I wish I could stay in Matt’s arms all day, my face pressed to his strong shoulder, my fingertips on his face, his voice in my ears. I wish I could strip him bare, run my hands all over his body, map its hollows and ridges, the path of his muscles and the shape of his bones.

Even worn out and worried, he’s so handsome. With every wall he tears down for me, he becomes more beautiful.

This man I love.

But Matt’s phone starts to buzz, and there’s noise outside the house door.

“Fucking John,” Matt growls, and I tug on his beard. “What?”

“He’s doing all he can to help.”

“Yeah.” He blinks at me, gives me a quick half-smile, and pulls out his phone from his back pocket. “Hansen. Yeah, Johnny boy, I’ll come out, the kids are asleep.”

“Stop calling him that.” I swat at his hand holding the phone, and he grins at me.

It makes me smile.

“Yeah, all right.” He disconnects. “We’ll do this on the porch. Keep our eye on the kids.”

Paranoid. As if the psycho stalker will enter the house with us a few feet away and snatch the kids.

But he’s done it once already today, so…

There’s a soft knock on the door, and we get up, Matt pulling me along with him. John is waiting outside, looking somber.

“Kids okay?” he asks, and I like him more for starting with this.

Matt nods, and I take his hand, because why not?

Is he my boyfriend now?

Is he mine, like I’m his?

“We’ve spread out, looking for our suspect, but we don’t have a description we can use,” John says. He shades his eyes against the sun. “He obviously wanted to scare you, make you believe he’d killed the kids, but planted clues to let you find them quickly. As to who he is… It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“What about Alina’s brother? Did you find out anything about him? What’s his name, for starters?”

“Jeff Adams.”

I start. That name… I’ve heard it before. “Adam?” I whisper. “Adam Cash.”

“No, not Adam.” John glances at the police car parked outside the gate, nods at the agents sitting inside. “Jeff Adams.”

Oh my God. “Ross said…” I try to swallow but my throat is suddenly dried up. “He said Adam gave a different name at the garage when he went to get his car fixed. Jeff Adams.”

Matt pulls me to his side, puts his arm around me, his brows drawing together. “What the fuck? Isn’t Adam your wannabe boyfriend?”

I can’t speak. I see myself walking beside Adam—Jeff?—to the ice cream shop, holding hands. Him asking me to kiss him.

God, I think I’m going to be sick.

“He said something about his sister,” I whisper, my voice faint even to myself. “That his sister lost someone, and he was visiting her, but—”

“Alina’s dead,” Matt snarls. “He was toying with you.”

John lifts his cell to his ear. “Anything else you know about this Jeff Adams?” he asks me. “Do you have his address by any chance?”

“I thought I did, but Merc said…” Again I have to swallow, my voice fading. “Merc said that was a lie. This Jeff told me he was staying at old Mr. Collins’s house, but apparently Mr. Collins still lives there, so…” I struggle to collect my thoughts. “It doesn’t really mean anything, he could—”

“If this is Jeff Adams, the brother of Mr. Hansen’s ex-girlfriend and the link to all this mess, I’d think it means something,” John says curtly. “You’re Octavia Watson, right? Mercury Watson is your brother?”

“Yeah. He’s in jail—”

“—for brawling in a public place with Ross Jones. The café. Made a mess of the place.” He turns slightly away to talk into the phone. “Bessy? Put me through to Mercury Watson. There’s something I need to ask him.”

“This isn’t like him,” I say in a small voice. “He just…”

“Mr. Watson.” John’s voice deepens. He looks really young, but suddenly he seems older, experienced. “I’m here with your sister and… Yes, she is fine. Yes, you can talk to her, but please answer one question for me.” He presses his thumbs between his brows, as if to suppress a headache. “Yes, you have the right to remain silent, Mr. Watson, but this is for your sister’s safety, so I hope you will comply.”

God, Merc. Despite everything, I want to laugh. That kid’s crazy.

“I need to ask if you know where Adam Cash lives.” John sighs, rolls his eyes. “Sure, I’ll pass you Octavia. Anything else? No, don’t answer that.”

He offers me his cell phone, and I take it carefully, my hand shaking. “Thanks. Um… Merc?”

“Hey, Sis.” He sounds upbeat. Maybe a bit too much.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Me and Ross, we’re hanging out until they release us.”

I frown. “Hanging out? After you went and beat the ever-loving shit out of him?”

Matt tugs me closer to his side, laughter rumbling in his chest.

“Listen,” Merc says. “I have Adam’s real address. It’s a motel right out of town.”

“What? I mean… oh my God.” Matt opens his mouth to ask me what is going on, but I shake my head. “Who told you?”

“I beat it out of Ross.”

“I thought you beat him up for being our brother.”

“No, I beat him up because he’s a dickless piece of shit, always raining crap on us. On you, Tati. So I went apeshit on him, and he started babbling about this guy, Adam or Jeff or whatever, telling me there’s something off about him, and by the way his name isn’t Adam, and he lives in a motel, and only pays cash. So…”

“So?” I close my eyes, absorbing the warmth of Matt’s body, his arm around me.

“So I think Ross is right. And now your cop friend is asking about him. What’s going on?”

I chew on my lower lip. “I’ll tell you later. Do you know the name of the motel, Merc?” He does. I repeat it to John after I disconnect the call. “What now?”

“You stay put,” John says. “I have posted police around your mother’s house, too. Stay safe until we catch this guy and take him in for questioning.”

“Good call,” Matt says quietly. “You stay here with me, Tay.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Besides, where else would I ever want to be?

* * *

We return to the kids’ side. We curl up together on the armchair, just breathing each other in watching TV on mute and guarding the kids’ sleep.

Waiting for news.

My head is buzzing. I can’t believe I almost went out with that creep, that I talked to him, considered dating him. That I was taken in by his good looks and easy manners.

A charmer, but cruel inside.

While Matt who looked like a beast when I first met him, acted like one, too, but he is all I want, all I need.

Curled up in his lap, I bury my nose in the crook of his neck, inhale the clean musk of his male sweat. The most expensive perfume in the world doesn’t hold a candle to this guy’s natural scent.

“Are you sniffing me?” he rumbles.

“Yes.”

He snorts. I lick the skin of his neck, and he shivers. “Don’t start what we can’t finish,” he warns, his cock hardening under my legs. “Christ.”

“You smell good,” I inform him and bite lightly, tasting salt and sugar, and he hardens more, shifting uncomfortably underneath me. “Taste good, too.”

He grunts, his heart hammering against me. “Fuck.”

“Hm… Maybe later?” I cup his cheek, turn his head toward me and kiss him. He groans in my mouth, grabs my hips and rocks me against his hard-on until we’re both breathless and moaning.

God, he’s right. We can’t finish this now.

And somehow we’ve made enough noise to wake up the kids. They’re beginning to stir, blinking innocent, sleepy eyes at us.

So I climb off Matt regretfully and give him one last, lingering kiss. “I’m going to make us some dinner, okay?”

He reaches down, adjusts himself in his pants. He’s so hard, so visibly aroused, and the sight makes my mouth water. “Wait until I get you alone.”

Snickering, I leave him, trying to ignore the throbbing deep inside me¸ my need for him. Later. The kids need to eat, and so do we. It’s been a long day, and it’s late afternoon by now.

My stomach growls at the realization, and I open the fridge, going through what we have, trying to decide what to prepare. Something easy. The kids always love pasta, so that’s an easy bet.

I rummage through the cupboards, coming up with enough ingredients to make a nice big pot. Spaghetti, sauce, sausage, cheese, all the good stuff.

Humming to myself, I fill a pot with water and slice up the sausage. Everything will turn out okay. So this Jeff duped me. So what. I’m not the first or the last girl to be taken in by a guy. A dangerous, mentally unstable guy, from the looks of it.

I couldn’t have known. But now he’ll be caught and we’ll all be safe again. And after days and weeks pass, I’ll stop looking over my shoulder all the time, and the kids will be able to play in the yard and on the porch.

We won’t stay locked up in here forever.

And then maybe Matt and I, we can have some time alone. We can talk, and kiss, and make love. In a bed, for a change, not that everything we’ve done so far wasn’t crazy good, but… With time. Time to see the whole of him, trace his tattoos, trace his scars.

Learn how to give him pleasure.

Smiling, I look up, and see someone outside the kitchen window. It’s a cop, I realize. He’s gesturing at me, and as he approaches the kitchen door, I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and go to see what he wants.

I open the door, trying to see him in the low afternoon light, and he tips his hat at me. Such an old-fashioned, charming gesture. I take two steps outside, waiting to hear if he has news, if they found anything.

He grabs me, slams a hand over my mouth, and I jerk and writhe, panic and fear shooting through me like electric shocks.

Then something pricks my neck like a bee sting, and the world fades.