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  Somehow she drifted to sleep, but her dreams were filled with disjointed images of cameras and text messages and exploding buildings that made no sense. And in all of them, she was trapped in the darkness, unable to break free, and powerless to stop something horrible from happening.

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee pulled her eyes open. Blinking, she focused on dawn’s early light spilling across the floor and queen-size bed. Her first instinct was to pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep, but the little voice in the back of her head told her that was the coward’s way out, and she was done being a coward. Regardless of what had happened between her and Hunt, or of what he thought of her, she needed to get back in control of her life. Because no one could do that but her.

  Her muscles were sore, and every joint felt stiff as she dug through her suitcase and pulled out an oversize gray sweatshirt with her design logo in gold on the front and paired it with black leggings from her recent line. The ballet collar fell open over one shoulder, and the hem dropped to her thighs. After twisting her hair up into a knot, she wandered into the bathroom to brush her teeth and found a bottle of ibuprofen on the counter.

  Something in the center of her chest pinched. He’d left her drugs. Common sense told her to be creeped out he’d been in her room without her knowledge, but she wanted the pain relief more than she wanted to be upset. And he was just being nice. She didn’t need to read anything into that.

  After brushing her teeth and swallowing the meds, she checked her reflection. One glance in the bathroom mirror told her she needed concealer and a thin layer of powder to cover the dark circles under her eyes and the slight bruising on her jaw, but she resisted the urge to make herself look nice.

  Barriers firmly in place, she tucked the new cell she’d picked up yesterday before leaving Portland into the hidden back pocket of her leggings, pulled her bedroom door open, and moved out into the living area.

  Hunt’s house wasn’t that old—maybe five years—with soaring ceilings, thick trim moldings, wide windows in every room that overlooked the ocean and beach far below, and top-of-the-line everything. From a design perspective, the place was pretty incredible. But the view this morning was what stopped her cold. Miles of pristine blue water filled the windows, instantly calming her the longer she looked out across the ocean.

  The coffee pot gurgled from the kitchen, and she finally pulled her gaze away from the windows and moved into the industrial kitchen with its white cabinets, granite counters, and fancy appliances. Hunt was nowhere to be found, but she didn’t mind. The view in the kitchen was the same as the living room, and she couldn’t keep from staring out at it again as she found a mug in the cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  She took her mug to the table in the breakfast nook, tucked one leg under her, and sat on the padded white chair. Her gaze drifted from the water to the beach below, where a man in tennis shoes, running shorts, and a long-sleeved T-shirt was playing with a golden retriever on the sand.

  Maybe she should think about getting a dog. Julian had never wanted one, but she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. And staying at the loft, she didn’t have a landlord to tell her no. Plus, dogs were good for security, right?

  Thinking about security made her mind flip right back to those cameras Hunt had found. And thinking about those cameras made her remember the scene yesterday at her warehouse and what she’d let Julian do to her.

  Mood slinking south, she looked away from the view and finished her coffee. She knew she should probably grab something to eat—she couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last—but she had no appetite now. Carrying her cup to the sink, she looked back down at the beach once more, but the man and dog were gone.

  The kitchen door opened, and she glanced over her shoulder. Hunt stepped into the room wearing athletic shorts, a long-sleeved dark-gray T-shirt, and running shoes. And even though she told herself not to, she tensed at the sight of him and wished she’d stayed in her room.

  “Hey.” He closed the door, looking sweaty and windblown and too damn sexy for any one man to look. “I hope I didn’t wake you when I left for a run.”

  Her first instinct was to flee to her room, but she was done being a pathetic female. The sooner she started standing up to men—Hunt included—the better off she’d be.

  “You went for a run?” She rinsed out her cup, trying to look bored. “I didn’t even notice.”

  “Yeah. With Princess.”

  “Another girlfriend?” Shit. She bit her lip. Had she said that out loud?

  He chuckled. “No. Neighbor’s dog.”

  Dammit. Her face heated. She had said it. She fumbled for something to say, a way to brush it off as a joke.

  “She’s my running partner anytime I’m here,” he added before she could come up with a pithy retort. “Though she just had puppies so she hasn’t been as available lately.”

  He stopped only inches from her, and this close the sweet scent of his sweaty skin surrounded her, distracting her from everything but the way his body heat knocked the temperature in the room up a good ten degrees.

  He lifted his hands and smiled.

  “What?” She blinked, completely confused.

  “Need to wash these.”

  Good God. Now she looked like a complete idiot. She quickly let go of the counter at her back, realizing she’d been so completely distracted by him she’d been holding on to the thing with a death grip, and stepped out of the way. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” He flipped on the faucet and went to work washing his hands. “The house is yours while you’re here.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but as she moved to the end of the island and leaned a hip against the surface, she also realized that had been him out there on the beach playing with that dog.

  “Why don’t you have a dog?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I’d think a security guy would be all over having a guard dog around.”

  He shrugged and dried his hands on a towel. “Depends on the breed. My systems work just fine without dogs.”

  She watched as he moved to the fridge and pulled one side open. “You clearly like dogs, though.”

  He shrugged and cracked the lid on a bottle of water. “I’m gone a lot. Wouldn’t really be fair to leave a dog alone that much.” Downing a large sip of water, he grabbed a gallon of milk and set it on the island, then shoved the fridge door closed. “Plus dogs don’t live all that long.”

  An odd comment. Especially coming from someone who clearly liked dogs. “Also depends on the breed,” she said, using his own words as she watched him move to the pantry, pull out a box of Lucky Charms, and turn to wave it her way. “No, thanks.”

  He shrugged like it was her loss, then found a bowl and spoon and carried everything to the table.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned to look after him. “Small dogs can live up to eighteen years.”

  He grunted as he poured cereal into his bowl. “Do I look like a small-dog kind of guy?”

  No, he looked like a sexy-as-hell-athlete kind of guy, especially sitting there all sweaty and tempting, eating something she couldn’t even think about touching because it would go straight to her hips.

  She wasn’t about to say that, though, so instead she said, “Even sporting dogs like Princess live ten to thirteen years. That’s not exactly short.”

  He swallowed around a mouthful of cereal but didn’t look up at her. “Not exactly long. What’s the point in getting attached to something that’s going to be gone in ten years?”

  She grew silent as he ate, his comment circling in her mind. It was a pretty sad take on life. With that attitude, why get married? Fifty percent of marriages failed these days. Better yet, why get involved with anyone at all? Most relationships didn’t work either. She and Julian were a perfect example of that.

  Out of nowhere, Hunt’s words from yesterday hit her.

  “Gen is not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend.
I don’t have girlfriends, period.”

  An uneasy feeling settled in her chest as he finished eating. She wasn’t about to discuss the fiasco at his apartment, but thinking back to what she’d heard on that intercom, she realized he hadn’t referred to the woman in his lobby as his girlfriend. She’d called herself that. He’d actually seemed ticked she was there. At the time, Kelsey had assumed it was because she’d been upstairs in his bed. But what if he’d been telling her the truth? What if he didn’t do relationships at all?

  Her memory skipped back to their time together in that rubble, when they’d talked about their mutual attraction all those years ago. He’d made a comment about relationships then too. When he’d justified why it was good they’d never dated. He’d said, “Relationships never work out.” And she couldn’t deny that in all the years he’d been coming to McClane family events, he’d never brought a date. Not one.

  He was a good-looking guy. Successful. Nice. What would make a guy like Hunter O’Donnell gun-shy when it came to relationships?

  His spoon clattered against his bowl, the sound making her blink. Seconds later, his chair scraped the tile floor as he pushed back from the table and stood.

  “I need to shower and call Callahan. See if he’s got any info on your texts.” He stepped around her and set his dishes in the sink. “Since Lucky Charms aren’t your thing, help yourself to any breakfast fixings you can find. I had the housekeeper stock the fridge before we came out, so there should be plenty of stuff.”

  “Thanks,” she absently answered, still thinking about his comments.

  “Oh, one more thing.” He paused on the edge of the kitchen and glanced back. “I know you have work to do, so feel free to spread out wherever you want. My office is downstairs, so I’ll stay out of your way. Odds are good the next few days will pass without you even knowing I’m here.”

  For some reason, that comment unsettled her more than the rest. She didn’t answer. Didn’t know how to answer. Just watched in silence as he left the room.

  When he was gone, the air felt as if it was leaking out of her, like a balloon stuck with a pin and slowly deflating. The hours of stress and no sleep were catching up with her. Sinking into a chair at the table, she stared out at the view that minutes before had relaxed her but now left her feeling empty.

  She couldn’t deny that she and Hunt were not all that different. They were both workaholics, both wary of getting close to others, both loners at their cores. The difference was that she knew why she was alone. Because of choices she’d made—some bad, some good, all leading her to the place she was in right now. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a clue.

  She thought back through his comment about dogs not living very long. And then the story he’d told her about his mom’s death fluttered through her mind.

  Her gaze darted to the empty doorway. Was that why he didn’t do relationships? Because he was afraid of losing someone he cared about? He’d said he’d watched his father fall into a deep depression after his mom’s death. That would screw anyone up. She knew all about fear and how it could hold a person back. Hell, she’d watched her brother Rusty live half a life for years because of fear. He did many of the same things Hunt did—kept his distance from people, didn’t really date, was often cold and closed off emotionally.

  Except . . . Hunt hadn’t been closed off like that when they’d been trapped together. He’d been honest and straightforward and not the least bit afraid to admit how he’d felt about her that day years ago. And when he’d kissed her after they’d been freed . . .

  The memory of that kiss heated her blood and made her toes curl against the kitchen tiles. A man who could kiss like that was not destined to spend his life alone.

  Perspiration dotted her forehead. A little voice in the back of her head urged her to get up, to go find him, to talk to him about . . .

  About what? That whole girlfriend/nongirlfriend thing? His fear of relationships? Or did she want to talk to him about that kiss and what had almost happened in his bed?

  Her hands grew damp, and she swiped them down the thighs of her leggings. The answer to all three questions was yes, but she was smart enough to know she wasn’t in any kind of rational frame of mind to have even one of those conversations. She was still processing the bombing, that someone may or may not be stalking her, and, oh yeah, the way Julian had attacked her yesterday. Hunt’s fear of relationships and what had almost happened between them should be the last thing on her mind. So why was it the only thing she could think about?

  The cell in her pocket buzzed. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Hunt telling her something else about the house he’d forgotten earlier. He was one of only a couple of people who had her new number. But it wasn’t. And one glance at the words on the screen caused everything inside her to go cold.

  Feeling safe because you found a way out of that rubble? You’re not safe. I know where you are. I can get to you whenever I want. You took everything from me, and in return I’m going to take everything from you. Including that new boyfriend you’ve got. So enjoy that view, starlet, because it might be the last one you ever see. I’m coming for you. I’m coming for you very soon.

  Hunt was trying his best not to lose his shit.

  He’d held it together with Callahan when he’d called PPD earlier to find out if his friend had any news—which he didn’t. But the cap he usually kept on his temper as he talked to his employee now about Kelsey’s latest text was about to blow, and he really didn’t want to let it loose with Kelsey leaning against the desk in his office, watching him like a hawk as he made this call.

  He swiveled his chair away from her and glanced out the windows toward the ocean view beyond, working like hell not to crush the cell phone in his hand, working even harder to keep his voice even when he said, “What’s taking so long on this, Davies? It’s a simple search.”

  “Not as simple as you think,” Taren Davies tossed back. “Whoever sent that text knew it would be traced. He went to a lot of trouble to route the number around so it’d be hard to pinpoint.”

  Which was why the police hadn’t been able to trace it yet.

  Hunt’s stomach tightened as he glanced at the words on her screen. The fact the fucker had used the word starlet in both texts told him it was the same guy. And his gut was almost 100 percent sure now that her ex, Benedict, wasn’t that fucker because as of ten minutes ago when Hunt had checked in with Callahan, Benedict was still in PPD custody.

  Kelsey shifted against the edge of his desk where she was leaning. He glanced up, relieved she’d brought him the phone as soon as the text had come through, ready to pound whoever had sent it to her into the earth at the same time.

  He forced a smile for her benefit and tipped the phone away from his mouth. “This will probably take a while. Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll come find you when I have some news.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Three words. Short and sweet. And filled with so much anxiety he knew she meant them.

  Hunt’s adrenaline kicked up another notch as their eyes held. She had the same terrified look in her eye she’d had just before the building had collapsed around them. The same horrific one he’d seen when Benedict had snatched her away from him at the blast site and gone after her. The same one he’d focused on when she’d grabbed his arm and stopped him from pounding on Benedict at her warehouse.

  That look—knowing she was scared shitless all over again—set off that protective instinct inside him he’d felt at the bomb site. One that left him completely rattled in a way he didn’t like.

  He glanced back down at her phone in his hand again. “Well?” he prodded into the receiver pressed to his ear.

  “Patience you must have, my young padawan.”

  Keys clicking sounded over the line, and Hunt’s jaw clenched as he imagined Taren Davies parked at his workstation, running a dozen different searches on a dozen different screens. “You’re a fucking nerd, Da
vies.”

  Taren chuckled. “Yeah, but I’m the best damn nerd you’ve got on your payroll.” Keys clicked again, then Taren said, “There it is.”

  “You got it?”

  “Just came up.”

  “Put him on speaker,” Kelsey said.

  Hunt didn’t want to, but one look at her fierce expression told him she wouldn’t be deterred. “Hold on, Davies, I’m putting you on speaker.” He pulled the phone away from his face, hit the speaker button, and set it down on his desk. “Taren, say hello to Kelsey McClane.”

  “Hey, Ms. McClane. Sorry this is how we get to meet. The boss man there rarely unchains me from the basement.”

  “Hi, Taren.” She uncrossed her arms and braced her hands against the surface of Hunt’s desk as she glanced at the phone by her side. “That’s okay, I’m going to keep your boss chained up here in this basement until he figures out who’s harassing me.”

  Heat exploded in Hunt’s belly. A heat he knew he should not be feeling and which he couldn’t keep from shooting straight into his groin. Holy shit, she had no idea what she’d just said. Or what kind of dirty thoughts were suddenly spinning in his mind.

  From Davies’s silence, Hunt knew his employee had heard Kelsey’s words and taken it as a sexual innuendo as well. Good thing he was keeping his trap shut.

  Davies cleared his throat. “Okay, well. Moving on. O’Donnell, you still there?”

  Kelsey’s brow lowered as if she’d missed something, and she glanced toward Hunt.

  Shifting uncomfortably, not wanting her to know where his mind was running, Hunt said, “Yeah. I’m here. What did you find?”

  “CBG Industries. The address is on the outskirts of LA.”

  Hunt glanced up at Kelsey. “You said Benedict doesn’t have any family or friends in southern California, right?”

  She shook her head. “No. He’s from the Midwest.”

  “Callahan said they can’t find any business associates or clients there for him either. Did he ever mention anyone in southern California to you?”

  “No.”