I clutched the wooden hanger rod against my chest, my eyes closed, as I listened to the computer beeps of the outer door unlocking. Someone was coming in. A scenario danced in my head: the man in the elevator claiming to be a relative concerned for my welfare. I imagined him charming the front desk clerk, touching her hand—because she had to be a woman—his eyes promising her pleasures she could only just imagine. She’d give him a key to the room, even wish him a good day as he walked off to come and find me. To come and drag me down the back stairs kicking and screaming. Coming to take away the little bit of happiness I’d finally found with Brent.

I was raised in the Protestant church, but I wasn’t religious. In fact, I hadn’t stepped foot in a church since I left home. But I found myself praying now.

I didn’t want to die.

I clutched that hanger rod, praying that there would be enough room for me to get off a good swing. One good swing, contact with the side of a head, and I might have a chance.

“Ms. Walters?”

I heard the voice. Didn’t know it.

I curled up tighter against the back wall of the closet and listened to footsteps move around the room. I distinctly heard the shower door squeak, heard the rattle of the heavy curtains moving over the bedroom window. The footsteps faded for a moment, but there was more than one voice. Two, maybe three. Tears began to roll down my face again. They were here to take me away. They were here to hurt me. Whatever that had been down on the street, they were here to finish it.

I closed my eyes and again the window on Brendan’s car exploded over and over again in my mind. I bit my lip to keep the sobs under control, to keep as silent as I possibly could. The voices never stopped, but the footsteps did. They didn’t come back into the bedroom.

I waited, my hands growing sore from holding the rod so tightly. I wished I hadn’t left my cell phone in my car, that I’d thought things through well enough to have grabbed it. But Brent would know what happened, right? He would have gotten a call about Brendan. He would be looking for me.

But what if he walked into this suite and was ambushed by those people? What if they’d already taken him? What if this whole thing had just been a ploy to bring him back here so that they could hurt him?

My hands were shaking. I couldn’t catch my breath.

And then I heard more footsteps.

The shower door opened again, the bathroom door was pushed on its heavy hinges. And then the closet door rattled.

I gasped, drawing my legs up as tight as I could get them against my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

“Dane? It’s me, Dane. You’re safe now.”

My brain wouldn’t compute what it was hearing. For a long moment, I was convinced it was a trick. They were using some sort of technology to replicate Brent’s voice. But then he tapped on the door and spoke again.

“It’s me. I promise. I know what happened. I spoke to the police at the hospital…that’s why it took me so long to get here. But I’m here now.” The door rattled again as he pressed his hand against it. “Please, Dane, let me in.”

I still hesitated. So much had happened that I was beginning to wonder who I could trust. Was it really Brent? Or was this some sort of trick to draw me out?

I wasn’t even sure I could trust my own senses.

There were other voices, but then Brent, his voice raised in anger, told them to back off.

“Just give us a goddamned minute!”

And, for some reason, that was more reassuring that anything else he’d said.

It took some wriggling to get the smaller rod out of the door’s track, but I got it. He slid the door open, the light from the overhead burning my eyes. But it was his face, his beautiful, dark blue eyes. It was his familiar face, the same grief filled lines along the corners of his mouth and around his eyes. I dropped the longer rod and launched myself into his arms. He nearly fell backward, but he wrapped himself around me, pulled me tight into his chest.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me!”

His voice was rough, his breath harsh against my ear. His arms were tight around my back, his hands on my upper thighs, holding my legs wrapped around his waist. My arms around his neck, my face buried against his shoulder as I once again succumbed to sobs.

I had never been so happy to see anyone in all my life!

After a few moments, his hold on me relaxed a little. He began caressing the back of my head, smoothing my hair against my skull, his hands moving slowly up and down the length of my back.

“It’s okay now,” he whispered against my ear over and over again.

And, after a while, I got control of myself. When I finally felt strong enough to pull away, I touched the side of his face, my thumb moving slowly down over his bottom lip.

There was deep concern in his eyes as he studied me.

“Tell me what happened.”

Before I could speak, there was a light knock on the bedroom door behind us. Someone cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, boss…Jack’s on the phone. He says it’s important.”

Brent groaned. His eyes moved over my face again.

“He’s at the hospital with Brendan Philips, the guy—”

“He’s alive?”

“Yes.” Brent rubbed a few tears from my cheek. “He was shot in the neck, but there just happened to be a trauma surgeon in the parking lot when it happened. He was able to stabilize him long enough to get him into surgery.”

I’d seen the window explode, saw Brendan’s head jerk sideways. I’d just assumed he’d been shot in the head.

“That’s good. Really good.”

Brent didn’t seem as hopeful. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

He gently pushed me to the floor and stood, reaching down to offer me a hand. I took it, reluctant to leave his side. In the sitting room of our suite were half a dozen men in dark clothing, most of them wearing weapons in some sort of capacity. Most had handguns in holsters strapped to their waists, some in holsters that wrapped around their shoulders. A couple had knives in leather sheaves, a few had bulging pockets on their cargo pants that suggested they carried other, more serious, weapons. They looked like a special ops team ready to infiltrate some terrorist’s summer estate.

A tall, blond man held out a phone to Brent. He took it, pulling me closer against his side as he barked a few words that gave little away.

When he hung up, I could feel the weight of everyone’s bated breath.

“He’s out of surgery. The doctors are optimistic that he’ll enjoy a full recovery.”

A cheer went up. Brent was smiling widely, relief obvious in everything about him. My own knees went a little weak with the news. I took a second to close my eyes and offer up a prayer of gratitude.

But the celebration only lasted a moment.

“We need to move this party to the office. Pete, Mark, you guys stick around here, keep an eye out for trouble. The rest of you with me.”

My heart jumped into my chest at the thought of stepping through that outer door again. And when we got on the elevator? I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my back to the cold wall of the elevator, gasping for every precious drop of oxygen.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” Brent said, bending slightly at the knees so we were face to face. He stroked my cheek, forcing me to look at him. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“He was here.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though to make sure his ears were working properly. “Who?”

“The man who hurt Rachel. He stood behind me on this elevator and told me if you didn’t back off, he’d do the same thing to me and you’d have to pick up my remains with a shovel.”

Anger sliced across Brent’s face.

“Did you get a look at him?”

I nodded, tears burning my eyes as my lungs felt like they were on fire.

Brent caressed my face again, then drew me into him, holding me against his chest. My breathing eased a little despite the fact that my mouth was pressed against his shirt and all I was breathing was my own stale breath.

The elevator doors opened and Brent pulled me slightly behind him as he strutted across the lobby. Three SUVs were waiting at the front door and we got inside without incident, speeding through the heavy afternoon traffic in seconds. But I didn’t relax until we began to move out into the countryside, with more trees and open fields around us than buildings.

No one spoke the entire drive. No one even moved, it seemed like. They all sat forward, staring out the windows, everyone on guard. If someone had hit us on that drive, woe would have been on them. I’d never seen a group of men more prepared for battle.

It made me feel safe.

When we arrived at the office, Brent had the men move around us in a sort of human shield. They stayed with us until we got to the elevators, but Brent and I boarded alone. Instead of pressing the button that would take us upstairs—putting the box into the same motion that made my heart climb into my throat and block the air from reaching my lungs—Brent punched in a code and a door at the back slid open.

“What…?”

He took my hand and pulled me through, shutting the door seamlessly behind us.

“You’re the second woman I’ve brought back here in the last few weeks. This is becoming a habit I’d like to break.”

I think his words were meant to be humorous, but his tone lacked all amusement.

He pulled me down a narrow corridor that ended in another door with another code. He punched it in and pulled me through, again pausing long enough to make sure the door closed. Then we were in a bedroom that lacked only windows to allow a little sunlight to soften the bright overhead lights.

He pulled me into his arms and held me close, his hands moving slowly over my back as he showered the top of my head with kisses.

“When we got the call about Brendan, all I could imagine was those people touching you, taking you away from me. I can’t tell you how sick I felt when my guys called and said they couldn’t locate you in the hotel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, babe.” He pushed my face back and stole a long, hard kiss. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you were able to get somewhere safe.”

“They followed me. They drove around me, in front of me, blocking me, forcing me to drive slow. And they yelled things at the windows, taunted me.”

He groaned low in his throat, his hands still moving over me, caressing my face, my arms.

“And then that man in the elevator.” I shuddered at the memory. “He made it clear they could have killed me, but they let me go to send you a message.”

He nodded. His thumb slid over my chin, the pulse that was pounding in my throat.

“We got into a scuffle with them a few days ago. They were helping out the Rage MC in Rae’s case, helping her ex come find her. It was Rae’s ex who threw the Molotov cocktail through my front window, thinking she was in there with me. So Jack and I went to the Mad Dog clubhouse and took out a couple of their guys, but they were expecting us. And while we were there, the guys from Rage attacked the offices here. And then they took out one of our guys at Jack’s place.”

“I heard about that.”

“Yeah, I guess you did. But now Mad Dog is after me because I was putting out feelers before all that happened, looking for Trigger. With what Jack did to the Rage clubhouse, I guess they think I intend to do the same to them.”

“He said he’d been watching me. He said it was a happy coincidence that you and I began seeing each other. He said it worked well into his plans for me.”

I felt tension ring through him like the vibrations a bell might experience when its ringer is put into motion. His eyes narrowed slightly as his thumb continued to gently caress me.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How can you stop it?”

“You’re going to stay here for now. Jack and I will figure this out, okay?”

I wanted to believe that, wanted to put all my faith into him. I wanted to think that we’d get out the other side of this thing and find that happiness that had enveloped us last night at Highland. But, mostly, I was too exhausted to argue anymore.

“Okay.”

He kissed me gently, then lifted me off my feet and laid me in the bed. He tugged my shoes off my feet and pulled the blankets up around me.

“Try to get some rest. I’ll be right outside that door if you need me.”

I grabbed his hand. “Be careful, Brent.”

He smiled. “Me? I’m always careful.”

I didn’t believe that any more than I believed he didn’t have homicidal thoughts dancing through his head right at that moment. But I believed that he would stay close. For now. And I believed that he would do everything he could to put an end to this thing.

I just wasn’t sure both of us would survive it.