My insides quiver as the garage door opens all the way.

Hunter. Standing there like a statue. Huge arms crossed.

I pull in and turn off the SUV. He opens the driver’s door and doesn’t say a word.

I climb out, open the back door, and grab my bags off the back seat. Nothing’s heavy, just bulky, and four bags are all I can carry.

I step around him and walk into the house, glad to know Sloan is gone. His truck was still here when I left, and they’d been in the office, all hushed growls and short explosions.

I carry the bags to the front room. Hunter follows right behind me.

I can feel him, and also hear him, the bags he's carrying rustling.

There's still this brutal, quiet tension between us, but it’s mellowing.

Not anger, just reticence. Like neither of wants to say anything.

I sure don’t. I don’t have anything I want to say to him right now.

I’m numb inside. Hollowed out. Disappointed with myself for letting things get so far out of hand and taking his vehicle for a spin around the snowy Saint Paul streets so I could think.

I'm surprised he hasn't exploded all over me yet.

All I’ve ever wanted to do was bake, honestly. Especially cakes, just like I’m doing now.

Don’t need more. Never asked for it. Definitely not for some big, snarly man to screw with my feelings and tangle up my life.

“You didn’t need to do this, Sugar. If you meant to send me a message, we could've sat down and talked like normal human beings.”

His voice comes, finally. Quietly. Calmly.

I have to close my eyes at the sound of it and swallow hard. It's even worse because he doesn't sound pissed.

Rather than respond, I say something I’ll regret later.

Something like “Actually, I did need to do it because I love you. And I love Ben, too.”

His blue eyes soften, then brighten like gas flames.

I open the first bag and pull out a package of tree ornaments. The tree was heavier than a boulder, but I’d managed to get it upright again all on my own before I stormed out of the house. Right after he’d gone down to his office to talk with that creep he calls a friend.

The worst part of the mess was all the shattered decorations. Smashed ornaments, tinsel like confetti, light bulbs scattered like dead fireworks.

I’d cleaned them up, vacuumed, and hauled out the trash before I went to buy the replacements.

Without a word, I turn my back and start decorating the tree, not feeling any of the joy I’d experienced the first time around. This feels more like laying out flowers at a funeral.

But after a minute, I hear rustling behind me. Hunter, opening more packages, then coming up next to me and placing the new stuff in the exact same places where the originals were hung.

Throws over the back of the chair and sofa. Pillows on the seat cushions. Yankee candles and garland on the mantle.

Because we're both so focused, so hellbent on keeping our distance from each other, it doesn’t take long before the room looks exactly like it did before. Neither of us comment as we gather up the empty packages and stuff them in the bags.

Or as we carry them out of the room.

Once everything's discarded, and we’re in the hallway off the kitchen, I remember Jingles and stop to open the laundry room door so he can have full run of the house again. He gives me a grateful yowl and runs off.

I find Hunter in the kitchen, leaning against the center island. “How much do I owe you, anyway?”

That's it? He's worried about the money?

I’m so disappointed – no, hurt – that all I can do is shake my head.

I walk around to the other side of the island.

He meets me at the other end, though, and grabs ahold of my arm. His touch may be soft, but it feels like a vice, but not on my arm.

The pressure is lower, deeper, focused around my heart.

God. I can't even put into words how frustrated I am that he has this kind of hold over me.

So I close my eyes for a moment, maintaining my composure. Barely.

“I don’t want your money, Hunter. Neither do my parents. If that's what you're still worried about, then –”

“No. Don't go. We're past that,” he growls, taking a step closer. “Thank you, Wendy. Thanks for cleaning that up. For doing all this.”

He lets out a sigh. “And, yeah, I’m sorry.”

There’s remorse in his eyes. Those beautiful light-blue eyes that I know are going to haunt me the rest of my life because there’s not another pair like them on Earth.

Or another man quite like Hunter Forsythe.

He releases my arm with a tense glance. “I know your parents are filing for bankruptcy. But I know that's not why you're with me.”

Not again. I’m disappointed, hurt.

I never knew insides could hurt like mine do now. “Oh? Why? Because Sloan told you?” I’m still disgusted with myself, too, and shake my head. “Don’t even answer. I don’t want to know.”

I leave the room, but I hear heavy footsteps behind me.

“Wendy...there’s a reason why he told me. It's not what you think.”

I keep walking. Screw it. There's no salvaging this.

I'm going to get my coat and purse, then go upstairs and get the clothes and things I bought this afternoon, and leave.

Just leave. Then I’m going to bury myself in as much work as it takes to forget. Totally forget Hunter Forsythe exists.

“This isn't about you, or your parents. Truth is, it's the company. Landmark's having some serious issues right now that Sloan’s dealing with. That's why he was up in arms, and why he acted like a fucking idiot.”

Really? He’s making excuses for that freaking vampire?

I grab my coat and purse off the bench in the foyer, glad I kicked off my heels by the backdoor so I can run upstairs faster.

Hitting the steps with enough speed to take me all the way to the top, I say, “Sounds like a you problem. Hunter. My parents don't have anything to do with Landmark Defense.”

“He just thought you were a diversion. Bad for me. Yeah, he's an overprotective idiot sometimes, and I told him so. But he had information he needed to give me.”

He’s on my heels as I head down the hallway to his bedroom. Anger roars again, and it’s fueling my steps. “I don’t give a damn what he needs, and I don't know why you do either.”

“Because, dammit, it’s complicated. Serious business. There’s a lot involved and –”

“Except for you. Weird how he never involves you, and just brings these things to your doorstep, isn't it?” I’ve gotten to know him well the past few weeks, very well, and have seen the longing in his eyes when he talks about his company.

He loves it. Misses it. Hates being so disengaged, even if he doesn't come out and say it.

Spinning around, I face him. “Why is that, Hunter? Oh, that’s right...because Sloan convinced you early retirement was the best medicine.” There, I say it. If that bastard can talk about me, I can talk about him. “So you can take care of Ben. Well, let me tell you something...damn near every parent has a full-time job and takes care of their kids. Some have two or three jobs. There's no good reason why you ever should've given up everything.”

His nostrils flare.

His voice is ice. “Sloan didn’t convince me of shit.”

“He didn’t?” I huff out a pained laugh. “He told you my parents were filing bankruptcy. A total lie. That all they're after, all I’m after, is your money.” I pivot, heading into the room. “He did a fine job of it, too.”

I grab a bag of my stuff off a chair.

Hunter snatches it out of my hand and throws it back in the seat. “Sloan was protecting me, Wendy. That's what I've hired him to do. Hell, that's what he's always done, long before I started signing his checks. He didn’t want me to discover the truth, he...fuck. He didn't want me to know Cory sold us out.”

I'm about to fire back, but I stop, mouth hanging open. What?

The anguish in his eyes stops me from reaching for the bag again.

Choosing my next words carefully, I say, “Cory’s been dead a long time, hasn't he? What are you talking about?”

“I know. And Sloan’s been protecting me for a long time. And Ben. From the truth...an evil fucking truth about my brother that hurts almost as bad as his death. It happened before he died. While he was setting up the office we have here now. It was Cory’s idea to set up shop here in Minnesota. Always a branch he'd oversee, before it became our main headquarters.”

He’s looking off into space as he talks, almost like he’s not quite believing what he’s saying.

“I agreed because I knew him and Juno were having issues. An old boyfriend or something, I don’t know for sure. Cory wouldn't say. She was pregnant at the time, and honestly...I wondered if it was even Cory's. Until I saw Ben. He was the spitting image of my brother and me those first few months.”

Despite the pain in his voice, he smiles, remembering Ben as a baby. That does something terrible to my heart.

“I was traveling a lot then, selling security systems to anyone who'd listen in every time zone. Hell, I didn’t even know what time zone I was in half the time. When Ben was born, I wanted Cory to have as much time as possible with the baby and Juno, so I promoted Sloan to Chief Security Officer, to take some of the load off of my brother. Shortly after, Cory started talking about a breach in our systems. Told me someone was trying to get in and steal our files, our prototypes, all our research and designs.”

He sits down on the bed. His shoulders slump. “Never in a million years would I have imagined it was Cory himself. Never. Fuck, after the way he acted, everything he sacrificed...we started this company together. He got our first government contract. A big one.”

He’s reeling. I feel it in myself as much as I can see it on his face.

My anger fades. Into this soft, hazy empathy that tells me how much I do love him, despite everything.

I sit down next to him. “You're sure about this, Hunter? Positive Cory was behind it?”

“Yeah. It’s all come together. Makes sense like it didn't before. The Russians hit the market with a new radar blocking system six weeks before we did. At the time, I thought it was a coincidence. Mainly because I was too busy to think otherwise. Cory and Juno were dead. She didn’t have any family, so it all fell on me to figure shit out. I was in the middle of legally adopting Ben, going through nannies like they were toilet paper. The headquarters out here was only half-completed, a shell of what it is now.”

He looks through me and sighs. “It was a fucking nightmare. When I think back, try to remember, it’s nothing but a blur. Everything except Cory’s death, the night of the fire. I felt like I was only half there. Like the other half of me died with Cory. There were times I thought about turning my back on everything. Just taking Ben and walking away.”

I’m rubbing his back, heart splintering at his anguish.

I lean my head against his shoulder. “But you didn’t. You pulled through.”

“I had to. For Ben's sake. He’d been sick shortly before the fire. In the hospital with pneumonia. Cory and Juno never left his side, and every time I talked to him, he’d say Ben was going to grow up and become the third partner in Landmark someday. When Cory died, I knew I had to make that happen. Keep Landmark going so Ben would have something to inherit from his father.”

It's awful.

So much more complicated, complex, than anything I’ve ever dealt with, and I’m at a loss how to help him. Have no idea how.

“So what’s happening now?” I ask, hoping there’s something I can do.

“They're back,” he says. “When Cory died, their connection was broken, but now...they’ve found another way in. This time, they want our drone system. Sloan didn't say it – not exactly – but I just fucking know.”

“Who's they?”

“The Russians, probably. Hell if I know. Could be anyone.”

I’m taken aback. Ask myself if this is real life and these kind of crazy spy thriller things really happen.

“Russians?”

He nods. “They may not be the ones doing the hacking, but they're the ones willing to pay top dollar for what gets hacked. People don’t think much about getting their email breached, other than the inconvenience, but cyberattacks are serious business. National security business. Everything that winds up stolen is sold off to the highest bidder. Entire companies, whole governments have fallen apart because of it. It’s a war we can’t see so some don’t believe it’s there, but it is. And it’s as real, as deadly, as anything I ever saw in the Marines.”

He’s serious, and I believe him. There's this gravity in his voice that turns my blood ice-cold.

I also know that the entire time he’s been talking, he’s been thinking. Contemplating.

One part of me is scared to ask, but another part grasps what’s happened tonight. Everything he's struggled with since his brother died.

And tonight, he confronted those demons. Inwardly. Now he has to do it outwardly.

“What are you going to do about this?” I ask.

He stands up. “Come out of retirement.” His chest swells before he lets out a long, low growl. “Get back to work and tell Ben the truth.”

I nod, and then ask, “What do you need from me?”

His eyes soften. “Forgiveness. If you're willing, Sugar.”

I stand and take hold of his hands. “You've already got it.”

“Fuck, babe, I'm sorry.” His huge arms hold me tight while he kisses my forehead. “So, so sorry. For all this. It's nothing you ever should've gotten dragged into.”

“I’m sorry too.” I nuzzle the bottom of his chin with my nose. “But I've got to be honest...Sloan still makes me leery. I don’t forgive him. Not for what he hid from you, or for what he said about me.”

Hunter gazes into my eyes. For a moment, he's silent, just this quiet, tightly wound, searching beast looking inside me.

“You don’t have to forgive him. Or like him. I don’t like him myself sometimes. Not when he's a reckless fucking fool.” He kisses the side of my face. “But babe, I always like you. Even when you’re mad at me. Kind of hot, really.”

The way he brushes his beard against my skin and nips my earlobes brings a terrible heat between my legs. A heat that totally shouldn't be there right now.

Releasing his hands, I slip two fingers into his belt. “Sexy, huh?”

“Damn straight,” he growls, leveling another kiss against my throat.

Okay. It's hardly the time or place, what happens next, but there's this animal thing between us.

It hits so hard, I don't even question it. Next thing I know, I'm tugging at his belt, his hand is on mine, and our mouths are locked. Our tongues make new, vicious promises and his hands are going places.

I'm soaked, aching so bad I can't even think.

It's raw instinct that makes me undo his belt buckle. “Let me show you sexy.”

He runs his hands down my sides, a smile brightening his face in what seems like forever. “Right now?”

I nod, unbuttoning his pants and sliding down the zipper.

What starts out playful and fun turns dead serious as soon as our clothes hit the floor. For both of us.

While he’s putting on the condom, I climb on the bed, spread my legs and arch up my hips. Giving him a full opening.

I don't realize I'm trembling until he's on top of me, locking my arms and legs around him for dear life.

I need this. I need him. I need him deep, bad, and wild.

Hunter's body knows it, too. With one solid, beast-like thrust, his cock slides in, filling me to the hilt.

God, do I love that feeling, and wrap my legs around his back, pulling him in.

“You're so fucking good,” he says. “I love this pussy.”

“Then fuck me,” I tell him, arching into him, loving how his fist grabs my hair. “Do it. Fuck me hard and fast. Whatever helps you think, figure this out. Fuck me like you mean it, Hunter.”

That gets him going and then some. The bed shifts under us, the mattress rattling on its box spring.

Soon there's nothing but heat and teeth and tongue. I'm lost in the furious smack of his balls on my ass, his hand in my hair, the rough snarl in his throat as he devours every moan dripping off my tongue.

Holy hell, yes!

“More, Sugar? Think you can take it harder?” He doesn't wait for an answer before he thrusts in again, throwing more weight, more strength, than I knew was even possible.

I'm gone. It's a sex-miracle I can even answer.

“Oh, shit! Just. Like. That.”

Then I dig my fingers into his back, holding on, pleading. “Don't freaking stop. So good, so good, Hunter...I’m about to come.”

“Give it to me, woman,” he says, driving deep inside me, his tempo hitting devil speed. “Give me the first of many.”

I don’t doubt it because O number one hits full force.

My head rolls back and my nails scratch his back. Then I'm just under his bulging, fucking mass of tattoos and muscle and scary, sexy blue eyes, trying to remember my own name.

The convulsions hit my thighs first. My pussy pulls him in, deeper than ever. Divine.

But it doesn’t end there because Hunter keeps going, crashing into me as I engulf his full cock, ankles wrapped around his and toes curled so tight it hurts.

It's on, this sweet madness, this melody of him and me.

He flips me over, smothers my mouth in a long, possessive kiss, and sinks into me from behind.

I think we go so hard, we'll break the bed apart. I don’t even know, don't care, if it’s the same orgasm that just starts building again, or a new one.

It's just one long, barely broken cascade. White hot pleasure shooting through me. The resounding slap of his hand on my ass, thunder in his throat, his fist yanking my head back as he hammers into me from behind. His balls hit my clit with a delicious, steady rhythm that drives me over again.

Whatever this is, it's not even sex as I've known it.

It’s intense. Insane. Mind-blowing.

No. Mind blowing is the last climax that hits as Hunter peaks, roaring my name. “Fuck, Sugar. Spice. Take it real sweet, I'm coming!”

His cock swells inside me, ballooning, and I squeeze every twitching muscle I can to drive him mad. Sealing him tight inside me as he unloads fire, and I ride wave after wave of endless bliss.

Later, I can’t even lift a finger, and don’t try.

He comes back out of the bathroom and lifts me up, tugs down the covers, and then lays them over me before crawling into bed beside me.

“I’m tired,” I mumble as he wraps his arms around me. “God, that was good.”

“Sleep, Sugar. That's what sounds good right now. Sweet dreams,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you, Wendy. Love you like I never thought I could.”

I should be shocked just to hear it, especially after all this. But I'm so drained, I just smile, bathed in his warmth, and whisper back softly, “Love you, too. So much.”

So much. That phrase haunts me into the deepest, darkest, softest dreams of my life.

His side of the bed is empty.

I know it before I've even opened my eyes, yet wanting to be sure, I flop an arm behind me, feeling the empty mattress. I force one eye open and glance at the clock.

Eight? I must've really been tired. It was also really late when we crashed.

I push back the covers and climb off the bed, making my way into the bathroom. A quick shower washes away any lingering sleepiness. I put on some of the new clothes I’d bought yesterday: bra, underwear, socks, jeans, and a t-shirt. Then I pick up the room and straighten the covers before heading downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee calling like a siren.

I hear voices in the kitchen and can’t stop a sense of dread rising up in me.

Not him again. Not Sloan.

But the second voice sounds again, and I perk up. It’s not Sloan. This man's voice is deeper, and every other word out of his mouth isn't a crude joke.

I don’t know who it is, but it’s not Mr. Creepo.

Hunter stands up from the breakfast bar stool, smiling as I enter the room. “Morning, Sugar.”

“Good morning,” I answer, smiling in return.

I do a double take when I see who's next to him, wondering if Hunter has another twin he didn't tell me about. Not identical, but the likeness is there.

He's tall. Huge. All dark hair and Poseidon blue eyes, a shade different from Hunter's. A five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw.

“Babe, I'd like you to meet my friend, Landon Strauss. He flew in this morning from San Francisco to help me with the security system.”

“Pleasure,” the man says, taking my hand firmly. “Hunt and I go way back.”

“Afghanistan?”

“I was in Iraq,” Landon answers. “Same shit, different circus. I was in the Army, not the Marines, like him. But Uncle Sam has a funny way of introducing guys on leave when they're bored out of their skulls on their transfers.”

“Wait. Landon? Oh my God.” It hits me and I can barely stand. “You're...you're the one married to –”

“The Kenna Strauss,” he finishes for me, chuckling. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I'll have my wife send you an autographed copy of her latest, no worries.”

I'm losing my crap in a fangirl swoon. Completely and utterly. I love her books so much. They're guilty pleasures for any woman, all big, tattooed alpha heroes and insta-love.

The irony isn't lost on me as I look at Hunter and blush. Go figure.

“That reminds me,” Landon says, pulling out his phone.

Hunter rubs my shoulder while we watch him flash a quick picture of Jingles, lazily lounging by the window. Then he turns, smiling wider than ever.

There's no man anywhere better than Hunter, I swear. But if I totally wasn't already smitten with him, and Landon wasn't wearing a ring, it'd be hard not to crush head over heels for his friend.

“Sorry. Promised Kenna I'd send a quick pic of Velvet and Mews' brother. He's a good looking boy. Bet he's a handful, too.”

Hunter smiles, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

“Come on. Let's get a look at that system. Don't know how long I can stay before some crisis at Enguard starts blowing up my phone and I have to jet right back. Skylar, Gabe, Riker, James next, probably...it's been a crazy year.”

Hunter and I both share a weird smile. We don't know the names, but they're the kind that just say there's a thousand wild stories behind them all.

“You're with us, Wendy. Doesn't hurt to have a second set of eyes,” Hunter tells me.

I nod and take the cup of coffee he passes before following them down a flight of stairs next to the laundry room door. I’m either still half asleep, or I simply don’t have enough interest in electronics to understand what this Landon guy is talking about.

It's more than Greek to me. Something to do with a chip, sensors, and time increments.

The main switch is in a corner of the basement that's finished, but not furnished, except for a room that Hunter escorts us to. There’s a work table, chairs, and shelves full of old computers and techie stuff.

Landon sets his laptop on the table and then walks over to the back wall. It’s covered with monitors, wires, and blinking lights on cables.

“That’s your security system?” I ask Hunter. “The thing that dings every time we open a door?”

“The very same. I’ve checked it every time after finding Jingles outside, but can’t find anything, so I called Landon to have a look under the hood.”

“There’s a card in here that collects data,” Landon says, opening a miniature steel door on what looks like a computer tower. “It’s encrypted, but I have a program on my laptop that can read it.”

Hunter pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit down. I do, growing a bit more interested.

He sits too, and so does Landon, who puts the card in a slot on his laptop. A few punches on the keyboard later brings up a black screen full of glowing white numbers. The ENGUARD SECURITY logo shows and fades a second later, turning into a labyrinth of code.

“Here. A master list of every day and time one of the doors on your house was opened,” Landon says. “Let’s start with last night.”

Hunter steps forward, using a finger to scroll through the last numbers listed. “That's when Wendy and I got home last night. Shit. There’s a gap...when we were gone...about three hours?”

“Did you leave and come right back?” Landon asks, scratching his chin. “Around...four forty-seven?”

Hunter looks at me.

I shake my head. “No. We left around four thirty sharp, I think, and didn’t come back for anything.”

Landon uses the tip of his finger to scroll across the screen. “See these numbers? That tells us what door was opened. This code's tied to your garage door. Says it was opened and closed at four forty-one, and then again at four forty-seven and then...yet again at four fifty-seven.”

Hunter stares at the screen. “Fuck. Barely minutes after we left last night...someone was here. Came right through the garage, was in the house, before leaving again.”

“Bingo. That’s what the system recorded,” Landon says. He points to another column. “And during that ten minutes, the front door was opened and closed once.”

Hunter shakes his head. “What the fuck?”

An eerie chill sweeps up my spine. “They put Jingles outside. Whoever was here, they put him outside deliberately. Threw him outside.”

I don't know that for sure. But the horrible image fills my head, a dark figure throwing the poor cat out.

“What about the other days? When we found him out there?” Hunter looks at me. “Do you remember those dates?”

“Let's see...” I rattled them off.

The first time wasn't long after Rochelle’s wedding.

The next time wasn't far behind that.

We review the times, pinpointing exact days.

Both times, someone came within minutes of Hunter leaving.

And both times, the garage was opened for someone to get in and leave, and while they were in the house, the front door was opened.

“Don’t you have cameras?” I ask.

“Right,” Hunter replies. “They're linked to my phone, state of the art, and always working, but just for the back door and front. Not the garage door. They're pointed away from the house. They catch whenever the doors are open from the inside.”

“Sure wish I had more info, Hunter,” Landon says. “But at least we know it’s the overhead garage door. We can reset the code on your opener right now, and until they figure out we’ve done that, it’ll put a stop to this. Unless...”

Landon looks away. Hunter sizes him up, a darkness in his eyes. “Unless what, Landon?”

“It's someone you know. Someone on the inside. Someone very sophisticated.”

My stomach tenses.

I can’t help but think about the cyber theft he mentioned last night, spies and hackers, the overwhelming complexity. I’ve never considered how bad having wealth might be, either. What's happening here makes me want to think twice about ever buying another lotto ticket.

“Fuck.” Hunter stands. “I’ll get the garage door opener.”

Knowing I can’t help with that, I stand too. “Do you two want some breakfast?”

Hunter looks at Landon, who's intense expression lightens.

“Well...can't say I've ever turned down a good meal, and I'm not about to start now.” Landon gives me a smile. Now, I know where the amazing Kenna Strauss gets her ideas.

“All right!” I say. “Let me whip something up.”

Hunter and I leave the room.

“Thanks, man,” he says as we start up the stairs. “Don't know why I didn't bring you in sooner. Lots of crazy shit.”

“Say no more. I've had my share of that,” Landon says, his voice almost a whisper.

“I like him,” I tell Hunter once we're upstairs again. “Too bad all your military buddies aren’t more like Landon.”

At first, he's smiling, but then it evaporates.

He knows I’m referring to Sloan. It doesn't stop him from kissing me anyway.