Outside Virden, Illinois

Axel stood to one side of the windows in the front room, the fireplace crackling beside him. He’d turned off most of the lights, not interested in advertising their location. The killer would be close behind them, might even be sitting out there in the falling snow at that very moment. There were only a few places they could have run to, what with Axel being barefoot and half naked. If it were him out there in the snow, he would have checked out all the possibilities earlier in the day and narrowed the options. If it were him, he’d be outside this house, waiting for the snow to slow before invading their false sense of security.

He wished he’d been able to bring the shotgun with him. But climbing down that damn tree took everything he had without adding the burden of the heavy gun to it all. He felt naked without a weapon. If he could just get to his car . . . but that route was cut off the moment the killer clocked him over the head out there in the frozen field.

The snow was coming down in a hurry, the flakes big and wet. He could barely see a few yards beyond the window. The killer could have been standing out in the middle of the street and he wouldn’t have seen him the snow was so thick. But if he couldn’t see him, maybe he couldn’t see them.

That was a hope he was planning on clinging to.

Axel pulled the curtains closed and turned away, this sudden wave of domesticity rushing over him. He’d never lived with anyone outside of the men in his unit, never allowed one of his lovers to get close enough that she ever stepped foot inside his home—maybe home was a stretch, it was more of a dwelling, an apartment where he happened to keep his shit, nothing more. Axel didn’t like letting people in, didn’t want to get too close to someone who likely wouldn’t stick around very long. He was a loner, happy with his own company. But, he had to admit, sitting down to a meal at a proper table with Abigail had been a new experience, a good experience. He liked watching her eat, liked the little blush that kept burning her cheeks every time she caught him watching her.

“How did you get into this line of work?” she asked at one point. He suspected it was an attempt to distract him from watching her, or maybe it was to distract her from whatever was causing that little blush. Whichever, he didn’t mind answering her questions, and that was a bit of a surprise, too. There was something about her that just made him want to answer everything she asked.

“I planned on being in the military for most of my career. When that didn’t work out, I was offered a place with a new security firm that had an interesting take on the industry. It seemed like a good fit at the time.”

“You like it?”

“I do.” He wasn’t sure what it meant, but a part of him wanted to make it go away. “It’s not always like this. Most of the jobs I get are basic bodyguard stuff. Occasionally they have me take part in these investigative operations where we pretend to be someone we’re not to get information from people, usually corporate types, who are stealing from their company or something like that. Not a lot of people shooting at us in all that.”

She’d nodded, her eyes on the plate of eggs in front of her. Axel watched her, wondering what she was thinking. He wished he was better at this sort of thing, wished he knew what to say to bring back her pretty smile. She was so much prettier than he’d imagined she’d be. Durango showed him a picture of her, but it was a bad picture that masked all the best things about her. Like those full lips that tended to swell when she was kissed just right, or those eyes that were so full of emotion all the time that it almost hurt to look at them. Watching her with that horse, the gentleness in her touch, in the tone of her voice, as she calmed it . . . she was the kind of woman he’d always imagined his mother should have been. All those fantasies when he was a kid, the ones about his perfect mother who’d lost him not because she was incompetent or disinterested, but because of some tragic mistake. Abigail was the kind of woman he’d always imagined she’d be in those fantasies.

Maybe that was why he’d become so fascinated with her in such a short time. He liked beautiful women and rarely got to know their names before taking them on that ride they both enjoyed—except for a few lovers he’d return to from time to time—but this . . . it was more than physical desire. He knew it from the moment she crawled under those blankets with him, and it scared him more than the man outside had.

Here she came now, fresh from a hot shower, that offered her already intensely feminine body even more of that female delicacy he found so erotic. She was dressed only in a man’s t-shirt, a white piece of cotton that stuck to her skin in a few places that must have still been wet when she put it on. Her curves were on complete display in that thing, her hips were the kind of wide that created the perfect contrast to her slender waist. And her breasts . . . damn! They were a handful and more, firm with perky nipples that begged for his touch. Even now they were sharp little pebbles pressing hard against the front of the shirt.

“It’s dark in here,” she said as she stopped in the center of the room.

“The storm has started. I thought the more cover, the better.”

She nodded, a pained look slipping across her face as her eyes jerked toward the window. “Everything’s locked tight?”

“We’ll hear him coming. I promise.”

She wrapped her arms around herself like she was trying to make herself smaller. Axel went to her, his hands slipping over her shoulders and down her arms. “I will protect you.”

It was a promise he’d made multiple times since this nightmare had begun, but he could see she was beginning to believe him now. He drew her to him and held her gently against his chest. He’d offered hugs of comfort to his clients before, especially the women who were being stalked by an ex-boyfriend or husband. They were the most vulnerable of his clients, the most in need of such comfort. But Abigail . . . everything was different with Abigail.

She lifted her chin and their mouths just sort of found one another. He kissed her with the need he’d been trying to rein in all night. He’d waited for hours for the release that came with intimacy, coming so close to satisfaction but failing to get it. He wasn’t going to allow that to happen again.

He bent his knees and lifted her with his hands on the back of her thighs. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his head. He slid his mouth down over her chin, pressing it to her throat. He could feel her pulse beating like a drum in a good heavy metal song, pounding against his lips as her breathing quickened. He carried her to the kitchen table, to the place where she’d been sitting less than an hour ago, kicking the chair out of the way as he lowered her ass to the tabletop. There were too many clothes between them, too many barriers to what he wanted. He ripped that shirt over her head, caught off guard when he realized there were far fewer obstacles than he assumed.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

Abigail’s face burned bright red, but he didn’t care. All he could think of was how complicated zippers could be when a man was in a hurry.

Axel tore at his borrowed jeans, ripping the zipper apart with a yank. She giggled a little, reaching out to touch him, to draw him to her. The heat in her eyes suggested she was just as desperate as he was, an idea that was underscored when she opened her legs to him, welcoming him to her with a slight smile that would live forever in his memory.

He thrust hard, filling her as she fell back against the table, resting her head where he’d so recently eaten the dinner she made for him. Her eyes were closed, but her hands were on his, her hips pressing against his. She braced her feet on the edge of the table, her knees spread wide, her body telling him just how ready she was for him.

Axel braced himself on the table, his hands pressed palm down on either side of her body. He moved slowly at first, loving the warmth and the silkiness of her body, the tightness that wrapped itself around his length. He’d always liked sex. He had found his first lover when he was only fourteen. He had been with some very experienced women, women who could do things to his body that shouldn’t have been physically possible. Compared to that, this should have been mundane, basic. But there was something about the expression on her face, something about the way her hands clung to his wrists, that elevated it.

He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t ignore the need that had reached fever proportions.

He straightened, wanting to see the eroticism of his body impaling hers. He lifted her legs, spread them wide for a moment as he watched their coupling. And then he pulled them together, holding them against his chest, ankle to ankle. He pressed his mouth to the bottom of one foot as she cried out, the friction increased, the pleasure washing through him written all over her beautiful face. He held on as long as he could, hugging her legs against him, one thumb wandering down to press itself against her thickly swollen clit. She moved her hips, pushing so hard against him that he nearly stumbled backward. A sound like the perfect musical note slipped from between her lips over and over again. It was more than he could take.

Normally a silent lover, he couldn’t help the groan that burst from his throat. She cried out, too, wrapping her legs around his waist as he fell forward, bracing himself again as he filled her with everything he’d been holding back all night. Her thighs quivered against him as her mouth opened in a silent scream. For a long time, they remained connected, both lost in their own moment of pleasure. When it was finally done, he lifted her in his arms, her body limp against his as he carried her into the bedroom. Then he took her again, more carefully this time, his need satisfied enough to allow him to take his time in exploring every inch of her beautiful body.