Zeke

I lay in the dark, staring up at the stars through the sky window. Sunny was curled in beside me, soft curves pressed in nice and tight. My arm was curled around her shoulders, holding her to me—and my fucking head was spinning like I’d downed half a bottle of Jack straight.

Because she felt perfect.

She felt like she belonged, right where she was. She’d given me more of herself tonight, let me get a little deeper. It just made me want more.

This was all so damn wrong.

What the hell was I doing?”

I’d fooled myself. I’d been fooling myself. I hadn’t wanted just one more night with her, I wanted a lot fucking more than that.

Shit.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I quickly and gently released her, and slid out of bed. Tugging on some sweatpants, I took the stairs to the ground floor on shaky legs. My heart was racing. My right hand started trembling, images flashing through my head, blood, screaming, pain. Death. I was about to lose my shit and I didn’t want Sunny to see it. I made it across the floor and through the door to the garage. I was in the throes of full body shivers, sweat coating my skin, sliding down my spine, by the time I dropped down onto one of the weight benches.

Jesus. Fuck. Fuck.

Reaching under, I grabbed the tin I had stashed under there, pulled out the joint and lighter I kept inside, and lit up. Usually, I rode it out, the panic would pass eventually. But on rare occasions, like this, when I knew it was going to be bad, the only way I’d found of calming my shit down, of stopping the freight train of panic and derailing it, was to smoke. I wasn’t some stoner, it wasn’t a regular thing, but I’d occasionally smoked before I enlisted, and I knew it mellowed me out, so gave it a try in desperation. It’d helped. I took a deep drag and held it, then finally let it go, thankful for the tension that dropped a notch with that first hit.

I was fucked up, as fucked up as I was when I came home. The only reprieve I had was working out until I passed out, and occasionally getting stoned. I took another drag and shook my head. No, that was a lie. I had one other very effective cure, a way to take my mind off my own fucking cursed life—and she was asleep in my bed.

I slumped back against the wall and took another drag. I had no idea what I was doing, why I couldn’t stay away from her, if I even wanted to anymore. Nah, that was a lie as well—I knew that all right. I wanted her. I wanted her so bad I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to let her go back to her own life without me. And right then, sitting in the dark, I didn’t know if I could. I was the shittiest human being on the face of the earth for even contemplating keeping her in my life. I didn’t deserve her time, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve happiness, but I wanted both. The guilt that made me feel was immense, so big it was like a heavy boulder on my chest. Because the truth was, I didn’t have a life, nothing to offer a woman like Sunny.

I’d been living off guilt and anger and a driving need to somehow balance the scales—to take down as many lowlife pieces of shit as I could—like that would somehow make up for the good ones I’d watched die in front of me. Jesus, sometimes I felt like I wasn’t human anymore, that I’d forgotten how to be human.

Sunny made me feel like flesh and blood again, not some . . . thing.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

Shit, it fucking frightened me.

I took another deep drag. I couldn’t let go of my pain, my guilt, and honestly, I didn’t want it to lessen, I didn’t want my life to be bearable. If that happened, my men, they’d start to fade, and I owed them more than that. I owed them my life.

What the hell was I going to do?

Somehow, I drifted off, sitting there, head at a fucked angle against the wall. I woke with a start, neck tight and sore as hell. I checked my watch. I’d been there all night. I dragged myself to my feet and headed back through the door. Like it always was in the mornings, the apartment side of the warehouse was bright, lit up from all the uncovered windows and the sky window above the mezzanine. I took in the room, my gaze immediately drawn to the sun goddess standing in my kitchen.

Sunny was cooking something, her back to me. Her wavy blond hair was down, falling free down her back, sun glinting off it. My gaze dropped lower. Jesus. She was wearing one of my shirts. It swamped her smaller body, finishing just above her knees. My immediate dirty thought was: what was she wearing underneath? Something about seeing her standing there, in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, remembering the way she’d come apart beneath me last night, the sounds of her cries when I’d brought her to orgasm, made me feel ten-fucking-feet tall.

Maybe that made me a cave man, but that’s how I felt around her.

I wanted to take care of her.

Protect her.

You can’t have her, my mind screamed at me.

She turned and her sexy mouth curled up on one side, giving me her crooked smile. Her lips were still puffy from sucking my dick, from taking my punishing kisses, and something about that, all of it, hit me like a ton of bricks, made my goddamn chest ache.

“There you are,” she said, gaze moving over my bare chest. She started twisting the ring on her thumb. “I thought you might be working out, so decided to make you breakfast.”

Her smile widened and the oxygen was punched from my lungs. Speech wasn’t an option right then. So I nodded and somehow managed to choke out a “thanks.”

I was so fucked it wasn’t even funny.

Sunny

My smile faltered at the look on Zeke’s face. He looked like he’d been stuck on a boat in a storm and hadn’t found his sea-legs. The man looked green around the gills. Did he regret last night? Was that it? Zeke had ended things between us. He’d stayed away from me for two months. Then I’d gone and shown up at his work, invaded his life. Granted I had no idea he worked there—still, it wasn’t like he could avoid me anymore.

He knew I had nowhere else to go. Is that why he’d offered me a bed? Had the sex been a way of getting me here? Had he felt obliged to sleep with me? My belly squirmed uncomfortably. Was all this his way of protecting me? Because that’s the kind of guy he was, a protector, down to his bones.

My phone beeped in my purse and I jolted. I grabbed for it, still on the counter where I’d left it last night.

Julia.

She’d been texting more often, not asking for anything, just taking an interest in my life. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I was quietly optimistic. Maybe that was dumb, trusting her again, but I couldn’t help it. I fired back a reply, telling her I was at a friend’s. I glanced up and Zeke was still watching me. Is that what he was? A friend? I had no idea what we were, what the hell we were doing. It made me feel off balance. I didn’t like the feeling. I liked safe, stable. I’d had enough of feeling like I was walking a tightrope in my life. When I was a kid, and again when my relationship with Richard fell apart. I’d been working very hard the last few years at never feeling that way again.

Then I met Zeke.

Intense, aloof, and sexy as all hell. He made me feel like I was free falling without a safety net.

I turned away quickly, unable to look at him any longer, and busied myself dishing up the bacon and eggs I’d made. “I hope you’re hungry?” I said and placed both plates on the breakfast bar.

He’d moved closer and I hadn’t even heard him. “You don’t need to cook for me,” he said and slid onto the stool opposite me.

He was shirtless, all those hard muscles on full display. “It’s my way of thanking you,” I said.

His gaze flew up from his plate. “Thanking me?”

“For looking out for me,” I quickly added.

He didn’t comment, looked back down, and started eating.

“Can I go home today?” I needed to get back to my life, on my own, where I had a chance of dodging the emotional wreaking ball that was this close to being let loose on me. I thought I’d get over it, not having Zeke anymore, until last night, until he came for me. Now I wasn’t so sure it would be that easy.

He finished his mouthful. “That’s not a good idea. Not until I know more.” His gaze flicked to my purse. “Who texted you? Cage?”

What? I frowned. “No. It was Julia, my stepsister.”

He made a grunting sound and carried on eating.

Right, this wasn’t confusing at all. “Maybe I could ask her to come stay with me? I can’t stay with her. I don’t get on very well with her husband, and there isn’t really any room for me there. But she’s been great since the burglary. I think she would if I asked.”

His eyes lifted and locked on me as he lowered his knife and fork. “Can she use a gun?”

Not a question I was expecting. “Well, I’m not sure . . .”

“Has she had any self-defense or close combat training? Have you?”

“No . . .”

His jaw hardened. “I don’t think she’ll be much help against this guy if he decides to come after you again, do you?”

I hugged myself. “You really think he wants to hurt me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” His gaze slid to my cheek, my mouth. “If it was him I saw outside your place, he may have already.”

Oh God.

I gripped the edge of the counter, suddenly feeling dizzy. The idea that the burglary hadn’t been some random act was terrifying, but it wasn’t just my physical safety I was worried about. Emotionally, I was in just as much danger, only from the man who was trying to protect me. “I could stay at a hotel.”

He shook his head again.

“You don’t owe me anything, Zeke,” I rushed out, sounding as desperate as I felt.

Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if the burglary was random or not, but if some guy wants to hurt you, Sunny, I’m not going to make it easy for him. I’m not letting him come any-fucking-where near you.”

I kept pushing; self-preservation had well and truly kicked in. Staying here longer would not be good for my emotional health, I knew that much. “I’d be just as safe in a hotel. I can afford a good one, one with excellent security.”

“You’re not leaving,” he said in a tone that did not encourage further argument.

What the hell could I do? This situation was insane. And not just the part about some guy hanging around my house, maybe wanting to hurt me again. The way we’d met, the way we’d ended—walking into the King Agency and coming face-to-face with him after weeks of nothing. I was trying to give him an out. Why the hell wouldn’t he take it? I hated the thought of him being forced to spend time with me. As awkward as it was, I needed to get that across to him.

I drew in a steadying breath. “Look, I know having me here isn’t what you want. Last night was . . . it . . . it happened. But you don’t need to feel responsible for me because we’ve had sex a few times.” Okay, we’d had sex a heck of a lot more than a few, but I wasn’t getting into specifics. I curled my fingers against my sides, so tight my nails dug into my palms, and I forced myself to continue. “And you . . . don’t need to sleep with me, as a way of keeping me here.”

His knife and fork clattered to the breakfast bar and his head shot up. “What?” he growled.

I held his dark stare, determined to get this out. “You’re a protective kind of guy, and you feel like you have to protect me . . . because of everything. You feel responsible, and you did what you thought you needed to do to get me here, I get it, I do . . .” My words just kind of evaporated at the look on Zeke’s face.

“You think I fucked you last night . . . because I feel guilty? You think I tricked you, pretended I wanted to fuck you, as a way of getting you here . . . to protect you?”

Okay. Yeah, put like that, it sounded kind of ridiculous and more than a little insulting. “Look, maybe I’m wrong . . .”

“You think?” The stare he aimed at me made my pulse race. A mix of anger and a heat so intense I felt scorched from it. “I fucked you, Sunny, because you’re gorgeous and whenever I look at you my dick gets hard. I would have protected you whether getting you under me was on offer or not.”

I swallowed, hard. I’d offended him. Idiot. I was just so used to being alone, to those close to me being dishonest. Pretending to be something they weren’t to get what they wanted from me. Abandoning me when I couldn’t deliver. “I obviously interpreted the situation wrong, I’m sorry.”

He stood, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. “I have to leave for a bit. You’re safe here, but don’t leave the warehouse,” he said, ignoring my apology completely.

I straightened. “You’re going?”

“I shouldn’t be long.” Then he strode across the warehouse and up to his room. When he reappeared, he was wearing a clean shirt and his boots. He swiped his keys off the counter. “Be back later.” Then he walked through the door and out to the garage. His car started a few seconds later. Then I was on my own.

My stomach rumbled and I looked down at the breakfast I’d made. I already felt ill over this whole messed-up situation, and the idea of greasy food now made me feel kind of queasy despite my hunger. I cut off a piece of bacon, dipped it in egg yolk and popped it in my mouth. As soon as it hit my taste buds, saliva filled my mouth, and not in a good way. I dropped the fork and ran for the downstairs bathroom, only just making it to the toilet. I heaved and emptied my stomach. There wasn’t much there. I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. My Chicken Parmesan must still be in Zeke’s car.

I groaned as another wave of nausea hit.

I sat there dry heaving for what felt like hours. I was either going to bring up an internal organ or die, but then slowly, ever so slowly, I started to feel better. Enough to make it upstairs and lie down. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d obviously picked up a bug from somewhere. God, that was the last thing I needed.

I fell asleep a few minutes later.

Zeke

The warehouse was silent when I walked in. It was late afternoon by the time I finished checking CCTV footage, desperately trying to ID the guy I’d seen outside Sunny’s place. I watched him at her door, then her window, before I showed up and he ran off. Christ. None of the footage was clear enough to get a clean image of his face. Which meant the fucker was still out there—and as dangerous as ever.

I was positive this guy was linked to the burglary, he had to be, which meant Sunny wasn’t going anywhere. Despite her sudden desire to get the hell away from me. I shoved a hand through my hair. The shit she’d said this morning . . .

Fuck.

I shook my head, dumped my phone and keys on the counter and headed to the downstairs bathroom. I knocked on the closed door. “You in there, Sunny?”

Nothing.

She was probably just upstairs, but fear spiked through me instantly, and there was no reining it in, no matter how irrational it was. I was moving across the room and pounding up the stairs a second later. If she’d left . . . if anything happened to her . . .

My feet ground to a halt when I reached the top. She lay in the middle of the bed, on her side, hair spread across my pillow—fast asleep. Sleeping beauty.

Yeah, fuck, she was beautiful.

Breathtaking.

That she could even entertain the idea that I’d had sex with her for any other reason than I’d wanted her . . . it blew my mind. What did she see when she looked in the mirror? Who had hurt her so bad she didn’t trust her own instincts? Because that’s what it boiled down to. I made it clear how badly I wanted her, hadn’t hidden a damn thing, not as far as my desire for her, yet she still doubted my motives.

You left her. You told her you were done and you stayed away for two fucking months.

Yeah, I’d done that, but there was more to it, a hell of a lot more. To her, the way she’d reacted, the conclusion she’d come to.

I stared down at her. What’s your story, darlin’? Her lashes fluttered, and her lids lifted, then those gorgeous violet eyes were on me. She quickly lifted up and looked around, a puzzled look in her face as she reoriented herself.

She turned back to me. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

Her eyes widened and that was fucking cute as well.

“God, I’ve been asleep for hours.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “How are you feeling?”

I frowned. “Fine. Why?”

She sighed in relief. “I’ve been sick since you left. I must have caught the stomach flu or something.”

I moved closer and pressed a hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel warm. How you feeling now?”

Her brow scrunched. “Huh. Fine, actually.”

“You up to eating?”

Her stomach rumbled in that moment and she blushed. The woman blushed a lot. I liked it. Not only was it kind of adorable, it made her easier to read. Jesus, since when did I start using the word adorable? Or cute, for that matter?

“You wanna stay up here and I’ll bring you something? Or you coming down?”

She sat up fully and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll come down.” She shook her head, her blond waves shimmying against her back. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to cook for me. I can make something.”

I shrugged. “We’ve both gotta eat. It’s all good.” Besides, I had this crazy urge to cook something for her. Like the caveman I was, I wanted to hunt and gather for my woman. Even if hunting meant digging around the freezer. I was heading down the stairs behind her when the words I’d just thought rang loud and clear in my head again. My woman.

Where the hell had that come from?

Ignoring the shit buzzing around my head, I strode to the kitchen, pulled the steaks out of the fridge, and dumped them on the counter.

“I’ll make a salad if you like? I saw you had everything when I made breakfast this morning,” Sunny said as she moved in behind me.

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

She started pulling salad stuff out, and I grabbed her the chopping board and a bowl while I heated up the skillet. She accepted it with that crooked smile, and Jesus, I felt it, a tug low in my gut. I forced myself to look away and threw the steaks on while she chopped the vegetables beside me. We did our thing in silence and I couldn’t help sneaking glances at her, the concentration on her face, the different expressions that rearranged her features as she worked. I’d never cooked with anyone accept my mom. When I was a kid, she’d get me to help her with dinner. No one had ever cooked in this kitchen but me. It felt weird . . .

But in a good way. I liked it.

I liked having her here—in my place. In my kitchen with me. Just . . . with me.

That was a dangerous way to think.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You want one?”

“Do you have juice?”

I poured her a glass, and downed half my beer while she dished up the salad. Shit, even the way she did that was mesmerizing. A visceral memory hit, the way those graceful, delicate hands felt on me, the way they looked against my skin. A spike of pleasure shot down my spine and my dick stirred. I sucked in a rough breath and put the steaks on our plates. This was exactly the reason I’d backed off, the reason I’d run the hell away. Shit, what she did to me . . .

We sat on the couch and I flicked on the TV to break the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the longer it stretched out the more the tension seemed to thicken between us, or maybe it was just me. Sunny seemed pretty fucking relaxed. Her cheeks were still rosy from being asleep and her hair was wilder than usual. She looked warm and I just knew she’d smell amazing, especially in that soft spot between her shoulder and neck. She always did. My dick got harder.

I stared at the TV and shoved a mouthful of salad in my mouth. She’s been sick, for fuck’s sake. Get it together, asshole.

I had no idea what I was watching, until Sunny said, “This program is nuts. Can you imagine swapping your wife?”

“The fuck?” I said.

She pointed at the TV with her fork. “Wife Swap reruns.”

I looked back at the TV. “They swap wives?” I knew I was frowning, and I’d snapped out the words, but the entire concept seemed completely messed up to me.

“Well, yeah . . . I mean, they don’t sleep with each other, they just experience what another woman’s life is like. Well, kind of.”

“That’s fucked up.”

She snorted. “Yeah. I’m not really a big fan of change. Being torn out of my happy little existence and thrown into drama is my nightmare . . .”

Sunny trailed off and blinked at the television. That’s exactly what had happened to her. Good to know that because I was failing at finding the asshole who hurt her, she was currently living her worst nightmare. I opened my mouth to say something, apologize again, Christ, anything. Sunny beat me to it.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked.

My fingers tightened around my fork. I knew she was only asking to change the subject, but this definitely wasn’t something I was fired up to chat about. But maybe if I shared, I might get her to open up to me. It had become almost an obsession, finding out what made this woman tick. So I shook my head. “Engaged once.”

“You were? What happened?” Her eyes widened again in that way I was starting to like way the hell too much.

For some reason, I had no explanation for, I realized I wanted to share more. “I’d been deployed for six months . . .”

“You were a soldier?”

“SEAL. Sniper.”

Her eyes widened again.

Shit, was I actually going to talk about this?