“Like hell!” Crista snarled. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Everything seemed to happen simultaneously then. Crista threw herself in front of Alex’s car, hitting the ground as she heard a bullet ricochet off the metal. Then the forest seemed to come alive with gunfire.

She rolled to her back, watching as Johnny took the first bullet to his head, the second, third, and fourth to his chest. His body jerked violently as blood sprayed around him.

“Crista!” Dawg’s voice screamed out her name. Then he was there, his arms coming around her, jerking her to the other side of the car, his hands running frantically over her. “Are you okay? Crista, baby, answer me.” She stared up at him, dazed, feeling the blood racing through her head, pounding into her brain as shock began to shudder through her.

“Oh God,” she whispered, feeling the darkness edging around her. “I’m going to fucking faint.”

His face swam in front of her vision as her lashes fluttered.

“You faint on me, and I swear to God I won’t fuck you for a week,” he snarled, his voice low, his expression violent. “Don’t you dare, Crista Ann.”

Won’t fuck her for a week? Could she make it a week? Could she keep the darkness from spreading through her?

She smiled, feeling amusement thread through the darkness.

“It’s okay. Week works.” And she gave in to it.

There were no wounds. The only blood on her was what had splattered from Bedsford. She was dusty, her arms scraped from throwing herself to the ground, and tears tracked her face.

She was pale, but she was breathing.

Dawg clasped her to him, burying his face in her hair as he realized he was shuddering and tears were escaping from between his lashes as he rocked her against his chest.

She was alive. Dear God, she was alive, she was safe. She was safe, and nothing else mattered.

He pulled her as close to his body as he could get her, feeling the silent sobs that racked his chest.

He had no idea how much he had loved her until he saw that gun leveling on her. Until he saw the moment that Johnny was actually going to pull the trigger. His world had narrowed down to one thing. To stopping it. No matter what it took. No matter how much blood Johnny shed or whether or not Cranston had his suspects.

Then the forest had exploded with gunfire.

“Dawg, man, is she okay?”

Alex? Dawg lifted his face from her hair and stared at the camouflage face paint, the fear in the other man’s gray eyes, and the savage contours of his expression.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dawg snarled, his hand pressing Crista’s head closer to his chest. “Where the hell were you when he was pointing the gun at her chest?”

Alex’s smile was tight as he sat back on his heels and indicated the four other similarly painted and dressed men around him. “Recording this little event for the authorities,” he stated. “Tyrell had point; he put one of the bullets in Grace’s head. I suspect Natches can take credit for the other one. Mark.” He waved his hand to the hard-eyed soldier at his side. “Crista stayed with him and Ty in Virginia. When you called the emergency number, it went through Mark. He pulled in some friends while I ditched a mission in Afghanistan. We pulled in here at midnight last night after Mark managed to get the information on the op here and we followed Johnny in.”

“You moved fast.” Dawg inhaled roughly, his hand pressed at Crista’s back, feeling each breath.

“I had a feeling she was being pulled into something last time I talked to her.” Alex sighed. “I had everything in place just in case.”

“Everything but the emergency number,” Dawg snapped. “Son of a bitch, Alex, don’t you think she needed it?”

“If she had it, she wouldn’t have gone to you,” Alex told him then. “I wanted her where she needed to be.”

“She didn’t come to me, you stupid bastard.” Dawg was enraged. “She nearly got her ass killed in a warehouse during the attack we made on the buyers and sellers of those stupid fucking weapons.

Grace set her up, Alex. She almost died there.”

Alex paled. “She didn’t call you?”

“Not even on a fucking dare.” Fury was pounding through him now. “You’re a lucky bastard I managed to save her ass. Otherwise, I’d have to kill you now.”

“Hell, I didn’t know she was that damned stubborn.” Alex rubbed his hand over his face, smearing the face paint he wore as he stared around the clearing. “I’ll have to have a talk with her about that.”

“The hell you will.” Dawg gathered her closer as sirens wailed along the rough track leading into the cabin yard. “Tell me there’s a fucking medic here somewhere?”

“Ty.” Alex turned to one of the two men standing behind him. “Get your pack and check her out.

Where’s Cranston?”

Alex rose to his feet, his in-charge voice echoing through the area as Cranston cursed in the background.

Tyrell Grayson came down on his knees beside Crista, his fingers going to her neck, his expression concerned.

“She lived with you?” Dawg snarled. “Slept with you?”

Hard lips kicked up in a grin. “Mark and I babied the hell out of her,” he said then. “See if you can do near as well.”

Dawg’s gaze sliced to Mark Lessing. Both men were dangerous, as dangerous as Alex and just as hard. There wasn’t an ounce of softness in them.

“Thank you.” He had to force the words past his clenched teeth. “For taking care of her.”

Ty nodded sharply. “That’s us. Protector of broken hearts. Take better care of her this time, or we’re going to break your bones.”

It wasn’t a threat, it was a warning. An unneeded one at that.

“She’s good.” Ty finally nodded sharply. “She’ll wake up with a headache, probably. I’ve never seen her faint, but I know tension gives her killer headaches. I’d be more comfortable if you’d let them transport her to the hospital and keep her overnight though, just to be sure.”

Dawg nodded as Natches and Rowdy flanked him then.

“I see you don’t need our help.” Ty stood to his feet, staring down at Crista with the first flash of softness that Dawg had glimpsed in him. “She’s a damned good woman, man. And she’s grieved for you for far too long. See if you can’t make up for that now. She deserves it.” He nodded before giving Dawg a chance to say anything and turned away.

“My bullet hit Johnny’s forehead at the same time someone else’s did,” Natches informed him.

“Same place, same time. Those boys aren’t slouches.”

Alex’s team was slowly disappearing into the forest as Alex kept Cranston busy.

“Alex recorded everything.” Dawg stood, lifting Crista into his arms as the ambulance Cranston had had standing by pulled into the lane. “Cranston has what he needs. I have what I need.”

Crista, resting against him, safe, unharmed. And hell yes, he would make damned sure he made up for those lost years. Just as soon as he had her checked out at the hospital and she was capable of taking his loving.

Wait a week as he threatened? There wasn’t a chance in hell. The minute he could get inside her and assure himself she was still his, unharmed, safe and sound, the better. He wouldn’t breathe easy until then. Hell, he didn’t know if his heart was going stop racing like a runaway horse until then.

“She did good,” Natches murmured. “Made them talk. And when she realized Johnny was ready to shoot, she fought. She’s strong, Dawg.”

“Yeah. She is.” He kissed the top of her head as the EMTs jerked the gurney from the back of the ambulance and another raced toward them. “And she’s safe. That’s all that counts.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“Look, I’m just fine.” Two days later, Crista paced the living room of the houseboat and glared at Dawg as he sat back on the couch. “I want to go back to work.”

“Not yet.” He was as uncompromising as he had been hours before when she tried to leave for the lumber store.

“I have to get those displays set, or its going to be too late.”

“Layla and her brood are taking care of it.” He picked up his glass of sweet tea and drank from it casually as his green eyes stared at her from over the rim of the glass.

“I’m bored.” She propped her hands on her hips and faced him, heating up at the way his gaze went over the shorts and loose T-shirt she wore. “I don’t like being cooped up for no reason. I’m not a damned invalid.”

But she could have been. Or worse.

Dawg set the glass carefully on the end table, forcing back the remembered horror of the day he nearly lost her.

“Dawg. Would you please put that glass on the coaster beside it,” she bit out. “That is why I put it there.”

He smiled blandly and placed the glass on the protective coaster before staring back at her.

He had noticed her hard nipples an hour before. The way she watched him expectantly, obviously more than ready to be touched.

He’d held back since bringing her home the day before. Despite his own arousal, his anticipation, and the need to take her, he had forced himself to control the need.

She had to come to him. He’d blackmailed her, more or less forced her into his bed, and despite the fact that he knew she loved him, he needed her to reach out for him.

“What do you intend to do today, then?” Her gaze flickered to his lap and his obvious arousal.

“Whatever you want to do. As long it doesn’t entail leaving the marina,” he inserted as her lips parted in reply.

A frown creased her brow as her lips tightened.

She had no idea how little he wanted to share her with the curious employees and customers at that damned store. He didn’t want anyone else around her right now. He wanted to stare at her, hear her voice as she spoke to him alone, and let himself believe she was safe.

He had nightmares now. He’d spent four years in the Marines, two of those years training as an assassin, and he’d brought no nightmares home with him. But now, demons chased him through his dreams. Demons intent on forcing him to relive the day he had nearly lost her. Forced him to face the horror of his life as Johnny’s bullet pierced her chest.

He could handle the nightmares. He couldn’t have lived through the reality of it.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Her soft voice drew him back from the nightmares. “I’m fine.”

She was still bruised. Her arms were still scraped. There was a scratch on her cheek. He stared back her, refusing to forget what he had nearly lost.

“Yes, you’re fine.” He nodded as he stretched his arms on the back of the couch and let his gaze linger over her body.

Hard nipples pressing against thin cotton. He wondered if her pussy was wet. Silken bare flesh glistening with feminine cream. The thought of it had his mouth watering.

“Your business is going to fail at this rate,” she warned him, but he saw the softening of her body, the almost imperceptible shift of her thighs, her accelerated breathing.

“So?” He licked his lips at the thought of tasting her.

“Could I convince you to go in later?” The insinuation in her voice had his brows lifting as he met her gaze.

“I’m easy,” he assured her. “If you have something to bargain with.” He made certain his gaze let her know exactly how he liked bargaining.

Crista almost smiled at the look. She had known when she awoke in his arms, his erection prodding her rear, but Dawg was in an unusual mood. He wasn’t intent on relieving his arousal. For some reason, he was making himself wait. As the morning progressed, she began to figure out why.

He wanted her as bad as she wanted him. But Dawg needed acceptance. He needed her to come to him. The past hour had been a battle for that as she pushed him, tested his resolve, and only became more aroused as he held back.