Mack woke to what felt like a lethal pounding in his head and something smashing in his kitchen sink. He reached for the gun under his pillow and brought his other hand up to his head in a grimace. Motherfucker, this was going to be a bad one. How much did he actually drink last night after dropping Lucy off at her place? He didn’t usually indulge to excess these days, but he’d needed something to take the edge off her sweet taste and the desperate need that drove him to go back for more of her addictive flavour when he knew he shouldn’t.

He eased out of the bed and stalked silently down the hallway, barefoot, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, holding his gun down at his side. He was tensed though, ready to take out the threat banging around in his kitchen. He was fairly certain any enemy intent on murdering him wouldn’t be making this much noise, but he was still going to shoot the fucker who invited himself into his house and woke him up.

Mack rounded the corner to discover Lucy standing next to his sink wearing a sexy white summer dress, humming to herself and dancing on the spot in bare feet. She was mixing something in a metal bowl using a big metal spoon and making a hell of racket. He spared a moment to notice how the sunlight filtering in through the window penetrated the skirt of her dress rendering it see-through so he could see her pink thong. Then it hit his hungover sleep fogged brain that she’d broken into his house and was fucking around in his kitchen without his permission.

“What the fuck!” he exploded.

Lucy hadn’t heard him sneak up behind her and jumped, dropping the metal mixing bowl, which clanged loudly in the sink. She yelped, and whipped around, her elbow hitting a full bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter next to her. The large bottle smashed to the floor and shattered, spilling amber liquid everywhere.

She stared at the floor in open-mouthed shock.

“Fuck, Lucy!” Mack yelled at the top of his lungs. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She jumped, her head coming up. Then she snapped her mouth shut, narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow at him. She gave him a cool look that stopped him in his tracks. He had been expecting something a lot closer to guilt from the woman who broke into his house, was in the process of making a mess of his kitchen and then smashed a full bottle of whiskey – not that he could fully blame that last point on her. Didn’t matter. His grumpy sleep-deprived brain wanted her to take the fall for everything at the moment. Instead she just looked annoyed at the interruption.

“I was going to make you a late afternoon breakfast in bed,” she informed him frostily. “But since you’re already out of bed, I guess we can eat it in here.”

She went to take a step over the shattered bottle.

“Don’t fucking move,” he snarled.

She froze, again giving him a haughty, eyebrow raised look. “Can you please speak with a little less hostility?” she asked softly.

He slammed his gun down on a side table next to a pile of mail and turned back to her. Avoiding the shattered glass, he reached for her, gripping her underneath the armpits and jerked her over the shards. The second her feet touched the floor he removed his hands from her body so he wouldn’t give into the urge to wrap them around her throat. She backed up quickly, finally taking notice of the thunder on his unshaven face.

“What are you doing in my house at this hour, Lucy?” he demanded.

She frowned at him as though he were the crazy one. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Mack. Are you just waking up?”

He ignored her question. “What are you doing here at all, thought you were pissed at me after last night?”

She shrugged. “I was, but I got over it. I had Alexandr drop me off after he dropped your dad at home.”

Mack glared at her, understanding beginning to dawn. He turned his back on her in disgust and stomped down the hall toward his bedroom, snarling over his shoulder, “Have a good talk with Abel about me? Is that what this is? You feel sorry for me, so you’ve come here to kiss it better? Fuck that, Lucy. I’m still the same asshole I was yesterday, maybe worse because you just knocked my only happiness all over the floor.”

He stormed into the washroom and yanked his sweats down to take a piss, leaving the door open. Lucy had trailed down the hall behind him, dogging his steps, but as soon as she saw what he was doing her face went tomato red and she whirled around, taking two quick steps back into the bedroom. He pointed at her back, ignoring the urine as it hit the bowl, “And don’t you dare touch anything else in my kitchen or I will beat your ass until it’s as red as your face.”

She threw her hands up and flung herself back out the bedroom door. “You are not being a very nice person right now, Mack!” she yelled.

“Newsflash, baby, I’m never a nice person!” he yelled back.

He washed his hands and brushed his teeth, doing his best to ignore the soft sounds she made in his kitchen. From what little he could hear it sounded as though she was still trying to scrape together some breakfast from his meagre food supplies. Good luck with that, he thought grumpily. He either went with a purely liquid breakfast or ate out. He washed his face and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash to get rid of the last lingering bitter traces of whiskey and beer. He considered taking a shower, but fuck it, he didn’t ask for a guest and his head still felt like a sharpshooter was using it for target practice.

“The fuck you doing?” he demanded, reentering the kitchen a few minutes later as she was cracking eggs into a sizzling pan. “And where did those come from? I don’t have eggs.”

“I didn’t think you would,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on his bare chest and then narrowing on his left shoulder. Two bullet holes still marred the skin there, creating ugly, puckered scars. He resisted the urge to rub the spot, which still ached with phantom soreness sometimes. Another dose of reality for little miss sunshine, as she turned back to the stove, her hands shaking as she continued to crack eggs. “I picked up some groceries on the way.”

He grunted. “Well aren’t you prepared? Look, why don’t you pull out your phone, call your ride and get the hell out of here. I’m not in the mood for this. Thought I made it clear what would happen last night if you kept flirting around me. I’m not a man used to keeping my shit to myself. I will fuck you and move on if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

She cracked the last egg, added some salt and pepper then turned from the stove, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. “Maybe I do flirt a little,” she said in a dangerous tone way too much like her sister’s for his liking. That snark in her voice nearly made him grin and for damn sure turned his dick to stone. She raised her finger and pointed it at him. “But you are the one that keeps showing up where I am, bounty hunter, not the other way around.”

“Your eyes say plenty every time you see me, baby. They light up like a little puppy dog… or maybe I should say bitch in heat from the way you were responding last night. All I have to do is crook a finger and touch you, you’ll open those legs,” he drawled going for maximum cruelty in an attempt to get her to leave. He expected to see sad little doe eyes, not the fury that suffused her face - so breathtakingly beautiful he wanted to lunge out of the chair he’d sprawled in, grab her and tame her.

“You did not just compare me to a dog!” she spat, her fists balling in anger. “If I’m a bitch then what does that make you for wanting me? Some kind of… of…” She struggled to come up with something bad to call him, her sheltered, religious upbringing hindering her ability to snap back.

“What, baby?” he invited spreading his arms wide.

“Oh!” she screamed and reached behind her for the frying pan, murderous intent in every line of her body. Unfortunately for Mack, her sheltered upbringing did nothing to hinder her ability to throw. She hurled that frying pan like a spear throwing Amazon.

Mack managed to duck out of the way, the heated metal barely grazing his side while hot eggs splattered his chest. “Fuck!” he snarled. “That hurt, Lucy!”

“I missed!” she yelled and reached for the nearest thing on the counter.

Lucky for him it wasn’t a knife. Unlucky for him it was one of the few full bottles of liquor he had left in the house. She drew back her arm to hurl the bottle at him. He narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare. You remember what I said if you touch one more thing?” he growled. “I wasn’t kidding, Lucy.”

Her voice dropped about an octave as she snarled back, “Then beat me!” She threw the bottle at him with truly impressive aim.

He deflected it from hitting his head with a swipe of his forearm. “Motherfucker that’s gonna bruise!”

“Don’t care!” she screeched and reached for another.

He lunged for her just as her fist closed around the neck of another bottle. He stepped on a piece of broken bottle, reminding him of the bottle she’d already broken in his kitchen. Goddamn, this little hellion had hidden depths. And he was going to beat them right out of her. He hopped on one leg, grabbed her by the back of the hair and dragged her head back into her chest.

“Drop the bottle,” he snarled.

She answered by twisting around and swinging it into his side with as much energy as she could manage in such close proximity, which was more than he would have given her credit for five minutes ago. He decided he wanted her on his side next time he got into a bar fight. She was the innocent looking one no one saw coming until it was too late. Mack leaned against the counter so he wouldn’t accidentally put his bad foot down and force the glass up further into his flesh, grabbed her wrist and twisted until she gave up the bottle. She shrieked and fought him while he reached down and yanked the glass out of his foot. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the elbow she managed to throw back into his head while he was doing it hurt worse.

“Enough!” he thundered, finally putting his bloody foot down and pinning her arms against her sides.

She ignored him, twisting in his arms, trying to claw and bite him for all she was worth. Now, this was a side of Lucy Miller that never in a million years Mack thought he’d see. It both amused and infuriated him. Not since his ex-wife had a woman managed to land this many blows on his person and survive the experience.

Mack picked her up easily and hauled her over to the table, safely away from the broken glass and any more implements of revenge she might think to get her hands on. He tossed her on top of the table while she kicked out at him and screamed, then flipped her over and tossed the short skirt of her dress up. Her tiny hot pink lace-edged thong left the delicious curves of her pale ass on display. Fucking perfect.

She gripped the table and tried to pull herself sideways, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them together at the small of her back until she was completely helpless. She twisted her shoulders and looked back at him, glaring through the mess of dark hair that fell over her face and spilled across his table.

“Give me my phone!” she snapped breathlessly. “I’m calling Alexandr, I want out of here right now.”

“Too late.” Mack grinned at her and leaned back as far as he could while still holding her wrists in one massive hand. “You practically begged for this, baby. Now you’re going to take it like the good girl I know you’re definitely not.”