The glass shattered and Whitney screamed, throwing her hands over her head as she tried to wedge herself as flat as she could against the floorboard of the back seat. The shot had come out of nowhere. What had happened to Juarez? Was he hurt? Where was Hicks?

Her thoughts flew around in a mad jumble, stirred up with a heavy dose of fear that made her heart jackhammer against her rib cage.

What was happening? The seconds ticked by without another gunshot and Whitney’s nerves stretched thin. Too scared to lift her head, she shouted, “Juarez!”

A bullet whizzed overhead and bit into the back glass. She screamed again.

“Stay down!” Juarez shouted from somewhere behind the SUV.

Three more bullets pinged into the car, pushing her past the edge of reason. She fumbled for the door latch overhead, desperate to escape, and shoved the back-passenger door wide. The gunshots were coming from the direction of the windshield, so she could only pray the door would give her cover. Pop. Pop. The door vibrated from the force of the bullets sinking into the metal. Whitney had started to climb out but now scrambled backward, covering her head with her hands.

“Son-of-a-bitch, Whitney!” She heard Juarez return fire from behind, and even though the door was open she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the cab. She couldn’t breathe. The seats seemed to be crashing down on her. No matter what Juarez said, she had to get out—she was a sitting duck in here.

She gathered all of her strength, grabbed the seat and propelled out of the vehicle, hitting the dirt elbows first. Pain shot up her shoulders, but she didn’t allow her brain any time to process that before clawing to her feet and running for cover behind the car.

A barrage of bullets stormed around her. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out, her vocal cords paralyzed with fear. Bullets flew, but she kept on running. Just as she cleared the back of the car, Juarez’s arm shot out and he flung her down, throwing his body over hers.

“Jesus Christ, you are nuts.”

She couldn’t breathe. His weight was crushing her lungs, and the panic was ripping at her from the inside.

Juarez cursed again and rose, pulling her with him and shoving her against the back of the SUV. “Keep your head down. He’s somewhere in front of the car. I’ve been able to determine a direction but not an exact location.”

“Call Hicks, make sure he’s okay.” Whitney braced her hands on her knees. If someone was attacking them, did that mean Hicks was hurt? Or worse—dead?

“He’s on his way, and if you would just lay low until backup gets here, we’ll both be fine,” Juarez said calmly.

“I can’t just sit here while someone’s shooting at us!”

“Woman, you’re going to stay put. If anything happens to you, Hicks will kill me.” Juarez reached up and pressed a small black button linked to a thin wire strapped around his neck. “Hicks, give me your ETA.”

Juarez tilted his head to the side as if listening to a voice that Whitney couldn’t hear. Then he said, “Roger, got a nervous package here. Need backup pronto. Target due north, fifty meters under heavy camo.”

Juarez’s voice was steady enough to bring her back from full-on panic mode. “Why aren’t you scared?” she hissed.

Juarez peeked around the side of the car and then moved back so fast his body looked like a blur. “This is nothing, a warm-up snack. I’m just sad we have to wait on backup, I’ve been eager to do some target shooting.”

All of these men were insane. In the car, everyone but Hicks had been practically bouncing in their seat with eagerness, like a child on his way to Christmas. Juarez did that blurred movement again, and although she couldn’t quite track him, she knew he was looking around the back of the car. A bullet pinged off the corner where his head had been a split second before. “Stop doing that!”

Juarez grinned. “Just having a little fun, sugar.”

“You’re taunting him.”

Juarez’s smile did not falter. “No, sugar, I’m distracting him.”

Another shot rang out, this one much louder and from a different direction. There was a hoarse shout and then the sound of scuffling.

“And we’re clear.” Juarez strolled out from behind the car as if he didn’t have to worry about possibly having his head taken off. Whitney stayed rooted to the spot, unable to make her feet move. If he wanted to commit suicide, by all means, but she had no intention of jumping out and playing decoy.

Suddenly, Juarez rocked back. He turned to Whitney, reaching for her. Dread made her arms heavy like lead. She reached for him, but Juarez was already falling to the ground, blood covering his chest.

“Juarez!” Whitney dropped to her knees, sobs wrenching from her throat.

A bullet plunked in the dirt a few feet from his head. She screamed. She had to help him. If she lay on her belly, she might be able to reach him and pull him to cover. Juarez’s black eyes focused on her with such intensity she froze. “No,” he mouthed.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.” She had no intention of allowing him to lay there and bleed to death. Not when he’d been defending her.

Whitney lay on her stomach and reached for him. A bullet threw dirt on her arm and she yanked it back, her heart in her throat.

“Whitney, you need to be careful who you associate with.”

Whitney froze. “Reinhardt?”

“That’s right. Now, if you don’t want me to finish your friend off, you’ll come out.” His voice was just as gravelly and disgusting as before. Grating down her spine like dulled nails covered in rust.

“Why are you doing this?”

Another bullet hit the ground, this one even closer to Juarez.

“Stop! Just stop! I’ll come out.” She had to go out there. How could she live with herself if he killed Juarez?

And Hicks…Hadn’t Juarez said he was on his way? What if Reinhardt shot him? She couldn’t even allow that thought to fully form. Whitney gulped past a huge boulder of fear and grabbed the tailgate of the car, trembling.

If only she knew what to do. She’d never thought, never imagined being here. She’d even avoided action flicks because she didn’t like bloodshed.

What would Hicks do?

He’d calmly walk out there and shoot that bastard as easy as pie. But she didn’t have a gun, let alone the knowledge of how to use one.

Whitney forced one foot in front of the other. She had to go out there, unarmed, if Juarez had a prayer. Allowing him to die simply because she’d allowed terror to rule her wasn’t an option.

Even if she needed to pee her pants.

She stopped at the corner of the car, as soon as she took another step she’d be in the open.

Juarez moaned and tried to roll her way, but Whitney ignored him and took the final step, putting her fully in view of Reinhardt. She couldn’t see him – but she knew he was there, somewhere in the tree line in front of the car.

“Come out,” she said, clenching her hands into fists to keep them from shaking so bad. Juarez grabbed her ankle and she jumped, almost screaming.

“It’s okay,” she said. Then she gently pulled her foot from his grasp and put herself between him and the direction the bullets had come from.

Reinhardt stepped from the foliage twenty feet away, a long black pistol aimed directly at her head. “Still playing the whore.”

He shook his head, his ugly scarred face contorted with disgust.

Whitney checked the need to run and locked her knees, fighting to appear calm when on the inside terror seized control. “Still dreaming about me, Bruno?”

A dark flush rose up his pockmarked face and he took a step closer, bringing the black hole at the end of his barrel into stark clarity. No matter how much she attempted to keep her fear hidden, he must have sensed it because his lips twisted into a cruel smile. “I’ve been watching you. Wondering how a whore like you could snare the Senator.”

Her hand circled her throat. “Watching me?”

“That’s right.” Reinhardt licked his lip and an unholy gleam lit in his good eye. “I’ve watched you since the beginning. Had to make sure you didn’t spill your sob story for more money.”

“You know I didn’t!”

“So far.” He moved closer, the gap between them shrinking at an alarming rate. “But you will. Your kind always does.”

“My kind?”

“Whores. You’re all alike. My mother was a whore.” He kept advancing and each step stole more of her warmth, until a chill seemed to creep in to her bones.

“Stop,” she said.

“She whored around on my father, destroyed my life. If she hadn’t destroyed him, I wouldn’t have these scars.” Reinhardt jerked his hand in the direction of his face, his movements losing their normal finesse. “I wouldn’t have had to kill her.”

Her heart stopped completely. “You killed your mother?”

“Just like I’m going to kill you.”

Whitney tried to watch the gun, but couldn’t tear her gaze from the maniacal gleam in his eye. He’d stopped moving near the front of the SUV, all his focus trained on her. “I tried to do it the clean way, have the team take you out, but you had to go and get a bodyguard. And I bet you thought you were safe, too, didn’t you? But you’ll never be safe from me. Not as long as you’re a threat.”

His finger shifted from the barrel of the gun down to caress the trigger.

This was it. All he had to do was twitch and she’d be dead.

Whitney closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. She opened her eyes. Hicks had his hand around Reinhardt’s gun and shoved it up in the air. Reinhardt struggled but Hicks shoved him back, holding onto the pistol. Reinhardt went flying.

Hicks crushed the gun in his hand and threw it to the side. Stalking Reinhardt like a true predator. Whitney couldn’t move, couldn’t even get her tongue to work. She stood in mute shock as Hicks picked him up off the ground.

Reinhardt tried to kick out, but Hicks simply shifted his grip to one hand and grabbed Reinhardt’s leg with the other, twisting until he screamed in pain.

“You’ll never threaten her again.” Hicks threw him to the ground and Reinhardt rolled to his side, groaning.

Hicks turned his attention to her. “Are you okay?”

She tried to nod, wasn’t sure if she pulled it off. All she could see was Hicks concerned gaze locked onto her.

And then she saw something else. Something even more terrifying than Reinhardt’s gun trained on her head.

Reinhardt was lifting another gun and taking aim at Hicks.

“Hicks!” she screamed.

A shot rang out. Reinhardt slumped to the ground. King emerged from the woods, a smoking pistol in his hands.

Whitney’s knees buckled. Hicks lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. “Whitney?”

“He almost shot you,” she whispered brokenly.

“He almost shot you, too.” He held her tight, burying his face against her neck.

She finally got her fingers to work, long enough to latch onto his shoulders for support.

She buried her face against his chest, wishing she could just climb inside him. “I was so worried about you.”

Hicks chuckled, “Me? I wasn’t in any danger.”

And then Whitney remembered the whole reason they were here. “Cory?”

A dark thundercloud stormed across Hicks’s features, but he answered her. “He’s fine, and it appears you were right. He didn’t know about the hit. Reinhardt was pulling the strings all along.”

Suddenly, Cory Keeling himself burst into the small clearing, dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. When he saw them, he stopped and immediately bent over, his breathing ragged. “Is everyone okay?”

Whitney glanced up at Hicks and then eased herself out of his arms so Cory could see her. “Everyone but your bodyguard.”

Cory glanced down at the now very dead man on the ground and gulped. “I had no idea. Whitney, I am so sorry.” Cory moved closer but Hicks maneuvered between them, blocking Cory from getting close enough to touch her.

“Did you know anything about this?”

“No, tonight was the first I heard about it. You were supposed to be relocated and paid for the hassle. I had no idea.” Cory’s voice sounded so desperate and honest that Whitney had no doubt he was telling the truth.

“Moved?”

“To California. With my new role as head advisor on the council, I couldn’t risk anyone here finding out about you.”

Whitney tried to shove Hicks out of the way and took a threatening step toward Cory. “You thought you could just relocate me across the country?”

Hicks hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back. “Settle down, tiger.”

She tried to peel free of his grip, but it was like trying to chip away concrete with her fingernails. He didn’t budge. “I’m so sick and tired of people trying to control me. I’m not moving across the country, Cory, whether you’re trying to have me murdered or not.”

Cory went even paler, a feat that didn’t seem possible. Standing next to all these huge brawny warriors, he looked so small and weak in comparison.

“I thought you would like it. The weather there’s much nicer, plus, I had an awesome new job lined up for you with the WHO.”

Whitney blew a stray strand of long, dark hair out of her face and glared at him. “Are you still trying to convince me to move?”

She felt a wave of annoyance from Hicks. “She’s not moving anywhere. Do you intend to return her money and her job?” Hicks finished in a threatening tone.

“Of—of course. Perhaps a job in New York? It’s still closer…”

Plastered against Hicks, her toes barely scraping the ground, Whitney crossed her arms over his huge muscular forearm. “I don’t want a job from you.”

“Enough. My team and I have collected enough evidence and retained two witnesses. From this day forward you and everyone associated with you will stay away from Whitney. If she walks into a restaurant and you’re eating there, you will leave. If she parks her car in a garage where you’re parked, you move your car, got it?” Hicks said.

“Yes,” Keeling said hesitantly.

Hicks continued, his torso vibrating against her back sending all sorts of warm tingling sensations throughout her body. “You will return all the money owed to her by tomorrow.”

Keeling gulped. “What about her apartment and car? You said he took those too.”

“She doesn’t need them.”

Whitney stiffened—she didn’t need her car and a place to live? —but Hicks had that note in his voice, the one that said don’t fuck with me. Too bad she didn’t allow anyone to control her life. “I’ll take a new car. In my name. And this time, I’d like it to be white.”

Hicks went rigid, but he could get over it. The sooner he learned he couldn’t call all the shots the better.

Keeling glanced between them but nodded wisely. “Yes, of course, and I’ll return the money.”

If she had all her money returned, she could easily lease a place until she figured out where she wanted to live. Maybe somewhere a little closer to Hicks…

“Just so we’re clear, Senator, you’re going to pretend like Whitney never existed after tomorrow. If you so much as twitch in her direction, or if you fail to keep up your end of the promise, I will release everything to the press. Your career will be over, and I suspect your marriage will be too.” Hicks’s arm squeezed incrementally tighter as he spoke. Whitney tapped on it frantically, trying to get his attention so she could draw in a breath of air. He loosened his grip enough for her to breathe but not to escape.

“We are clear. What about him?” Cory inclined his head in Reinhardt’s direction.

“We’ll clean up the mess.” Hicks said.

“No police?” Keeling asked.

“For now, no,” Hicks said. “King, can you escort the senator back to his home?”

Cory cast her a regretful look and then silently trailed behind King, disappearing into the growth of trees.

Juarez moved into a sitting position, his hand pressed to his shoulder. “That bastard better be glad he’s already dead.”

“Juarez!” She’d forgotten his injury in the tangle of craziness.

“I’m fine. Just a little blood loss.”

Hicks’ set her to the side and went to the car, returning with a first aid kit a moment later. “Be still. I’ll do a temporary patch until we can get you back to the Doc.”

“What do I need to do?” she said as she moved closer to the pair.

“Come hand me a gauze.” Hicks moved Juarez’s hand from what looked like a huge bloody hole near his shoulder and poured some clear liquid onto the wound. Juarez let out a howl of pain. “Warn me first next time.”

“That makes it worse, now sit still.” Hicks sat the bottle down and took the roll of gauze from Whitney, quickly making a pad and wrapping a makeshift sling before helping Juarez into the back seat of the car.

Once Juarez settled in the SUV, Whitney grabbed Hicks. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s fine.”

Whitney resisted the urge to wrap her arms around Hicks. She needed to get something straight with him first. He didn’t need to think he could make decisions for her. She had no intention of any one ever doing that again. “Why did you tell him no home and car? Those are kind of two necessities.”

Hicks’s harsh expression fell away into one of hesitancy. “You don’t need either of those.”

“Because they’re from him?”

“Because I want you to live with me.”

The earth fell out from under her. He wanted her to move in? They barely knew each other. She’d never lived with a man before—not even a roommate in college. Living together meant commitment and the longest relationship she’d ever had was with her favorite tube of mascara.

But then again, she’d never had a tube of mascara as heart-stopping as Hicks. The way he was looking at her right now was enough to melt her on the spot. “I’d like that.”

She would?

The smile that lit Hicks’s face sealed the deal. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”