Monday was my day off. I tried to sleep in, but my mind was too busy to allow me to rest. I finally gave up and took a hot shower before driving up to the hospital to sit with Rachel for a while.

“You should see this guy, Rach,” I said as I rubbed her hand between both of mine, “he’s tall and sexy and arrogant as all hell. Thinks he can come into my place of business and tell me how to act! Insults me for what he thinks I do with the clients and then chastises me for not trusting him to protect me? What an ass!”

I looked into her face, wishing she would sit up and answer me. I knew what she would say. She would tease me, accuse me of being attracted to Brent Stone. And then she would tell me to be nice to him and he might be nice back. She’d insist that I needed a nice guy in my life.

“I don’t need a guy in my life at all, Rachel,” I said in response to her imagined dialogue. “I thought I needed a man when I met Curtis, but I’ve come to the conclusion that thinking that way was my complete downfall. I’m so close to my goal now, so close to getting my life back on track. I don’t need a man to interfere with that.”

I slipped the card Brent had given me out of my pocket, studying the simple print, his name emblazoned in dark ink, the name of his security firm in smaller print below it. It was a professional card, perfectly to the point without any frills. It seemed to fit the man’s personality.

“But he had a point about the self-defense stuff. Maybe a class would help. I mean, Curtis is still coming around despite the restraining order. He thinks he’s going to convince me to come back to him now that a little time has passed.” I shook my head at the thought. “He thinks I’m miserable without his money and his influence. He thinks I should be on my knees begging him to take me back again.”

Curtis had been waiting outside my apartment again a few days ago, in the middle of the afternoon. I’d let him inside because the last thing I needed was for all my neighbors to know my private business. That had been a mistake. If I’d known how to handle myself…if I’d been able to fight back…

“I think I might call him. But only for that.”

I could hear Rachel’s laughter so clearly in my head that I looked up, convinced that she’d be watching me, that familiar light of amusement dancing in her eyes. But she was still lying against the white pillows, still had that offensive tube snaking down her throat. This woman, the patient in this bed, was not my friend. She was so devoid of life. Rachel had been full of life, full of optimism despite a hard life on the streets.

I wanted that friend back and this ass of a man was my best chance to achieve that. Maybe if I relented a little, maybe if I listened to his advice, not only would he find out who did this, but he might be able to keep me from being next.

I had a future. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything ruin that.

*

The drive to Stone Security was a pretty one. The offices were outside the city in a suburb I was familiar with. It was an exclusive area where the land sold for more than a luxury car.

Curtis had a house out here.

I guided my Miata up the long drive, imagining how much fun it would be to take this lane at eighty or ninety miles an hour. But I was good. I kept my speed to a respectable thirty.

Brent was waiting for me in the lobby, coming forward in his expensive suit to save me from the two security guards on the front desk who’d been eyeing me since I came walking up the concrete path outside the glass doors. He made a big gesture, indicating the elevators over to one side of the large, but narrow room.

“I’m glad you called.”

“I’m not interrupting your day, am I?”

“You’re saving me from the aggravation of watching someone organize my office.”

“You couldn’t do it yourself?”

I glanced at him, eyeing the suit that had clearly been dry cleaned and properly pressed and his perfectly shorn hair. He clearly took pride in his appearance, so it was a little surprising to imagine he wasn’t that precise in every other part of his life.

He eyed me back, his gaze lingering on the low waistband of my yoga pants and the deep v of my t-shirt. I tugged at the sweater I wore, pulling it closed over the small patch of abdomen left uncovered by my poorly chosen workout clothes. He immediately looked away—maybe because of my reaction, or possibly because the elevator doors chose that moment to open—and gestured for me to board ahead of him.

Brent jabbed at the buttons on the elevator’s console a little harder than necessary, then he stepped back and caught his hands behind his back, his eyes moving everywhere but to me.

“I’m not the most organized guy in the world.”

I glanced over at him as his words bounced around the silent elevator. “That’s no sin.”

“Yeah, well, it’s always been an issue with my brother and—”

He cut himself off abruptly as if he was about to say something he didn’t want me to hear. I turned toward him, curiosity tossing a million questions to the tip of my tongue so quickly I could hardly keep up with them all. But the elevator doors opened then and he gestured for me to step out, his hand coming dangerously close to touching the small of my back. He guided me into a large gym that was better equipped than the fancy place I’d once had a membership to in a prior life. There were people there, mostly men, working out with weights and the various machines that were provided.

“Employees?”

Brent nodded. “We like our people to stay in shape, so we provide them with a gym where they can work out whenever they have time in their schedule. There’s usually a half dozen people here at all hours of the day and night.”

I looked around, already exhausted from watching these other people workout. I’m one of those girls who doesn’t really have to work very hard at keeping her figure—something that always pissed off my girlfriends in high school—and a girl who preferred sitting on the couch watching other people work. But even I had to admit that it wasn’t a bad thing, those endorphins that came after a good workout.

“I’m going to go change. You can have a look around, and then we’ll get started.”

I frowned. “I thought I was going to take a class.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d teach you myself. It’d be quicker and more efficient. We’ll start here, learn a few more things beyond the whole grabbing a guy by the crotch thing, and then we’ll go to the firing range and I’ll teach you how to use a stun gun properly.”

“A stun gun? What about a real gun?”

“I’m not sure I’d feel safe in a world where you were walking around with a weapon.”

“Hey, I’m not as reckless as you think!” I smacked his shoulder and he stepped back, laughing a warm, rich laugh that I really liked. It was like a comforting blanket that wrapped itself around my shoulders, hugging me in its security. I noticed a couple of people watching us, watching him with something like surprise on their faces. But then the laughter was gone and he was backing away.

“Don’t disappear.”

“Not making any promises.”

He smiled, waving a dismissive hand at me as he ducked through a door. I turned, once again made aware of curious eyes watching me, watching the spot where Brent had stood. When I met their gazes, they turned away, pretending to be deeply involved in their workouts.

I walked over to a little alcove near the doors to the changing rooms and slipped out of my sweater, hanging it on a provided hook on the wall. Then I bent over, working my way through a few basic stretches as I waited for Brent to return. Again, I found myself wishing I’d dressed a little more conservatively as I felt eyes on me once more. The thing was, I had taken a self-defense class once a few years ago and I knew it was better not to wear loose clothing that someone could wrap their hands in. That was my thought process when I dressed this morning.

I told myself it had nothing to do with the idea that Brent might show a little interest if I dressed this way. But when he stepped out of the changing room and his eyes immediately raked themselves down the length of my body, I couldn’t help the little thrill of satisfaction that raced along the slight curve of my spine.

“Why don’t we get started?”

He gestured for me to follow him to a set of mats that were laying out in the center of the room. He was wearing a pair of athletic pants that hung nicely over his ass and a sleeveless undershirt that revealed the edges of a tattoo that was a line of script over his heart. I wanted to tug the shirt aside and see what it said because all I could see was a beautifully drawn "M," an "a," and an "ie" at the far end.

Was it the name of a woman? Someone who meant a lot to him? I’d never considered the idea that he might be married or have a child. There was no ring on his finger, but that didn’t always mean anything.

“Okay, let’s begin with avoiding a punch.”

My eyebrows rose, but I didn’t tell him how basic that was or that I already knew how to do it. I just stood back and watched him demonstrate a few moves that I could have learned watching The Karate Kid. When he threw a punch at me, I easily blocked it with a simple movement of my arm.

“Good.”

His eyes were intense as he watched me. He was clearly taking this a lot more seriously than I was.

“Now throw a punch.”

He talked me through punching, kicking, grazed over the whole crotch grab since he’d already seen me do it. And then he grabbed me in a bear hug without warning, catching me completely off guard. I twisted in his arms, pulling down on his arms to try to break his hold, but he wasn’t budging.

“You’re tensing,” he said, his lips close to my ear. “You need to relax.”

“You’re attacking me. Why would I relax?”

“Because you’re the one in control. There’s no reason for you to be frightened or tense.”

“You’re bigger than me.”

“That shouldn’t matter, either.”

He was pissing me off because the longer he talked, the tighter his arms came around me. Panic built in my chest, a painful pressure that made me nauseous. I struggled for a long moment, twisting against him even though the space he left me with didn’t allow me to move even an inch. It took me a long moment to realize that the only way out of this was to do what he’d said. I stopped and forced my muscles to relax. But that only made the panic crush against my pounding heart.

“Now you have several options,” he said, his breath warm against my ear. “You can use those long, gorgeous legs to take out his ankle or his kneecap. You can stomp on his toes. Or you can use his own momentum to flip him onto his back.”

“I can’t do that! You’re too big!”

He chuckled softly like I’d made a joke and that annoyed me even more. I stomped on his toe and that chuckle disappeared as he cried out, letting me go as he stepped away. I immediately felt this rush of relief as he freed me, like I’d been suffocating in a teeny box and someone suddenly lifted the flaps on the top. Fresh air that had been there all along suddenly brushed at my skin as I took deep gulps of the delicious air.

“I’m sorry,” Brent said, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I didn’t think. I should have warned you before I did that.”

I shook my head as I stepped off the mat, brushing at a couple of tears that had slipped unconsciously from my eyes.

“It’s fine. That’s what I came here for.”

“No, it’s not.”

He came toward me, his hands raised so that I could clearly see them. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away, not liking the look of sympathy in his eyes. This was why I didn’t talk about Curtis with people, why I didn’t seek help from anyone I knew. I didn’t want to see that when people looked at me. I didn’t want to be pitied.

“Why don’t we head over to the gun range?”

I nodded. The idea of shooting a gun really appealed to me in that moment.

Brent was careful not to touch me as he gestured for me to lead the way. We walked out of the gym and headed down the long hall past the elevators to another set of double doors at the other end. The doors opened into a sort of lobby with chairs and a long desk behind which were displayed guns of all shapes, caliber, and lethality. There were a few people in the room, sitting on the provided couches, clearly waiting for their turn on the range.

“Mr. Stone,” an older man standing behind the counter said with something close to reverence, “what a surprise! We weren’t expecting you today.”

“Sorry, John, I should have called down first.”

“No problem. We have a room all ready. You can go right back.”

Brent smiled, a smile that faltered slightly when he looked at me, his hand coming within a breath of my back but not actually touching me. I walked ahead of him again, following a narrow corridor with multiple doors on either side, the sound of gunfire coming from behind each. Brent stopped at the end of the hall and pushed open a door that opened into a small room that was set up like the firing ranges I’d seen on television shows, but this one was only big enough for two targets and had an intimate feel to it because of that.

Brent used a code to open a nearly invisible cupboard on the wall, reaching in to remove several weapons.

“This is a Glock 9mm,” he said, holding up one pistol. “It’s a powerful weapon, but it’s well made with very little recoil.”

He started to check the clip, but I slipped it out of his hand and did it myself, popping the clip out of the gun’s handle, checking to make sure it was loaded, and then snapped it back into place, listening as a round moved into the chamber. With my thumb, I flipped off the safety and turned toward the targets.

“You’ve just loaded that gun.”

“I know.”

Brent hesitated a moment, but then he grabbed a pair of safety glasses and some ear protection and held them out to me. I set the safety again, put the gun down, and put on the gear, feeling more alive all of a sudden than I had in a very long time. This I knew how to do. And it felt good.

When Brent had his own gear on, I turned to the targets, moving the one in front of me as far back as it would go before slipping off the safety, aiming, and firing quickly and smoothly until I’d emptied the clip.

Brent was behind me. He pulled the target in with the button on the wall and whistled under his breath.

“You’ve shot before.”

“My daddy is a gun aficionado. He taught us all how to shoot.”

“Smart man.”

Brent went to the gun cabinet and pulled out another weapon. This time, much to my disappointment, it was a Taser.

“Have you ever used one of these?”

I shook my head. “Feels like cheating.”

He bit back a smile as he came toward me. He pushed another button on the wall, drawing the other target closer. Then he showed me how to make sure the Taser was charged, how to prepare it for use. Then he aimed and tased the target squarely in the groin.

“They recommend aiming for the center of the chest, but I believe this would be the best way to quickly incapacitate anyone trying to attack you.”

He handed me the Taser and I fired, but I missed the target completely. Brent moved behind me, offering me instruction with words that weren’t making their way to my hands for some reason.

“I’m not getting it,” I said after I tried for the third time.

“Can I…can I put my arms around you?”

I glanced back at him.

“To hold your hands in the right position.”

I nodded.

He did as he said, moving so close against my back that I could feel the heat of every inch of his body. His bare arms pressed against the outside of mine as he gripped my hands as they held the Taser.

“Let me fire it and you can feel the motion.”

It shouldn’t have been so hard. Tasers were probably the simplest weapon to learn how to use. But it was and having his arms around me made it harder for me. Who could concentrate with the touch of such a sexy man surrounding them?

I followed his advice from earlier and relaxed against him, molding my smaller back against his wide chest. I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing change, could feel him tense even as I relaxed. For a moment, he was holding me like a man might hold a woman he cared for. It was the first time in a long time I’d been in a man’s arms and not felt the weariness that came with knowing it was a client I could brush off, or feeling the terror that came with the awareness of what came next.

It was actually kind of nice.

“You need to be easy with it,” he said against my ear, bringing me back to our purpose, “like a gun with a hair trigger.”

He ran his thumb over my thumb, an affectionate gesture, as we waited for the Taser to charge again. His head moved, too, his lips moving closer to my bare throat. I turned my head slightly, exposing more of my throat to him, all my nerves suddenly alive and aware, waiting for the soft brush of his lips against my skin. But then the green light came on the Taser.

“You try it this time.”

It took me a second to get my equilibrium under control enough to do as he asked. When I did, I fired and the prongs of the Taser tore into the crotch of the target just above where Brent’s shot had hit.

“I did it!”

I twisted in his arms, my own arms sliding up around his neck. I’m not sure if I meant to hug him or if there was another purpose to my movements, but his lips were suddenly just there and I couldn’t help but close the inch or so between us and steal a little kiss. That was all it was meant to be, just a brushing of my lips against his. But then his arms came around me, one hand spread over the small of my back, the other burying itself in the loose hair under my equally loose ponytail.

He teased my lips, the tip of his tongue doing things I’d never felt before, encouraging me to open to him. And I did, welcoming him inside, welcoming the rush of his warmth, the taste of him. He didn’t just invade me, but explored me, touching places that had never been touched, drawing me closer, tugging my head in just the right position so that he could explore whatever he wanted. And he did, exploring everything about me that I didn’t even know was there.

It was like the first kiss in some chick flick, one of those where the camera moves in circles around the couple and leaves or flower petals blow around while this intensely romantic music plays. I could even hear the music in my head, could feel it pulsing all the way down to my core.

He pushed me back, pressed me up against the wall and his hand moved from my back to my ass, his fingers doing the same as his tongue, exploring places that hadn’t been touch quite like that in a very long time. My heart was pounding and I thought…I wasn’t really thinking. I buried my fingers in the short, silky hair on the top of his head, my other hand twisting itself in his thin shirt, holding him as close to me as I could get him. Then he lifted me and my legs wrapped themselves around his waist, the feel of his arousal pressing itself against me only increasing the pounding of my heart, the need that was suddenly growing exponentially in my lower belly.

His fingers were just about to reach that place, the one place that screamed the loudest for his touch, when the door suddenly opened, nearly slamming into his back.

“Hey, Brent, Jack wants—”

Brent immediately untangled himself from me, setting me roughly on my feet as he stepped back, pressing two fingers to his lips as though he could take back what had just happened. There was something like panic in his eyes as he studied me, his eyes flicking from my slightly swollen lips to the way my nervous fingers were tugging at the bottom hem of my shirt.

“Sorry,” the guy who’d interrupted us said as he eyed me curiously without any sort of remorse on his handsome face.

“What do you want, Bo?” Brent demanded in a tone that broke no excuses.

The man suddenly stood up a little straighter, tearing his eyes from me.

“Jack wants you upstairs.”

Brent nodded, barely giving me a glance before he headed out the door. “Show Ms. Walters to her car, Bo.”

I turned away, my hands shaking as I rubbed at my face, cursing under my breath for that stupid show of a lack of self-control. What the hell had I been thinking? I couldn’t do this; I couldn’t get involved with some clearly fucked up guy! Not now. I was so close to my goals, and he was clearly struggling with his own demons. That look he gave me...there was something truly wrong with this whole thing. It was a stupid, idiotic mistake.

“Ms. Walters?”

The man who’d interrupted us—or come to our rescue—smiled politely at me.

“Dane,” I corrected as I rushed past him, readier than he could imagine to get the hell out of that place.

He chased after me, a little breathless as he caught up to me out in the corridor between the gun range and the gym.

“What an interesting week at Stone Security,” Bo said under his breath as we stopped at the elevator.

“What does that mean?”

He looked up, clearly surprised that I’d heard him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I was just…well, things can get a little mundane around here. But, suddenly—”

“Don’t start thinking you’ve stumbled onto some sort of exciting office gossip here, whatever your name is. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.”

“That’s too bad. Brent has had a pretty hard time these last few years and now he has two beautiful women walking into his life, making him smile and do things he hasn’t done in a long time. It’s good for him.”

The elevator doors opened then and he stepped aboard, leaving me standing there like a fool. I quickly stepped on beside him and turned to watch the numbers on the strip above the door.

“What kind of a hard time?” I asked, my curiosity overruling my common sense.

They guy—Bo—glanced at me. “He suffered a few losses.”

He didn’t seem eager to explain. In fact, he looked embarrassed, as if he’d said more than he should have already. The doors opened on the lobby and cool air reminded me I’d left my sweater in the gym. But I didn’t really feel the desire to remain here any longer than I had to.

We were halfway across the lobby when a breathless Brent suddenly rushed up behind us.

“Dane! Could you hold on a second?”

I spun around, ready to tell him where he could take his kisses and whatever else he might want, but when I did, I found myself staring at not only Brent, but another man who looked exactly like him.

“This is Jack, my brother.”

The other guy stepped forward and shook my hand, his eyes moving curiously over me just before he caught Bo’s eye and the two exchanged some sort of private look I couldn’t read.

“Did you ever have a client from the Mad Dog Motorcycle Gang?”

I focused on Brent, my emotions roiling so intensely in my chest that I couldn’t speak for a second. I shook my head, my arms crossing tightly over my chest.

“What about Rachel?” Brent produced a cell phone with a picture of a rough looking blond man on the screen. “Did you ever see her with this guy?”

“Yeah. He was a regular of hers for a while some months ago.”

“Have you seen him since?”

I shook my head, the point he was trying to make suddenly cutting through the emotional crap.

“You think this guy is the one who attacked Rachel?”

“And the others.” He glanced at his brother. “We think it’s a good possibility.”

I shook my head again, my mind struggling to wrap itself around this information. “She told me his name was Trey, that he was an investment banker.”

“His name is Trey. Trey Philips. But he’s not an investment banker. He’s vice-president of the Mad Dog MC. There he’s known as Trigger because he has a hair trigger on his temper.”

My body suddenly went cold, from the tips of my toes to my scalp. Freezing cold. I’d known that it was probably a client from Highland who was doing this, but it never occurred to me that it was more than a frustrated business man. A motorcycle gang? How Sons of Anarchy was this going to get?

The three men stood there, watching me. Brent suddenly moved forward, pushing me back into a quiet corner of the lobby.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

I glanced at him. “How are you going to stop it? Rachel and the others were attacked in a parking lot that is probably the most secure in town! She had no idea what she was getting into with this guy and now…”

I didn’t know what else to say. Or maybe I was just afraid to put it in words.

Brent cupped the side of my face in his hand, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “That was before I was there. I won’t let anything happen to you, Dane. I’ll find this guy and I will make him pay for what he’s done. I promise you.”

I wanted to believe him, but men had made promises to me before that all too often failed to be kept. I raised my hand to touch his chest, but then I became aware that his brother and Bo were watching us with naked curiosity. And they weren’t the only ones. The two men behind the main desk were watching, as were the few people who chose that moment to cross the lobby.

I pulled away from his touch.

“Thanks for the self-defense lesson, but I think I can handle myself from here on out.”

I turned and walked out of the building without looking back, but my hands were shaking and my knees were about to give out as I slipped behind the wheel of my car. It took me a long few minutes before I felt confident enough to drive away.