enough to put him over the edge. He held on, reining back the orgasm.

She met his gaze, her eyes glassy with heat. Her smile was oddly angelic. His control paid off when, after a few more minutes, she rocked her head back and shuddered around his cock. And that was all it needed to send him over. She dug her nails into his pecs as the waves of her orgasm rolled over her.

"Oh my God, I think I'm so—"

"You're what?" he prodded when she let it drop.

"A sex fiend. You've turned me into a sex fiend."

That wasn't what she'd been about to say, though he wouldn't call her on it. He wanted to think it would have been I'm so in love with you, but it might have been totally exhausted now.

She collapsed on top of him, her hands resting against the sides of his rib cage. He rubbed the back of her neck, where her hair was damp.

"Another first," she murmured.

"What's that?"

"Having sex twice in one day. Amazing sex. I mean, I've never had any kind of sex twice in a day, but amazing sex . . ." She shook her head. "I'm babbling. I think all my brain cells just exploded with that last orgasm."

He chuckled. "But what a way to go."

She'd given him several firsts, too. Including falling in love. No way was he going to drift out of her life. For now, though, he wouldn't push her. He'd learned that you didn't barge into a compound. You slipped behind the walls before the enemy even knew you were around. You used stealth, cunning, and patience to achieve your goal. Addie was a prize worth the wait.

Their bodies were sealed together from thigh to chest, and he could feel her heartbeat as it leveled off.

"I like it here," she whispered sleepily, her finger trailing lazy circles around his nipple.

His chest tightened at the declaration. "You can stay there all night."

He drew swirls across her back, tracing the line of her spine all the way to the curve of her lovely ass. Her breathing settled into a soft, deep pattern. He liked the feel of her on top, pressing him into the soft mattress. "Want to know something else about my girlfriend?" When she didn't answer, he said, "She's madly in love with me. Now all she has to do is realize it."

###

## Chapter 16

Adeline Wunder. Her face permeated his mind. Her name echoed in his head, like the drip of water from a leaky faucet. He sank down onto the cracked and worn leather chair he'd been meaning to replace for years, and woke up his computer. That pixie face was the first thing he saw, grinning from the Facebook page he'd been monitoring. She'd posted nothing more than a thank-you to all her busybodies for participating in the zoo protest, but nothing that gave away her current activities.

She was either lying low or, more likely, investigating. No way would Miss Wunder let the tiger go. She was another bitch out to cut off his balls. Wagging her finger and making him out to be a bad guy when she was the one trespassing and violating the laws.

His snarl turned into a smile. Didn't people preach nowadays to focus on the positive? Yeah, he was going to do just that. He had a way of dealing with nosy bitches, and Miss Wunder was at the top of his list.

He trolled around online for a bit, and then an idea hit him. After a few minutes, he sat back in his chair. "Well, well, well, maybe all that positive-thinking shit actually works. 'Cause I got exactly what I needed to move things along. Miss Wunder, we're going to tussle. And this time you're not going to get away. You'll be apologizing all over yourself." He smiled. "Begging me for mercy. And finding not one speck of it."

A ding roused Addie from the best sleep she'd had in ages. Dimly, she realized it was a Facebook notification. Not so dimly, she realized she was completely tucked into Risk's embrace. Sometime during the night, she'd awakened from a dream in which she was sleeping on a large rock. Except it was Risk. As yummy as his body was, it wasn't comfortable to sleep on.

As she'd resettled, it was the most natural thing to slide up against him spoon-style and sink back in to sleep. That was when the incredible sleep had started. After the incredible sex. With the incredible guy. The pieces came together, all those little things he'd said that had stepped up her heartbeat even more than his hands had. She could feel his erection pressed against her back. She assumed he was asleep by the steady breathing that blew across her shoulder.

Had she called him a sex god? Really? Of course, that was nothing compared to ordering him to have sex with her in the first place. She'd fallen into a hole, just like Alice. Oh my God, she'd almost told him she was in love with him.

Because . . . she was.

It was supposed to be about being selfish and taking pleasure for herself only one more time. Breathe. He's not looking for anything permanent. He even said he wasn't going to ask you to marry him. He's just playing in your yard for a bit. Then he'll move in, like he talked about. Move on. He'll move on!

And so would she. She calmed her heartbeat enough to remember the notification. She was definitely brain-addled. She turned inside the confines of his arms. Risk slowly opened his eyes. He looked like a sleepy little boy, if she didn't take his bristly chin into account.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, his voice husky. "Did I hear a ding?"

That smile turned her heart upside down. Yeah, a ding in my heart. "It might be Ursula. I'd better check."

He gathered her closer. "Just one more minute."

He was so tempting. She could lie there all morning, all day. And that was the problem. She wrestled her way out, when every cell of her body screamed to stay put, and opened her laptop. "Yes, she answered," she said.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arm across her collarbone as he read the e-mail with her:

One of his associates doesn't like what he's doing. I checked with him, and he sent me this link to a new hunt he's advertising. Not specifically about a tiger but could be. I hope you can bring him down. He's a bad man.

Addie clicked on the link, and it opened a webpage that read:

To our clients:

We have a unique "blind" opportunity for you. If you've hunted with us before, you know our surprise hunts never disappoint. Only one person allowed, and the hunt must be done tomorrow. This one goes to the highest bidder. Click here to bid.

She clicked and saw that the bidding was up to $1,240. The auction ended in two hours. "Some of his more exotic hunts go for up to thirty thousand."

"He's not getting much of a response yet. I say we bid."

"We have to put in a phone number."

"Chase gave me an untraceable cell phone. We'll use Saxby's name. No doubt they'll do a search on it, and I don't want them to find my picture in case those thugs recognize me. I'll have to change up my looks to match him." He scratched his chin, his nails brushing against the bristle. "I'll let this grow for camouflage."

He recited the number, and she entered a bid. "I guess we wait to hear if we've won."

Their gazes met on the word wait. Somehow her body wanted more of him. The heated way he was looking at her indicated he felt the same.

"No." She shook her head to emphasize it. "Just because we're naked, alone, and . . . well, naked and alone, we can't keep having sex. It's crazy. And I only had one wild card to play."

He ducked his chin and gave her a seductive smile. "Seems a shame to waste naked and alone, don't you think?"

"Risk!" She could feel herself crumbling. Damned sex god. He'd corrupted her.

A knock on the door tore her out of her agony. But it wasn't her door.

"Hey, Risk. It's Julian. I'm heading out, just wanted to say goodbye."

Risk groaned as he threw on his pants and shirt, brushed his fingers through his hair, and stepped out into the hallway. Addie could hear the murmur of voices floating through the wall. She was sure there would be some good-natured ribbing, maybe Risk denying that anything had happened. Then a third voice, Sax's probably. She would stay in the bathroom for a while. Might as well get a shower and wash away that glorious scent of the kind of lovemaking she could not partake in again.

When she emerged, Risk was sitting at her computer. He looked freshly washed himself, hair glistening with water and smelling like shampoo and toothpaste.

"Did the guys give you a hard time when you came out of my room?" she asked, grabbing up her clothing.

"Of course." He let his gaze linger on her, wearing nothing but a towel. "I denied everything to protect your honor. But the walls aren't that insulated, and apparently we were making noise."

She covered her face.

"Don't sweat it, doll. We're consenting adults. Anyway, Julian says goodbye." He turned back to the computer, pecked at the keys in an amazingly fast way, and then shut it down. "No response yet on the bid, but we're still winning. Don't worry, we'll keep it that way. I sent the link to Chase and spoke with him. He wasn't real happy about us—"

"Oh, geez, he knows we spent the night together, too, doesn't he? And he's going to fire you for banging your client."

He gave her a droll smile. "Will you stop interrupting me? He wasn't happy that we put in the bid without letting him know. I had warned him there's a reason I'm called Risk when we first spoke about working together. I took the blame."

"You didn't have to do that. I'm just as impetuous as you are. And I'm the client. He can't fire me."

He gave her a soft smile. "Thanks for your concern, but he's not going to fire me over that. Or spending the night with you. I'll leave you to get dressed, then we'll grab breakfast. We're meeting him in thirty minutes."

She felt both relief and disappointment at not having time to indulge in any more mind-bending activities.

They had a quick breakfast, with Risk forgoing bacon in favor of the faster-cooking eggs. Right on time, they were all seated at the conference table.

Chase had the webpage pulled up on his laptop. "My computer guy, who goes by the name of hackerX, is working on the website. It's the secure kind of members-only site that porn operations use. We've got ten minutes until the auction ends. Let's take a look at satellite surveillance of Elrod's property while we wait. He has four hundred acres deeded in his name in southern Georgia. It abuts another two hundred acres registered to a company I'm having trouble finding information on. That's a lot of acreage to cover."

Risk leaned forward to study the screen. "There's a cluster of buildings that should help narrow it down. They're nowhere near the roads flanking the property. If I can't infil as a client, I'll hoof it through the woods and check out those buildings. If they've got a tiger, that's where it'll be."

"You mean we'll hoof it," Addie added. "It's my fault that poor cub is in this predicament. If I hadn't been trying to steal him, those jerks wouldn't have had the opportunity to take him."

Risk's stare brooked no argument. "You are not going back into those woods. All I need to do is find the cub, take pictures, and get the hell out of there. You don't need to be there for that."

"Yes, I do. I need to be on hand to check the cub and make sure he's all right. He may need food or medical care."

Chase raised his hand. "Addie, Risk is right. We don't need both of you in danger. And you're right; the cub may need immediate assistance. That's why you'll be nearby, ready to provide it as soon as we can liberate the cat. But I cannot let you accompany Risk onto the property."

"You said that getting a search warrant through official channels might take time, especially since we're obtaining the proof in slightly illegal ways."

"Let's deal with that as we get there. We still have to ascertain that the cub is there. You've already chased two geese. This may be a third one."

Risk's phone rang. The incoming number was blocked. He answered it on the speakerphone. "Saxby," he answered.

"Yeah, this is Bill. You're the winning bid on our blind hunt. How'd you find out about us? Your name isn't in our system."

"A friend of mine knows a guy who goes hunting with you from time to time. I'm afraid I don't know that guy's name, but my friend explained the confidentiality of the situation. He said you offered different kinds of hunting opportunities. I'm bored of hunting deer. I'm out for more of a challenge, something a little more exotic. I understand your blind hunts can be pretty interesting."

Bill chuckled. "They sure can. Seeing as you're new, you'll have to play by our rules. I imagine your friend explained all that to you. We got those left-wing Commies and animal activists crawling all over our asses. We don't take any chances."

Addie cringed, knowing exactly whom he was talking about. She mouthed, I think that's Elrod.

Risk gave her a nod of agreement. "Just tell me what I need to do."

"Good. We need some new blood. As you know, the hunt needs to be completed by the end of tomorrow. The merchandise is what you'd call hot."

Risk met Addie's wide-eyed gaze. "I have the next couple of days off, so that works for me."

"Get yourself down to Buck, Georgia. From the Atlanta airport you'll head south. Check in to the Buck Lodge on Route 62. The innkeeper will let me know when you've arrived. I'll be in touch then. Bring cash. You're lucky we didn't have a lot of takers. You got a deal." He rattled off the inn's phone number and closed the call.

Addie pushed to her feet. "Hot merchandise. It must be the tiger. They're going to let someone hunt a baby tiger? Even if he's not tiny, that's heinous. And how much of a challenge will a young, malnourished cub be for a hunter?"

"I think they're going for the uniqueness of the hunt, not the challenge," Risk said.

Chase gave a nod. "Sounds like we have a viable lead. Addie, can you arrange to get your van down to Buck?"

She nodded, anxious to get the cub into her custody. "I'll ask Shirley to drive it down."

Chase clicked on the map site. "Should take her about eight hours. You, Sax, and Risk will fly up and rent a couple of vehicles. Addie, you and Sax will lay low while Risk checks in and gets the process started."

"I'll be Babbette," she told Risk with a smile.

"Babbette," he repeated with fondness. "Good idea."

She turned to the others, who clearly had no idea what she was talking about. "That's a disguise I keep with me if I'm investigating people who might recognize me."

"That'll work well," Chase said. "But you have to promise me that you'll stay put. Saxby will be your bodyguard while Risk goes undercover. Is that agreed?" He waited for her response.

"Absolutely."

"No running off," Risk said. "No taking matters into your own hands. You have to trust that we've got this."

"I promise," she told all of them.

Chase tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he seemed to assess her compliance. "Your father will have my ass if something happens to you. So if you find yourself tempted to jump into the action, and you can't think about your own safety, think about mine." He gave her a subtle smile before turning to the other two. "We have to consider that this is a setup. Are you ready for that?"

Risk nodded. "I'll be armed with my hunting rifle and backups."

Addie's heart plunged. "But you'll be walking right into it."

"We're just preparing ourselves for the possibility. Otherwise it should be a quick in-and-out operation. He's going to show me the cub, and I'll have second thoughts." Risk made a distasteful face. "I can't shoot a baby. What kind of guy am I? I'll back out and leave."

"What about picture proof?" Addie asked, not wanting to think about him being in their lair. "Do you dare bring a camera? If this is an illegal hunt, they're not going to let you document it. That's how a country singer got arrested for illegally killing a bear in Minnesota. Elrod isn't going to take any chances."

"I can get some pictures with my cell phone. But if not, I'm still a witness."

Chase closed the laptop. "We have a plan. Sax, assume you're being watched, which means no contact between you and Risk. If these guys pick up Risk, follow at a distance. So far we have nothing concrete tying this hunt to Live Shot. If something happens, you'll be the link."

Addie's heart plummeted. "If something happens?" She looked at Risk. "And how can you not look the least bit worried?"

"If you knew some of the missions we ran, you'd understand that this is nothing I can't handle."

"That doesn't make me any more comfortable. Sneaking in is a better option."

"I'll guarantee you that if Elrod took the cub, he's waiting for you to come save it. There'll be no sneaking up on him. We need to get the cub and make you safe. This is the only way to do that."

Chase got to his feet. "All right. I'll arrange for payment. You pack, and I'll have Artemis take you to the airfield." He met each of their gazes. "Good luck."

Sax and Chase departed. Risk must have sensed that she wanted to say something to him alone because he stayed behind.

She let out an agitated breath as she neared him. "Don't—"

"Do anything crazy. Is that what you were going to tell me?"

"Yes, and there you go, interrupting me again."

"I will say the same to you. You listen to Sax the same way you're supposed to listen to me."

She put her hands on his chest. "Don't take any chances. Please."

He gave her a soft smile and covered her hands with his. "I will do my best to keep myself in one piece." He drew his finger up beneath her chin, tilting her mouth closer to his and planting a tender kiss on her lips. "Then you'll have to figure out what to do with me when we're done."

Her heartbeat hitched. "What . . . what do you mean?"

He slid his leg between hers and pulled her closer. "I've been chasing the thrill my whole life, because it was the only way I could feel." He braced her face with his big hands. "And making love with you is definitely a thrill. But just holding you like this, laughing with you, waking up in the morning with you in my arms . . ." He shook his head. "It's a feeling far beyond storming a compound or soaring off a cliff. Not just an in-the-moment thrill but a steady thrum. You did that to me. So now you're going to have to deal with the consequences."

###

## Chapter 17

Buck, Georgia, was a small town, no doubt about it. Sax and Addie were several car lengths behind him. Risk didn't like her being alone with Sax. It wasn't that he was worried Sax would make a move on her; not after their little exchange in the men's room at the airport.

"I like her sexy little costume," Sax had said with a gleam Risk knew well.

"Don't even think about it."

"You're in love with her, aren't you? I've never seen you this jacked up over a woman. We've had our friendly competitions, but that was more about ego. You care about this one."

Risk finished washing his hands and flicked the water at Sax. "I care that you don't put your moves on her and ding her heart."

Sax flung his hands back at Risk. "Let me tell you why you have nothing to worry about, my friend. First of all, I can tell she means something to you, and I'd never put moves on a woman you care about. Second, and it pains me to admit this, she doesn't give me a second look. I've even given her the Sax smile"—he demonstrated his lady-killer grin—"and nothing. I was just testing my theory, is all. And she proved it a thousandfold. 'Cause guess where those pretty blues went after they skipped over me? Yeah, you, buddy. So relax. I swear, you're more worked up over me sitting in a car with your babe than going into enemy territory."

Afterward, Sax had let it drop, thankfully. Addie had ridden with Risk until they reached the outer limits of Buck, where they stopped for a meal. Then she got into the car with Sax. No, Risk wasn't worried about the two of them being together. He just wanted her with him.

He glanced at the map, spread open on the driver's seat with Elrod's property marked in highlighter. They were driving along the border, at least the parts where the road ran along the outer edge. A shiny new fence kept trespassers out. And if that didn't deter the more monkey-minded, the TRESPASSERS WILL BE ELECTROCUTED signs sure would. Risk could see the wiring to back up the threat. There would be no sneaking onto the property.

Which also meant there would be no sneaking off it, if it came to that.

He went as far as he could go, turned around, and headed back to the inn. Calling it rustic would be doing it a favor. Sax and Addie continued down the road, but they would stay close.

The lobby, such as it was, looked no bigger than Risk's room over at Chase's. His boots clunked across the wood floor as he approached the desk.

A gangly guy looked up from his hunting magazine. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Saxby Cole. I've got a rez for tonight."

"Ah, yes. I'll need your driver's license and credit card." The guy slapped a piece of paper on the counter. "Fill out this here form."

Risk produced Sax's license and card. They looked close enough, if the guy didn't scrutinize the picture. Risk now had blond hair and green eyes to match the descriptions. Once he processed Risk's card, he handed both back. "There's a bed tax and a county tax of fifteen percent each. You'll have to get a hunting license. Go to Bedford's Hunting Supplies for that, as well as anything else you might need."

"Thirty percent in taxes? How much is the license?"

"Two hundred."

Risk blinked. "Licenses are usually about ten dollars."

The man's expression remained placid. "The fees go to land enrichment, wildlife management, and road maintenance."

Risk put his cards back in his wallet and bit back, And do they offer you a cigarette after screwing you? "Thanks for your assistance."

"Your room's two-twelve." He handed Risk a key. Not even a key card but an old-fashioned metal key. "Enjoy your hunt."

Risk headed out in the truck Chase had arranged for him to rent. He'd driven it through a muddy field to spray on a respectable coating of red Georgia clay. Sax and Addie were in an SUV with four-wheel drive, in case they needed it.

When Sax fell in behind him, Risk gave him a call. "I've got to go get screwed—I mean, a license—at the hunting supply store. I think I understand why the sheriff is covering for Elrod's activities. His operation probably funds the whole damned town with ridiculous fees and taxes. You and Babbette can wander in on your own. Maybe you'll glean something I won't."

Risk pulled in to the gravel parking lot and waited for the dust cloud to settle before getting out. He was tired of dust, having probably breathed in about eight pounds of it during his deployments.

The bell rang when Risk pushed the door open. The guy behind the counter was big and burly and probably hadn't trimmed his beard in twenty years. "You must be Cole," he said.

"Guess the guy at the lodge told you." Which meant they had an information network going.

"Yep. Got your paperwork all ready. He told you about the license fees?"

"Sure did. About choked."

The guy chuckled. "Shocks a few, but we've got some of the best hunting land in the county. Takes a lot to keep it up."

"That include Elrod's land? That's where I'm going."

The doorbell dinged, and Risk casually glanced over. Sax and Babbette sauntered in, she looking around the store and snapping her gum. Risk felt a hitch in his chest, and no, it had nothing to do with the sassy wig or fake boobs.

"Anything I can help you folks with?" the guy called out to them.

"Wanted to check out your shotguns," Sax said. He had dyed his hair darker and sported a mustache so he wouldn't look like the picture on the driver's license Risk was using.

"Be right over." The guy turned back to Risk. "Elrod's land is private, ain't got nothing to do with the county. You're lucky. It's by invite only."

"I won an auction for a blind hunt." Risk flexed his hands. "I'm former military. I'm feeling a need to shoot something. It's been a while."

"Thank you for your service. Which branch?"

Probably wouldn't hurt for these guys to know what they were dealing with. Maybe it would make them think twice before fucking with him. "SEALs."

The guy's eyes widened, but he played it cool. "You're going to like the blind hunt, I promise you that. He's always got a special surprise."

Risk didn't like the sound of that.

Addie's voice carried like a song. "Lookit there, honey. It's a fort!"

Sax patted her shoulder in the most condescending way he could probably manage. "Darlin', that's not a fort. It's a deer stand, for waiting until one of those doe-eyed critters comes wandering by so you can shoot it."

"You are so mean!" Addie probably knew well what it was.

Risk had to fight back a grin. Instead, he rolled his eyes at the clerk, who was shaking his head.

"Come on over to this end of the counter," he said. "I'll finish processing your license."

The desk behind the counter was cluttered in paper. Signs and slogans covered the walls. A handwritten one read: The only good wolf is a dead wolf. Whack 'em and stack 'em. Kill 'em and grill 'em .—Ted Nugent.

The clerk followed his gaze. "I keep that up there to rile the people who come in to protest wolf kills."

As the guy continued with his paperwork, Risk wondered what other incendiary posters were on the wall. Then he saw a wanted poster that sank his heart—it bore Addie's face, and it stated that she was wanted for criminal trespassing. When the clerk turned and opened a file drawer, Risk snapped a picture and texted it to Sax. Risk could hear them in the back of the store; then he heard the cricket sound of Sax's phone.

Their conversation went silent. Risk sent one more text: Get her out of here. He made a point of asking a bunch of inane questions about local hunting conditions to occupy the clerk as Sax and Addie meandered out of the shop. He paid the fee, thanked the guy, and headed out.

It was only after he'd driven out onto the highway that he called Addie, who also had an untraceable cell phone. "Even as Babbette, you need to keep a low profile. You do not want to be arrested in this town."

"I'll stay in costume the whole time I'm here," she said. "Which hopefully won't be long."

"I've got a call coming in." He glanced at the screen. "Bill. Maybe it's time to play."

"Be careful." Her fear came across loud and clear.

"I will, babe." He wondered if the endearment would make her smile or freeze. He added a soft "Bye" before disconnecting. He engaged the call. "Sax here."

"You ready for some shooting? We still got some daylight."

"You bet. Where do I go?"

"I'll meet you at the lodge. We'll personally escort you to the hunting property."

His chest tightened. "I'd rather drive myself. Though I appreciate your hospitality."

Bill's laugh was harsh. "Boy, it ain't got nothing to do with hospitality. If we don't know you, we don't trust you. So if we don't take you to the property, you don't go. What's it going to be?"

Son of a bitch. But the fact that the guy was willing to put him off boded well for them not being on to his real identity.

"All right, but this better be good. I'm not going through this cloak-and-dagger shit and paying all this money to shoot some fancy deer, right?"

"It's no deer. In fact, I guarantee it's nothing you've ever shot before. See you in a few."

Risk called Addie instead of Sax to update them on the plan. He just wanted to hear her voice. He pulled in to the parking lot and grabbed his shotgun case and ammo out of the back. As was his habit, he patted the Glock at his ankle and the KA-BAR knife at his back. Sax pulled his truck in to a spot at the far end of the row of motel rooms; he picked the perfect angle so the SUV looked unoccupied.

While Risk waited, he checked in with Chase. After hearing a quick rundown of the situation, Chase said, "My guy hacked in to the website. Even though it's password-protected, they're very careful about the information they put out there. They have three classes of hunt: A, B, C. No explanation as to the difference. It's basically a request form. You check off one of the challenge levels, such as easy, quick and easy, medium, or challenging. There's also a box where you can request a certain kind of animal. Unfortunately nothing that authorities can use. Hopefully you can get in, get what you need, and get out fast."

A huge mud-splattered truck barreled into the parking lot and pulled up next to Risk. The mud barely covered an array of anti-establishment bumper stickers. Some of them were so vitriolic that Risk wouldn't be surprised if the truck's owner had gotten a visit from the Secret Service.

"My ride's here." Risk gave Chase a quick description of the truck and the driver but couldn't see the license plate." He tucked his phone into his pocket, grabbed his rifle case, and got out.

Bill eyed the case. "Whatcha got?"

"Thirty-oh-six."

Bill gave an approving nod as Risk got into the truck.

Risk thought the guy was probably Walter Elrod, given the pictures he'd seen. Why he was passing himself off as an employee was a concern.

Bill pulled out onto the road. Risk glanced in the side mirror and saw Sax follow a few seconds afterward. He kept a decent distance between the vehicles. A beat-up truck pulled out in front of Sax and slowed his pace. Though the road had a double line, Sax looked as though he were considering passing. Until the sheriff's vehicle that was coming the other way did a U-turn and came up behind him.

Bill turned right on the road that bordered the southern boundary of Elrod's property, and sped up. "We don't have but about four hours of light left. I guess it depends on how fast you want the hunt to go."

"That depends on what animal I'm hunting."

Bill gave a long nod. "I guess it does at that."

A glance in the mirror showed no sign of Sax. He must have gotten stuck between the slow truck and a cop. Hopefully both would continue straight, and Sax would catch up.

Risk nodded toward the lethal fencing. "You get a lot of poachers?"

"We get a lot of everything."

The guy wasn't offering much in the way of information. Ten minutes later, he turned down a road littered with all kinds of warning signs. One read: TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN.

Nice.

Another one read: WITH THE PRICE OF AMMO, NO WARNING SHOTS WILL BE FIRED.

Bill hit the button on what looked like a garage door opener, and the gate that blocked their way drifted open. Aside from the road, it was solid woods here. Maples, oaks, and evergreens let through shafts of sunlight, but mostly it was shady. Risk admired Addie for coming onto this land by herself, knowing she wouldn't be welcome. The woman had some balls, no doubt about it. The place gave Risk a bad feeling, despite the natural setting.

As they continued on for another mile or so, he spotted an internal fencing system intermittently marked with fluorescent ribbons. "Quite an operation you have here."

"Yep."

Finally Bill pulled up to the cluster of buildings. A large house sat in the distance, but the rest looked like barns—other than the metal one with glaring fluorescent lights inside that made him think of a veterinarian's facility.

Bill put the truck in park and nodded ahead with his chin. "Doesn't look like much, but it supports this whole town. Hunters come here from all over the world."

"My friend said there were three classes of hunts: A, B, and C. What are those?"

"If he didn't tell you, he figured you probably didn't need to know. You'll be doing a B hunt—beyond the standard prey."

He got out, and Risk followed suit. The rifle wouldn't do much good if he were ambushed. It would take too long to unzip the case and ready the gun. That's what the Glock was for. He carried the case in his left hand so his right hand would be free to draw.

Two men were pushing a huge steer into a pen. The beast appeared to be drugged. It was resisting, but sluggishly.

"Is that my prize?" Risk asked.

Bill shook his head as he led Risk to another guy. "Take care of Mr. Cole here, get him set up."

"Got it, boss." The man held out his hand, more than Bill had done. "Welcome to Live Shot."

Something sharp pierced Risk's neck. He spun and grabbed at the knife. Not a knife—a tranq gun. Shit. He could already feel the sedative stealing through his senses. They'd drugged him just like that steer.

Risk dropped the case and pulled his Glock. The guy who'd played the distracter shoved him just as Risk fired. The shot went wild. Risk staggered but held his footing. He swung the gun toward Bill, his fingers like rubber, and pulled the trigger again.

The bullet hit the truck, and the other guy hit him, sending him face-first to the ground. Then the son of a bitch jumped on him. Risk fought, rolling to the side and smashing his fist into the helper's jaw. Except his face was bouncing up and down. Blurring in and out.

Hold on, dammit. Do not fold.

Risk hit him, and the man fell back. Risk tried to get to his feet and stumbled. Held on. He swung at Bill, who easily dodged the blow. Too slow. The guy behind him knocked him back down. A pounding sound preceded the arrival of several more men. Risk blinked, trying to bring their faces into focus. The two thugs. Arms grabbed hold and wrestled him to the ground. He felt another jab, this time in his arm. He kicked at Bill, who was wobbling in and out of focus, holding a syringe. An empty syringe.

"That ought to do him," Bill said in a muffled voice.

"He should have gone down in seconds."

"And with the first shot. Are you sure that's the same guy? Don't look like him."

"Since Wunder's the only one who got the link to the hunt, it's someone who's working with her," Bill said.

A setup.

Risk felt his arms get jerked behind him as his face met the dirt. Something skinny clamped around his wrists. Someone patted him down and lifted his shirt. "Lookit here, he's got one of those military knives."

Risk felt his KA-BAR and holster slide free from his waistband. Hands slapped over his hips and down his legs, where they found his ankle holster.

Alan picked up the Glock from the ground. "It's definitely the same guy. This is the gun he shot me with. And that means it's mine."

Their voices started blurring together. Risk's thoughts started scrambling. His body was jelly. Then everything went away.

###

## Chapter 18

Addie leaned to the side to get a better look at the truck that was taking Risk away. It turned right and disappeared beyond the forest. "I wasn't able to see the license plate."

"Hell," Sax said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "A sheriff's car just pulled around and came up behind me. And is now putting on its lights. Hell times two. 'Cause I know I'm not speeding, and he can't give me a ticket for thinking about passing this slowpoke."

"We can't stop and lose Risk!"

"Darlin', our whole cover will be blown if we take off after that truck with a wailing cop car on our ass. I don't like it, either, but we're going to have to stop."

Her heart was stampeding in her chest. "I put Risk in danger because of my animal crusades. None of this would be happening if I hadn't put myself in precarious situations." She wouldn't have met Risk, either, but at least he wouldn't be going off with dangerous men on account of her. "This is what happens when I love someone. I kill them!"

"Whoa," Sax said at the very moment her mind said the same thing. Had Risk been right when he'd accused her of trying to make up for killing her mom by saving animals?

Sax put his hand on her arm as he pulled over. "He'd be in some other situation. That's Risk, all of us. Even you. We're the kind of people who put ourselves on the line for a cause."

Saving animals had been her life. Now she wanted something more. Something Risk. She held on to the words he'd said in the conference room. She was a steady thrum. Steady meant long-term. Permanent.

Your heart already knows what to do about him. You just have to get out of your head.

Fine time to be realizing that, she thought as she watched the cruiser park behind them. The deputy made a call, maybe running the tag.

Her fingers curled over the door handle, and she quelled the urge to bolt. Because she'd promised she wouldn't. "Tell me this is just bad luck. On top of bad timing."

"Instead of this being some kind of setup. I hope so."

The deputy took his ever-loving time getting out of his vehicle and ambling up to their car. Was he playing at the small-town-cop stereotype or what?

"What seems to be the problem, Deputy?" Sax asked, somewhere between pleasant and annoyed.

"I need you both to step out of the vehicle."

"Seriously? What were we supposedly doing wrong?"

The deputy touched the handle of his gun. "Don't make me ask again."

Addie thought about the guns they had in the car. At least Sax had a concealed-weapons permit. If anyone asked, she was supposed to clarify that the guns belonged to him. She stepped out and followed the deputy's order to stand next to Sax.

"I'll need to see both your IDs."

Sax had Risk's ID and credit cards. Would he look enough like his SEAL brother to pass muster? But the deputy was more interested in hers. "Ms. Wunder, turn around and put your hands on the car."

She felt her eyes about pop out of her head. "I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding."

"There will be one if you don't comply with my request." The deputy looked at Sax. "You, too, sir."

Two other patrol cars pulled up, parking in front of and behind their SUV. They were way outnumbered. And outgunned.

Sax slapped his hands on the roof of the car. "I'm armed. I have a CWP in my wallet. I work for a private security firm."

The deputy patted him down and removed the gun at his waist. And the one at his ankle. And the knife at his back. Three deputies emerged and took up stances around them. A fourth patted Addie down and clicked handcuffs around her wrists.

"You're under arrest for criminal trespassing." He pulled off her wig and tossed it to the ground. "And for wearing this ridiculous getup."

When Saxby started to protest, the deputy placed his hand on Sax's back. "Don't go getting all heroic. She's a criminal, plain and simple."

"Those are trumped-up charges, and you know it," Saxby said, his voice in a growl.

Addie glimpsed the deputy tucking something into his pocket right before he said, "I don't see your permit anywhere."

"Georgia law allows me to have a gun in my car even without one."

"You're not in your car anymore, now are you? Unless you have a hunting license, you cannot carry beyond your personal property."

Ironically, Sax did have a hunting license, but it was in Risk's possession. Addie figured it would really muddy the waters if she pointed that out.

"Search the car, boys. See what else we can find. Maybe that permit will be in there, huh?"

"You just stuck it in your pocket," she said.

He gave her a cold smile that chilled her to her bone. "I don't believe you saw that, miss." He glanced to the deputies. "Did you see that?"

They all dutifully shook their heads.

He tugged her closer and turned her toward one of the cars. "I'm the sheriff of this fine town, Miss Wunder. I do not like trespassers. I do not like troublemakers. And I especially do not like women who lie." He started pushing her in front of him and gestured with his chin toward Sax. "Can you handle that one, boys?"

"Sure can, sir." The cop was extracting another gun from the glove box. "Want to tell me why you have so many guns? Just what the hell are you securing?"

That was the last thing she heard before she was shoved into the back of the patrol car. She had to regain her balance, considering her hands were cuffed behind her. She'd been arrested before for protesting and one other instance of trespassing, but the charges had been dropped quickly. This was a nightmare. She had a terrible feeling it was connected to Elrod. And to Risk.

When they pulled up to the sheriff's department building, the sheriff parked and opened her door. "Come on out, Miss Wunder."

The front door of the building flew open, and a deputy leaned out. "Sheriff, we got a problem. We need you in here right away."

"Stay here," the sheriff told her, and ran inside.

And left the door open.

She remembered Risk's words: You do not want to be arrested in this town. And while the thought of Risk made her heart ache with worry, his warning made her scoot out of the car. And run.

She raced past the EMS building and around the back, where the woods had no fence or forbidding signs. The cuffs were a big problem, but maybe she could slip out of them somehow. What she needed was to get hold of Chase. Her phone was still in her pocket. She tripped and stumbled but managed to keep her balance as she entered the woods.

What she thought was her pounding heartbeat, along with her feet hitting the earth, turned out to be two men running after her. They weren't deputies, or at least they weren't in uniform. And uncuffed, they could run a lot faster than she could.

"Where are you going, Miss Wunder?" one of them asked in a teasing voice.

Her chest hurt from exertion and fear. She couldn't have answered if she'd wanted to.

He grabbed her and flung her to the ground. Dirt and pine needles were mashed into her face, her mouth. The other man dragged her back to her wobbly feet. Suddenly something dark and musty came down over her head.

"We're here to save you from being arrested," one of them said, catching his breath, too.

The second guy laughed. "Yeah, and you should be very grateful. Because that jail cell is a nasty place to be. We're going to take you someplace much nicer. Where you've already got some friends. You remember Doug and Alan, don't you? You had a little wrestling match with them recently. Your other friend is there, too. But he's not in much shape to talk."

Risk! What did they mean by that? Was he hurt? Or . . . No, she wouldn't think of the next possibility. Because all she could think about were those words he'd spoken to her in the conference room. And the words she needed to say to him.

She was shoved into the back of a vehicle and driven away.

A sound stirred Risk from a deep, troubled sleep. He felt the same kind of grogginess he experienced when he took a sleeping pill. Sometimes the team had only six to eight hours before a mission to sleep, and that was on a crowded transport plane. So they'd pop a pill to help them sleep.

He was on a mission, right? He had to slog through his thoughts and try to piece together recent events. It was dark and damp, and his eyes were all gritty. Then a sound, the sound he'd heard before, jerked him fully from the mind grog—a woman's cry.

And it sounded like Addie.

Her breathing, panicked and shallow, filled the darkness around him. God, he hoped he was dreaming. Except the hard ground beneath him felt real enough. The air was cool, raising a slew of goose bumps along his arms. His hands were secured behind him, and he thought he recognized the narrow binding of cable ties.

Hell, not a dream.

"Addie?" His first try came out as a hoarse grunt, and it took him two more tries before what came out of his mouth sounded like her name.

"Risk?" There was as much fear and panic in that one word as there was in his chest at hearing it.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you all right? Dumb question. You're here."

As he talked, he worked his bound wrists past his hips and then pulled his legs through his arms. She sounded close. But not close enough. He stood slowly but stopped as his head hit something. He felt along a series of bars. A cage. They were in a cage, like animals.

"Risk, where are you?"

He pushed away that disconcerting thought and continued toward Addie. "I'm not sure. But stay there. I'm trying to find you."

His hands slapped gently across the ground as he maneuvered in the direction of her voice. He felt an ankle, a leg, and then her body crashed into him. She started crying and buried her face against his chest. The metal cuffs that bound her wrists scraped down his chest. He looped his arms around her and held her so close, he was afraid he was hurting her. But he couldn't make himself loosen his grip.

He kissed the top of her head, down the side of her face, and covered her mouth with his. She tasted and smelled like pinesap. "Did they hurt you?" He didn't want to even think about the ways they could hurt her, but he had to know.

"Just roughed me up during transport. I'm fine. Well, as fine as I can be in a cage in some dark cave."

A cave. That made sense. "They tranqued me like an animal. I was out until I heard you."

"They put a burlap bag over my head, but I could see the ground and the opening of the cave. Elrod said something about it being where the moonshiners used to store their goods."

"What the hell happened? Where's Sax?" All at once he was furious that she was here at all. She was supposed to be safe. Protected. "Tell me you didn't run off."

"The deputies pulled us over and arrested me. Sax, too, for some bogus reason. The sheriff was called in to the station just as we arrived. He left the car door open and me alone. Now I know it was a setup, giving me the opportunity to run, which I did. Elrod's guys were waiting."

"So you're considered a fugitive, rather than a prisoner, whose disappearance would be trickier to explain. Son of a bitch."

He could hear her rustling about, then she said, "They took my phone." She pushed closer against him. "Risk, I'm scared. We're going to die in here, aren't we?"

He felt for her chin, tilting her face up, though neither could see a thing. "We don't give up until we're dead, got that?"

He felt her nod, but he could also feel her body trembling. He patted his pants. "They took my phone, too."

"I'm sorry I got you into this," she said. "I realize that I've been putting the animals' welfare over my own. Their safety over my own. All because I had to accomplish something. I think you were right about me trying to make up for causing my mom's death. I didn't realize it, and I didn't want to see it when you put it in my face."

He ran his fingers across her cheeks, feeling the tracks of her tears. "We all have things we want to ignore. But facing them is like jumping off a cliff—suddenly you're free." A sound caught his attention. "Shh, someone's coming."

Her body tightened as she turned toward the sound of footsteps on ground. The glow of a light flowed across the hard orange surface. Above that glow was Bill's face, followed by Alan's and Doug's. And the shits looked smug. At least they seemed to. Everything was blurred. Damned contacts. Risk dug his fingers into his eyes and pulled them out. After a few more blinks, his vision cleared. Yeah, they definitely looked smug.

Bill turned on several bare bulbs hanging from wires pounded into the dirt ceiling. They illuminated this cage, as well as several others. Risk checked Addie to make sure she was all right; her face was dirty but didn't look bruised. Then he scanned the cage, assessing the structure and any weaknesses that might allow their escape. It wasn't tall enough for him to stand, but it would accommodate large animals. And it was sitting on the ground, which was encouraging. The cave wasn't large, and he couldn't see the entrance.

"Elrod," Addie said in a surprisingly forceful voice as he came to a stop outside the bars. That confirmed Risk's suspicions about Bill's real identity. "You've had your fun. And you've made your point." Her gaze skipped to the cage across from theirs and the tiger cub inside. "Let us all go, and I won't bother you again. We won't press charges or tell anyone. Besides, your sheriff will cover for you."

Elrod seemed to consider what she was saying. Not that Risk bought that for a second. "It might work if I believed you. The problem is that you're way too fanatical to let any of this go. Besides, I've been looking forward to this ever since you turned me in. And every day I sat in jail, I thought about how I was going to make you pay." He tipped his chin toward Risk. "Wasn't figuring on him, but I'll consider him a bonus. You two relax in there. You've got a couple of hours before nightfall. Then the fun begins."

Elrod pulled out his phone and dialed. When someone on the other end answered, he said, "Hey, Roger. It's Walt. I've got a hunting opportunity for you. It's class C, so no surprise, you gotta do it tonight." Elrod punched a button and cued the guy up on speaker. "You hear me, Rog."

"I'm listening."

"This one's going to be a challenge. He's a former SEAL."

Risk could hear the guy guffaw on the other end. "Elitist sons of bitches. I'd be happy to show him what Army can do. But how in the hell'd you get a SEAL? And I presume you mean the human kind and not the sea mammal."

Elrod laughed, his gaze on Risk. "Look, it don't matter how I ended up with him. I need him gone. But I figured I'd make it an opportunity for someone like you who's itching for a real challenge."

"Not to mention an opportunity for you to make some bucks. How much?"

"Twenty grand. Body disposal included. You hunt to your heart's content and walk away with clean hands."

"Twenty grand? You're a fucking robber. It's not like I'm going to get a trophy or bragging rights."

"But you get to go hunting like you haven't since you were court-martialed for shooting those civvies. Hey, I'm not twisting your arm. I have a couple of other guys who'd be happy to jump on it. I don't offer this kind of shooting very often."

Which meant he'd offered it before. Risk thought about the missing man. And the ex-wife, who probably had not sent Addie the link.

"Son of a bitch," Roger grumbled. "All right, I'm in."

"No crossbow. Too much blood loss at the kill site. But you can chop him up over at the pig yard if you want some bloodletting."

That was how Elrod got rid of the bodies—fed them to the pigs. How many had he murdered here?

"Sounds good to me."

"You want him wounded? Blinded? Drugged? He'll be chipped, but we can't let him get away. He's not going to be some mechanic with minimal survival skills, like your wife's lover."

"I can take him full-bodied. Hell, I'll have a gun and night vision goggles."

Cold dread climbed up Risk's spine. He'd be virtually blind while that son of a bitch was going to have a clear green view.

"Don't get too cocky," Elrod said. "Just to be on the safe side, I'm going to put you over in Quadrant Two, smack-dab in the middle of the property. He'll have a long way to go before he gets to the road, and we'll have him by then."

"I like Three. There's too many rocks and drop-offs in Two."

"Makes it challenging. Besides, I'll be hunting in Two. And I don't want my prey dropping into some crevice and breaking her leg. I want her running till she can't run no more."

Addie. He was talking about Addie. That dread clamped around Risk's throat and threatened to choke off his air supply. He met her fearful gaze.

Roger laughed like it was some damned joke. "'She,' huh? Is this another bitch threatening to take the kids and the house?"

"Nope. And that's all I'm saying about it. Get here by nightfall. The hunt is on." He disconnected and looked at his two thugs. "Sheriff said he has their friend in custody. He's putting up a big fuss, demanding his phone call. Sheriff's stringing him along, but eventually he'll have to process him. Sheriff's already told the guy how little Miss Wunder here escaped and is on the lam." He chuckled. "A damned shame, that. Don't she realize there are all kinds of predators in the woods?"

Doug pointed at Risk. "What about him? Someone's gotta know he was coming here."

"He got his license, as the boys can attest, but didn't show at the pickup point. The only ones who saw our truck are Wunder here and the guy at the sheriff's office. People die in jail, you know. They tussle with the deputy and get shot."

Risk went even colder. Did Chase have any idea what was going on? If he didn't hear from Sax soon, Chase would probably come up. By then it would be too late.

Elrod stood next to the switches on the cave wall. "Miss Wunder, you've been trying to educate me on how I shouldn't be hunting animals the way I do. Well, I'm going to educate you. You'll get to experience exactly what they do." He doused the lights. "See you two in a bit," he called, as though he would be fetching them for dinner.

She clutched Risk's shirt. "They're going to hunt us!"

He moved his mouth next to her ear. "Shh. I want to make sure they've left."

Footsteps and voices drifted farther away. They were talking about grilling up some deer sausage and steaks just before they faded to a murmur. Risk had been in dark places before, having to determine the enemy's whereabouts with his other senses. He heard nothing else. "I think it's clear."

"What are we going to do?" Even through her panic, he heard hope. Good. She couldn't afford to give up.

"Our best bet is to get out of here long before they come back. It looks as though the cage is sitting on the ground. Help me try to push it over." He guided her hands to one side and placed them on the bars. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

He put everything into it. From the sounds of exertion beside him, so was Addie. The thing wasn't budging. After three more tries, he said, "Rest for a minute." He felt his way to the corner of the cage and dug in to the hard dirt about an inch. "The bars go into the ground. Help me feel around and see if there are any loose bars. It looked pretty solid, but it's worth checking. Watch your head. It's not tall enough for me to stand."

When he helped her to her feet, she stopped abruptly. "Me, either."

"Go to your left; I'll check the right side."

He could hear her soft gasps as she put effort into the task. "They're solid," she said at last.

Not one sharp edge to cut his plastic ties with, either.

"Same here." He sat down and trailed his finger along the solid edge of metal at the bottom of the cage wall. "Maybe not all the bars go into the ground." He dug his finger in again and found a few minutes later that he was right. "We can dig under the flat bar in the middle."

"Except the ground is as hard as concrete." She made grunting sounds as she tried to dig. "I can use the edge of my cuffs as sort of a shovel, but it would take all night. And we don't have all night." He heard hopelessness.

He was having as hard a time as her, maybe more so because his fingernails were short. He pulled her close by looping his arms around her. She let out a soft breath and sank against him, her cheek on his chest. He kissed the top of her head. She lifted her mouth to his. He found solace in the feel of her tongue against his, her body next to his. And renewed determination.

"We're going to dig. It's the only way out." He pulled her to a sitting position beside him. "Using our heels. Put your hip next to mine so we're digging one hole together."

Her body moved against his as she kicked at the dirt. At first it was like digging in concrete, but the earth loosened and started breaking free. Periodically he'd call a halt and feel their progress. Their fingers would collide in the dirt—and the hole.

"We're doing it!" she said on a whisper.

Then they went back to work.

###

## Chapter 19

Addie kicked and shoved piles of dirt between the bars, Risk doing the same beside her. Every so often he leaned over and kissed her temple. That simple gesture said, Hang in there. We're going to make it. I love you.

He hadn't said that he was in love with her, not those exact words. But as she ran through what he'd told her about how being with her was a thrill more exciting than soaring off a cliff, a steady thrum, she realized that was his way of saying it without spooking her. Because yeah, this thing between them did spook her. Or had spooked her. Now all those reasons for not letting it happen seemed silly.

Because she was in love with him, too. Not just a little, a lot. Like as big as those mountains he jumped from. She had to live through this and explore what being with this amazing man would mean. Like living her life, taking something for herself.

"Yes! Finally," Risk said.

Had she spoken her thoughts aloud?

"I bit through the cuffs," he said. "Mine are plastic ties."

"Your hands are free?"

"Yep. I've been chewing them the whole time I was digging. Let's check the hole."

She leaned forward next to him, and their hands explored the width of it.

"I could slip through there," she said, excitement soaring through her. "Could you?"

"I could manage it. We had to squeeze through gaps that looked no wider than my thumb. I exaggerate, but this I can manage. Let me go first, so I can pull you out."

She could hear him grunting as he pushed his way through. Even with her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see not a damned thing. Her chest was so tight with tension. She had no idea how much time had passed while they'd dug.

"I'm through," he said.

She felt for the hole, then dove in hands-first. He clasped her wrists and pulled her out and to her feet.

She could hear the tiger cub moving in his cage. "Tigs . . ."

"We'll come back for him, I promise. We have to look out for ourselves first."

She nodded, then, realizing he couldn't see her, said, "Okay."

"Besides, he'll be safer here than out there with a bunch of guys shooting all over the place."

He kept his grip on her as they followed the dim light spilling from the cave entrance. She should have felt relief, but it was almost dark. Time for the hunt. The hunters would be coming this way anytime, with their guns.

She squeezed his hand as she remembered something. "Risk. He said we were chipped."

"Hell. Transponders. I heard him say that, but with everything else, it didn't even register."

"They use a pistol-like device to inject a tiny tube through a needle."

They stepped out into the woods, and Risk stripped off his shirt and ran his fingers across a cut in the center of his shoulders. "Can you see where they injected it? I felt a stinging pain, like a cut. I figured it was another injury from fighting them."

Yes, a small, deliberate incision, barely discernible in the early-evening light that slanted through the trees. She pressed her finger below the cut. "I can feel it. Let me try to push it out."

She used the edge of her nail to push the tiny glass tube out through the cut. It popped out, and she grabbed it from the dirt where it fell. "They may know we've escaped already."

"We're not far from the cave, and I doubt the device is that accurate. Still, we have to assume that they've seen more movement than the cage will allow. Turn around and let me extract yours."

She stripped off her shirt and pointed to where she thought it was. "It felt like they were injecting me with something, and I expected to feel a drug. Then I didn't, and they dragged me into a freakin' cave. I forgot all about it. Especially when I heard your voice."

She felt him running his nail across her skin, and then he said, "Got it. Drop them right here." He surveyed their surroundings, woods and more woods as far as they could see. Not helping was the scant bit of light left. "I don't hear any highway traffic. We must already be in the middle of the property." He pointed to where the dirt had been disturbed, broken twigs and crushed rocks. Not a road but definitely a sign that vehicles had been here a time or two.

"Should we follow it?" she asked.

"Probably not, because that's the way they'll be coming. But we can parallel it while staying out of sight."

The hum of a vehicle in the distance shot her heart straight up in her throat. She struggled into her shirt, her fingers rubber. "Either they know we got out, or they're back as planned."

"We've got to scram." He grabbed her hand, and they tore off into the woods just before the vehicles were about to come into view. Angry shouts meant they knew about the escape. Fear on top of exertion made it almost impossible to breathe.

Risk had a death grip on her hand. She was holding him back. He could run a lot faster without her. She didn't have the breath to tell him go on and try to escape. Besides, she knew he wouldn't leave her behind. So she ran even harder.

The crack of a rifle rang through the air. She dared a look behind. She could see nothing, which meant they were shooting wild. But when it got fully dark, they would have all the advantage. As if they didn't already have enough, what with knowing the layout of the land and having weapons.

It felt like someone had stabbed her in the side. She pinched the cramp as she ran. Risk threw her an Are you all right? look. She managed a nod.

ATV engines rumbled through the distance. They would never hear the distant sound of the highway over that racket. There was no escape!

Don't give up. You have a lot to live for.

Including that precious cub sitting in a dark cave whose fate would be this.

The woods seemed to grow darker by the second. She saw a flash of color through the trees. The fluorescent orange that signaled the hunters so they wouldn't shoot each other. How many of them were out here? She'd guess at least half a dozen.

The ATV's grew louder. Risk jerked her behind a large oak tree and flattened himself against the trunk, covering her from view. His breath sawed in and out. Hers gushed in lung-crushing gasps. She sank down, unable to stand anymore, but stayed directly behind the tree trunk as an ATV whizzed past. She jabbed her fingers into her cramped muscle, forcing it to relax. That was the idea, anyway.

Risk had a plan. She could see it in his eyes, the intelligence and cunning he must have tapped so many times in Iraq and Afghanistan. And he had survived, she told herself. Because he was good. Hope surged again, wishy-washy bitch that it was.

He surveyed their surroundings, then indicated that she follow him and crept out. Running over all hunched up like he was came naturally to her, owing to the damned stitch.

They approached a fence that went as far as the eye could see. It wasn't as high as the exterior fence, nor did it have electrical wiring. Bright orange ribbons made it visible even in the twilight. Risk untied one of the ribbons and tied the ribbon around her arm. Maybe in the dark, they'd look like one of the hunter thugs. She nodded her approval of the idea.

He pointed up, indicating, she guessed, that he wanted them to climb the fence. Great idea. No one would be hunting them in a different quadrant. As they started climbing, she heard footsteps crunching over the ground. A shout. Then a shot. The bullet hit the fence post inches away from her with a clang.

Oh God, more running. Thankfully, danger had an energizing effect on the exhausted human body. Two guys were racing across the ground toward them, separated by several yards. Risk pulled her behind another tree and gestured for her to remain low. He crouched, a tiger in wait.

"Saw them run this way!" the farther guy yelled, breathless.

"They're over here," the second man shouted as he neared the tree they hid behind.

She saw his legs first, then the side of his face as he started to turn to them. Risk nailed him with an elbow to the temple, sending him to the ground. Using the man's own rifle, Risk smashed him in the head as he started to get up. Another shot splintered the gun stock, flinging it out of Risk's grip. When he went for it, several more shots battered the ground. She could see Risk's raw desire for that gun. The enemy was moving closer, his boots crunching on the leaves.

So fast that it seemed a blur, Risk snatched the rifle, rounded the trunk, and let off a shot. He pushed a lever, which sent a case flying, and fired again and again without even looking through the scope mounted on top. The shots pounded her eardrums, but she'd never been so happy to be close to a firearm. The other guy fired back, hitting the trunk and the ground only inches from her.

Risk glanced at the guy on the ground. Damn, she should have been keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't wake up. It didn't look like he was going to come around anytime soon. After going through the downed man's gear, Risk loaded and fired once more. She heard a thump and leaned around the trunk to see the man sprawled on the ground.

"Addie, do you trust me?" Risk asked, drawing her attention from the harrowing sight.

"Yes."

"Put your hands up and spread them as wide as you can."

"You're not—" Oh, but he was. Risk held his gun out at an angle, waiting for her to comply. And she did want these damned things off her. She did as he asked and put every ounce of trust in his abilities.

She shook at the sound of the shot and felt heat near her wrists. Her untethered wrists.

Risk tugged her from behind the tree and led her away. Though she couldn't hear anything but a humming, because of all the gunfire, she saw an ATV closing in. The rider no doubt had heard the shooting.

The last vestiges of light were almost gone. Shadows grew longer, darker. Addie followed Risk's footsteps, her gaze locked on his back.

He slowed to a stop and pushed out words between breaths. "We can't outrun them. Have to play smart."

She nodded in agreement, her chest aching from exertion—and fear.

He pointed up to a wooden structure built in a tree. "That there's a fort, darlin'." He gave her a smile, his teeth white in the gloom.

It took her a second to realize why the fool was smiling. "A fort, how cute," she whispered back.

He indicated that they climb it; she would go first. If that meant they could stop running for a few minutes, she was all for it. She scrambled up the ladder on legs as sturdy as cooked pasta, gripping the wood slats as she went. He was right behind her, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Which wasn't easy to do, since it was almost dark with no moon in sight, only a little light from a sky dotted with twinkling stars.

"Stay close to the ladder," he whispered.

Up high like this, they were visible from a distance, especially with the goggles. On the flip side, they could get a sense of where their enemy was on the ATVs. She heard two engines in disparate places on the property but saw no headlights.

Once she got into the little building, she dropped down on one of the stools near the slat openings. Risk was a big, scary silhouette who approached like a bear. He grasped her chin, kissed her quick, and ducked back out the opening. She could hear him climbing onto the roof.

For a few moments she felt safe and invincible. Until she saw the first shadow slither through the trees. The man walked into the clearing, and she could tell two things about him: He was built like a block, just like the guy who'd sat on her at the zoo. And he was wearing something funky on his head, which must be the goggles. So he could see everything as clear as day. She kept only her eyes above the ledge and didn't move.

Keep walking, keep walking.

He paused, searching the area and maybe even the blind. Then he started moving on.

Thank you.

Except something small dropped on the ground from the roof and made a soft sound. The block shadow spun around, aiming a rifle at the base of the blind. The man advanced slowly, sweeping the muzzle back and forth.

Then something big fell from the roof.

Risk!

He dropped like a stone right onto the man, sending them both crashing to the ground in a heap. She heard a struggle but couldn't see what was going on. Panic tripped her heartbeat and made her grip the bottom edge of the opening.

He knows what he's doing.

The rifle went off with a crack. One body fell slack. After some rummaging sounds, one man stood and lifted his hand to her. She thought it was a thumbs-up. Which meant it was Risk. Relief surged through her.

He dragged the body to a location two yards away and climbed back up the ladder. She met him at the door opening and wrapped her arms around him, needing to feel that he was alive. She also felt bulky goggles over his eyes and another rifle, which he put into her hands.

He moved her fingers over the trigger guard, down the length of the rifle. "Shoot, push the lever, like I did earlier," he whispered, so close to her ear that the goggles brushed her hair and his breath tickled her neck. She nodded. "I will identify myself immediately when I come up. Shoot anyone else."

Something vibrated in his hand. He held up a cell phone with a glowing text message: Shot fired at deer stand Alpha Blue, I think. Another text came in shortly after. On my way over now.

That one was from Alan, the guy who'd taken a bullet in the shoulder.

Risk turned and was gone, jumping back down to the ground and disappearing into the shadows. She heard the ATV engine a few seconds later. Still no lights. She hefted the rifle and tried to get comfortable holding it in position. Could she really shoot someone?

Yes, she could shoot these sons of bitches.

Just so long as she didn't accidentally shoot Risk. Panic plus gun equaled potential disaster. Still, it empowered her to have the gun. And if one of the men came up into that opening, he wouldn't expect her to be armed.

The ATV drew cautiously closer, then stopped as the driver, Alan, obviously spotted the body. He was probably focused on that form, trying to discern whether it was Risk or one of their own.

Risk crept up and shot him. Alan slumped forward, and Risk pushed him the rest of the way. He waved Addie to come down. She was just about to leave her place when she saw another shadow move a few yards from Risk. Her throat closed up. Her finger tightened on the trigger. And she pulled it.

The shadow lurched back. Risk spun and fired again, and the shadow fell. She scrambled down the ladder, her legs so weak that she slid down the final three rungs. When she reached Risk, he was kneeling next to the man who had been only a shadow. "Good shot, Addie," Risk whispered. "You saved my ass."

She only nodded, shock numbing her. He turned back to Alan's body and rummaged through the clothes. After extracting another phone, he entered a text message: Got the son of a bitch. Going after the girl.

She shivered at the phony message. Because that was exactly what Alan would have texted had things gone the other way. Risk settled something over her head, and suddenly the world was a shade of daylight green. So was Risk, who smiled as he held up a black pistol. His Glock, she guessed.

Risk climbed onto the ATV, and she settled behind him, her arms tight around his waist. Maybe they were going to make it after all. But they had hundreds of acres to traverse without a clue how to get out. A border of electric fence. And Elrod out there somewhere, waiting for the chance to gun them down.

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## Chapter 20

There was one thing Risk hadn't had time to tell Addie. He'd texted Chase while waiting on the roof of the blind to let him know what was going on. Chase had responded that he'd just arrived in Buck, worried when he hadn't heard from anyone in hours. With a friend from the FBI.

But they weren't home free. Addie riding behind him was a dead giveaway that it wasn't one of Elrod's guys on the ATV. Even worse, the engine camouflaged the sound of any other ATV in the area.

He sped through the woods as fast as he could, winding around trees and aiming for the largest gaps so he didn't lose time. They bounded over rocks and dips, and he hoped this wasn't the quadrant with the crevices. Having a map of the place would have been a big help. Back in his SEAL days, sometimes they had maps and diagrams of their targets; other times they had nothing more than vague coordinates. He'd work with it. But it wasn't just his life on the line. He had a woman he'd come to care about a lot. And a tiger cub.

Addie was holding on tight, and he felt her arms tremble. From fear or muscle tension, he wasn't sure. She'd been through so much. And they weren't done yet.

Risk spotted a wear pattern up ahead. Not a real road but a frequently used passage. He had to decide: Take it and possibly end up at the compound. Or keep driving blindly through the woods.

He took the road. If he came up on someone face-to-face, the other man wouldn't see Addie right away. She was that close to Risk.

He leaned back and said, "Stay tight and keep your head down." She might lean to the side if he stopped.

If Elrod bought Alan's text message, he'd think Risk was dead. So Elrod should assume any guy approaching on an ATV was one of his own. That was if all went well. Things didn't always work the way they were supposed to.

Risk saw lights in the distance. Not headlights but steady lights that indicated they were probably nearing the compound.

Fortunately, he saw no one. He started to head past the buildings, continuing on the road he now knew led to the outside gate. Getting out would prove another difficulty: He was sure it would be locked and electrified.

The sound of an ATV behind had him spinning around. Risk snatched the NVGs from Addie's head and said, "Pretend you're with me against your will. You watched me shoot Risk and you're distraught. Exhausted. Still cuffed." They couldn't continue with their backs to Elrod, so Risk started to turn around.

She positioned herself to slump against his back. Within seconds, Elrod came into view and headed over. They came to a stop, facing each other.

"Hey, boss, got the girl and brought her back for you," Risk drawled. Elrod may not be able to tell who he was with the NVGs still in place.

Elrod's expression went from puzzled to elated and back to puzzled. "Who are you?"

"I'm your favorite." Risk drew his gun and climbed off the ATV. "Your favorite nightmare. Drop your weapons."

He wanted to shoot this bastard so bad, his finger was trembling. Something Elrod noticed as he dropped his rifle. Chase had emphasized that shooting a guy without direct provocation made for a messy aftermath. "Keep it clean," he'd said. "You don't want that kind of legal trouble, and The Justiss Alliance doesn't need the press."

"On the ground. Now." Risk gestured with his gun. And try to pull on me. Please try something, anything. Give me a good cause. He had plenty, but explaining to the authorities how he'd shot a man who was laying down his weapon would be tricky. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his little Addie had positioned herself next to him, aiming her rifle at Elrod. Damn, he was so proud of her.

Elrod flattened on the ground. Risk pressed his foot down on the center of his back and frisked him. He extracted his KA-BAR and tucked it back into his own waistband.

Suddenly a sound grew loud over the two ATV engines. A black helicopter dragged a huge spotlight along the ground and eventually centered over the tableau they presented. Risk read the words on the side of the aircraft: Buck County Sheriff's Dept.

A voice sounded over a loudspeaker: "Lower your weapons."

"You're dead," Elrod said, cackling.

Risk lowered his weapon but kept it at the ready. Like hell he was going to surrender and put the two of them in the hands of a corrupt sheriff.

The chopper swung around, and a familiar face leaned out of the open doorway. Chase. Only then did Risk lower his gun completely.

"Cover your face, Addie!" he called out right before dirt and twigs went flying.

When the chopper settled, Chase, Sax, and another man jumped down and came running over. Risk pulled off the goggles but kept his foot planted firmly on Elrod.

"Where's the sheriff?" Elrod screamed, twisting his neck to look for his buddy. Risk stomped down even harder.

The blades came to a stop as Chase neared Risk. He gestured toward the man with him. "This is Special Agent Steve Wilson."

The two nodded in greeting, a handshake a bit out of the norm at the moment. Wilson knelt down next to Elrod. "Are you Walter Elrod?"

"Yes. Who the fucking hell are you?"

"I'm with the FBI's Public Corruption Bureau, Mr. Elrod. The sheriff is being questioned by the Georgia Bureau of Investigations as we speak. Both bureaus are very interested in what's going on in this town. And on this property in particular." The agent glanced up at Risk. "At ease, soldier. I've got him." He cuffed Elrod and pulled him to his feet.

Risk stepped away and pulled Addie to his side. "There are five men down, possibly more of them out there hunting Addie and me."

Wilson called in for medical aid.

"And there's a cave with a tiger cub in it," Addie said. "We have to find it."

"How many men do you have out there?" the agent asked Elrod.

Elrod turned his angry face to Risk. "Five down? You took out all five of them?"

"They might be alive," Risk said. "How about you tell us how we find the cave from here, and I'll tell the medics where your men are?"

Elrod's face tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that you came here to hunt a deer and you went crazy, murdered my employees."

Risk gave him a hard smile. "What do you think the authorities are going to find when they do a full-scale investigation on this land? When they interrogate your employees? And we will find the cub. Meanwhile, your people might be suffering out there. And if they die, it'll be on your head."

Elrod paused, anger rippling across his expression. "Fine. I'll show you on the map."

Risk and Addie gave everyone a quick rundown of the events of the last few hours. Sax shook his head. "Damn, I missed all the fun."

Addie's laugh was near-hysterical. "Fun. Fun? You people are crazy!"

"Kidding," Sax said softly, as one might speak to a crazy person.

Sirens wailed in the near distance. Elrod opened the gate after they escorted him to his office. Right behind the ambulance and cop cars from another county screaming down the drive was Shirley in the white van.

Addie broke loose from her death grip on Risk and ran to the van, wrapping her arms around Shirley. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he did hear a stream of high-pitched words. Then Addie brought Shirley over. "We need to find the tiger. Now."

He'd seen the little guy's face, heard his mewling. He wanted the cub out of that cave almost as much as Addie did.

Thirty minutes later, they backed the van up to the rocky entrance. Before anything could be touched, a swarm of investigators went in first to document what they found.

Risk held a container with two raw steaks cut up into small pieces. Some of the very steak that Elrod had been about to enjoy with his thug buddies when they realized their quarry had escaped. Addie was nervously wrapping and unwrapping the leash around her fingers while one of the cops questioned her.

Shirley came up and gave Risk a hard hug, then kept an iron grip on his arms as she stepped back. "Thank you for keeping her safe. Don't let her push you away because she thinks having a life will detract from her purpose. I'll threaten to quit if she lets you walk out of her life."

He had to quell a smile at her vehemence. "I appreciate how much you care about Addie, but she has to come to that decision on her own." His gaze slid to Addie, passionately describing what had happened at the deer stand. Something in his chest expanded. He returned his attention to Shirley. "But I have no intention of giving up easily."

Two men in uniform and one plainclothes officer came out of the cave, the latter saying, "Okay, go on in."

Addie stared at the entrance, and he saw her fear of facing that dark place. She swallowed, shored her shoulders, and walked straight in. Then turned and invited him to join her with a soft smile. Damn, he was in love with this woman.

When they reached the cage, Addie spoke softly to the cub, sweet words that washed over Risk like honey. "You little darling, you've been through so much. I'm so sorry about that. But you're safe now, thanks to that handsome kick-ass guy standing over there." She glanced at him, in case he didn't get the reference.

He gave her a smile. "You were pretty kick-ass yourself, doll."

She blinked at the endearment, then turned back to the cub and readied the leash. A couple of the officers stood at the ready, along with Shirley. Addie led the cub down the entrance, using the meat as lures. Tigs followed Addie and the meat right into the van and the cage. Addie kissed the pad of her finger and pressed it to the cub's nose. "Have a nice life, little one."

Shirley closed the back door once Addie climbed out. "I meet the sanctuary owner in an hour. Which means I have to scoot." She gave Addie a fierce hug and then pinned her with the same look she'd given Risk earlier. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'm not going to be sneaking onto anyone's land any time soon, that's for sure."

"I don't mean that." Shirley nodded subtly toward Risk. Then she released Addie, got into the van, and drove away.

At least he had an ally. But Addie had to come to the decision to let him into her life wholly on her own. Not that he was above giving her a nudge. And he was about to nudge just a little by pulling her into his arms when Agent Wilson and Chase approached.

Chase said, "You both will have to finish giving your statements before you can go."

Wilson ran his hand over his hair, shaking his head. "This is going to take a while to unravel. I'm sure Elrod will avoid court and take a plea deal when it comes right down to it. He's got a lot of blood on his hands, we've got your accounts, and two of his employees are singing like birds." He clapped his hand on Chase's shoulder. "We're going to keep TJA and your name out of this as much as possible. But you, Addie, can use this to promote your organization. The national news will eat it up."

She got the light in her eyes that made Risk want to kiss her. Before he could do that, two agents came over and separated them to finish their questioning.

He would kiss her again. And it would in no way be a goodbye kiss.

Addie had called her father on the plane ride back and told him everything. Amazingly, he hadn't blown a gasket. She'd imagined his stoic face as he'd taken in the information. When she'd had to close the call, he'd said, "We'll talk soon." For the first time, those words hadn't sent her into a panic.

Not like something else had. After the interviews wrapped up and Chase was arranging for his pilot to fly her home, Addie had thought Risk would go directly to Miami. But he'd told Chase that he would stay on unpaid to see Addie through the next few days, when the press would be hounding her.

And now she and Risk stood on her porch, watching the hired car head back down the long gravel road as dawn broke across the sky.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Feel good to be home again?"

Two roosters were prowling the yard and crowing. Three pigs were wallowing in the mud outside their stall. The ranch was waking up. She nodded, taking in all the buildings and barns that represented her purpose, and her future became very clear. She turned around in his arms. "Just now I was looking at everything I've worked so hard to achieve. I'm very proud of all this. Everything I've sacrificed, including my personal life, has been absolutely worth it."

He gave her a somber nod. "Is this where we promise to keep in touch but inevitably drift apart?"

The thought of that made her stomach sink, the same way it had the first time she'd said it. When she'd considered it imperative to let him go. When she'd believed it was even possible. "Is that what you want, Risk? Because the—"

"Seems your mind is made up, so I'm going to just lay it all out there." He settled his hands on her shoulders. "Seeing as I don't have to worry about scaring you away anymore. What I want is right here. I want to wake up every day and see your beautiful face and say, 'Morning, sunshine.' Even if I'm on assignment and it's through Skype. I want to strategize with you when you're planning one of your trespassing stunts so I can make sure you're safe. And yes, you'll have to listen to me. We'll argue, you'll call me overbearing and overprotective, but we'll end up making love, and then you'll see that I only have your best interests at heart."

He ran his hands all the way down her arms, twining his fingers with hers. "I want to feed the animals with you every night so you can get that light in your eyes. Then I'll have to kiss you." He did. "And more than kiss you." He kissed her deeper this time, sweeping his tongue through her mouth, running it along the length of hers. Then pulled back a few inches. "But mostly I want you to feel good about taking something for yourself. And that something is me."

His words sucker-punched her, especially coupled with the resolve she saw in his eyes. She took a deep breath. "If you hadn't interrupted me, what I was going to say was the sacrifices have been worth it, because they've brought me here. If I hadn't put my life on hold, hadn't been thinking I was responsible for my mom's death, I wouldn't be here." She snuggled closer. "It's good to be home, but it feels even better to be here. I imagined you heading back to Miami and my life going back to the way it was before all this happened. Suddenly my future filled with saving animals and rallying for their rights wasn't the whole picture anymore. Because now there's a muscle-bound guy with gorgeous eyes and an incredible smile that makes my heart go zing. And I have fallen completely, totally, madly in love with him." She narrowed her eyes in mock sternness. "And now you're going to have to deal with the consequences."

He braced his legs on either side of hers, giving her a very serious look. "Ma'am, I always accept the consequences of my actions. So I give you my word that I will honor"—he kissed her—"respect"—another kiss—"and love the hell out of you." He swept her up in his arms and turned to the front door. "In fact, I'll report to duty on that last one immediately."

Risk ignored the drum-solo ring of his cell phone as he rolled Addie onto her back in the hay. Even on call, no way was he going to answer when he was buried in the sweet heaven that was Addie. Even the world's ending could wait another few minutes. He caught his breath as he braced his weight on his arms and hovered over her. He lowered his head toward hers. "Your. Mouth. Is. Irresistible," he said between kisses.

She grinned as he backed up to take her in. "Mm, you've definitely added an intriguing angle to the evening feeding schedule." She reached up and brushed her fingers across his hair. "Can we make this a daily regimen?"

Something swelled in his heart at her words and the sight of her below him, her blond waves spread out on the blanket. Especially at the lack of panic on her face at making a statement that spoke of the future. A long future.

"I'm up for that, doll. I will never again smell hay and think of being alone with the cows in the barn. I have better memories to go with the scent."

She touched his face. "Being alone is overrated."

Now her phone went off, with its song. They were definitely a little bit closer. Hell, they couldn't get any closer. He was still buried inside her, and he could feel her throbbing around his cock. And she felt perfectly right. Damn, he was in love with this woman.

"I'd give you twenty dollars for your thoughts right now," she said, mirroring his words at dinner.

"They're not for sale." He gave her a soft kiss. "But I'll give you one for free." He kissed her nose. "You've added an intriguing angle to my life."

"I like that. Any more?"

"I didn't want to scare you—"

"You won't scare me."

He shook his head, tsking. "You. Have. To. Stop. Interrupting. Me." Again kissing her between words.

She gave him a playful punch in the arm. "You have a lot of room to talk." Then she tilted her head. "If that's my punishment, I may interrupt you all the time. But go on. You didn't want to scare me . . ."

"I talked to Chase about his preference that his operatives live in Miami. Seeing as how there's an airport not too awfully far from here, he said it was workable." He let those words settle in.

She didn't look panicked, but she definitely looked surprised. "You're going to live here?"

"I could get an apartment nearby. I mean, we haven't known each other that long, so you might not—"

She uttered "Yes" on a breath. Her hands tightened where they held his back.

"There you go, interrupting—"

She kissed him now, fast and hard. "Yes, I want you to move in with me. I know it's only been a few days, but nothing has ever felt so right. You are the one impulsive, crazy move I know I won't regret."

There went that swelling feeling again. It was like diving off a cliff but knowing he would make a nice soft landing. With Addie.

His phone rang again. "I'd better get that. There are only so many people who have this number, and every one of them is important."

"We should probably get dressed anyway. It's already dark."

He regretfully eased out, jerked on his jeans, and pulled out his phone. "It's Julian," he told her before answering: "Yo, dude. What's up?"

"You back in Miami? I'm heading there in the morning to start my orientation."

Risk glanced at Addie, who, despite her words, hadn't started dressing yet. "I'm making my home base here in Virginia with Addie. But I'm sure I'll see you on my trips down there, if not on a mission. You with Rath?"

"We're gassing up at a station somewhere in Texas, about to hit our last bar. He's intent on heading down to Mexico after he settles his affairs in Tennessee. I tried to get him to join Justiss, even suggested that we could find out the truth through the Alliance. 'It's my ass on the line,' he says. 'Y'all put on your capes and go save mankind.'"

Risk would have laughed, picturing Rath saying that in his accent, if he hadn't been so worried about his brother getting killed. "Rath's going to do what he sets his mind to. Maybe he'll go down and find nothing, which is what I think is going to happen. Once he loses that last mission, he'll feel the itch like we did. He'll cave." Risk could hear a car's engine in the background, and then it stopped.

"I hope so." Julian's voice changed. "Whoa. Hot-chick alert. Not my type but interesting. Light red hair, all wavy and down to the middle of her back. Skin like cream. Getting out to pump gas."

Risk winked at Addie, who was trying to make sense of the conversation. "Ten bucks she thinks you're a biker thug and gets right back in the car if you say word one to her."

Julian chuckled. "She's already eyeing me like I'm going to run over and offer to wash her windshield or something. And she's got a guy with her. Skinny weasel's going inside while she pumps gas. What a bicho."

Risk remembered that meant bug in Spanish but was slang for penis. "Go on, offer to pump her gas for her."

"She does not look like she would welcome that at all. Chick's uptight, no doubt about it. Look, I'll check in when I hit Miami. So, things are going well with your querida, eh?"

Risk brushed his fingers down his querida's neck, then lower. He knew that meant something like dear or beloved, and both fit. "Very well. Ride safe, man. I'll talk to you later."

He disconnected, and Addie drew his hand farther down, filling his palm with one of her perfect breasts. Maybe they didn't need to get back to the house just yet. He pulled her closer, rubbing his thumb over her nipple.

"Addie!"

Nothing like hearing the general's voice booming down the center of the barn to shatter the moment. Addie yelped as she lunged for her clothing, and Risk threw on his shirt and stepped out of the stall to delay him. "Hello, sir. Nice evening, isn't it?"

General Wunder narrowed his eyes. "Son, you still don't have a poker face. Addie, get dressed and come on out."

She wasn't covering her sheepishness much as she stepped out. "Hi, Daddy. What a surprise."

"It wouldn't be if you'd answered your phone." He gave them a once-over. "I suppose you were too busy."

"Feeding the animals," she said with that guileless smile Risk knew too well.

The general grumbled. "Is that what they're calling it nowadays? So, the two of you, are you a thing? Or a fling?"

Risk pulled Addie up next to him, kissing the top of her hair. "Sir, we are definitely a thing. I'm on permanent assignment to keep your daughter safe."

"And happy." A smile crept onto the man's face as he looked at his daughter. "You're keeping her happy." He held out his hand to Risk and gave him that bone-crunching shake. "Welcome to the family, son."

Man, Risk's heart was going to swell right out of his chest at this rate. "Thank you, sir. You have an amazing daughter."

Addie squeezed his waist, giving him a soft smile.

The general shifted his gaze to her. "I was going to give you hell for putting yourself in a dangerous position. But you two escaped in one piece, and you shut down a nasty son of a bitch. I got to understanding something on the way over. You didn't only inherit your mother's compassion. You inherited my strength, courage, and smarts. A wise young man helped me to see that."

Addie's chin trembled. "Thanks, Daddy."

"I'm proud of you." He shifted his gaze to Risk. "I thought you'd be a disastrous match, but I was wrong. If anyone can handle my spitfire daughter, you can."

Risk traded a smile with Addie. They certainly fed off each other's fire. "I'll keep her safe and happy, sir, but I won't try to douse her spirit."

The general surprised him by laughing out loud. "Oh, son, I wouldn't have it any other way."

The story isn't over! The Men of Justiss will continue to attain justice for those who can't, even if it means playing outside the rules. And, of course, women who give them all a run for their money.

Find links to The Justiss Alliance and more books by Tina Wainscott at www.WrittenMusings.com.

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## About the Author

Tina Wainscott has always loved the combination of suspenseful chills and romantic thrills. She's written fourteen romantic suspense novels, as well as ten paranormal romances as Jaime Rush. Losing her nephew, a marine, in Afghanistan made her realize that military men are really the perfect heroes. Not only during the war but also once they're home, as they try to stitch their lives and souls together. And so was born The Justiss Alliance, an agency where these men can find purpose, honor, and love outside the war zone.

For contests, sneak peeks, and more, visit www.TinaWainscott.com. For more on her paranormal romances, go to www.JaimeRush.com.

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## Acknowledgments

I want to thank everyone who helped me get this book from idea to completion. It takes a village, as they say, and I have a wonderful group of people in mine:

My dear friend John Case, thanks for your help on all things gun-related. You're my favorite gunsmith!

Antonio "Tony" Sanchez, MSM, CLET, Captain, Biscayne Park Police Department, for all of your expertise as well as your friendship.

My agent, Nicole Resciniti, friend, champion, and sounding board. You know you're my guardian literary angel, right?

To my husband, Dave, my daughter, Zoe, and my parents, who help not only when deadlines loom but are supportive and encouraging always.

I don't know what I did to deserve you, Jen Dinh, but I'm very grateful for my angel helper.

A special thanks to Big Al for your insights and information, as well as your service. It's a pleasure to "meet" you!

My respect to Big Cat Rescue in Tampa, Florida, the animal rescue organization that upholds great standards for cat care and rescue (but does not participate in the crazy antics that Addie does!).

Hugs to my street team, the Rushkies! You all rock my world.

To TJ for everything you do...thanks for being a writing comrade!
