“Excuse me?”

Garrett hadn’t wanted to tell Paige who he really was and what he really did…but what was one more kill, especially if it rid the world of some vermin who needed to be exterminated? “Come with me to my apartment,” he said, “and I’ll explain it all to you.”

She looked at him like he had two heads. “Are you insane? I just told you that my sister was brutally raped because she took a stranger home from a bar…”

“Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I’ve had plenty of chances, right? Look around you. We’ve seen about four live people since we got here. You were unconscious for a while earlier and I didn’t hurt you then, either. What I need to tell you can’t be said out in the open. I know my apartment is clean and no one is listening.”

“It’s clean?”

“No bugs or anything.”

“Geez, what are you, a spy or something?”

“No, not exactly…” Garrett looked around and then back at Paige and said, “I’m a killer.”

The fact that she followed him after that was nothing short of a miracle. Maybe she really didn’t care if she lived or died. She got into her car and he led on his bike. His apartment was about thirty minutes away, so it gave him time to collect his thoughts and decide what he would and wouldn’t tell her. She looked nervous when they got there, so he went out of his way to fix her a cup of tea and make sure she was comfortable before taking out the box he wanted to show her. She sat perched on the edge of the sofa and Garrett handed it to her and then took a seat in the recliner a few feet from her. “What is this?”

“Just look inside, you’ll see.”

Paige sat down her teacup and opened the box. The first thing she pulled out was a newspaper article. It was in a language she didn’t understand and there was a photo of a smiling man with dark skin. He was wearing a white headdress—if Paige remembered right it was called a keffiyeh. It had a gold band around it, which she also knew was a symbol of status. Next to that picture was one of horror. It was black and white, so the blood wasn’t visible, but the carnage was. It was a photo of children, dead children, lying in a pile of dirt in the middle of a road. Underneath that was a picture of what looked like a funeral procession. “Who is this?”

“He was part of the royal family in a Middle Eastern country. Which one isn’t important. What you need to know is that the article talks about how he ordered the deaths of the children of his enemies, people he felt had slighted him in some way. He killed their children and then expected them to kneel at his feet and thank him for sparing their lives. Those bodies were what his men brought back to prove to him the deed was done. They were only a fraction of the children that were killed. The parents did kneel at his feet and thank him, but as they did it, they knew I was up in the tower across the street. The gentleman in that picture was dead before the second parent’s knees hit the ground—single shot to the head.” Paige gasped and jerked her head up to look at him.

“You?” Garrett didn’t say anything, or change his expression. Paige set the paper aside and picked up the next one. That one reported the death of a man in Africa who was responsible for the slaughter of an entire village. There was one in Colombia, a drug lord; another in Egypt who had murdered a man running for office in an effort to overthrow the government. After a while she stopped looking through them and said, “You’re a sniper.” It wasn’t a question and Garrett didn’t answer it. She was silent for a while and then she said, “These were obviously arranged by the government and in the course of your service…” She was fingering one of the medals of honor he kept in the box as well as she talked. “So…you’re not a killer, you were doing your job. You’d only be considered a killer if you continued to do it after you got out of the service…” When he still didn’t answer her she said, “Garrett, I need you to be clear with me. Are you offering to kill my sister’s rapist?”

“Yes.” He said it with no emotion and he could tell by the look on her face that she was frightened, or in shock. He knew that he was taking a huge risk that she’d go to the police and tell them what he’d told her. He doubted it, though. He’d already gotten the impression that whatever the authorities did or did not do for her sister, she hadn’t been impressed.

“Okay, what do you need from me?”

It was Garrett’s turn to be shocked. He wasn’t really expecting her to go along with it, especially not so easily. Maybe it was because she had it in her head that everything he’d done thus far had been for the good of his country and others. What she didn’t know was what he did for the club, and his friends like Dax…but she didn’t need to know the details of all that. “I need to know everything you know about him, and then I need a few days to follow him and figure out his routine.”

She looked slightly ill when she said, “His name is Benjamin Ewell. He’s thirty years old and he’s an executive officer at the Silver Spoon casino.”

Garrett frowned. “That new casino that just opened on Fremont Street?”

She nodded. “He was at the Bellagio for years. The Silver Spoon recruited him just a few weeks before the…rape.” That word seemed like poison on her tongue, she spat it out every time. She took a breath and went on, “There was a good chance because of his connections and his high-powered attorney that he was going to walk even if this went to trial. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, and he has a lot of friends in high places. You may have seen some of the interviews on the news where his friends adamantly denied he would ever do anything remotely as savage as what he did to Amanda.”

“I don’t watch TV,” he said.

“Smart move,” Paige said. “It’s all crap. They made him look like a fucking saint. Amanda told me what he did to her and I listened to her waking up and screaming every night…I’ve never heard anything like those screams; my blood ran cold every time. His friends tried to say she’d misidentified him, but I was there that night at the bar. I saw him with my own two eyes. Then, there were the ones that said she was making false allegations, looking for some kind of payout. Every time Amanda heard that, it sent her spiraling even closer to what finally happened. It’s like living in a nightmare I can’t escape from.”

Garrett was already mapping out what he knew of the new hotel and casino in his head. Security was so tight in Vegas that it would probably be the worst place for him to take this guy out. He’d have to find out where he lived and what his routines were. The bullet, the one shot, that was the easy part. He looked back over at Paige. Her face was showing a gamut of emotions and he wanted to hold her again. “I need to know that you’re sure about this before I go any further.”

She looked straight into his eyes and he tried not to get lost in the gold flecks swimming in hers. “I’ve never been so sure of anything. I want him burning in hell.”

* * *

Paige woke up, disoriented, to the smell of something wonderful. Her stomach growled in desire before her mind was even awake. She lifted her head and slowly looked around the room. The memories started to come back. The suicide attempt, Garrett, the kidnapping…the plot to kill the monster. She was in Garrett’s bedroom, lying on his bed. They’d talked for a long time about Benjamin Ewell, and Paige told him everything she’d learned about him so far. She also told him the details of what he did to Amanda. She felt like she needed to in order to justify what they were talking about doing. It was far from anything she ever thought she’d consider, but she was more than considering it, she wanted it done.

Garrett had gotten out his laptop and began looking at things related to Ewell, and while Paige watched him, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. When he first suggested she go lie down, she’d protested, but she just hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open and she finally agreed. She thought she’d have the nightmare as soon as she closed her eyes, but she hadn’t. She’d gone to sleep the second her head hit the pillow and she breathed in the fresh, woodsy scent of the big man who slept there. It made her feel safe to know he was in the other room, and as odd as that was, she knew it was real when she opened her eyes and realized that not even the nightmares dared come near him. She sat up and looked over at the digital numbers on the clock at the bedside. She’d thought it was only so dark because the curtains were pulled tightly shut, but she was shocked when she looked at the clock and saw that it was already almost seven p.m. She’d been sleeping for hours. It was the first time since Amanda died that she’d slept so peacefully, and she had her kidnapper to thank.

She got out of the bed and went into the small bathroom attached to it. Evidence that a man lived there was everywhere. He was neat and tidy, but razors, aftershave, and bottles of cologne covered the counter and everything that wasn’t white was in shades of blue or brown. She used his toothpaste to freshen her mouth and then washed her face and brushed back her hair. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and there were lines on her face from the pillow where she’d slept hard in one spot the entire time. She laughed at herself inwardly for even caring about what she looked like just then. She’d spent the day discussing suicide and murder with a complete stranger and now she wanted to look pretty for him. Crazy.

She left the bedroom and followed the delicious smell past the living room and into the kitchen. The kitchen was tiny, and Garrett’s huge form took up most of the space. He smiled at her and she had to remind herself to breathe. The more the idea of dying receded, the more she was beginning to realize just what an incredibly sexy man he was. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“So good…and too long. I’m sorry.”

He made a face at her. “What are you sorry for? You needed it, obviously. I made dinner.”

“I smelled it when I woke up. It smells wonderful. What is it?”

“Pulled pork sandwiches.” He shrugged and chuckled before saying, “It’s really all I know how to make.”

“It sounds great. My stomach is growling.”

“Here, sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her and served her like she was in a restaurant, pouring her soda into a glass with ice and everything. He sat down across from her and she wondered how the chair was holding him. The kitchen table didn’t look like it had been made for a three-hundred-pound man. They ate in silence except when Paige told him it was amazing. He seemed to be happy about that, and she wasn’t lying. It might be his only dish, but he did it up right. By the time she finished her sandwich, she was stuffed, and he was finishing his third. She couldn’t help but wonder how his parents had been able to afford to feed him when he was growing up. She was about to make light of it when his phone rang. He looked at it and the change that came over him was almost palpable in the small room. Paige knew it had to be his daughter even before he put the phone to his ear and said:

“Hey there, baby girl, why are you up so late?” He listened to what she said, and Paige watched his face. It was a mixture of the purest love she’d ever seen and pain. When she finished talking he said, “Remember what Daddy told you about those nightmares, baby? That dream catcher I hung over your bed was supposed to catch them before they got into your pretty head.” The little girl said something else and Garrett laughed. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. If you had a nightmare, it must not be doing its job. You want me to read you the story?” She must have said yes because he looked at Paige and mouthed, “Excuse me.” She nodded, and he got up and left the room.

Paige was smiling as she started cleaning up the kitchen. Somehow there was nothing sweeter than a giant man melting over a little girl. She carried the dishes to the sink and was about to turn the water on when she heard his voice. Feeling a little creepy for eavesdropping, she crept over to the kitchen island where the wooden fan window was closed and listened.

“Okay, baby, you ready?” A brief pause and then he said, “The turtle mama tucked the baby turtle in his shell with a kiss and said, ‘Sweet dreams.’ She was about to leave the room when the turtle baby poked his head back out and said, ‘I had a bad dream.’ The turtle mama laughed and said, ‘Silly, put your head back in your shell and go to sleep.’ She started to leave again, and he said, ‘But Mama, I did have a bad dream.’ The mama turtle went back over to her baby and said, ‘Close your eyes, little one, and I’ll sing you a song about dreams.’ The baby turtle closed his eyes and his mama began to sing…” Garrett laughed. “No, baby, Daddy’s not going to sing it tonight.” He listened again and then sighed. “Okay, but I have to sing it softly, okay?” Paige’s face hurt from smiling. Who would have thought her kidnapper and an admitted killer could be so adorable? He cleared his throat and began to sing. He’d only sung a couple of words when he stopped again and said, “Do you really need the turtle voice tonight?” Apparently, she did, because in a few minutes, in one of the funniest, high-pitched voices Paige had ever heard, he started to sing again:

“I close my eyes and dream about tomorrow, where pretty things do dwell.

I close my eyes and dream about the next day where happiness won’t fail,

I close my turtle eyes and breathe because I have everything and everyone here that I need.

The good dreams have me wrapped in their arms, where all night I’ll stay,

Safe and warm and happy until I’m ready to feel the sunshine of yet another day.

So, I close my turtle eyes and I tuck my turtle head and snuggle down deeply into my soft, warm bed. I kiss my mama goodnight and give my daddy a hug and slip off to dreamland where I’ll be as snug as a bug.”

“You still with me, darlin’?” Garrett was quiet for a minute and Paige tiptoed back over to the sink with tears in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was crying about—her problems, his, the sweet way he spoke to his little girl, or the fact that baby almost lost her daddy that day. She used a paper towel to dry her tears and by the time Garrett came back into the kitchen, he had no idea she’d been listening, or crying. He was back to his quiet self, sucking all of the oxygen out of the room without even knowing it, and more than ever, Paige was finding it damned hard not to climb that mountain and bury her head in his chest and slip off to dreamland where she could be as snug as a bug.