The son of a bitch tried to kill her. There was no mistake about it. If North had been two minutes, even one minute later, Faith could be dead.

He could have been too late. Too late again. The story of his life.

He took a peek through the blinds, sending a glance to where the bastard was writhing on the ground. His hands curled into fists at his side. The urge to continue beating the shit out of the guy was overwhelming. One of the officers that had just arrived was cuffing him even as a medic attended him.

He looked back down to where Faith sat on the couch. Another medic was examining her. He forced himself to stand back. It wasn’t easy. He longed to touch her. Feel her. Know that she was okay. He didn’t even care that her brother was there. Her brother. The sheriff. The one guy with enough power to ruin his life. To take away his freedom. And he didn’t give a shit.

“I’m fine,” Faith insisted, not for the first time, to the medic. Her imploring gaze lifted over the woman’s head to her brother.

“Let her finish looking you over,” Hale Walters commanded, his thumb hooked inside his gun belt. He must have felt North’s stare. He cast him a quick look. The wariness was still in his eyes. North might have saved Faith’s life tonight, but her brother still didn’t fully trust him.

“I’m fine. I just want to go to bed and forget this night ever happened.”

“You can’t do that yet,” her brother commanded. “We need a statement from you about what—”

“Maybe you can do that later,” North suggested. “I’m sure it won’t hurt to wait until tomorrow morning.”

The sheriff stared at him with hard eyes as though he wanted nothing more than to slap some cuffs on him and throw him in a cell. “That’s not protocol—”

“She’s your sister,” he bit out. “I’m sure you can be flexible for her.”

Walters’s gray eyes shot to flint. “I know who she is, asshole. I don’t need the reminder.” He stabbed a finger in North’s direction. “This doesn’t concern you . . . she doesn’t concern you and you don’t forget that—”

“Hale,” Faith interrupted. “He saved my life.” She motioned to her door where somewhere beyond her attacker was being hauled away. “That guy was choking me. He would’ve finished me if North hadn’t been here.”

The medic stood then. She closed up her kit and lifted it off the floor beside the couch. “She looks all right.” Her glance slid over each of them uncertainly. “I’ll go now.”

She stepped out and the door snicked shut after her.

Walters opened his mouth, clearly wanting to argue with Faith, wanting to reject that he owed North any thanks at all, but then his gaze swung to his sister and something softened in his eyes. Clearly he loved his sister and didn’t want to add misery to her already shitty night.

She lifted her ravaged eyes to her brother. “Can I just give my statement in the morning?”

She trembled slightly. Walters must’ve noticed it, too. He nodded jerkily. “Sure, Faithy. You get some rest tonight. It can wait.”

Walters left them alone in the living room, walking down the hall and disappearing into her bathroom.

North looked down at Faith to find her already watching him. “You should get your hands checked out,” she said.

He flexed his sore knuckles. “I’ll be fine. Had worse.”

She studied him, her gaze unreadable.

“Who was that guy? Did you know him?”

“Just a lost soul . . . angry at the world.” She sighed and moved her hands to her throat. She gently rubbed the skin there. His gaze followed the movement, his stomach knotting. The red smudges were already starting to bruise in the definite shape of fingers. “And angry at me. I’m a social worker. Sometimes that means I piss people off. Goes with the territory.”

“Oh. This happens a lot then?” He didn’t like that. He didn’t like knowing there were people out there who wanted to hurt her. Scum who could get it into their heads that they could put their hands on her.

She shook her head. “Nope. This was the first time.”

“Maybe you should consider a change of careers.”

“I like my job. Tonight doesn’t change that. One bad day—”

“He tried to kill you,” he snapped. “That’s more than a bad day.”

Her brother returned then with two Tylenol in his hand and a glass of water. “Take these.”

She obeyed, downing the pills with a swallow of water. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Why don’t I stay for—”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m just going to bed. It’s not like that guy is going to come back. And besides . . .” Her gaze drifted to North. She was going to say he lived next door, but decided against it. That still might not be a good thing in her brother’s mind.

Hale’s lips tightened, compressing into a hard line. Yeah. He knew what she was going to say and he didn’t like it. With a reluctant sigh, he turned to face North. “Appears I was wrong about you. I owe you my thanks.” He gave a single nod.

“I didn’t do it for you or for your thanks,” North said. He sent one more look at Faith. Her lips parted and she inhaled. He watched the rise of her chest. She seemed to be holding her breath as he looked down at her. “You take care, Faith. I’m next door if you need anything.”

That said, he turned and left her house.

She had already showered for the evening, but that seemed a long time ago. Before Grimes showed up in her driveway. Before he tried to kill her. Before North saved her life. How was she supposed to forget him now when he had gone ahead and done that?

That was damn confusing.

After stepping out of the shower for a second time tonight, she slipped inside her robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Pulling the collar close, she inhaled the laundry-fresh scent, taking comfort in it. She was still here. Still alive.

She picked up her hairbrush and moved into her bedroom. Sitting at the end of her bed, she started brushing out her hair in slow strokes. She’d left her bathroom light on, so a soft glow carried into her bedroom. Even in the dim glow she could see the skin of her throat already bruising.

She pulled her brush through her hair and stopped. Staring at her neck, she touched it lightly with a hand that still trembled with the aftereffects of her attack. She supposed it was an adrenaline crash. Or shock maybe.

She would have to wear a turtleneck or a scarf. In summer. That wouldn’t make her look weird or anything. She shivered where she sat on the edge of her bed, and that didn’t compute. Her thermostat was set to seventy-six. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be alone, after all. Maybe she should have let her brother stay. She winced. Except she didn’t want her brother to spend the night. She didn’t want to endure his hovering . . . his questions. Well-meaning as he was, he could be overbearing.

She stood abruptly, then moved to her phone on her nightstand. She snatched it up and opened her messages. She scrolled to the person she was looking for and started typing. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. It was impossible to articulate.

But she seemed to know the one word to type.

*  *  *

He stared down at the single word on his phone. Worry punched him in the chest. It was a single, ambiguous word, but it had him flinging off the covers on his bed and vaulting out of his room. It might as well have been Help!

He jumped down his stairs and was out his front door, slamming it after him. He didn’t worry about locking it. Faith could be in trouble.

He pounded on her door. “Faith! Faith!”

She opened quickly enough, but it felt like forever. Forever standing there and worrying that she wasn’t okay on the other side of that door. Worrying that leaving her alone after her attack had been a mistake. He should have stayed longer and made sure she was okay.

It was a terrible feeling—one he had vowed never to feel again. He’d cared and worried for Katie and look where that had gotten him. Look where it had gotten her.

“North.” She breathed his name, her eyes wide and haunted in her face. She had showered. Her hair was wet and she was wearing her robe again. That damn robe.

“Are you all right?” He looked her up and down as though checking for injuries. Bare skin peeked out at him between the open lapels of her robe, the V of skin distracting him.

He swallowed, gave a single, hard shake, commanding himself not to think about what was under that robe—or rather what was not under it. “Do you need something?”

“I—I can’t—” She stopped and looked down for a moment, inhaling a shuddery breath. Composed again, she lifted her gaze back up. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He nodded with a swift inhalation. “Sure. I get that. Do you want me to call—”

“Can you stay with me the night?”

“Me?” She wanted him to sleep over?

“I just can’t be alone.” She quickly went on to say, “I’m not asking for you to sleep with me . . . just sleep with me.”

“Of course.” The last thing she was looking for was a roll in the sack. She’d just been through a traumatic event. She wasn’t here asking for him to rock her world.

“Would you mind?” She looked up at him, her wide eyes so guileless and unaware of what she was asking. Would you mind? Would he mind spending the night with her? Sleep next to her and not touch her?

He nodded and entered her house, stepping past her. She closed and locked the door behind her.

She smiled tentatively and stood before him for a moment, her hands worrying the lapels of her robe. She looked so small and vulnerable, two words he would have never used to describe her before. He didn’t like it. He wanted the fiery Faith back, but he knew that was about him and this wasn’t about what he wanted or needed right now. She’d been through hell tonight and he would be there for her because she asked for it.

“You sure you don’t want to call your father or brother?”

She let go of her robe and hugged herself, shaking her head firmly. “Oh, hell no.” She released a choked laugh. “They’d come over with a U-Haul. You know this is my first home. They were never keen on me living alone, and tonight doesn’t do much to help my case.”

“I understand.” And he did. He would have been the same way with Katie.

Faith inclined her head toward the stairs, and then led the way. He followed, realizing belatedly as he ascended that he was only wearing his briefs. He hadn’t taken the time to throw on jeans. At least it was something though. Half the time he slept naked.

She moved ahead of him to turn off her bathroom light, plunging the room into darkness. It took his eyes a moment to acclimate to the dark and make out the outline of her in the gloom. She dropped her robe, so he guessed she wasn’t totally naked underneath it. She pulled back the covers on the right side of the bed, nearest to the bathroom.

He rounded the bed, tugging down the covers on that side.

Springs squeaked softly and sheets whispered as she slid into bed. He hesitated and took a bracing breath. He knew this was just for comfort, so she wouldn’t be alone, but it still felt awkward. He couldn’t recall ever sleeping with a woman and not having sex with her.

“North?”

The soft utterance scratched the space between them. She might as well have said please again. That’s what his name sounded like in her voice. A plea.

“Yeah?” He slid into bed beside her, not touching, keeping as much space between them as possible. He was determined to hold himself back and not take advantage of her. Not like this. Not when she was vulnerable and shaken. He held himself still. Rigid. Probably too rigid. It was going to be a long night.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the quiet of her room.

“No problem.” He slept with plenty of women. So what if this time he would actually sleep with one? It was late. He was tired. He could do this.

There was a rustle of movement and he felt fingers brush his arm. He jerked slightly.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “C-could I maybe hold your hand? Just until I fall asleep?”

He lifted her hand from his arm and laced his fingers through hers. “Of course.” Their arms stretched between them, not touching except for where their fingers were linked, the only point of contact. Her hand felt small and slim clasped in his. Their palms were flush and he could feel the steady pulse of her heartbeat, fusing with his own.

His chest swelled with something he had never felt. Something that made him want to do more than hold her hand. It made him want to pull her against him and fold her into his arms. It also, ironically, made him want to bolt out the door.

Hopefully she would fall asleep soon and he could let go of her hand and scoot to the edge of the bed until he fell asleep. Hopefully.