Don’t walk away.

Look at her.

He did look at her, her soft expression. Her wet lips. Almost asked her if she’d changed her mind about his coming in.

But he didn’t.

Reaper had his reasons, one of them being she wasn’t ready yet. Oh, she’d responded to his kiss, no doubt about it. The attraction was definitely there, yet she tried to hold herself back.

She wasn’t ready, and quite honestly, despite what he thought he wanted, he potentially wasn’t prepared either.

Kissing her caused an explosion in his senses. It ignited not only his passion but also something he’d never experienced before. Brought out a protective instinct.

I have to keep her safe. An imperative need, which reminded him that someone had tried to hurt her.

That would not be tolerated.

Twice now, something had happened involving Annie. Once, a coincidence, twice…was she being targeted?

Or, worse, was someone using her to get to him?

It seemed unlikely. He’d been inactive for almost a year now. His cover remained intact.

However, a good assassin always had enemies. Not the people he’d killed, of course. Those stayed dead.

But their families—spouses, children, even parents—sometimes took exception to his work. They didn’t understand it wasn’t personal. People paid Reaper to do a job. However, the living let emotion get in the way, and it convinced them they needed revenge.

Was this a case of someone trying to hurt Annie to get to him?

He had to find out, and that was why he left her. The reason he’d called in a favor to Declan and asked him to watch her building.

His friend arrived within the half-hour as he sat two blocks down, watching.

A tap on his window, and he rolled it down. His friend leaned on the frame.

“So, what’s the scoop?”

“Fifth level, fifth and sixth windows from the left. Possible stalker. Could be a pro.” Pros who’d missed both times?

“I didn’t think you were active on any jobs,” Declan noted.

“I’m not. It’s personal.”

Shock creased Declan’s face. “Well, damn, brother. I didn’t realize that dating thing was working out for you.”

“It’s not.” Then because he could tell Declan was going to ask more questions, added, “It’s complicated.”

Because he wanted a woman who didn’t want him. A woman with mystery surrounding her. A woman he hated leaving.

Is she safe? What if she needs me? She didn’t even know she could call him for help.

Nor could he tell her. Explaining his special skills opened a door he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

However, there were ways to protect her that didn’t involve confessing that he killed people for a living.

Reaper made plans as he drove back to his office.

I’ll need cameras. A few of them to watch her apartment and the ways into her building. A network of eyes to observe when he couldn’t be with her in person.

He’d also get his mechanic to install a secondary hidden GPS and microphone to counter any attempted kidnapping attempts.

Surveillance was part one of what he had to do.

I need to dig deeper into her past. Perhaps Annie belonged to a witness protection program. It would explain her lack of history. Had she seen something she shouldn’t have? Had she previously dated someone in the mob? Given their lack of compunction when it came to silencing people, it would explain her level of fear.

By the time he’d reached the office, he had several mental lists ready. Once at his desk, having bypassed Wendy and her arched brow, he shed his coat and jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He dug in to the databases. Dug deep and thoroughly.

Not a single answer was to be found. Nothing but the same dead-ends as before.

But good news, Declan reported her building as quiet, and he dared to grab a few hours of sleep at home before heading over there the next morning.

Reaper met Declan and performed a handoff—i.e., a package of surveillance equipment that he preferred to think of as protective rather than stalking. He ignored Declan’s arched brow.

“Gonna tell me now why you are watching the chick?” Declan asked.

“None of your business.” Explaining why would involve admitting things he’d rather not.

“She’s hot for an older broad.”

At which point, Reaper grabbed the other man and shoved him against his car. “Don’t you be ogling her. She’s off-limits.”

“Oh, so it’s that way.” Declan gave him a knowing grin. “That’s cool.”

No, it wasn’t cool. Out of control and threatening his friends wasn’t Reaper’s usual modus operandi.

How could one woman change him?

Reaper leaned against his car, closed his eyes, and wondered what the fuck he was doing. “Why am I here?” he muttered aloud.

“Yeah, why are you here?” He opened his eyes to see Annie glaring at him, her cheeks bright with color.

She looked fetching in her ivory-colored parka, the hood pulled up over her hair.

He gestured to his car. “Your chariot awaits.”

“I was planning on taking the bus.”

“Public transit.” He gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Not as much as you are,” she retorted. “Did you seriously show up to give me a ride to work?”

“It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Without warning.”

“Had I told you ahead of time, you would have refused.” He already knew that.

Her lips pursed. “I would have. So you ambushed me.”

“An act of kindness isn’t an ambush. Your car is being repaired. I thought you might like a warm ride to work.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you saying I have an ulterior motive?” He totally did. He wondered what she thought it was.

“I thought I made it clear we couldn’t date.”

“You did. This isn’t dating. This is friendship.”

“This is above and beyond friendship.”

“Then you have shitty friends.” He held open the passenger door. “You’re also being uncommonly stubborn and ungrateful.”

“Yet it doesn’t seem to be scaring you away.”

He grinned. “I don’t scare easily. Now, get your ass in the car. I’m driving you.”

He could tell she was about to say no, and since the word offended him, he stopped it before it escaped.

By pressing his mouth against hers, he caught her slight gasp of surprise. Felt the softening of her lips.

Only then did he pull away and murmur, “Get in.”

She got in the car, and only once he’d pulled away from the curb did she mutter, “That was playing dirty. Don’t do that again.”

“I ain’t promising anything, honey.” Not when the taste of her was pure ambrosia.

They didn’t say much on the way to her office. He let her stew, mostly because he knew she thought about him.

Arriving at her work, just because he knew she expected him to try, he didn’t lean in for a kiss. Simply helped her out of the car with a casual, “See you later.”

How pathetic was it that he counted the hours?