“Dear God, that man is driving me crazy.” Whitney propped herself up on the table next to Melissa’s work station. Well, one of them. There were more computers next to the one she was using, and even more across the room. “Why does one person need so many computers?”

Melissa didn’t look up; she was plugging away at some formula. Something that might as well have been Greek as far as Whitney was concerned. “First off, I’m pretty sure you drive him just as crazy. And secondly, if we ever bring in more researchers, we’ll need them.”

“How do you know I’m driving him crazy?”

“Because the two of us talked about you this morning.” Melissa bit her lip and hunkered down over the keyboard.

Whitney swore sometimes her sister was a robot and not an actual human being. “And? What did he say? Did he tell you why he’s so hot and cold?”

Of course, she knew the answer. At least sort of. But before she could say anything else, Melissa surprised her by posing a question of her own. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What?” Whitney swung her legs back and forth, needing to work out some of this restless energy Hicks had just so politely given her in the hallway. Dear God, he truly was all male. Her heart had stopped when he’d pushed her against the wall, but not from fear. She’d taunted him on purpose, hoping to push him past his cool façade, and she’d succeeded more than she could’ve ever anticipated. No man had ever kissed her with such primal lust. Just the thought of his fierceness made her wet.

And then the crazy man had freaking walked away. Had he been embarrassed after getting caught? He was a grown man, she was a grown ass woman, and they had every right to make out whenever and wherever they felt like it. And if her sister hadn’t chosen to interrupt, they might still be doing it right now.

“Why do you think he’s hot and cold?” Melissa studied her with that detached observation that set her teeth on edge.

Whitney swung her legs harder, intentionally bumping her heel into the leg of the table. “I would have found out if you hadn’t interrupted.” No need to get into that.

“If I hadn’t interrupted, you two wouldn’t have stopped.”

“So, what?” What would have been so wrong with that? They wouldn’t have done it in the hallway; they would at least have moved into one of the empty labs nearby.

“So, Hicks came in here to talk to me at the crack of dawn because he’s scared. I don’t want you to take advantage of him.”

“I benefit from him? Are you serious?” She sputtered, unable to comprehend her sister’s betrayal. He’s the one acting crazy. He’s the one who just attacked me in the hallway.”

Melissa’s gaze narrowed at her from under her glasses. “He attacked you?”

Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks. He had kind of attacked her, but she’d knowingly pushed him past his limit. “Fine, he didn’t attack me,” she bit out, hating that her sister was defending him and not her.

Melissa pulled off her glasses and squeezed the bridge of her nose, the same way she’d done last night before confessing everything about her research and Project Mayhem and Hicks’s changes. Remorse hit Whitney instantly. “I’m sorry, it’s just that he really is driving me nuts. I can’t tell if he’s coming or going, and it’s not normal for me. I don’t know how to handle him.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might be struggling with the same thing? He came in here asking whether it was some weird side effect from Project Mayhem that made him so crazy about you.”

Whitney’s heart stopped. Was it all fake? Something manufactured that he didn’t have control over? His words said he was disgusted by her, but his actions told a different tale. Was he fighting a battle himself? Oh my God, did he hate himself for being attracted to her?

“Is he—” she croaked out, unable to finish the sentence out loud. The thought was too horrific. She’d been playing this game with him only because she knew he was attracted to her, but if he was a victim of his own body… If he was truly disgusted …

Melissa stepped into her line of vision and said, “No. It’s not that. The DNA injections were purposely designed to bind certain areas of the brain and body and enhance others. Arousal was left out on purpose. The project’s goal was to create actual soldiers who could operate with limited emotions and still have the functional capacity to make good decisions.”

Her hands trembled, so she shoved them underneath her legs. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. He wants you on the most basic level a man could want a woman. The serum has absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Whitney expelled the breath she’d been holding. “Then what’s his freaking problem?”

“I suspect you’re more likely to know the answer to that question than I am.” Melissa went back to typing on a computer, probably considering the subject done.

And Whitney did know the answer.

He apparently thought the worst of her, not that she could blame him after the adamant way she’d refused to bring in the cops. Ugh, if only she hadn’t signed an NDA. If her entire future didn’t ride on keeping her mouth shut, she’d tell Melissa and Hicks both, however embarrassing the situation. Maybe her secret was illicit, but at least she wasn’t sleeping with Cory.

And after a couple of months, she could tell them the truth. But Hicks wouldn’t be around by then—he’d be long gone. Melissa would still be here, of course, but her sister wasn’t the person she wanted to sleep with.

Whitney briefly considered coming up with some elaborate lie, but something told her Hicks would know she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Whitney, do you need to tell me something? I won’t tell anyone else, not Hicks or anyone.”

The words hovered in her throat. It was so tempting to tell Melissa everything that Whitney almost opened her mouth and screwed everything up. Almost. She didn’t know how, but she knew Cory’s people would find out if she opened her mouth. “No, I’m just trying to figure out how to go at it with Hicks without getting burned.”

There, that was a partial truth.

And Melissa answered with her own honesty. “Then talk to him. Tell them you want him too.”

If only it were that simple.

* * *

He took the Hummer this time. Whitney sat in the passenger seat, looking every bit the professional in her sister’s clothes. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, a short classic strand of pearls encircled her neck, and she wore a light lavender skirt and white blouse. He’d never pictured her this way, and it was seriously screwing with his image of her. It would have been so easy to separate her and her sister into distinct categories. One the noble researcher, the other a wild, illicit temptress.

“Where exactly are we going again?”

“I told you,” she said quietly, “101 South Chester.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea. You have no business going to work until I’ve had time to investigate the break-in. You saw the message on your mirror. It’s obvious you have a stalker, and that person’s just as likely to hunt you at work.”

Her beautiful lips tightened ever so slightly as she stared straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

“I can’t miss any more work. I have bills to pay.”

If she’d yelled at him in that snide tone she’d used before; he might have been offended. Instead, he felt ashamed. He’d categorized her as a harlot in his mind, but she kept chipping away at his perception of her. “What do you do?”

She cast him a quizzical look and said, “You really want to know?”

“Yes, I want to know.”

“I’m vice president of logistics at the Earth-4-One nonprofit organization. We help children in need in developing countries. My job is to make sure that they receive every single supply that we can possibly give them. I coordinate with the pharmaceutical companies, the major food organizations and pantries around the United States, and the agricultural industry, along with various other businesses wishing to donate and give back.”

He was speechless. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

He’d run into foreign aid workers overseas plenty of times in his line of work. In fact, he’d rescued quite a few of them—people who’d been kidnapped by terrorists who wanted to use them as propaganda tools on TV or the Internet. All of the aid workers he’d met shared a true desire to help others, and they were willing to do some crazy shit to accomplish it. Just like him.

Hicks coughed and looked out his window, giving himself time to regain composure. Something about her just wasn’t adding up. An aid worker with a penthouse apartment and a lingerie closet? Who was Whitney Averton?

“We should be there soon. Drop me off at the corner. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” she said.

“No way, Princess. I’m walking you to your desk, and I’m not leaving this place until you do.” He had no intention of leaving her alone for a second. Someone was lurking out there who wanted to do her harm. If the perpetrator were stupid enough to show his head at her work, Hicks would be waiting.

“You don’t have to do that.” She fiddled with her strand of pearls, probably some unconscious gesture of disquiet.

He reached across the console and grabbed her hand, his only thought to give her comfort. “Yes, I do.”

They pulled into an underground parking garage beneath her high-rise office building in downtown D.C. A security guard greeted them, and Whitney returned the greeting personally. Hicks parked the Range Rover, and Whitney led the way to the elevator bank. Once they were inside one of the elevators, the doors closed, she said, “I’ll try to get as much work done as quickly as possible. I’ll try not to keep you here all day, but we got a huge shipment of sustainable plant products, and they’re supposed to be delivered today. If I don’t double-check with the carriers, they might get mishandled or delayed.”

“You really care about your job, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him as if she were startled by his question. “Of course I do. Do you have any idea how many children are starving or living without shelter or even clothes, the basic things people need to survive in this world?”

He did—he’d seen those kids himself many, many times on missions in foreign countries. He’d always wished he could do something more to make their lives better. “I have a little experience with it.”

“You know it’s up to us to do everything we can to save them.” The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. He cast a nervous glance around before stepping out of the elevator into a busy office of open desks, none of them with cubicle walls. A huge brown and green earth was painted on the back wall, with the letters “Earth-4-One” over the front of it. A few people looked up at them, their eyes going wide at the sight of Hicks, but he noticed their eyes seemed to be lingering on Whitney as well.

Whitney made a few casual greetings, but she brushed past most of them. She paused at an empty desk and muttered, “Where’s Izzy?”

Hicks leaned over her shoulder. “Who’s Izzy?”

“A coworker. She probably overslept. It’s okay. Come on, I think you’re making everyone nervous.” She waved him onward, gesturing for him to follow her into a small office in the back right. But she stopped so suddenly in the doorway Hicks nearly tripped over her.

Instincts already on alert, his hand fell to the holster hidden underneath his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

He glimpsed a part of her desk, and it looked perfectly healthy. Then he heard her make a small choking sound and he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to spin around and face him. “What’s wrong?” When she still didn’t answer, he pushed past her into the office, checking for any signs that a stalker had made his presence known in some sick and perverted way. All he found was a couple of boxes of belongings stacked in the corner. Oh. Realization hit him square in the chest.

She stood with her hands fisted at her sides, her beautiful face pale and her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Is that your stuff in those boxes?”

“Yes.”

Before he could ask another question, a tall, skinny man with thinning pale-brown hair approached them, his expression outraged. Before he was even five feet away, he said loud enough for everyone in the entire office to hear, “What are you doing here? You were fired. Security should have escorted you up.”

Hicks took a menacing step forward, but Whitney held up her hand, stopping him, and turned to face the man. “Fired? That’s funny, because I still had a job here yesterday.”

The manager crossed his arms over his bony chest. It was a pitiful attempt to appear stronger and bigger, but it failed miserably. “I called your apartment and left a message. Sorry, but you have to leave the premises immediately.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter. You had at will employment. I can terminate your position at any time.”

The man’s eyes widened as they darted behind Whitney and took in Hicks. It was evident he’d only just realized he was there. The bags beneath his eyes drew up, and he took a step back. “Who are you?”

“I have the same question.”

“I’m her boss. Was her boss. She has no right to be here.”

Hicks drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms, immediately disliking the weasel. “She has a right to collect her belongings,” he said with disquieting menace.

The effect wasn’t lost on the other man, who swallowed, his too-large Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long skinny neck. “She has to be escorted.”

“She is. By me.” Hicks took a step forward until he was hovering just behind Whitney. His posture was made stiffer and more intimidating because he could feel her trembling, and he knew from talking to her how much pride she took in her job, how much of a shock this must be. “You have a problem with that?”

Instead of answering Hicks, the guy shifted his gaze back to Whitney and stammered out, “Who is this? What’s he doing here?”

When Whitney glanced at him over her shoulder, Hicks realized she wasn’t trembling out of pure hurt. She was angry too. This man was not her friend, and he had never been. Wordlessly, Whitney stepped aside and said, “Why don’t you ask him yourself.”

That was all the invitation he needed. Hicks stalked forward until he and the thin man were standing toe to toe. “Do you have a problem with me?” he asked, looking down at him.

These were pure intimidation tactics, but he loved seeing this man cower. This obviously wasn’t his first attempt at bullying, but Hicks intended for it to be his last—at least as far as Whitney was concerned.

“I’ll call security,” the man said.

“I am the security.”

Hicks stared down at the man, letting him see every ounce of deadly intent in his being. And, like the weak link he was, the man broke eye contact and backed away, mumbling, “Make it quick. She doesn’t need to be in here for more than five minutes,” before he scurried into his office and slammed the door.

All the employees in the central office had stopped everything they were doing and were now staring up at him in open admiration. He didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t care about anyone here but Whitney. By the time he turned his attention back to her, she’d already gathered up the two boxes. He took them from her before she could step out of the office, and knowing she needed to keep her pride; he followed her silently back into the elevator from which they’d just exited. The friendly security guard was gone, and their footsteps echoed with a hollow ring in the parking garage. He opened the back hatch of the Range Rover and put the boxes inside. Then he rushed around to open the door for her, sensing she was close to breaking.

Whitney dropped her hands onto the edge of the cargo hold and bowed her head. “Dammit.”

That single word was full of enough hurt and anger to push him past self-control, and he gathered her up into his arms like he’d wanted to do all morning. “I’m sorry.”

The words rang hollow in his own ears. They weren’t nearly adequate for everything that had befallen her in the past twenty-four hours. “I’m going to get your car back and find out who ransacked your apartment. When I get done with that, me and pencil neck up there will have a long serious talk.”

He wasn’t good at feelings or emotions or comforting, but he was good at his job. And it was the one way he could truly help her.

Whitney settled her head on his shoulder, and at that moment, he felt like he could stand here forever if that were what she needed.

“I’d say kick his ass first, then take care of the rest.”

“Blood-thirsty tigress,” he said with amusement. He loved that about her. She was full of so much passion, passion she obviously directed at whatever she cared about. And it was obvious she cared about her job and taking care of others.

How could he have ever compared her to her sister and thought her lacking?

“These must have been the shadiest two days of my life.” Whitney broke their embrace, and he immediately felt bereft. “Let me check the boxes and make sure that asshole didn’t try to steal any of my stuff.”

Curious, he watched as she moved items around, pulled some out and laid them to the side. She had books on pediatric nutrition, agricultural best practices, counseling…

“What are those for?” he asked.

She glanced over and then said, “When I first took the job, we were receiving donations from several different companies, some of which produced food sources that just didn’t seem right. But I didn’t know why, so I started reading up. These companies were trying to use their donations to Earth-4-One as a way to market their business and make it look like they were producing healthy food. But they stuffed their products full of carcinogens and preservatives. So, I revamped our program, made sure all of the people we were working with were providing the proper nutrition for these children.”

She’d attacked the problem head on and done everything necessary to turn something bad into something good. Shit, he had completely misjudged her.

“I knew it,” she snapped, looking up at him. “He took my folder.”

“Do you need it?”

“Yes,” she said with steel in her voice, “it has the list of contacts I personally cultivated and developed in the nonprofit world. I hadn’t planned on starting my own business until much later, but now that I’m out of a job it looks like I’ll have to start sooner than expected. That folder is the key. I had another copy stored on my hard drive, but there’s no way he’s gonna let me walk out with a desktop. I can set up everything the right way from the ground up, get rid of the waste involved in large companies like this one and direct a hundred percent of the resources straight to the people who need them most.”

Whitney made to step around him, but he blocked her path. “You’re not going up there again. Let me do it.”

“You?”

“I have no intention of letting you deal with that prick ever again. I promise you; he’ll give me everything you want.” Because he was very good at getting things from people, whether they wanted to give them up or not. You could call it one of his specialties—he’d been highly trained in the area of interrogation and information extraction. Bottom line: he really enjoyed making the bad guys squirm.

“Thanks, I really don’t want to see him again either.”

“Here, take the keys. I’ll be back in less than five minutes.” He handed her the keys from his pocket and then made his way back toward the elevator bank. He pressed the button and then turned to watch her as she pilfered through her things some more.

Instead of crying or whining, which would have been understandable given the situation, she’d held strong, showing a resolve that most men lacked. He couldn’t help but admire her strength of will.

He definitely needed to rethink his assumptions about her. Maybe they could talk it through. But as soon as he got her safely back to headquarters, he intended to go to her apartment for clues. Anything he could do to bring a win to her side of the battle.

Hicks glanced at the security post, realizing the guard was still absent. She shouldn’t stay down here alone, not without some form of security. This was a good part of D.C., but the city still had one of the highest criminal records in the country. Maybe he could convince her to wait just outside the elevator while he handled the boss. Hicks took a step in her direction.

A black SUV parked in the back corner flicked on its lights. There was a sudden squeal of tires on pavement, and the vehicle gunned straight toward Whitney.

“Whitney, run!”

Whitney gave him a crazy look.

“Move now!” He pointed to the car barreling toward her. The blood drained from her face. The car would reach her before he could get there. Hicks sprang into action, running toward her as he ripped his sidearm from his holster.

His heart slowed, and his vision tunneled. He squeezed the trigger. Pop, pop. Two holes fractured the windshield of the SUV, and it veered sharply to the left. That seemed to be the push needed to jar Whitney into action. She started running toward him, fear plastered on her features.

The SUV righted its course, and the engine roared as it sped toward them again. Hicks planted his feet and braced his 9 mm in both hands. Pop. He took out the front tire. The SUV veered wildly out of control and then slammed into a blue van parked less than fifty feet away.

“Hicks!”

She dove, and he caught her in mid-air, wrapping his left arm around her and turning to use his body to shield her, his weapon still aimed at the car.

Smoke seeped from the crumpled hood. Silence, minus the hissing of the SUV’s now dead engine, was the only sound besides Whitney’s harsh breathing.

This wasn’t over yet. He could feel it in his bones. “Whitney, I want you to make a run for the elevator.”

“Hicks, no.” Her voice hitched as she said it.

“Trust me. This is what I’m good at. I need to know you’re safe. Now, run!” He pushed her behind him and started walking toward the SUV, gun raised.

The back door burst open, and a man in tactical gear jumped out, already firing his own pistol. The bullets chipped off the concrete past Hicks. He blew out his breath and squeezed the trigger. One bullet, one death. The man fell before he could take another step.

The driver’s side door crashed open, and with the vehicle between him and the attacker, Hicks couldn’t get a clear shot. He dropped to the ground, rolled on his side and fired off a round. There was a satisfying scream, and then the driver fell to the floor, grabbing his now shattered ankle. It would be easier just to kill him now, but Hicks needed information. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the crashed SUV. Just before he rounded the front, the rear passenger door opened and a third man dove from the vehicle, a semi-automatic rifle against his shoulder. Hicks dropped. Bullets whizzed right over his head. Machine-gun guy ran at the concrete, rolled and came up firing. The driver was still moaning in pain from the crash, so his number one target was the newest threat.

There was another wild burst of automatic gunfire, glancing off the corner of the SUV, the concrete, and the surrounding cars. Hicks did a quick peek around the corner and yanked back just in time. The guy was running toward the elevator. Toward Whitney.

The cold calm of battle rage settled over his shoulders like impenetrable armor. Idiot. This guy had no idea who he was fucking with. The man kept firing where Hicks had been standing, but he’d already jumped onto the bumper of the SUV. Chambered a round. Then he aimed and shot over the top of the vehicle. Bullets thumped into the back of the man’s skull, sending him sprawling, dead, across the pavement. Whitney curled into a ball against the elevator doors, her hands over her head.

Seeing her terrorized sliced through his heart. He’d have to finish this first and make it up to her later. He rounded the corner of the SUV.

The driver would talk, or he would die.

The driver, holding onto his ankle, didn’t even realize he was no longer alone on this side of the car.

“Hurts like a bitch, eh?” You could take down the biggest bad ass on the planet by shooting out his ankles or knees. Even an ordinary man could still run with a bullet in his leg or side, but not his ankle.

“I need a hospital!” the man wailed.

Hicks leveled his gun against the man’s temple, taking in the black suit and tie. He wasn’t a professional like the other two, but he wasn’t a civilian either. This was a professional hit. “You won’t need a hospital if you don’t tell me who sent you.”

“I don’t know. I was just the driver,” he moaned and grabbed at his leg, blood spilling from the open wound.

Hicks chambered a round and then pressed his gun against the man’s head again. “We both know that’s not true. You’ve got five seconds before I lose my patience.”

“Hicks?” Whitney appeared five feet away, pale and shaken.

“Whitney, get back!”

The driver lifted a small pistol he’d been hiding and aimed at Whitney. Her eyes grew huge. Hicks pulled the trigger.

The driver’s gun dropped, followed—an instant later—by his dead body.

Whitney slapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the front of the car. Hicks was there in a moment, pulling her hair back as she retched. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

Dammit, what the fuck was going on? This wasn’t just a bad day for Whitney. Someone was systematically attacking her, and now they’d tried to wipe her existence from the planet.

Whitney stood, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, and he yanked her against his chest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

She shook her head and sobbed quietly. “N-n-no.”

“I’ve got you. Everything’s okay now.”

She sobbed and his chest clenched. An icy rage settled in his gut, hard and cold. They’d almost killed her. If that gunner had had any kind of aim, he would have taken her out. And Hicks would have been to blame: he’d let her lifestyle cloud his judgment. He’d assumed that she’d pissed off some sugar daddy.

With any other woman, he’d have analyzed the situation and reacted—but not Whitney.

Her hand curled into his shirt, like she was holding on to him as an anchor. “Hicks, I—”

“Shhh. I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” He glanced at the dead bodies around them without remorse. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“What about them?” Her voice hitched.

“There’s nothing we can do about them now. The cops will be here any minute. We’ve got to scramble.” And when she was safely tucked away in the mansion, he’d demolish whoever had dared to attack them.

Hicks led her to the car, opened her door and put her inside the vehicle. Her sobs had quieted, but she had the shell-shocked look of a woman who’d seen more than she could handle.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Shit. There was no time for any cleanup. Hicks raced back to the bodies and ran his hands down their chests and pants. None had any I.D.

He yanked out his phone and snapped a picture of each of the bodies before booking it back to his car. He shut the door with a curse and yanked out his phone, dialing his team leader, Reaper.

“What?” Reaper answered immediately. “It better be damn important.”

“Whitney and I were just attacked in her work’s parking garage. Had to neutralize the threat. Left a mess. Three of them.”

“Shit,” Reaper said in a tone darker than usual, “Is it Rainier?”

Hicks fired up the engine, checked his rearview and drove to the exit of the garage. Whitney just stared sightlessly through the windshield, not even acknowledging that she’d moved. “No. They weren’t after me. They were after her.”

Hicks heard a little moan from the end of the phone and then the crinkling sound of Reaper covering the mouth piece.

“What’s going on over there?” Hicks asked.

“Caroline’s still not feeling right. Doc thinks she had a bad reaction to the last injection.”

Hicks checked the street and eased into the traffic, moving at the speed limit so as not to draw attention to them. The police cars wailed around the corner in front of him. He stared straight ahead. They blew past them and turned into the parking lot he’d just evacuated. Hicks released a breath. “The police are there now. I’ve got pictures. Have Juarez run them through facial recognition. We’ll be there ASAP.”

“Roger. Buzz if you have any interference.” Reaper disconnected the call first.

Hicks quickly texted the photos to him and then put down his phone, turning his attention to getting them safely out of the city. His every instinct screamed out for him to accelerate and haul ass, but he forced himself to go slow and take the least noticeable track.

When they reached the edge of the city, he chanced another look at Whitney, but she hadn’t moved. Hicks reached across the console and took her clenched fist into his hand. She was so cold. “Whitney, look at me.”

She didn’t blink. The possibility of her going into shock became a real and present danger. Hicks floored it—he needed to get her home. “Talk to me, Whitney.”

The trees of the countryside flew by in a green blur. He passed few vehicles this far out of town, for which he was thankful. A huge part of him wanted to pull over and take her into his arms, but it wasn’t safe. Only the compound was safe.

Hicks made it to the gate in record time, and after he punched in his code, every muscle in his body clenched as he waited for the doors to slide open. As soon as they were halfway across the drive, he floored it again, speeding down the driveway to the compound. Instead of pulling around to the garage, Hicks braked opposite the front door and killed the car. He jumped out and ran around and lifted Whitney into his arms.

Hicks kicked open the front door and ran up the stairs, Whitney gathered close to his chest. No one crossed his path, thank God, because he wasn’t sure he could stop. He pounded it down the hall to his bedroom, shouldered his way through the door, kicked it shut behind him and then deposited her on the bed. Damn, she looked small and helpless, lying there surrounded by all of his covers. His pillows. He’d dreamed about having her in his bed, fantasized about it all night, but not like this. Hicks went to his knees on the mattress beside her and gently gathered her into his arms. He settled against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of them.

More alarming than the fact that she hadn’t spoken was how cold she’d become. He began to rub his hands up and down her arms, forcing circulation back into her extremities. “Whitney, you have to talk to me. I know it was terrible and I’m so sorry you had to see that, but you can’t shut down. Not now.”

She blinked. His heart leaped in his chest—this was more of a reaction than she’d given him the entire drive home. He scrambled for something to say, something that would pull her out of this dangerous trance. He’d never seen her this quiet, and it scared the shit out of him. “I can’t believe you’re just going to give up like that,” he said, trying to snap her out of it. “Those assholes tried to kill you. I thought you were stronger than this.”

She blinked again, and even though his words tasted like sawdust, he kept poking and prodding. He’d rather have her pissed off at him than in a waking coma. “Was all that sassy talk a front? Was it just an act? Maybe it’s because you’ve got the hots for me. Some women react like that, you know? I mean, look at me. A body like this would drive any woman insane,” he babbled. Maybe the posturing and tough talk would work. It had to work.

Whitney trembled and then let out a choked sob. Hicks gathered her tight against his chest and lay his cheek on her head, closing his eyes in sweet heavenly relief. “That’s it, baby, get it out.”

“Hicks,” she dug her nails into his chest and let go, sobbing freely in his arms. Every heart-wrenching sound she let loose was another knife to his soul.

He’d killed more men than she could imagine, seen much worse carnage than the ugly scene in the garage today, and none of it had affected him the way her reaction did. Every smile, every comment, every look she’d ever given him had been so fierce. Seeing her broken nearly broke him in two.

Even if they parted ways after this, he’d never forget the way she felt in his arms right now.

But holding her wasn’t enough. He needed to make her better—he needed to see that sassy, sexy grin and the spark of fire in her eyes. The mere thought of her walking around dull and listless, hollowed out by the trauma of something she should have never witnessed, made him shudder.

“That’s it, baby, get it out. It’s a typical reaction.”

Her sobs subsided into soft sniffles and the occasional sigh. Her fingers had released their firm grip on this chest and were now curled in the soft material of his T-shirt. Damn, he liked how she held him. He never wanted her to let go.

“I’m sorry you saw the...”

She hiccupped and said, “I’ve never imagined anything like that. There was so much blood.”

He palmed her cheek and held her to his chest, unable to look her in the eyes just yet. He’d accepted those terrible things long ago, back when he’d decided to become an operative. Blood was nothing. Shooting an enemy was nothing. He never thought twice. But Whitney hadn’t signed up for this kind of thing. “I never meant for you to see that. If it were in my power, I’d erase that memory from your mind forever.”

Those types of images haunted almost everyone. Hicks had been blessed to be numb to those kinds of feelings, but he knew he was the exception. She’d have nightmares, and she’d picture it in her mind during the day when she was just sitting still, staring out the window.

“I was so scared. I was too afraid to move. I always thought I was stronger than that. That if some asshole attacked me, I’d come back at him full force, but I just sat there.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t know what was going on, but as soon as your brain registered it was a threat, you moved. Don’t you dare beat yourself up over that lie.” He’d seen the confusion on her face, followed by horrified comprehension. She’d reacted a second later, but it had been a second too late. “No human can outrun a vehicle. And those men were professionals. You weren’t meant to stand a chance.”

Thank God he’d been there. They’d obviously thought to catch her alone, distracted from being fired. Had he not been there, no one would have even witnessed their crime.

She shuddered, and he forced himself to loosen his grip and tilt her chin up. When he saw her sapphire blue eyes bright with tears, he came undone. He needed to make her feel better, offer her what comfort he could. He would do anything to erase the pain in her gaze. And then his attention dropped to her lips, all red and swollen. A surge of possessive desire crashed over him like it had been fueled by an exploding bomb. Heat flooded his body.

He didn’t understand it, but he needed to kiss her more than he needed to breathe.