Alace

Seated in a booth next to the front window of the diner in Cuba, Alace felt as if a spotlight was being shone on her. Playing up the role of a backpacker fresh from the trail, she’d just ordered her third entrée and was waiting for the tolerantly amused waitress to bring it to her. There were not many customers in the diner right now, which suited her just fine as she watched the brown forestry service vehicle circle the block again.

Ranger Rick.

He’d seen her on the street, his face white and stricken as his SUV rolled past, head on a swivel to keep her in view as long as he could. She hadn’t made any bones about seeing him either, locking gazes through the dusty vehicle window before turning to bound up the two steps at the front of the restaurant.

The plate of food clinked against the tabletop, and she turned her head with a smile, thanking the waitress. “This’ll probably be it for me. You can go ahead and get the ticket ready if you want. Hey, do you know if there’s a motel in town that’s not too expensive?” She needed to lay a trail, even if it was a false one. Oh, she might rent a room in the motel she’d already scoped out, but she wouldn’t be waiting inside like a scared bunny in its burrow.

“Yeah, sugar. Slumber Inn, just two blocks to the north.” She scribbled something on her pad and ripped it off, putting it on the table. “Pay me when you’re ready.” Alace dug into her pocket and pulled out some bills, turning the ticket face up as she calculated a carefully generous tip. Memorable, but not too. Brown moving back into view pulled her attention back to the street, and she watched as the SUV parked against the curb on the other side.

Rick—even knowing his name was Terrence Tresca, he would forever be Rick to her—stared at her through the two panes of glass that separated them. He’d lost the sick expression over the past hour and a half, and the look on his face now resembled wary anger. With effort, she controlled the wry twist her lips wanted to make. Ranger Rick was pissed she’d dare come back to his hunting grounds.

She laid the money on the table next to the ticket, sliding it towards the other side. Without looking back out the window, she picked up the burger and adjusted it in her hands, turning it to get the best bite possible. Once she walked out these doors, she was back on his turf and had no idea what it would take to get another meal like this. Take advantage of the chance, she thought, dipping a french fry into a puddle of ketchup and slipping it into her mouth.

Eric had fed her well last night, knowing that she’d be leaving with the sun in an old beater car she’d paid cash for. This one was nearly two decades old, and could be easily abandoned if needed. Right now, it was parked on the outskirts of town behind an abandoned grocery store, keys in a magnetic storage box attached to a rusting garbage bin nearby. Egress if needed, no loss it if were left behind in the hustle and bustle of her gig coming to a close.

The next bite of burger nearly lodged in her throat as she caught sight of Rick stalking across the street towards the diner. She hadn’t expected a direct confrontation and, coughing, kept her head bent over her plate as he walked towards her. Every muscle drawn tight, she had palmed the serrated steak knife near her left hand as his measured footfalls approached. Without pausing his advance, his knuckles rapped on the end of her table once. The sound echoed in the bubble of silence collected around her, and then he was past, seating himself in the next booth along the window. The waitress approached and Alace heard, “Terry, we haven’t seen you for a while. Where you been keeping yourself?”

Alace’s pulse pounded in her ears, maintaining the racing pace it had reached when she’d realized he was coming inside, and she could barely hear him over the rushing sounds. “Busy. Lots of careless hikers these days.”

“Oh, no. I hope everyone’s okay.” The waitress’s alarm wasn’t fake, a rich concern in her tone loud and clear over the gurgle of pouring coffee.

“Hope so, too. Still to be seen. I’ll take the special tonight.” More casual words between them and then the sound of the waitress moving behind the long counter.

Alace quickly checked all available reflective surfaces, finally finding an angled window on a car outside that gave her a view of the table behind her. Blurred through the glass, Rick was more nearly a blob than a person, but it at least would give her warning if he moved.

The waitress came into view, moving towards him as she dropped off his salad and cutlery. Then it was just Rick at the table. Over the clinking of forks and knives against plates, the low murmur of conversation all around her, she heard him. “Thistle, did not expect to see you again. I wish you’d stayed away. Now—” A pause as the waitress approached again, leaving behind a steaming plate of pasta and bread slathered with fragrant garlic butter. “Now—” His voice dipped low, becoming inaudible for a moment. “—have to deal with this, too.”

Alace wasn’t certain if Rick thought she heard him, or if his words were entirely for his own benefit. Either way, they chilled her. Regg had pulled and provided a wealth of information about Terry/Rick. He’d been part of an elite military unit, his element one that had taken out multiple high-profile targets. He was accustomed to being the hunter. Regg had even joked that this was the kind of guy who often wanted to do Alace’s job.

“He’s got the skills. You’re going to want to be wary of him. I’d peg him as a planner and executor, and once he catches sight of you, he’s going to be putting all his experience into play.” Regg sighed. “Maybe you could talk to him first, see if he’d be willing to partner up? That would make it so you didn’t have to do the grunt work on every job.”

She mashed the phone tighter to her ear, frowning. “I don’t do partnerships. You know that.”

“Maybe it’s time to reconsider. You’re wanting to take time off, but what if what you need is to shake things up a bit? You’ve done well enough on your own, Alace, but imagine what you could do with someone else who could think on their feet as well as you do.”

The sound of flesh being ripped off Waterdrum’s body echoed through her head. Never, not with Rick. Not with anyone. “No. Just get me what I need.”

Regg knew he’d pushed her too far, and for the first time ever, he’d backpedaled. “No worries. I always get you the info. You should stay holed up at that motel for a couple of days, make sure there won’t be a media splash if Waterdrum is found.” As far as Regg knew, she’d never left the area. She felt like shit keeping something as big as Eric from him, but Alace wasn’t ready to share yet. Might never be ready.

“Okay. I’ll call you in two days.”

She’d done that from a burner in Eric’s backyard, telling Regg her phone was damaged. Without the app, she couldn’t access his servers, but for finishing this gig the access didn’t matter. Regg had fed her the info during their chats, and she had an excellent memory.

Alace set the remainder of her burger aside, wiped her fingers with a wad of napkins, and nodded with a studied casualness at the waitress as she pushed out from the booth. Head down, she reached across to the other side and lifted her backpack, swinging it up and settling it into place on her shoulders. A glance towards the back of the diner showed Rick’s face turned towards her, wide eyes glaring, mouth set in a firm line. Once out the door, she used the windows of cars to keep track of what happened behind her. Alace was surprised Rick hadn’t come out of the diner by the time she turned towards the motel.

Just a slight change of plans.

No doubt he’d get the info on her from the waitress. All Alace had to do was rent a motel room, lay her traps, and wait.

***

Alace silently shifted with miniscule movements as she carefully stretched one set of muscles at a time. She’d been holding this position for nearly five hours, which was about four hours longer than she’d expected. Serves me right for thinking there’d be a quick resolution.

Nothing about Rick had matched expectation. Why someone who had gone through the training he had would settle for a forestry service job was a puzzle. Normally—she liked to think she’d had enough experience with this type of person to be able to draw normative values from interactions—an adrenaline junkie retained at least some aspects of that facet of their personality regardless of how they tamed it back.

She’d missed the fact Waterdrum had a partner until after she’d dealt with him, and after significant review, decided it likely meant Rick had not been an active participant in the abduction, or killing of the victims. What’s his role? Maybe he’s the sales guy? She mentally shook that off, centering her thoughts and pulling stillness and composure over her like a calming blanket. It doesn’t matter. She could figure it out after, since the truth was he’d been involved in some fashion. He might not have the right pattern of disappearances to be the delivery boy for the parted-out kids, might not have been the abductor, but he was involved. He’s awfully good with a blade. The memories of his butchery of Waterdrum swam to the surface, and Alace swallowed hard.

Maybe Rick’s appearance was a coincidence? Frustrated with her brain’s inability to drop the topic, she tried to shake that off, too.

He’d come hunting for her after their early morning encounter where she’d teased him less than previous days. Even if he hadn’t known about Waterdrum until after entering the cabin, he’d still stalked and Tasered her, trussed her up with available supplies, persisted in the face of adversity to get her to the cabin, and then…what? He’d lost interest in her once he’d found the cop’s body. She’d been discarded while he worked on the available carcass. That doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this makes sense.

At the diner today, he’d surprised her again. I don’t like surprises. Instead of fleeing when he saw her, something she had prepared for, he’d approached, veering off to sit by himself at the last second. Not the actions of a man who felt he had anything to hide. His talking, even if it sounded directed at her, hadn’t been pitched to carry. She believed as he had in the car and at the cabin, he’d been talking to himself.

Movement across the parking lot had her angling her eyes and squinting. Instead of what she expected to see, the broad-shouldered, green-clad body of Rick, she saw a smaller version. Distorted and distant, the reflection in the motel windows was off and a breath later everything registered, and she was up and running. Shocked that he was on her side of the lot, creeping up on her position instead of approaching the empty room, she tapped her inner reserves and put on a burst of speed. Somehow, he’d known where she’d be, and then scouted without her catching sight or sound of him, and—her brain stuttered with data, so just as she rounded the corner of the building, she swung wide, ducking in response to the sudden conviction that seeing him when she did was deliberate. He was flushing me out. The glint of a moonbeam on metal proved her right; there was a passive trap in her previous path. If she hadn’t changed trajectory at the last moment, the pitchfork wedged against the wall would have gutted her.

Clever. Head up, actively scanning now, she continued. Arms pumping as she reached for greater speed, the heels of her sneakers never quite touched the ground as she lengthened her stride. Her approach to the edge of the forest managed without an outcry, she plunged into the darkness for a handful of yards before reaching out to grip the rough bark of a tree. Using it as a pivot, she swung around and allowed her momentum to bleed off abruptly, coming to a stop facing the field separating the motel parking lot and the woods.

Not running, not even looking as if he were in any particular hurry, Rick followed the path of her retreat, his feet falling within the swath of long grass dark and devoid of dew, brushed free by her passage. The rest of the field was silvered in the moonlight, tiny reflections of the sun’s balance dancing on the tip of each blade, shivering as a breeze stirred the tall stalks.

He walked within ten feet of the trees and paused, head cocked to one side. “I hear you, Thistle.”

He can’t, no way. She was holding her breath and hadn’t moved, no snap of a dead branch to betray her position.

“I don’t know why you came back.” Three strides and it took her a moment to discern why he suddenly seemed so much closer than he should be. The damp grass gave him away, showing where he’d diverged from her path to angle across the triangle of space between them. Head snapping straight, he twisted his neck to stare where she stood in the silent shadows. “But, we need to talk.”

Without waiting, not caring to listen to more, she whirled and ran. Staying parallel to the wood’s edge, she dodged branches that came out of the dark like slung baseball bats, and hurtled over deadfalls that reached up to scrabble at the bottoms of her shoes. The loud pounding of Rick’s footfalls chased her, echoing off the trees in a way that made it impossible to determine if he were gaining or not, if he’d entered the woods or was pacing her through the simpler-to-navigate field, or if he were perhaps an illusion cast by her mind.

A blueish flicker betrayed his intentions, and she dodged left around the next tree, ducking low to avoid the angled trunk of its fallen neighbor, hearing the thud of the barbs as they bounced off the bark. Taser. The information that he was again playing for keeps settled her, and Alace angled left, breaking through the edge of the woods and across the field to where she’d laid her best trap. A metallic snap told her he’d rearmed his gun. The trap was one she’d fully expected to never activate, intending to come back and correct things after all was said and done, not wanting someone to fall afoul of her skills if there were no need.

At the last moment, she leapt, arching her back to gain another inch of distance without exposing how far she’d jumped. She continued to run hard, not faltering until she heard a thud of impact and Rick’s low cry of pain. Stumbling a bit, blowing hard, she swung in a tight circle and trotted back, Rick no longer in view. She slowed, still breathing fast as she came to the edge of the pit. Toes dangling over into the empty space of the old well, she stared into the depths, not seeing any movement. No sounds emitted from the hole in the ground, and as she watched the water standing at the bottom settled, all ripples stopping after a couple of minutes. Palm pressed against her ribs, she stood and watched until her breathing was easy, still without spotting any movement. It’s done. The breeze danced through the dew-laden grass, drying the sweat on her skin, bringing a rush of gooseflesh in its wake.

Alace retreated to the woods and came back with her supplies, including a telescoping metal bar and rappelling rope. She extended the bar, locked it in place across the opening and anchored the rope to support her climb down. Five minutes later, she was on her way back up, his few personal effects stowed in a sling bag over one shoulder.

Naked but for his briefs, she’d left him for the scavengers who made their home in the dark. Still, even with that act, this was one of the least intimate culminations to a gig that she’d ever experienced. As always, her planning was what kept things from driving sideways.

Dew lubricated the maneuvering of the heavy cover back into place, locking Rick’s body underground. He would undoubtedly be found someday, but she would spend the next hours ensuring that when he was reported missing, any search for him would be conducted far from here.

Back at the motel, she changed and spent a few minutes arranging the room to look as if a tired hiker spent all night in the comfortable bed. She left the TV on to show the weather, and dampened towels scattered on the floor of the bathroom. Sling bag carried in one hand, backpack over her other shoulder, she located and retrieved the forestry service vehicle, aiming the headlights of the SUV up the highway and into the wilderness.

***

Alace stood in the front room of Waterdrum’s cabin and turned a small semicircle as she stared, eyes darting from surface to surface. The survey left her surprised and yet not at the pristine state of the building. Clearly Rick had cleaned up after butchering Waterdrum. Very well. Obsessively well. It doesn’t line up.

The last time she’d stood here, the floor had been tacky with drying blood and gore, the ceiling splattered with arterial spray, stacks of victims’ belongings crowded along the walls. She angled her neck and looked up. Even the holes for the suspension rig had been filled in and painted over, erasing every iota of evidence available to the naked eye. If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t know.

Once out the door, she turned and jumped off the end of the porch, softened her landing with bent knees and angled into the trees where she’d found several of Waterdrum’s burial places. Those were still in place. Undisturbed. She shook her head, wisps of her hair catching in the sweat along the nape of her neck and pulling with a sting, leaving her uncomfortable in more than one way. Given the state of the cabin, leaving the bodies behind wasn’t what she would have envisioned from what she knew about him. Now, she’d never know if it was because Rick hadn’t found them or hadn’t cared. Out of sight, out of mind.

Nothing here fit any profile she could identify. Rick had proved more of a ghost than anyone she’d experienced, and she didn’t like when things weren’t as expected. He’d been military, was stringently controlled on multiple assignments, then back home and retired—literally blending into the woodwork—as a forestry service employee. She could take some of that and twist it to make sense. But, when she added in his apparent partnership with the body-part-trafficking Waterdrum, an efficiently executed kidnapping of her, his callous butchery of a human carcass…well, none of that went together with a man she’d seen earlier tonight who’d seemed slightly frightened of her. “Dammit,” she muttered, the sound of her voice startling in the quiet of the woods. He can’t be both sides of the coin. It just doesn’t make sense.

Back at the cabin, she inserted the battery into her phone and turned it on, walking from the front room through the back. She turned left and entered the bathroom. Just as clean as the rest of the building. Finally, the device buzzed in her hand, letting her know she had a message waiting. She looked back through the doorway. Clean. Obsessively so. This was the work of a highly organized person. Given his background, Rick could be that person. It had to be him, there wasn’t anyone else. She shook her head and looked down, angling the phone to see the screen.

Check the server now.

The text was timestamped ten hours ago. She’d been stashing the forestry service vehicle at that point, at a national park nearly 200 miles away from her current location. Alace’s eyes narrowed as she read what had to be a message from Regg a second, then a third time. This was a burner phone, and Regg should know that meant she didn’t have the secure app. On a burner, all communication was necessarily cryptic. Regg had taught her that.

She unlocked the phone and her thumb moved over the screen.

I’m sorry. Who is this?

The phone buzzed in her hand, letting her know the text had been sent.

Not even a breath later, the response was immediate and scarcely cryptic. Startlingly so, as she had found several things with Regg recently.

If you’ve finished the job, check in.

Then came a final text, one that drove her to rip the battery from her phone without even turning it off. She twisted on her heel and ran out of the cabin, leaping off the porch and angling directly towards the cover of the forest. A short time later, she arrived at her car and, in a movement which probably looked practiced but wasn’t, simply the result of her rabid desire to vacate the premises, without opening the car door, she swung on the frame and angled her body feet-first through the open window, landing on her bottom in front of the steering wheel and brought her legs down even as she viciously twisted the keys left in the ignition. A roar and jerk of the shifter had the car in motion, and she drove out of the forest with much less care than she’d used entering, not even wincing when the undercarriage repeatedly scraped on rocks heaved from the earth through the efforts of frost and rain.

The phone was shoved into her pocket, but she didn’t need to have it in her hand to see the device in her mind. Logically, she knew the letters hadn’t been writ in red, hadn’t been pulsing malevolently, and surely hadn’t grown in size as she looked at the screen. Logically, she also knew that it was highly unlikely anyone had noted the brief text exchange.

Still the two words stayed with her as she drove out of the woods where she’d ended more than a decade of terror for unsuspecting young kids. A place so steeped with blood she wouldn’t have been surprised if her steps had forced thick, red fluid from the ground, could nearly imagine the look and smell of it oozing around the soles of her boots. There was no planning in this retreat, no lists to process for her drive back to Eric’s—she wouldn’t let herself think of it as home, might never be able to—and afterwards she would likely try to downplay the fact she’d felt such an overwhelming urge to flee.

She reached the end of the dirt track, and Alace ruthlessly controlled the vehicle’s trajectory, wrestling the wheel as the rear axle attempted to skid sideways across the highway. Well and truly away, she took in a shaking breath, then another, waiting for her heart to stop racing. She reached with one hand to secure the seat belt across her body, and forced her foot to cease mashing quite so desperately on the gas pedal.

Through the hours of driving in the dark, she kept her mind carefully blank, refusing to focus on what had frightened her beyond measure. Still, she knew as soon as she reassembled the phone and battery, she’d see it again. Regg’s text to her on an unsecured phone, when he’d never done anything close to that even when they’d spent thousands of dollars on devices and systems to guarantee no hitchhikers and no eavesdroppers.

Her name.

Not Sutton, the name picked for the gig.

No, this was her name.

Alace Sweets.

***

Eric

He paced.

For the past three hours, after Alace called to say she was on her way back, Eric had paced through his house. Kitchen to den, back to the empty kitchen to stare unseeing out the window. He knew exactly where she’d been, calling from one of the only places where you could still reliably find a payphone—a dump of a truck stop a couple of hundred miles down the interstate. He retraced the path through his house again, trying to shake off the fear that had held him in its grip since he’d stood and watched her drive away. Alone.

Before she’d left, he’d pushed her to talk and kept doing that. Even as she tried to gracefully avoid the topic, he kept bringing it back to the forefront. Attacking it from all angles, he’d pushed her until she gently but directly refused.

“Eric, please. Don’t do this to yourself. I will not put you at risk. That subject is off-limits.”

That had stung. Wasn’t he the one supposed to be protecting her? If she couldn’t invite him along—and he understood that, at least—she might at least allow him to help her plan. He was good at strategizing, putting together a plan and laying track for a secondary path just in case the first went awry. He’d told her as much, hoping to sway her. Unsuccessfully in the end.

“I’ve got my assets in place, and Eric—” She paused, laying her hand flat against his chest, the fine tremor in her fingers stilled by the contact. “—this is what I do. I’m not going to ever let it touch you.” Turning her head, the brush of her hair against his bare skin sent a thrill through him as she pressed her lips to his chest. “Above reproach. It won’t touch you.”

“Have you forgotten that I’ve already covered any trails leading from me to you?” The only thing he couldn’t change was the memory of his friend Todd, from the call Eric had made in alarm over the state of the woman left sleeping in his bed. Every other avenue of investigation that had led him to her had been erased as thoroughly as money and skittish effort could manage. “We’re in our bed.” He knew she liked hearing that, couldn’t have missed the way she leaned into him when he said the word “our” as if it melted her somehow. “And nothing can touch us here.”

That argument won him a kiss that blazed out of control, a consuming combustion that led to another bone-melting orgasm for both of them. A battle, but not the war.

So in the end, he’d promised to respect her mastery of her job, and she’d called her handler, or whatever the fuck the man was. That had set in play a variety of plans Eric was not privy to. Then Alace drove off into the sunset to battle her own demons. Now he knew she at least was on the other side of things, but from the brief conversation, he had no idea how it had shaken out, if she were injured—the Taser barb burns on her chest, ragged abrasions on her wrists, every mark on her skin burned brightly in his memories—or anything. Just that whatever had happened was in her rearview and she was on her way home. Not that she’d called it that, but he wasn’t surprised. She’d only been here a handful of hours total; they had a tenuous connection still, no matter how solid it felt to him, how involved his heart already was.

I should be thankful she called at all, and grateful she’s on her way back to me. He was. Still, the knowledge she didn’t trust him to assist with anything was eating at him. If something bad happened, he might never know. Eric turned on his heel, stiff strides taking him across the room, angry at the idea of anything happening to her.

Can this work?

His stomach rolled as the traitorous idea slipped through his thoughts. It was an entirely different role than he had ever been cast in, and the only time he could remember feeling this helpless was the call to tell him Ariana had died. He’d taken his grief—and a tiny bit of perverse relief, which made him feel incredibly guilty. While they’d been good together, he had already decided they were better friends than lovers, and had planned on having a conversation with her—and turned it into good, building the foundation for a funding effort to make outdoor activities safer for everyone involved.

How can I do the same here?

She wasn’t doing these things for glory. Alace had made that clear, and if the haunted look in her eyes as she talked about the things she’d done was any measure, they did nothing to bring her satisfaction. There was no gratification in what she did. It also wasn’t about trapping the evildoers in their acts to bring them to the notice of the authorities. It wasn’t even about punishing them. In no instance did it sound like she had made it an act of redemption or absolution. For Alace, it seemed to be a drive to even the scales. They were atrocious crimes, and after the legal system failed, she took them out of the equation.

If she wouldn’t trust him to help her, then how could he be supportive of her mission? A dozen different situations ran through his head of terrible crimes where the guilty had walked free. He winced. Some because I was good at my job. Those were the days that had nearly broken him, before he swapped sides and moved to prosecution after learning how to better judge the people who walked through his door. Could I really give her a list of names, knowing that I would be sentencing someone to death? What about innocent until proven guilty? Jesus. Could I?

He whirled, stalking back the other direction. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t set himself as the judge and jury, aiming his pet executioner at a target and effectively pulling the trigger. The longer he worked through this in his head, the more frustrating it became. His memories called up an image of a victim’s mother, body shuddering with sobs as he delivered the news her son’s killers would walk free due to of a laboratory glitch, her wounded eyes brimming and spilling over with tears when Eric gently explained that double jeopardy prohibited him from bringing them to justice, ever. Her son, beaten to death with an iron pipe because he was gay, one of a connected string of deaths and his had been the best chance of justice. Denied when one tech failed to fill out a log entry, the killers hooting and joking as they strolled down the courthouse steps. Their arrogance deserved. He couldn’t touch them. Can’t I?

Lights swept through the windows and across the back wall. He watched for a moment as rectangles of illumination moved across the surface, bringing things momentarily into focus. Hands shaking, he strode to the door and ripped it open.

Alace was just climbing out of the car, and every line of her body told the story of a bone-deep exhaustion. Even though it had only been two days, just looking at her would convince anyone she’d been gone far longer. The tiredness suffusing her face was a kind that wouldn’t be shaken off by a single night of good sleep. She lifted her head and looked at him, anguish and fear on her features. At her side in moments, he took the keys from her, closed and locked the door, then swept her into his arms. Legs around his waist, she propped her elbows on his shoulders, leaning in to place her forehead against his. Any thoughts of conversation fled his mind, and Eric focused on getting her what she so clearly needed.

“Hey.” The single word gave voice to her fatigue, and he threaded a hand up her neck, cupping the back of her head and urging her closer. Brushing his lips across hers, he carried her to the house, pausing only long enough to close and secure the door.

“Hey,” he finally returned, as he carried her to the bedroom. “You hungry?” She shook her head, her temple bumping against his jaw as she sagged against his shoulder. “Want a shower?” She shook her head again.

Voice faint, she whispered, “Tomorrow.”

Alace burrowed against him after he set her on her feet, and her arms moved to wrap around his waist. He made quick work of stripping her to her panties, retrieving one of his shirts from the dresser and tugging it over her head, smiling at how the hem swirled just above her knees, the fabric swallowing her small frame.

He pushed the covers back, urged her to bed, and crowded in behind her. Eric fit his front against Alace’s back, one arm shoved under her head and the other locked around her waist. This was what she needed. He knew instinctively, just from the expression she’d worn. Recognized how terrifying it had to be to come back to him. And even without her saying anything, he knew she’d expected him to turn her away after knowing what she’d come from doing.

This, he thought. This is what I can do.

Her body shook and a sound escaped, a broken gasp that told him tears were threatening. He bent his neck, nuzzling into her hair to place kisses on the soft skin behind her ear. Alace needed a rock. Without someone to hold her together, she handled everything as best she could, but she needed more.

She needed more.

She needs me.

He tightened his arm around her, angling a leg up and pushing close, tangling his calf between hers. Fingers twined with his and she tugged, bringing his hand up to rest between her breasts so their clasped hands rested over her heart. He traced the hinge of her jaw with the tip of his nose, going back over the same surface with his mouth, laying a line of kisses there, too.

Alace drew in a hard breath and then blew it back out, her body relaxing underneath the weight of his.

Yes, this he could do.