Jonathan leaned his head back as the Guardian SUV sped across Dallas an hour before dawn. They were headed home. His temporary home in the hotel. He didn’t want to wake up Gwen.

It had been one hell of a night. They’d taken out more than twenty bad guys. None had gone down easy. The worst had been clearing the tunnels between the buildings. Talk about a death corridor. They’d finally borrowed SWAT shields and affixed them to the front of a golf cart and chased the terrorists down.

Quin had been winged in the left shoulder. The bullet had grazed him according to Alex’s call.

All Jonathan really wanted to do was shower and sleep for ten hours straight with Gwen curled up beside him. Then, he’d get her so wet and slide into her again. Christ, being in her, bareback, was the most incredible orgasm he’d ever experienced. He hoped to do it again. And again. Maybe for a lifetime.

They needed to talk about their future. He was such an ass. She’d said she loved him, and he loved her, but couldn’t get the words out. Not then. Not there. He wanted to tell her after a romantic supper. Maybe take her back to the rooftop again, or give her that bike ride through the park they’d missed.

“Holy fuck,” Stan said from the driver’s seat to the three passengers. “We’re making a detour, boys. I don’t like the looks of this.”

Jonathan came fully awake and stared from the back seat out the windshield. Golden flames licked into the darkest part of night and black smoke blended with the starless sky. A glance around oriented him. The fire was close to Gwen’s diner.

Fear shot ice through Jonathan’s entire body. Had one of the terrorists figured out that it had been Gwen who’d discovered their plan? Had they torched her place? He hadn’t checked her smoke detectors. How would she get out of the third floor? From the backside? There was a rusty ladder from the roof down, but she’d have to climb out a window. Why hadn’t he checked that it opened easily?

The closer they got, the more worried he grew. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. He’d just found her.

Police had traffic stopped a block away. Jonathan didn’t care. He jumped out and ran toward the flashing lights.

A policeman tried to stop him at the barricade, but he could see him change his mind. Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was the blood covering his bulletproof vest, the look of madness in his eyes, or all the guns and knives strapped to his body. He didn’t care as he sprinted toward the woman he loved.

Oh, fuck. It was Gwen’s place.

The building was fully engulfed in flames, water shooting at it from several angles. He caught sight of the local station trucks and grabbed a man in turnout gear. “My fiancée is in that building,” Jonathan talked over the fireman.

Concern covered the man. “What floor?”

“Third, on the backside.” Please. Please, God. Let her be safe.

The fireman talked to someone through his communication system and relayed information as it came in. “They rescued a man and woman on the second floor.” He fiddled with a knob. “Say again.”

Where the hell is Gwen? Jonathan was about to go in there himself. If she was gone, he wasn’t sure life was worth living. But if she was alive, he’d die trying to get to her.

The obnoxious sounds of another firetruck arriving drowned out what the firefighter was saying. He finally pointed to where a ladder was extending toward a third-floor front window. Two men held a hose shooting water onto the roof.

“No, her apartment is in the back,” Jonathan yelled. “Is there another truck back there?”

The man pointed again. The men on the ladder had stopped spraying. The window opened and smoke rushed through the new opening like a dirty, upside down waterfall. A third fireman stepped onto the ladder…with a limp body over his shoulder.

Jonathan ran to the ladder truck, determined to be there when her feet hit the ground. He ran past an ambulance and caught up with a man and woman running beside a stretcher.

“You shouldn’t be here, sir,” the woman scolded.

“Gwen is my fiancée.” At least she will be as soon as I can ask her. He pointed to the fireman on his way down the ladder. He could see the debate in the man’s eyes.

“Just don’t get in our way,” the woman sternly warned. She softened her voice and told him, “Let us do our job. We’re damned good at it.”

Jonathan could feel the heat lifting off the firefighter’s suit as he laid Gwen on the gurney. He ripped off his headgear and stared at Jonathan, who couldn’t take his eyes off the small body on the white sheet. He had to touch her so he lightly laid his fingers on her bare calf. It was then he noticed that she was wearing one of his Marine Corps t-shirts and no bra. He hoped she’d worn panties to bed because he’d have to kill the fireman if he’d seen her—

“You and Gwen?” A gloved hand touched his shoulder and he turned his head to see the first fireman. Jonathan nodded. He couldn’t speak around the pain in his throat. He could hardly breathe as he watched the medical team work on her.

“Well, hell. I lost that pool.” He hoped the man was trying to lighten the situation and not piss him off thoroughly. “Your name wasn’t even in there as a dating possibility.”

“She’s mine,” Jonathan croaked out. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Gwen started coughing as she came around.

“Keep that over your nose and mouth,” the female EMT said in a calming voice. “You left us for a while, but we’re glad you’re back. Can you tell me if you hurt anywhere?” She continued with the necessary questions as the man started an IV line and talked with the hospital.

Griffin suddenly appeared at Jonathan’s side. “How is she?”

The male EMT answered, “Smoke inhalation, a few secondary burns, no third degree.” For the first time, he looked up at Jonathan, then at Griffin. “Where are you hurt?” he demanded.

“Not my blood,” both men said.

“What the fuck?” The first responder asked then inserted a bag of fluid into the line.

“That’s confidential,” Griffin told him and whipped out a Homeland Security badge. He’d have to ask Griffin about that later. “We were never here.”

“We’re ready to transport,” the female announced over his comm.

Realizing that they’d never let him go with her with a blood spattered vest, Jonathan stripped down to his black t-shirt and cleaned up with the wet wipes they always carried. “Griffin, can you take my gear back? I’m going with her.”

“Be glad to. You need to call Alex.” Griffin was right.

Jonathan understood the meaning. He wasn’t going to be at the debrief and their boss needed to know why.

Finally alone in an ER room, Jonathan took Gwen’s hand. He couldn’t wait for a romantic moment. “I love you, Gwen Shaw. And I plan to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much, if you’ll have me.”

She started to answer, and it turned into a coughing fit. Once she’d settled, she stared up at him. “You sure you want to be with me? I might still have a target painted on my back. I pissed off a whole bunch of terrorists, including the big man.”

Jonathan smiled. “Then who better to be with than a trained professional in personal protection? Besides, Guardian has ten offices, we can move.”

“That might be a good idea,” she suggested.

“And we’ll need to change your name,” he continued.

“Do I get to pick it?” She brightened at that idea.

“No. I do.” He bent and kissed her temple so as not to disturb the oxygen mask. “How about Gwendolyn O’Neil?” he whispered in her ear.

“I like the sound of that.”

So did he.