Her heart warmed, and she reached out to frame his face. “We’re going to get past the next three months and make sure that chip is gone. Then, we’re in this life together. If we can have kids, and we want to, we will. If not, we’ll adopt. Or it’ll just be us. Together.” Equal partners. “But I want all of you. The good and bad—no more secrets or hiding.”
“What about your numbers and accounting? I know how much it means to you.”
She shook her head. “Being needed and being counted on matter to me. I can have that without the numbers, without the clients. I have that with you.” There was no comparison between a job and the man she loved. He won, hands down.
“I do need you.” He smiled. “You have all of me. Forever.”
Those were the words she’d needed to hear for so long. Her heart warmed, and peace settled her shoulders. “Good. Since we’re here, and I’m a genius with accounting as well as business… how about I help Nate with Sins Security?”
Approval lit Shane’s dark eyes. “Excellent idea. The guy could use help.”
“And when you need a woman on a mission, I’m your gal. Sometimes men can’t go everywhere.”
“When I need a woman, you’re the only one I’d want.” His grin promised he wouldn’t be asking.
That’s what he thought. “I plan to help.”
“You will.” His lids lowered to half-mast, his gray gaze darkening. Her thighs softened in response. With a quick movement, he yanked her shirt over her head.
“Hey,” she protested. “You’re injured.”
“So be gentle with me.” He reached for the tie on her sweats.
“Why? I don’t like gentle any more than you do.”
“I like you any way I can get you.” He lifted her to tug off her pants. His nimble fingers ran along the outside of her panties. “I love you, Josie Dean.”
“I love you, too.” Her heart melted while her body quivered. “I’ll try to be very gentle with you since you’re so obviously injured.” She rolled her eyes. “But I wouldn’t want to tame you too much, Major Dean.”
The world tilted, and she yelped, finding herself under a soldier. He settled his erection between her legs. “I’m not too worried about that.”
She grinned, winding both arms around his neck. “Prove it, Major.”
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and hearing examiner—only to culminate it all in stories about alpha males and the women who claim them. She is a member of RWA, has won awards for her works throughout the industry, and has a journalism degree with a poly sci emphasis from Pepperdine University as well as a juris doctorate from the University of Idaho.
Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children, and extended family, who inspire her every day—or at the very least give her plenty of characters to write about.
Learn more at:
www.RebeccaZanetti.com
Twitter, @RebeccaZanetti
Facebook.com/RebeccaZanetti.Author.FanPage
Rebecca Zanetti’s thrilling, sexy series continues!
See the next page for a heart-pounding preview.
Chapter 1
Stab wounds hurt worse than bullet wounds.
Sitting on asphalt in the dark, Matt Dean leaned against the worn brick building and scanned the vacant alley. Garbage cans lined the doorways of the now-closed businesses. The place smelled like honeysuckle.
What kind of an alley smelled like honeysuckle?
He’d been stabbed two days ago, and the staples he’d used had all but fallen out. But he’d had to get as far away as possible from what must now be a bloody crime scene.
Two of the men who’d jumped him would never jump, must less breathe, again. The other two might wish for death when they awoke. How the hell had they found him?
His phone had been damaged in the fight, and he’d had no choice but to continue on his mission, hop on his bike, and ride three states over. Out of their reach.
Time to break into one of the businesses and call his brothers.
He shrugged off his leather jacket and glanced at his destroyed shirt.
A door opened several yards down. He stiffened, reaching for the knife in his boot. At 3 a.m., nobody should be in the alley.
“Eugene?” a female voice whispered.
That tone shivered right down his spine. Sexy and frustrated, the tenor promised heated nights. He’d always had a thing for a woman’s husky voice.
So he turned his head.
She stood in the moonlight in a compact yoga outfit, her mahogany hair up in one of those clips. Damn, he’d love to let that mass fly.
Maybe blood loss was getting to him.
“Eugene?” the woman called again, holding the door open with her hip. “Your walk should be finished by now, and enough is enough. Your moodiness is getting to me.”
Who the hell was Eugene? It was just a matter of seconds before the woman noticed Matt, and he didn’t have the energy to fight the mysterious Eugene.
She gasped when she saw him.
Great. Now she’d run inside and call the police.
Except she didn’t.
The woman rushed toward him, dropping to her knees. “Oh my God. You’re hurt.” She swallowed several times and levered away. Her eyes were the color of an emerald he’d stolen from a Colombian drug lord years ago while on a mission. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
He grabbed her arm, careful not to break the delicate bones. “I’m fine.” Pressing his other palm against the brick, he shoved himself up and helped her along. “Though I could use an aspirin.”
She stilled and then looked up, way up, toward his face. “Um—”
He tried to smile. “I won’t hurt you.” Yeah, right. He was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her, found bleeding in her alley. All he needed was duct tape and a ski mask to be a bigger threat to somebody so small.
“Right.” She swallowed and shook her arm free. “You’re harmless. Anybody could see that.” She stepped back.
He grinned. Damn, she was cute. He tilted his head toward his motorcycle. “I’ll just get on and leave you alone. Sorry to scare you.”
She frowned and rubbed her forehead as she eyed the bike. “Did you fall?”
“Yes,” he lied smoothly. “Hit a pothole and basically landed on my head. I was tired and not watching the road.”
Indecision crossed her classic face. She leaned forward to eye the tattoo on his arm. “You were in the marines?”
“Yes.” Yet another lie. He’d been undercover as a U.S. marshal, then as a marine, and the tat was temporary.
“Oh.” She exhaled. “My brother was a marine.”
“Was?”
“Yes. He didn’t make it home.”
Matt’s chest thumped. Hard. “I lost a brother, too.” Finally, a truth he could give her. “Hurts like hell and always will.” Of course, it was his fault Jory was dead, and he’d been paying for it since. Some souls were meant to be damned.
She sighed. “Well, I can’t just leave an ex-marine in the alley. Come in and we can get you cleaned up, but if you’re injured too badly, I’m calling an ambulance.” She levered under his arm, her slender shoulders straightening to assist him.
Intrigue and an odd irritation filtered through him. “You shouldn’t help strange men, sweetheart.”
“All men are strange.” The grin she flipped him warmed him in places he thought would always be frozen. “Besides, I’m armed.”
There wasn’t a place for a weapon in her little yoga outfit. But he nodded anyway, happy to be getting indoors. “Okay. Then I’ll behave.” Then he paused. Perhaps he should let her call for medical help, considering he was in town to find a doctor. The woman he’d been searching for the last fi
ve years. But he wanted to be on his game when he found the bitch. “What about Eugene?”
His rescuer bit her lip. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”
Who the hell was Eugene? Matt tuned in his senses but failed to hear any footsteps. A couple argued several blocks away about who should drive home. They both slurred their words, so neither should drive.
Matt released the woman and forced his feet to move toward his bike. He’d lost too much blood. “Do you mind if I park my bike inside? I’d hate for anybody to steal my baby.”
She chuckled. “In Charmed, Idaho? Nobody will take your big motorcycle.” Yet she opened the doorway wide. “You can park just inside to the left.”
He rolled the bike inside a small storage room holding toiletries and cleaning supplies. “What’s your name?”
“Laney.” She locked the door and gestured him toward a doorway. “Let’s get you that aspirin.”
He stalked through another storage room that held all types of alcohol to a bar. A sports bar with widescreens, pool tables, and dart boards. He glanced down at Laney. “You work at a bar?”
He’d figured her for a yoga instructor or a teacher. Not a barmaid.
She gently pushed him onto a wooden chair by a worn table. “I own a bar.” Her pretty pink lips turned down as she glanced at his demolished T-shirt.
“Oh.” He frowned. The woman was much too delicate to be closing a bar by herself. Whoever the hell Eugene was, he needed a beating for leaving her alone at night like this.“By yourself?”
She lifted a shoulder while walking behind the bar and returning with a first-aid kit. “My brother and I owned it together.” Her eyes remained down.
He understood that kind of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Laney.”
She blinked and met his gaze with those amazing green eyes. “Me, too.” Taking a deep breath, she straightened. “Let’s see what you did to yourself.”
He gingerly tugged off his shirt.
Her cheeks slid from rosy to stark white in seconds. Emerald flashed when her eyes opened wide. “You’re really bleeding.” Then her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed.
He caught her one-handed before she hit the floor.
What the hell?
Easily picking her up, he glanced around the bar. The booths were circular at an odd angle, and the chairs were hard. He could either place her on the bar or on a pool table. Gently, he lay her on a pool table, warmed by how nicely she fit against him. Indulging himself, he removed her hair clip and allowed the curls to tumble free.
He’d been without a woman much too long.
Now was not the time. Yet he couldn’t help taking a moment to appreciate her classic features. Delicate and soft women were a mystery to him and something he’d only seen on television. He believed they existed but definitely steered clear.
This one? This one needed protection, and he’d have a nice talk with Eugene when the bastard finally showed up.
For now, he’d lost enough blood. Flipping open the lid of the medicine kit, he frowned. Not what he needed.
Prowling behind the bar, he searched the low shelves. Ah ha. A rusty tackle box rested in the back. Inside, he found thick fishing line and flies with hooks. Bending one, he threaded it like a needle after pouring whiskey over it to kill germs. Then he took a swig of the alcohol, allowing the potent brew to slam into his gut and center him.
Minutes later, he’d successfully sutured both wounds. The one on his upper chest took twice as long as the wide gash along his ribs. The guy who’d stabbed him knew how to use a blade.
So did he.
He glanced at the pretty woman on the pool table. How long did a faint last, anyway? Then the phone behind the bar caught his attention. He slapped long pads across his wounds and reached for the phone to dial in a series of numbers.
“Swippy’s Pool Hall,” a man answered.
“Deranged Duck 27650,” Matt said.
Several beeps echoed across the line as it was secured. Finally, silence ensued.
“Where the hell are you?” his brother growled.
Matt wiped a hand down his face. Shane sounded worried. “I’m in place. Had some trouble in Texas, however.”
“What kind of trouble?” Shane asked, computer keys clacking across the line.
“Jumped by four men—well trained. They found me in Dallas as I was heading out here.” How had the damn commander found him in Texas? He’d only been there a week to gather intel on the woman he’d been searching for.
“No mention of a problem on any police forces or news outlets.” Shane sighed. “They covered the scene up quickly.”
Which meant the commander had new resources in the government. Terrific. “Are you sure the woman is here?” Matt asked.
“Yes. We finally traced her to Charmed, but we don’t know who she is. I’ve narrowed it down to a surgeon at the hospital, a veterinarian, or the coroner’s assistant.” Shane clicked more keys. “My money is on the coroner.”
The woman he hunted had been a top-rated surgeon before disappearing and hiding. Chances were she was still cutting into people. Most surgeons couldn’t let go of playing God. “I’ll boot up my laptop tonight and have you send me the files.” His gaze caught on a Help Wanted sign in the window. “I may have just found my cover while in town.”
“Good. Stay in touch, Mattie.” The line went dead.
Matt rubbed his chin, his gaze on Laney. Pouring a glass of water, he maneuvered over to her. Now all he had to do was get her to hire him.
* * *
Laney slowly opened her eyes and tried to ignore the pounding of her temples. What in the world?
A man stood over her, and her memories crashed back.
She shot to sit, her hand going to her aching head. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
The low rumble of his voice matched the battle-scarred chest. Even with two pristine bandages, old wounds lived among the hard ridges and ripped muscles. And the guy was ripped.
A warning flutter rippled through her abdomen. She cleared her throat.
As if he could read her mind, he set a glass of water on the pool table and took several steps back. Giving her space.
“Drink,” he said.
Not a man of many words, was he? She took the glass and sipped, allowing the water to cool her heated throat. The pool table was surprisingly comfortable. “Who are you?”
“Matt Dean.” He rubbed a hand through his shaggy hair.
He still had dried blood on his impressive abs, and she shoved down panic. The mere sight of blood could make her pass out within seconds. She shook her head. “Why are you in town?”
“After the marines, I decided to tour the country for a while until I run out of money, then I work for a bit, and move on afterwards.”
Sad. The guy was obviously running from old horrors. “Is it working? I mean, the traveling?”
“Yes.”
The blood disappeared as his physique took center stage. Wow. The new warmth sliding through her veins had nothing to do with caution. Tension emanated around him with the promise of fire and passion.
The kind of guy who’d burn a girl, but it’d be worth it.
He tilted his head toward the sign in the window. “You need help?”
Always, and right now from her own libido. “Have you heard of the Rally in the Mountains?”
He nodded. “The motorcycle rally in southern Oregon? Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Well, the rally is in two weeks, and many of the bikers from the east head through town. We’re incredibly busy for those two weeks.” She eyed him. At several inches above six feet and broad, he’d be a deterrent to any problems. He’d seen war—the guy was definitely wounded.
And tough. He’d be able to handle any disputes that arose. In fact, with that hard gray gaze taking in the room, maybe the bikers wouldn’t mess around. Of course, with that thick black hair and strong-boned face, he’d draw in the women.
The man neede
d help, and she needed a tough guy in her corner. Plus, he’d served his country and was one of the good guys in a scary world. “I need a bartender/bouncer for two weeks.”
He smiled, flashing strong teeth.
She swallowed again. Wounded and scowling, the guy was handsome. Smiling and charming, he was downright devastating. Her heart rate picked up.
His smile widened. Why? It wasn’t like he could hear her heart.
Frowning, she scooted to the edge of the pool table. Strong hands instantly banded around her waist to lift.
She gasped, not having seen him move. “You move fast.”
He settled her on her feet and waited until she regained her balance.
She tilted her head way back to glance at his face. This close, a strong shadow covered his jaw.
His hands remained at her waist, warm and strong.
“No,” she murmured.
His eyelids creased. “Why not?”
“B-Because.” She couldn’t help but focus on his full lips.
“A woman who ventures into a darkened alley and helps a stranger is brave and likes to take chances.” Challenge and something darker lurked in his eyes.
He smelled like the forest; wild and free.
Heat washed down her torso, and she tried to breathe slowly. What in the world was going on? She liked safe, and she liked security. “I hate taking chances.”
His mouth pursed as he studied her. “Somehow I don’t think so.”
A yowling set up outside the entrance door. He pivoted, shielding her.
Her skin chilled from his removed hands, while her heart warmed at how quickly he’d moved into protector mode. “It’s all right,” she said, stepping around him as relief filled her.
One hand banded around her arm and tugged her back as the yowling increased in volume. “What is that?”
She chuckled. “Let me go.”
“No.” He released her and moved toward the door, gingerly unlocking it to open a crack. Then he stepped back, surprise lifting his dark eyebrows.
Matted brown fur came into view first before a battered face. Eugene meowed at seeing her. She dropped to her haunches. “There you are.” Thank God.
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