Blackhawk Security Elite Protection Services—

Their business is your safety

But not hers. Former SEAL Sullivan Bishop refuses to work for Jane Reise. The JAG Corps prosecutor is hard core—and he never stopped blaming her for his brother’s death. But Blackhawk is Jane’s only hope in fending off a frightening stalker, and she’ll blackmail Sullivan to get it. Forced into her service, he soon realizes he was wrong about Jane. As bullets fly, Sullivan knows he’ll risk his life—and heart—to save her.

NICHOLE SEVERN writes explosive romantic suspense with strong heroines, heroes who dare challenge them and a hell of a lot of guns. She resides with her very supportive and patient husband, as well as her demon spawn, in Utah. When she’s not writing, she’s constantly injuring herself running, rock climbing, practicing yoga and snowboarding. She loves hearing from readers through her website, www.nicholesevern.com, and on Twitter, @nicholesevern.

Also By Nichole Severn

Rules in Blackmail

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Rules in Blackmail

Nichole Severn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07908-2

RULES IN BLACKMAIL

© 2018 Natascha Jaffa

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my husband: couldn’t do this without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“You have exactly five seconds to talk, or I start shooting.” Sullivan Bishop slipped his finger alongside the gun’s trigger.

“I’m not armed.” The woman in his sights raised her hands to shoulder level, but didn’t make another move. She might’ve been pretty, but in his experience, pretty faces were the best at hiding lies. And the lean dark-haired woman standing in the middle of his office had one of the prettiest faces he’d ever seen. Knowing her, she’d come armed. “I want to talk. Figured this would be the best place to do it.”

He balanced his weight between both feet. His heart pumped hard as he tightened his grip around the Glock. How long had it been since Jane Reise—the legendary JAG Corps prosecutor herself—had crossed his mind? Nine months? Ten? Didn’t matter. Nobody uninvited strolled into Blackhawk Security and stepped back through those doors without answering for something.

Jane had a lot to answer for.

“And you thought breaking into my private security company after hours was your best plan? How the hell did you get in here?” Sullivan closed in on her one inch at a time while he listened for movement on the rest of the floor. How had she gotten past his security system? Blackhawk Security provided top-of-the-line security measures, including cameras, body-heat sensors, motion detectors and more. Whatever the client needed, they delivered. Sometimes those services included personal protection, investigating, logistical support to the US government and personal recovery. They did it all. But right now, his gut instincts were telling him Jane wasn’t standing in his office for some added security around her town house.

“Would you believe me if I said I came to hire you?” She swiped her tongue over her full bottom lip. Dropping her hands to her side, she scanned the rest of the office and widened her stance. Moonlight, coming through the wall of windows looking over downtown Anchorage, splayed across one half of her face. It washed out the brilliant color of her hazel eyes he’d studied from her file all those months ago. She was far more beautiful in person—no argument there—but the cord of tension stiffening her neck darkened her features.

“You’re kidding, right?” This was a joke. Had to be. Sullivan stopped no more than five feet from her, a quick burst of laughter rumbling through his chest. The gun grew heavy in his hand. He lowered it to his side but wouldn’t holster the Glock until he was certain she’d come unarmed. “I’m the last person on this planet who’d help you.”

Jane scanned the office a second time, looking everywhere but at him. Even in the dark, Sullivan swore the color drained from her face.

“I never meant...” She cleared her throat, determination wiping away the momentary fall of her features. “You have every reason to laugh in my face and shove me out the door, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. The police don’t have any leads, and I can’t get the army involved. Not yet.”

“Involved in what?” Flipping on the overhead lights, Sullivan saw what she’d tried to hide by sticking to the shadows of his office. She squinted against the onslaught of brightness. Dark circles had taken up residence under her eyes, a sort of hollowness thinning her cheeks. Her normally athletic and lean frame seemed smaller than he remembered from her photos, as though she’d lost not only weight but any muscle she’d gained from her current stint in the army. The white T-shirt and black cargo jacket washed color from her skin but didn’t detract from her overall beauty. Still, something was wrong. This wasn’t the same woman who’d stood in front of a judge a year ago and ripped apart his family.

“I’m being watched.” The corner of her mouth twitched as though she were biting the inside of her cheek. Her shoulders rose on a deep inhale. “Stalked.”

The fear in her voice twisted his insides—would twist any man’s insides—but Sullivan didn’t respond. It was a counterintelligence tactic. Keep your mouth shut, and the target was more likely to fill the silence. If she was lying, he’d know by the way her eyes darted to the left or how she held her arms around her middle.

“They’ve been in my house and my car. I don’t know where else.” Jane brushed a piece of short dark hair behind her ear and the strong, confident woman he’d studied from the surveillance photos and video taken during the trial disappeared. “If the army knew about this, they’d limit my security clearance, and I could lose my job. I called in an anonymous tip to the police, but—”

“The case isn’t high on their list.” He understood the way the Anchorage Police Department worked. Until there was an actual threat on Jane’s life, they had more important cases to work. That’d been one of the reasons Sullivan had founded Blackhawk Security in the first place. Aside from providing investigative services for government officials and witnesses to crimes, his team protected victims law enforcement couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. But taking on Jane’s case...

She wasn’t lying, at least not from what he could tell, but helping her wasn’t exactly high on his priority list either. “Do you have proof?”

With a quick nod of her perfectly angled chin, she drew her cell phone from her jacket pocket, swiping her finger across the screen. A few more clicks and she offered him the phone. “I found this picture of me sleeping in my bed yesterday morning. It’s dated two nights ago, around midnight.”

He took the phone from her and his index finger brushed against the side of her hand. The lack of warmth in her skin caught his attention, and he pulled back. Studying the photo taken with her own phone, Sullivan fought the urge to tighten his grip on the device. The idea of a man—any man—taking photos of a woman without her permission built pressure behind his sternum. A woman shouldn’t be afraid, shouldn’t have to look over her shoulder. Not ever. “Any ideas of who could’ve broken in?”

“No.” Her defeated answer wisped out from between her lips, drawing his attention up. Eyes wide, she shook her head slightly. “I live alone.”

Then, barring a random break-in, she most definitely had a stalker. Handing the phone back to her, Sullivan ensured his fingers didn’t touch hers again. His insides had already caught fire from an intruder breaking into his highly secure office. He didn’t need anything else clouding his head. “Does anyone else have a key to your apartment? Maybe an old boyfriend who hasn’t gotten the idea you two are over?”

With another shake of her head, her hair swung slightly below her earlobes. “No. I don’t...” Jane cocked her head to the side as she shrugged. “I don’t have any old boyfriends. Not since I went into the army.”

Which was five years ago, according to her military record. Sullivan’s fingers twitched at his side. “And what about your case files? Anyone not—” he ground his back teeth “—happy with the way you handled their case?”

Aside from him, that was.

Her lips thinned as she rolled them between her teeth. “Not that I know of, but I have all the files for the cases I was assigned back at my house if you want to go through them.”

Not going to happen. He shoved the Glock into his shoulder holster, the adrenaline rush draining from his veins. Despite getting past his security system, Jane wasn’t a threat. Yet. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay, what then?” She rolled her shoulders back but didn’t move otherwise. Did she realize how much he blamed her for what happened and didn’t want to take the chance of getting close? He liked to think so. She’d prosecuted dozens of devoted soldiers—men and women who’d sworn to protect this country, men like him—and she wanted his help? The woman was insane.

Captain Jane Reise was responsible for his brother’s suicide. She didn’t deserve an ounce of pity from him.

Spinning toward his desk, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. “This is the name of another security consultant to handle your case. I suggest you give him a call and get out of my office.”

“I came here because I need your help.” Hints of that legendary prosecutor he’d studied bled into her voice. Her sweet scent of vanilla climbed down into his lungs and he forced himself to hold his breath. “Isn’t that what Blackhawk Security does? Help people?”

“Yes.” Sullivan ripped the note from the pad and handed it to her. He spun away from those far too intelligent eyes and headed for the door. Turning the knob, he swung it open and motioned her out. “But not you.”

Crossing her arms, Jane leveled her chin to the floor and sat back against the desk. Every cell in his body stood at attention as fire bled into her gaze. “I’m not leaving until you agree to help me.”

“Move. Or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and dump you in the hallway.” He liked the visual. Far too much. He shouldn’t, but damn it he did. All that soft skin, her lean frame wrapped around his, her hair tickling him across his back. Sullivan shut down that line of thought. Didn’t matter how fiery or intelligent she was or how much she begged for his help. Wasn’t going to happen. Ever. He crossed his arms over his chest, parroting her movement. Even from this distance, he noted her throat constricting on a slow swallow. “Get out.”

“I can pay you.” She pushed off from the desk. “Anything you want.”

“This isn’t about money.” Sullivan dropped his hold on the door. Marching across the room, he shortened the space between them until she had to look up at him.

Her chin notched higher as she held her ground.

The woman had stood up to all kinds of criminals and soldiers over the years. She wasn’t intimidated. Damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew better than to trust her.

Chest almost pressed against her, he quirked one corner of his mouth. There were other ways to get her out of his office. He pushed his palms on either side of her on the desk, leaning down. “Unless you’re talking about something other than money...”

Her lips parted, a sharp exhale of air beating against him. Jane studied his face from top to bottom but didn’t move to escape the box he’d created around her. She locked that striking gaze on his, eyes determined and wide. “Dollars and cents, Lieutenant Bishop. Nothing more.”

“Then you’ll want to leave before I put in a call to your commanding officer and have you disbarred for harassing the family of one of your victims.” He shoved himself away from the desk, away from that intoxicating scent of hers, and headed toward the door.

“I can make you help me,” she said.

Another rush of heat overwhelmed his control, and he stopped dead in his tracks. What part of his answer didn’t she understand? He spun back toward her. If it was a fight she was looking for, fine. He had no problem taking down the woman who’d destroyed his family. He might even enjoy it. “I’d like to see you try.”

“All right.” Jane straightened her spine as though she was preparing for battle. That same fire he’d caught a glimpse of during his brother’s court-martial encroached on the darkness embedded in her features. “I know who you really are. And I know what you’ve been hiding.”

* * *

“YOU DON’T KNOW anything about me.” Sullivan Bishop seemed so much...bigger than he had a moment ago. Caged by his body against the desk, she felt his heat tunnel through her clothing. Hatred had burned in those sea-colored eyes as he’d pressed his chest against hers.

Jane swallowed as he stretched his shoulders wider. What had she been thinking to try to blackmail a man like him? Blackhawk Security’s CEO wasn’t an administrator over a team of highly trained ex-military operatives. He was ex-military. He’d been a SEAL, capable of the worst kind of violence. And she’d just threatened everything he’d ever worked for.

He closed in on her a second time. His clean, fresh scent whispered across the underside of her jaw as he spoke.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Every word out of his mouth promised she was going to wish she hadn’t gone down this path, but Jane didn’t have any other choice. Gliding her tongue across her bottom lip—a movement his eyes locked onto—she stood her ground. There was no turning back. He was the best, and she needed his help. One way or another.

“I know Sullivan Bishop isn’t your real name.” Every muscle in his body tightened in warning, and Jane forced herself to breathe evenly. She pressed her lower back into the desk. “And the people holding your company’s military contracts might be interested to know why you changed it. A few of your classified clients, too, I imagine.”

“You’re blackmailing me?” A low growl reverberated up his throat and hiked her blood pressure higher. The shadows angling across the dark, thick stubble darkening his jaw shifted, but those sea-blue eyes never left hers. The veins in his arms popped as he leaned into her, the butt of the Glock in his shoulder holster pressing into her arm. “Are you sure you want to go down this road, Captain Reise? It won’t end well.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to survive.” A shiver chased up her spine, but Jane held her ground. She couldn’t live like this anymore. The late-night phone calls, the feeling of being watched, the sick photo in her cell phone of her sleeping. And there was more. Going back several weeks. “Have you ever been hunted like an animal, Lieutenant Bishop?”

The suffocating bubble of tension he’d built around her disappeared. The edge to his features softened. She breathed a little easier. Putting some distance between them, Sullivan relaxed his hands to his sides, but the strong muscles flexing the length of his arms promised he was fully capable of violence. “Yes.”

“Then you know what it’s like to constantly be looking over your shoulder, to feel so helpless you don’t seem to have any control of your own life.” She crossed her arms over her chest, fully aware of the loss of body heat he’d forced through her with his proximity. Her hands shook as the terror she’d tried keeping to herself crept through her. “To feel like every second you’re alive could actually be your last.”

The lines running from the edge of his nose to those perfectly crafted lips deepened. She couldn’t read his expression, but the tension in his neck and shoulders released.

“How did you get through it?” she asked.

Sullivan’s chest expanded on a deep inhale. At least he wasn’t crowding her anymore. She could actually breathe again, but the cold fist tightened in the pit of her stomach. “I have people I trust to back me up no matter what the situation calls for.”

She nodded. That was what she was counting on. Why she was here in the first place. Sullivan had the reputation for committing himself to every job he took on, and while it was a risk to rely on the man she was blackmailing, she hoped his reputation proved true. “Well, I don’t have a team. I have you. And if it’s going to take blackmail to get you to help me, then so be it.”

Silence pressed in on her as Sullivan studied her from head to toe. A scorching trail of awareness skittered across her skin. What did he see? A woman who couldn’t protect herself? Or the woman responsible for his brother’s death?

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours of my time,” he said. “After that, you can go back to your cold, empty existence and leave me the hell alone.”

He was just like the rest of them: her peers, the men and women she prosecuted to protect citizens of the United States, even her commanding officer. She’d earned her reputation as the Full Metal B, she supposed. Her job required an almost ruthless approach to the cases she’d been assigned, but this was the first time her rib cage tightened at someone’s assessment of her. Which didn’t make sense. She didn’t care what Sullivan Bishop thought of her. She didn’t care what any of them thought of her. Her insides twisted. She didn’t care. Jane shoved off from the massive desk he’d trapped her against moments before. Uncrossing her arms, she stepped toward him. “So you’ll help me?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? Isn’t that how blackmail is supposed to work?” Sullivan rounded his desk. The thick muscles across his back flexed through his shirt. She forced her attention to the sway of his gun rather than the way he moved, to prove she could take her eyes off him. Lean waist, strong legs, hints of his trident tattoo peeking out from under his T-shirt. Such a dangerous man shouldn’t be that attractive. “We’ll take my car.”

Jane straightened. Okay. They were doing this. “Where are we going?”

“To your town house. I’ll brief my team on the way.” He unholstered the Glock from his side and dropped the magazine into his hand. After a glance at the rounds, he replaced it with efficient, sure movements and chambered a round. He raised that piercing gaze to hers. “I have a man on my team who used to work forensics for the NYPD. If your stalker has been in your house like you claim, he’ll find the evidence and we can all move on with our lives.”

She ran her cold palms over the front of her jeans and took another step toward him. He was actually going to help her find the man trying to destroy her life? A knot of hope pulsed from deep in her chest. “And if he does find evidence? What then?”

Sullivan came around the desk, his wide shoulders blocking out the magnificent view of the Chugach mountain range behind him. Nearly pressing against her, he stared down at her. At six foot four, it wasn’t hard, but the intimidation had drained from his body. He stalked toward the office door. “Then you’ll have the proof you need to take to the police.”

“What?” Jane wrapped her hand halfway around his massive biceps and spun him around to look at her. He’d let her. She didn’t have the strength to move a mountain like him. She was at the end of her rope, and she hadn’t come here to admit defeat. Her leave ended in a week, and she’d come no closer to discovering her stalker’s identity than she was three months ago. Desperation held her tight.

She glared up into those sea-blue eyes of his, her throat constricting. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear. Either you help me find the person stalking me or I go to the government and your clients with what I know about you. And your family.”

Facing her, oh-so-slowly, Sullivan towered over her, and she fought the urge to take a step back. He leaned in close, mere centimeters from her mouth, as though he intended to kiss her. “Then let me make myself perfectly clear. The only way you get my help is if we do this my way, and I plan to get you out of my life as soon as I can.”

Jane flinched, but he didn’t wait for her to answer, heading for the door.

“Let’s go,” he said.

This was a mistake. She should’ve known how deep Sullivan’s hatred for her flowed, but she’d run out of options. Jane followed on his heels toward the elevator, allowing a good amount of distance between them as they crowded into the small space on the way down to the parking garage. Neither said a word. His clean scent wrapped around her, and she gripped the handrail to clear her head. In less than a minute, he led her out of the elevator and across the empty parking garage toward a black SUV.

Tingling spread across her back—an all-too-familiar feeling—and Jane turned back toward the elevator, heart in her throat. Darkness surrounded them. Everyone in the building had already gone home for the day. She’d made sure. Everyone except Sullivan and a few security guards, but someone else was here. He was here, watching her. She felt it.

“Jane.” Sullivan’s deep timbre flooded her nerves with relief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. “Jane,” he said again.

She stared at him. It was her imagination. Had to be. There was no way anyone could’ve followed her here. She’d been too careful, but still, the sensation between her shoulder blades prickled her instincts. “I’m coming.”

Sullivan ripped open the driver’s-side door of the large black SUV, his eyes sweeping across the parking garage as she moved to the other side. Once she was safely inside the car, the sensation disappeared and Jane breathed a bit easier. Nobody had been watching her. The constant paranoia had just become a habit.

Sullivan slammed the door behind him and started the engine. Black leather and dark interiors gave her a false sense of security, but having him in the driver’s seat eased some of the tension on either side of her spine. At the exit, he lowered the window and scanned his key card. Nobody went in or out of the garage without a card. He swung the SUV north through an area of warehouses and railroads, as though he knew exactly where they were headed.

The SUV plowed through the wet streets of downtown Anchorage, spitting up water and snow along the way. The heater chased away the ice that’d built inside her over the past few weeks. She was reminded of Sullivan’s heat back in his office. The same heat rolled off him in waves now. She watched him from her peripheral vision. He wore only a T-shirt and jeans in these temperatures, a human furnace. It’d been too long since she’d felt anything but fear.

“I know what you’ve heard about me, what they called me in Afghanistan. I’m not as cold as you think.” Sitting straighter in her seat, Jane stared down into her lap to counteract the need to explain herself to Blackhawk Security’s CEO. “I didn’t want to dig into your history. I needed—”

“We’re not doing this right now,” he said, one hand on the wheel. He still wouldn’t look at her. Typical alpha male, determined not to talk. Sullivan pressed his foot on the accelerator as they rolled onto the bridge across Knik Arm, the shallow water almost motionless with a few inches of ice across the top.

“All right.” She wiped her clammy hands down her thighs. “Tough crowd.”

A light falling of snow peppered the windshield. Nothing like the storms Anchorage usually saw this time of year, but just as beautiful as she remembered growing up in Seattle.

The high screech of peeling tires broke their self-imposed silence, and Jane swept her gaze out the window. Blinded by fast-approaching headlights, she shoved away from the door as a truck slammed into her side of the SUV.

Chapter Two

The loud groan of a truck’s engine brought Sullivan around.

“Reise?” Pain. In his skull. Everywhere. He blinked to clear his vision and ran his hand over his left cheek. Something warm and sticky coated his hand. Blood. He fought to scan his body for other injuries. Hell. They’d flipped.

Cracks in the windshield spidered out in a dendritic pattern, blocking his view of the other driver. Had they survived? Been injured? He depressed the seat belt button and collapsed onto the SUV’s roof. Broken glass from the window cut into him. He pounded his fist into the roof and locked his jaw. “Damn it!”

He swiped blood from his eyes. Where was Jane? Twisting inside the crushed interior, he spotted her. Sullivan crawled through debris and around the middle console, ignoring the pain screaming for his attention. The seat belt held her in the passenger seat, upside down. Couldn’t search her for injuries here. They needed to get clear of the wreck. “Captain Reise, can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, unconscious.

Bracing himself, Sullivan released her belt and caught her just before she hit the SUV’s roof. He pressed his palm against the glistening gash across the right side of her head to stop the bleeding, then checked her slender neck for a pulse. Thready, but there.

Burning rubber and exhaust worked down into his lungs. Crouching low to see through the passenger-side window, he kept pressure on her wound. But couldn’t hold it for long. The yellow tow truck’s tires screeched again as it made another lunge straight for them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His fight-or-flight instinct kicked into high gear. Heaving Jane across the cab, he pulled her through his shattered driver’s-side window with everything he had. They cleared the SUV, but his momentum catapulted them down the steep embankment surrounding the shallow water of Knik Arm.

The world spun as snow and mud worked under his clothes and clung tight to his skin and hair. His arms closed around Jane, the movement as natural as breathing as they rolled. They slammed into a nearby tree, mere feet from the ice-cold water of the river. Positioned on top of her, he scanned her once more, panting. His vision split into two and he shook his head.

He leveraged his weight into the palms of his hands to give her more breathing room, his heart pumping hard. “Captain Reise, wake up. We need to—”

The second crash forced Sullivan’s gaze up the snow-covered hill. The SUV’s headlights flickered a split second before the entire vehicle started to slide down the slope, heading right for them. There was no time to think. He dug his fingertips into Jane’s arm and spun them through the snow and weeds to the right as fast as he could. The SUV sped past, breaking through the six inches of solid ice at the edge of the river.

Hell. This wasn’t some freak accident. Someone wasn’t just stalking Jane. They’d now decided they wanted her dead. He studied the cut across her head, then her sharp features. She’d been telling the truth. Sullivan exhaled hard. Puffs of breath crystallized in front of his mouth. “Come on, Jane. We have to get out of here.”

Jane? When had he started calling her by her first name?

Screeching tires above echoed in his ears as the tow truck hauled fast away from the scene. Damn it. He hadn’t seen the driver at all. He could still catch up. He could—

Jane moaned as she stirred in his arms. Her lips parted. Such soft, pink lips. Pulse now beating steady at the base of her throat, she fought to focus on him. She lifted one hand toward her face, but he wrapped his fingers around her small wrist. “What...happened? My head—” She locked her fuzzy gaze on him. “Did you just call me Jane instead of Captain Reise?”

He swallowed. She’d heard that? “You hit your head pretty hard against the window when the truck slammed into us. Must’ve heard me wrong.”

Sullivan shoved a strand of her hair out of her face to see her wound better. Her features softened as she closed her eyes. She was okay as far as he could tell, but the spike of adrenaline had yet to drain from his system. Whoever had been driving that truck had made a very dangerous enemy. Not only had he gone after an unarmed woman, he’d tried killing the CEO of the government’s most resourced private security contractor. No way Sullivan was going to turn Jane’s case over to Anchorage PD now. That bastard was his.

“What happened?” Those brilliant hazel eyes swept over the embankment, and he noted exactly when Jane caught sight of the totaled SUV. Every muscle down her spine tightened as she dug her heels into the snow to sit up. “Somebody tried to kill us.”

No point in denying the facts. Her stalker had gone from hunting Jane in her own home to outright attempted murder. “Looks that way. Can you stand?”

She nodded, rolling her upper body off the ground, but grabbed for his arm. Stinging heat splintered through his muscles where she touched him, his bare skin exposed to the dropping temperatures.

“It’ll be light soon.” Sullivan tugged his arm from her grasp as he scanned their surroundings. They hadn’t made it too far from downtown, but he couldn’t take the chance of taking her back to the office. Her stalker had known exactly where to find them, as if he’d been waiting. Might’ve been on her tail when Jane had broken into Blackhawk Security. Whoever it was, the guy was willing to kill bystanders to get to her, which meant they couldn’t go to her town house either. “We don’t want to be caught out here overnight.”

“There’s nowhere we can hide.” Her teeth chattered together as she wrapped her arms around her midsection. She stared at the half-sunken SUV, shaking her head. “I was careful. I made sure no one was following me when I went to your office. I made sure...” Her words left her mouth quick and breathless as she finally looked at him. “He wants me dead.”

His insides flipped, and Sullivan reached for her without thinking. He pulled her into his chest. At about five foot three, Jane barely came to his sternum, but she fitted. Fragile, vulnerable, but strong. His back molars clamped together, jaw straining. She’d ripped apart his family. She was even blackmailing him into protecting her, but the fear darkening those eyes had urged him to lock her body against his automatically. Her job might’ve made her a few enemies, but not even the army’s most revered prosecutor deserved to be hunted like an animal. No one did.

Tremors racked through her—most likely shock—but he dropped his hold. Wisps of her sweet scent replaced the smell of exhaust and burned rubber seared into his memory, and he inhaled deeply to clear his system. They had to get moving. “Whoever this guy is, we’ll find him.”

The shivers simmered. Sliding her hands between their bodies, she placed them above his heart and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Thank you.”

Heat worked through his chest, a combination of dropping temperatures and the rage he held for her fighting for his attention. Her nearly dying at the hands of a crazed psychopath wouldn’t change the past between them. Nothing could.

“For getting me out of the SUV, I mean.” Cuts, scrapes and dried blood marred her otherwise flawless skin, a small bruise forming on the right side of her face. A strand of short black hair slid along the curve of her cheek, but he wouldn’t brush it away. “You could’ve left me there to take care of your blackmail problem, but you didn’t. I appreciate that.”

He kept his expression tight. Right. Jane Reise had the power to bring down his entire company with one phone call and had made it perfectly clear she was willing to use it. How could he have forgotten?

“Yeah, well, whoever you pissed off tried to kill me, and you’re the only lead I have to hunt him down.” Sullivan put some much-needed space between them. She’d most certainly lived up to her reputation in the last hour they’d been forced together. He curled his fingers into his palms to douse the urge to comfort her. The woman who’d destroyed his family—the woman blackmailing him for his help—didn’t deserve comfort. And she wouldn’t get it from him. He had control. Time to use it.

“Right.” Jane’s throat constricted on a hard swallow. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and surveyed their surroundings. “I’d say call a tow truck, but I think your SUV is beyond saving.”

Cracking ice pulled his attention toward the river. The SUV was sinking. In less than five minutes, the entire vehicle would be submerged in the icy Gulf of Alaska. Treading through six inches of muddy snow toward the vehicle, Sullivan registered her confident footsteps behind him. He hauled the tailgate above his head and tossed the false bottom of the trunk to his right. “Now we’re on foot. Take this.” He thrust the lighter duffel bag from the trunk at Jane. He grabbed a thick coat and the heavier bag for himself. Boy Scouts, SEALs and Alaskans all had one motto in common: Never Get Caught in the Wilderness Unprepared.

She unzipped the bag he’d handed her. “Food and guns. You’re officially the man of my dreams.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but, hell, the compliment forced him to pause.

“Wait until you see what’s in this bag. Between us, we’ll be able to survive out here for at least three days.” He didn’t bother closing the tailgate. Some civilian would drive past and put a call in to the cops, or the SUV would sink. Either way, he and Jane weren’t sticking around to find out. He couldn’t take the risk of her stalker coming back to the scene to make sure the job was done. “We’re heading northeast.” He pointed toward the thick outcropping of trees as he pulled on his thick coat. “It’s a three-mile hike. We need to leave now in case your stalker realizes he didn’t finish the job.”

“Where are we going?” She brought up the hood on her cargo jacket. Smart move. The Alaskan wilderness wasn’t any place to screw around. They had to stay warm and dry or risk hypothermia.

Sullivan covered his head to conserve body heat. A gust of freezing wind whipped one side of his body as he headed into the forest. “Somewhere no one will find us.”

* * *

HE’D CALLED HER Jane back on the embankment. Not Captain Reise. She’d heard him clear as day. Because even in the midst of suffocating unconsciousness, Jane had locked on to his voice. The man she was blackmailing had brought her out of the darkness. Why? He had no allegiance to her.

Sullivan cleared a path through the thickest parts of the forest with one of the extra blades from his duffel bag a few feet up ahead of her. Shadows cast across his features from the beam from his flashlight. Snow had worked down into her boots, turning to slush. Her jeans were soaked through. How long had they been out here? An hour? Two? Three miles didn’t seem like much until deep snow and freezing temperatures added to the misery. Not to mention it was dark and difficult to see. Her toes had gone numb long ago, fingers following close behind, but Jane kept her mouth shut. They had to be close, right? She swiped away a few drops of water from her cheek, wincing as pain radiated up toward her temple. The sooner they made it to their destination—wherever that was—the better.

Distraction. She had to keep her mind off her frozen limbs. “Bet you’ve never had to walk through the Alaskan wilderness with a client to escape a crazed psychopath before.”

“You’re right.” He laughed, a deep guttural rumble she felt down into her bones. It was real, warming. Swinging his arm out, he held back a large branch so she could pass. He stared down at her while she maneuvered around him, those sea-blue eyes brightening in the muted beam from his flashlight. “I usually reserve these kinds of trips for people I’ve been assigned to hunt down.”

“Is that a nice way of putting that you’ve killed people for a living?” She instantly regretted the words, and her heart rate rocketed. “I mean, I read your military record during the trial. I know you used to be a SEAL, one of the best. You don’t have to lie to me or sugarcoat anything.”

“Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. You never really retire. It stays in your blood, makes you who you are. Forever.” Defensiveness tinted his words as Jane followed in his sunken footsteps. But, faster than she thought possible, he latched onto her arm and spun her into his chest. The hard set to his eyes said Sullivan Bishop could be a very dangerous enemy, but she’d known that before throwing his secrets in his face. Right now, in this moment, her instincts said he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d learned to trust those instincts to get her through the past few years. “And, as a prosecutor, you of all people should understand that the best defense against evil men is good men who deal in violence.”

Jane took a deep breath. One, two. She couldn’t get enough air. Staring up at him, she noted the gash across his cheek he must’ve suffered during the wreck. He’d protected her back there because she was a lead. Nothing more. He’d said as much, but why did being this close to him change her breathing patterns? “And what about now?”

“What do you mean?” Sullivan narrowed his eyes, his features turning to stone.

“Do you still ‘hunt down’ people for a living?” she asked.

Seconds ticked by, then a minute. Something in her heart froze. Sullivan was a killer. It’d been part of the job description, part of his past, but Jane couldn’t keep track of how long he held her there as snow fell from branches around them. His mesmerizing gaze held hers, but Jane had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing her at all. His fingers dug into her, keeping his hold light enough not to bruise. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. Maybe...he didn’t want to let her go.

“Isn’t that why you blackmailed me into helping you?” The demons were evident in his eyes, but Sullivan released his grip on her arm and put a few inches of freezing Alaska air between them as he turned his back on her and pushed forward.

“No. I blackmailed you to find the man doing this to me so we can turn him over to the police.” Her skin tingled through her thin coat where he’d latched onto her arm. Phantom sensations. There was no way he could affect her like that. Not in these temperatures. She studied him from behind, the way his back stretched each time he took a step, the way he carried himself as though nothing could get through him if a threat arose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

What? Pry into his life? Doubt his reasons for doing what needed to be done overseas and here in the United States?

Pushing on up ahead, he worked to clear branches. After a few seconds, Sullivan halted in his tracks, turning back toward her. Stubble speckled with ice and snow, he swayed on his feet. Good to know she wasn’t the only one suffering from exhaustion. He scanned over her from head to toe. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for your country and what you’re doing now. I’m sure every American does. It’s admirable.” She fought for a full lungful of air. Despite the dropping temperatures, her skin heated when he looked at her like that. Like she was a threat. She stepped over the remnants of a few branches he’d demolished along the way, nearly losing her footing. In that moment, something between them shifted. An understanding of sorts. No messy blackmail. No psychotic lunatic trying to run them down with his tow truck. Not even security consultant and client. Just two people trying to survive in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. Together. “You don’t have to do all this work yourself, you know. I can help.”

“You’re more than welcome to...” His mouth went slack as though he couldn’t get enough oxygen. Probably couldn’t. Freezing temperatures didn’t discriminate against SEALs or lawyers. Mother Nature treated everyone equally.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Sullivan?”

They’d crossed at least two and a half miles of heavy snow and growth, maybe more. She was tired and couldn’t feel her toes, but her instincts urged her to get to him. Now.

Sullivan doubled over, dropping his gear before he collapsed onto his side.

“Sullivan!” Jane discarded the duffel bag and lunged toward him. Her feet felt like frozen blocks of ice, but she fought the piling snow with everything she had. Hands outstretched, she checked his pulse. Weak. “No, no, no, no. Come on. Get up.”

Gripping his jawline, she brought one ear to his mouth. Still breathing. Would anyone hear her out here? “Help!”

Sullivan Bishop was a SEAL, for crying out loud. This shouldn’t be happening. He’d trained for situations exactly like this. Her heart beat out of control. She dived for the duffel bag he’d been carrying. Food, more guns. There had to be a—

“Yes!” She ripped the first-aid kit from the bag, fought to break the seal on the space blanket, then covered him completely. The hand and foot warmers were easier to open with her stiff fingers, but they wouldn’t be enough. One look at Sullivan’s normally full, sensual pink lips said she was running out of time. She had to get his body temperature up before hypothermia set in, but the blanket and a few warmers wouldn’t cut it.

“You are not allowed to die on me. You hear me? I can’t do this without you. You’re going to listen to my voice and wake up so I don’t have to carry you.” Scanning the thick trees ahead of their location, Jane narrowed in on a clearing. And across that? A small cabin set into the other side of the trees. Had to be Sullivan’s safe house. Had to be. If not, they’d at least have some protection from the elements while the owners called for help. “You’re going to make me drag you there, aren’t you?”

She didn’t have time to wait for an answer. Leaving the duffel bags, Jane fisted her numb grip into his jacket and pulled. The snow eased the friction underneath him as she hefted Sullivan toward the clearing, but her strength gave out after only a few hundred feet. She collapsed back into the snow, fingers aching, heart racing. Hours upon hours of training kept her in shape in the army, but this? This was different. And the security contractor at her feet wasn’t exactly a lightweight. “Come on, Sullivan. Think lighter thoughts.”

The trees passed by in a blur. She couldn’t focus on anything but shoving one foot back behind the other. Minutes passed, hours it seemed, and they hit the clearing. Only a few hundred more feet and faster than she thought possible, the heels of her boots knocked against the steps leading into the cabin. She tried the door. Locked. Pounding her fists against the door, she listened carefully for movement, but no one answered. In a rush, she searched for a fake rock, anything that would get her inside. She hunted around the bushes and flitted over something that was most certainly not natural: a key taped to one of the thick branches. Shoving the steel into the dead bolt and turning, she sighed in victory.

Heat enveloped her in seconds, thawing her fingers in a rush until they burned. No time. She spun back to Sullivan and slid her grip under his arms. An exhausted groan broke free from her lips as she hauled him inside. Fire. She had to start a fire to get him warm.

“Almost there. Hang on.” Throwing off her coat, Jane ran toward the fireplace and got a small fire going. She’d add more to it in a few minutes, but right now, Sullivan’s wet clothes and his own sweat were doing his body more harm than good. She stripped off her coat, socks and jeans, staring down at the peaceful expression settled across his strong, handsome features. Then it was his turn.

“Sorry, Sullivan. You might hate me even more after you wake up.” Crouching at his feet, she untied his boot laces and unbuttoned his pants. Jane hefted her own shirt over her head, adding it to the pile of clothes at her feet. Tugging him up into a sitting position, she stripped him down to nothing. “But it’s going to save your life.”

Chapter Three

Dying hurt like hell.

Heat blistered along his forearms, neck and face. His entire body ached in places he hadn’t thought about since his SEAL days. He hadn’t been on active duty for over a year now, but Sullivan still trained as though he were. Had to be ready for anything his clients might throw his way. Even the beginning stages of hypothermia. Damn it, he should’ve known better. Groaning, he cracked open his eyes, stomach still rolling. A fire popped a few feet from him.

At least he knew where he was. The cabin was sparse: one bedroom, one bath, a living room and small kitchen. He mostly came out here when he wanted to be alone, needed to get away from people, the city or both. No neighbors, no one to encroach on his business. And he’d never brought anyone here before. He’d kept this place under his mother’s maiden name in case he’d needed a safe house. It couldn’t be traced back to him if Jane’s stalker—or anyone else—had the inclination to investigate. But how in the hell did he get here?

Sullivan raised his head. He wasn’t alone.

Endless amounts of warm, smooth skin stretched out beside him under the heaviest blanket he kept on hand in the cabin. A head of black hair rested against his right arm. Jane? He had to be dreaming. Skimming his fingers across her shoulder blade, he sank into how very real she felt. Nope. Not a dream. But why would she... The lapse in his memory filled almost instantly. The last thing he remembered was the look on her face as he...collapsed. Terrified. Hell. Had she dragged him all the way out here on her own?

Her shoulders rising and falling against him in a slow, even rhythm said she was fast asleep. He couldn’t have been out for long. An hour—two, tops—from the amount of moonlight coming through the front room window. He’d messed up out there, but her sultry vanilla scent spared him a few ounces of guilt. It dived into his lungs, and he took a deep breath to keep it in his system as long as possible. His heart rate dropped to a slow, even thump behind his ears. He closed his eyes, all too easily seeing himself burying his nose in her hair for another round.

Nope. Not the time and definitely not this woman.

Sullivan shifted his hips away from her backside. If Jane woke up now, there’d be no hiding what was going on downstairs in that moment. His brain might have control, but with the expanse of soft skin along his front, his body had other ideas. He scanned the living room and spotted his clothes hanging from fishing line around the open rafters by the fireplace. He’d gotten out of some real complicated situations in the navy. There had to be a way to unwind himself from this warm, coldhearted woman without waking her.

He leveraged his weight into his toes and stretched out his arm. A soft, guttural moan worked up Jane’s throat. Something primal washed through him. He froze. There was a stalker on the loose and he’d nearly died out in the wilderness, but all Sullivan could think about was what he wouldn’t give to hear that sound again.

She shifted against him, wrapping her leg around him as though she sensed he was trying to escape. What the—

The breath Sullivan had been holding crushed from his lungs. He settled back where he’d been, pressed right against her, his front to her back. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Rolling into him, Jane startled him with a wide, gut-clenching grin. The dark, sultry look of her gaze constricted his throat, and a shiver chased down his spine. Her pupils expanded. For an instant, he swore he saw desire blazing in her eyes. Or maybe the hypothermia had done more damage to his brain than he’d originally thought. “I couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you woke up and found a naked woman under the blanket with you. Surprise.”

“Did I meet your expectations?” Sullivan was proud of the fact his voice sounded steady and calm. Especially considering how very far from calm he felt at the moment. Aware of how naked he was and how she couldn’t possibly miss the show going on at her lower back, he held his weight away from her.

“Absolutely priceless. And, as a bonus, I got to see you naked.” That amused smile of hers did funny things to his stomach, and he couldn’t help but clench the blanket in his grip for some piece of control. Resting her hand on his chest, Jane pushed herself up to a sitting position, taking the blanket with her as she stood. Cool air rushed down his body, prickling his skin along the way. “Don’t worry, big guy. It wasn’t anything sexual. You were dying and I had to get your body temperature up.”

Her long legs peeked out from between the folds of the blanket as she walked, the fire glinting off her bright red toenail polish. Not exactly the color he’d visualized for the woman he’d blamed for his brother’s suicide this past year. Black maybe, something to match her soul.

But Jane had saved his life out there. Even if she was only using him to track down her stalker, that counted for something in his world. Her reputation said she was the JAG Corps prosecutor willing to do anything and everything to convict the men and women who interrupted her crusade for justice. He scanned over his clothing hanging from the rafters. The Full Metal Bitch had only kept him alive to fix her stalker problem. Nothing more.

There was a lot he didn’t know about her, even more he couldn’t trust. One thing he did know? He would’ve died out there today if it hadn’t been for Jane. So, for now, he would choose to see a woman in danger, a woman who’d lost her grip on everything she thought she could control. Not someone who could turn on him at any moment.

She smiled over her shoulder at him as she pulled her clothing from the makeshift laundry lines.

Pulling a pillow from the couch across his hips, Sullivan cleared his throat. “Thank you for saving my life out there. Can’t imagine what it took to get me through that door. Couldn’t have been easy.”

“Guess that makes us even, doesn’t it?” Her hair flipped around her head as she headed straight for the single bathroom on the other side of the cabin and shut the door tight. The sound of the lock clicking into place shut down any hint of something between them.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever. She might’ve saved his life out there a few hours ago, but Jane had a lifetime of steel running through her veins, steel that’d gotten his brother killed. She was the reason he didn’t have any family left in this world. Besides, she was a client, and Blackhawk Security operatives were never to get involved with their clients. No exceptions.

Which reminded him—he had to fill his team in on their new case. Because even without blackmail hanging over his head, the bastard terrorizing Jane owed Sullivan a new SUV.

He tossed the pillow back onto the couch and dressed in a hurry. She’d hung his clothes up by the fire to dry them out, and the warm fabric chased away the chill of Jane leaving his side. How could he have been so stupid out there? Rule number one when in below-freezing temperatures: stay dry, stay warm. He usually had enough sense to slow down and ensure he wasn’t sweating. What had changed?

The bathroom door clicked open and his attention slid toward Jane as she stepped back into the main room. He pulled his shoulders back. There stood his answer. He hadn’t exactly been in the right frame of mind after nearly getting run down by a tow truck. He’d wanted to get Jane to safety as fast as possible. Stupid. She’d proved she could take care of herself, had even saved his life in the process. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, she was no worse for wear.

“This is a nice place.” She scanned over the small cabin, fingers stuffed into her jacket as he opened one drawer of his massive desk. “Not great security, though. A key taped to a bush? Thought you security consultants were better than that.”

“Sometimes there’s beauty in simplicity. Anybody breaking in here would expect some kind of elaborate security system, all the while wasting time looking for it. Gives me time to counter.” Another one of those debilitating smiles overwhelmed her features, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Sullivan flipped one of the many burner cell phones he’d unearthed from the desk over in his hand. The sensation of lightness disappeared, however, the longer he studied her. Eyes narrowing, he tried justifying the last few hours since she’d broken into his office. Why him? Why now? “What are you doing here, Jane?”

A small burst of laughter escaped from between those rosy lips. She motioned toward the front door. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave you here alone after—”

“No.” Sullivan closed in on her, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I mean why did you break into my office tonight? You had other options. Any number of bodyguards or private investigators in Anchorage would’ve jumped to help you for the right price. After all, you were ready to offer me anything.” He halted no more than a foot from her, reading those deep hazel eyes for any sign of hesitation. “Why come to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She tried backing away but hit the wall beside the front door. “I had dirt on you and your family, and I knew I could use it to force you to help me. Saved myself a hell of a lot of money in the process.”

Heat prickled under Sullivan’s skin, crawling up his neck and warming his face. Only Jane crossed her arms across her chest and the strong pulse at the base of her neck beat unevenly. She didn’t believe a word she was saying. And, thinking about it now, she’d only pulled the blackmail card when he’d refused to help her the first two times she’d asked. “You’re lying.”

Color left her features, a telling reaction he’d noted back in his office. Jane curled her fingers into the palms of her hands, stance wide as though she intended to run straight out the front door. Nervousness? Embarrassment? Difficult to tell when she wiped any kind of emotion from her features so fast.

“What do you want from me?” He stalked toward her. No. She wasn’t going to hide behind that hardened exterior this time.

“I guess after what happened on the road, you deserve the truth. It seems stupid now, but I didn’t have anyone else I could trust.” She licked her bottom lip, but Sullivan refused to let the motion distract him this time. Answers. That was all he wanted. He’d risked his life—twice—for her. Now he needed to know why she’d pulled him into this mess. She cocked her head to the side. “I came to you because I saw how protective and dedicated you were to Marrok during his trial. And after I uncovered that photo in my phone yesterday, I needed a little bit of that in my life.” Raising that beautiful gaze to his, she let her shoulders deflate and she exhaled hard. “I needed you.”

* * *

“I NEED TO brief my team.” His gravelly voice played havoc with her insides, but Sullivan turned away from her, phone in hand. Refused to even look at her.

Every nerve in Jane’s body caught fire. That was all he had to say? Watching him, she noted the strain around his eyes, the slightly haggard expression on his features as he spoke into the phone in whispered, clipped responses. She was used to it. In their line of work, she’d learned anybody could be listening in. Phone taps, parabolic mics. Without an idea of who her stalker was, why they’d come after her or what resources they had access to, she and Sullivan couldn’t afford to be careless.

She headed into the kitchen. When had she eaten last? Her stomach rumbled. Too long ago. Sullivan turned toward her at the sound. The weight of his gaze slid across her sternum. Head down, she focused on her hunt for anything edible in this place. No luck. He obviously didn’t stay here often. The walls were bare, the counters covered in dust. She ran her fingers over the cream granite, but ripped her hand away at the low temperature.

“I sent my forensic investigator, Vincent, to your place with some backup.” Sullivan tossed the cell phone he’d been using onto the granite. Exhaustion played across his features, darkening the circles under his eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after nearly dying. Neither of them had, but Jane was too wound up and too anxious to figure this mess out. “If your stalker has been there, Vincent will find the evidence and call me back. Could be an hour, could be tomorrow. Just depends.”

“Okay. What do we do until then?” She couldn’t sit around waiting for some maniac to make the next move. There had to be something in her case files, something in her work for the army that could point them in the right direction to an ID of who’d T-boned them back at the bridge.

“We dig into your cases.” Sullivan slid onto the bar stool on the other side of the granite countertop as though using it as a barrier between them. Probably a good idea. Because those heated, confusing minutes of them under the blanket in front of the fire together hadn’t exactly gone as Jane had expected. His skin had pressed against hers from chest to toes, his very prominent arousal at her lower back, and the way he’d feathered his fingertips over her shoulder... Jane swallowed back the memories. His touch had felt good, real. Then again, she’d lived the past few months as a hermit and wouldn’t know the difference between her own arousal and the simple need for human contact. Jane shivered. No. That wasn’t it. She’d recognized the difference. She just hadn’t felt that kind of drowning heat in a long time. Her insides burned to close the distance between them for another passing glimpse of it, however fleeting.

But Sullivan’s reaction had been simple biology. There’d been a naked woman pressed against him and his body had responded. He didn’t want her. Because no matter how many heated moments they shared, how many times they laughed together or how long they talked, Sullivan blamed her for his brother’s suicide. Plain and simple.

“I’m already having the files brought from your town house by another operative on my team,” he said.

Pressure built behind her sternum. Sullivan might not use all of his training from his military days for Blackhawk Security, but from what she’d read of him, he never missed a clue. She cleared her throat, stuffing her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. “Good idea. I’ve already gone through most of them, but another set of eyes might uncover something I missed.”

Jane’s stomach growled again.

“You need to eat and rest before Elliot gets here with the files.” Sullivan stood, his wide shoulders blocking her view of the living room and the fire popping and cracking in the fireplace. Muscles flexed across his chest and arms, and Jane swallowed the rush of saliva filling her mouth. “I don’t come up here often so I’m sorry to say there’s nothing more than a few MREs lying around, but there should be enough in the duffel bags we brought to last us three days.” He searched the living room. “Where did you put the bags after I tried to kill myself out there? I’ll make us something to eat.”

Jane’s responding smile to his willingness to feed her disappeared. Exhaling, she ran her hand through her hair. Crap. “I left them outside. I wasn’t thinking after I pulled you in—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped right into her, that massive chest of his brushing against her. Staring down at her, Sullivan bent at the knees to look her right in the eye, his hands posed above her arms as though he didn’t dare touch her. And she didn’t blame him. The difference in height between them was laughable, but she appreciated the even ground now. His hands rested around her upper arms. Her insides flipped as his body heat spread through her, but she didn’t pull away. “You had your priorities straight. You saved my life. I’ll get them. About how far did you drop them?”

Good. He’d just go get them. Her breathing eased the longer he kept his grip on her, but it took a few seconds to clear her head of his proximity enough to answer. “Beyond the tree line. I don’t think it snowed enough to cover my tracks. You should be able to follow them to the bags.”

“All right. And when I get back, we’ll call Anchorage PD to have them put an APB out for that tow truck.” He dropped his hold on her, spinning toward his discarded gear drying over the fireplace. A shiver rushed through her, but Jane held her ground as Sullivan donned his shoulder holster and thick coat. He reached under the built-in desk where the keyboard drawer clicked into place and removed a Glock, disengaged the magazine and pulled back the slide to check the chamber. He moved in quick, confident steps to reload the magazine and put a round in the chamber as though he’d done the same moves a thousand times before. Which he probably had. “I shouldn’t be gone more than five minutes.” He checked the batteries in the flashlight next. “If anything happens while I’m out there, use the burner phone to call the last number I dialed. It’ll put you directly through to my guy Elliot. He’s the closest right now, and he’ll get here as fast as he can.”

Jane nodded. He wouldn’t be gone more than a few minutes, but she pointed toward the gun. “Do you have an extra one of those for me? Just in case.” They’d already proved anything could happen. For crying out loud, a tow truck had blindsided them on purpose. She wasn’t about to make it easier for this psychopath to get to her.

A smile lit up his features before he turned toward what she assumed was the only bedroom in the cabin. Mere seconds later, he handed her another Glock. “This is my service weapon from the SEALs and my favorite gun. If you have to shoot it outside for any reason, make sure there’s no snow in the barrel and that you’ve warmed it up. Otherwise, it might blow up in your hands.”

“I went through weapons training, too, remember? I know how to handle my guns in cold weather.” Jane hit the button to disengage the magazine and pulled back the slide to clear the chamber, just as Sullivan had done with his own gun. Faster than she thought possible, the guarded curiosity in Sullivan’s eyes changed to something dark, primal. She clenched her lower abdomen. Air stalled in her throat. She focused on the gun in her hand. “Besides, you won’t be gone that long. I’m sure I can manage to take care of myself for five minutes.”

“Of that—” he secured the Glock he’d taken from under the desk in his shoulder holster, eyes scanning her from head to toe “—I have no doubt.” Sullivan disappeared out the door without looking back.

The goose bumps along her forearms receded the longer Jane stared after him. There was no denying it now. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held on to her earlier. He wanted the intel she’d called in a few favors to get, the one with his real identity inside. Because there was no way that man wanted her for any other reason. No matter how deep he’d buried his past, she’d uncovered the truth and she’d known the second she confronted him with it, she would pay for using blackmail. What was he going to do? Torture her with desire until she gave him everything she had on him and his family?

Jane leaned against the countertop, Sullivan’s service weapon comfortable in her grip. Now that she thought about it, torture by desire was one of the better ways to go. Especially with a six-foot-four, muscled, powerfully built SEAL. A smile pulled at her lips. Crap, she imagined that outcome between them all too easily. The heat, the explosion of passion, the—

The front door slammed open and her muscle memory hefted the gun up. She aimed, ready to pull the trigger. Adrenaline pumped fast through her veins as Sullivan swung his head around the thick, wooden door. Jane dropped the gun to her side, heart beating a mile a second. She could’ve shot him. “You scared me to death. Do you always barge into a room like that?”

Sullivan stomped his boots on the mat at the door, then headed straight for the burner phone on the kitchen counter. He brushed against her, but instead of heat penetrating through her jacket like before, she only felt cold. Something was wrong. Stabbing the pad of his thumb into the keypad, he brought the phone up to his ear, those sea-blue eyes glued on her. Darkness etched into his expression, and Jane took a step back to give him some space. “The bags are gone.”

Chapter Four

The guns, extra ammunition, food, tracks, everything was gone. Looked like Jane’s mysterious stalker had tracked her back here after all. The phone rang once in his ear before Elliot Dunham, his private investigator, picked up.

“Go for Dunham,” Elliot said.

Sullivan checked his watch. “How far out are you?”

“Five minutes.”

“Make it three. The bastard knows we’re here.”

“See you in two.” The revving of a car engine echoed in the background before the line disconnected. As an operative on the Blackhawk Security team, Elliot would understand to come in hot—armed and ready for a fight. Sullivan had swiped the private investigator off the Iraqi streets right after Sullivan’s discharge from the SEALs. The man had a knack for finding and recovering classified documents, digging into a person’s life, discovering those secrets his target didn’t want the world to know about. Like a pit bull with his favorite chew toy, Elliot never gave up and never surrendered. Most likely a side effect of his con artist days; each case a long con. With a genius-level IQ, he dug deep, he got personal. At least until the job was done. Then he disappeared to start fresh. It hadn’t been difficult to recruit him either. Only a few phone calls that could put Elliot back into an Iraqi jail cell.

His next call was to Anchorage PD to report the tow truck that’d nearly rammed them into the Gulf of Alaska. A minute later, Sullivan tossed the phone onto the counter and rubbed at his face.

“Is Elliot bringing supplies?” Jane stared up at him, arms wrapped around her small midsection. Her shoulders hunched inward as though she felt the weight of someone watching her. Which Sullivan bet was familiar by now.

The same weight pressed in on him, too, but they only had to wait a few more minutes. Then they could get through her case files and find out who exactly had turned Jane into a target. After that, they’d come up with a plan. “I make every member of my team carry extra guns, ammo and food in case of emergency.”

“Do you think whoever is after me is out there, right now, watching us?” Jane’s voice trembled. She was scared. And rightfully so.

Whoever had taken their bags had wiped any evidence of their existence from the snow. There weren’t a whole lot of men who possessed that kind of skill, Sullivan being one of the few. His father had ensured his sons knew how to hunt their prey properly, before the old man had turned into the sick psychopath he became known for. But right now, in this moment, Sullivan wasn’t the hunter. He felt like the prey.

A soft ringing reached his ears, and Jane extracted her cell phone from her jacket pocket. Frowning, she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

He couldn’t hear the response from this distance and, while eavesdropping on his client’s phone calls was technically part of the job, Sullivan wouldn’t crowd her. I needed you. Those three small words had been circling his brain since they’d left her mouth.

“Who is this?” The color drained from Jane’s features.

Sullivan’s instincts prickled at the alarm in her voice. He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to meet his gaze, then reached for her phone. He hit the speaker button, holding the phone between them. “Who the hell is this?”

“He can’t protect you, Jane,” the voice whispered across the line. Her name on the bastard’s lips tightened the muscles down Sullivan’s spine. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

Memorizing the number on the screen, Sullivan gripped the phone tighter. He couldn’t peg an accent due to the whispering, no dialect to pinpoint where her stalker originated from. “Come within three hundred feet of her and I will tear you apart. You tried to kill her once. Won’t happen again. Understand?” His voice dropped low—deadly—as he studied the fear skating across Jane’s features. “Don’t call this number again.”

He moved to hang up the call.

“Always the protector...Sullivan.” Laughter trickled through the phone.

Sullivan’s thumb froze over the end button. A shiver spread across his shoulders. The line went dead, only static and crackling from the fireplace filling the silence.

In a split second, one of the burner phones he kept on hand was at his ear, ringing through to Blackhawk Security’s head of network security. The line picked up. “Elizabeth, trace this number.” He recited the number he’d memorized from the call. “I want a location as soon as possible. Send it straight to the number I’m calling you from.”

“You got it, boss,” the former NSA analyst said.

He hung up. Sullivan’s gaze lifted from the phone as Jane backed away. The terror etched into her expression urged him toward her. Without hesitation, he reached for her. “Jane...”

Eyes wide, mouth slack, she shut down her expression, and Sullivan dropped his hand. “He’s here. He’s watching me. He knows you’re with me.”

That had always been a possibility. Stalkers liked to keep tabs on their targets. The bastard had most likely been the one responsible for taking their gear, too. She’d known the risks going into this, but Sullivan wouldn’t remind her of them now. In this moment, he needed her head on straight. Focused. “You hired me because I’m good at my job. He’s never going to get close to you. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Her chin notched higher. Jane shifted her weight onto her toes as though she intended to kiss him, and right then, all too easily, Sullivan imagined how it’d feel to claim that perfect mouth of hers. Would she taste as good as she smelled? Damn it. Why couldn’t he keep himself in check around her?

Three knocks on the door ripped him back. The thick wood swung inward, and Sullivan shoved Jane behind him. Her fingers clenched the back of his shirt as he unholstered the Glock at his side. The man hunting Jane most likely wouldn’t knock, but maybe there were polite stalkers out there in the world.

“And here I thought I’d get to shoot someone when I got here.” Elliot Dunham’s wide grin shifted the dark stubble across his jawline. The lines at the edges of his stormy gray eyes deepened. The private investigator holstered his own weapon underneath a thick cargo jacket and kicked the door closed behind him. “Good news for everyone. The perimeter is clear, and I won’t get blood on my new shirt.”

“We wouldn’t want that. I’d have to hear about it all night.” Sullivan couldn’t help but smile as he clapped Elliot on the back. “Did you bring the files?”

“Got them in the truck along with extra munitions and snacks. But I have to be honest, I ate all the nuts on the way here. This place is in the middle of nowhere.” Swiveling his head around Sullivan, Elliot caught sight of their new client. Jane. The con-man-turned-investigator sidestepped his boss, something close to intrigue smoothing out his features. “And you must be Jane. Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jane asked. “That’s your opening line?”

“Oh, I like her.” Elliot’s smile made another appearance.

Sullivan clamped a hand on his investigator’s shoulder. Elliot had absolutely no interest in their new client, but something inside had tightened at the thought of another man coming anywhere near her with that look on his face. What did he care? He’d taken her on as a client, however forced. He didn’t have any kind of claim on her. “How about you do your job and get me those files from the truck?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Elliot half saluted Jane, then spun back toward the front door and disappeared.

A tri-chimed message tone brought the burner phone back into his hand. Sullivan read Elizabeth’s message, then dropped the phone onto the hardwood and stomped on it. The screen cracked under his boots, pieces of plastic skating across the floor. “My team couldn’t trace the number. We weren’t on the line long enough to get a location.”

“And you felt the need to take it out on your phone?” she asked.

“Can’t be too careful.” In reality, he’d been thinking ahead. If this case went south and the man hunting Jane expanded his crosshairs, Sullivan wouldn’t leave any evidence behind that could lead to his team.

“So that’s your private investigator.” Not a question. Jane’s arm brushed his as she passed him heading into the living room. A shot of awareness trailed up Sullivan’s arm. He slapped a hand over the oversensitized skin, but she didn’t notice. Head in the game. Standing in front of the fire, her bruises and cuts illuminated by the brilliant orange flames, Jane still held her head high. There was a target on her back, but she hadn’t fallen apart. She didn’t trust him with her emotions. Didn’t seem to trust anyone.

“Elliot is the best private investigator in the country.” He closed in on her one step at a time, giving in to the urge to have her nearby in case her stalker took a shot through the front windows. He’d already tried to kill her once. No telling what he’d do next. At least for now. “Used to be a con man. Elliot can read people. He has the resources to dig into their lives and a genius-level IQ to see three steps ahead. He’ll find whoever’s targeting you.”

“What if he can’t?” Turning toward him, Jane gave him an exhausted smile. Her shoulders sagged as though she’d collapse into a puddle on the floor. “I’ve been through those files a dozen times. I know them better than anyone, and I couldn’t pick out any potential suspects.” She massaged her temples with her fingers. “I just want my life back.”

“Look at me.” Sullivan closed the small space between them. He pushed every ounce of sincerity into his expression, his gaze, his voice, but didn’t move to touch her this time. “I don’t give my word lightly. You might’ve blackmailed me into it, but I promised to protect you, and I will.” The small muscles in his jaw tightened. “We will figure this out.”

She nodded. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Four hours ago, he’d tried kicking her out of his office. But now... They were in this together. He’d saved her life. She’d saved his. And he wouldn’t let some nutjob with a sick obsession get close to her again. No matter how much he blamed her for Marrok’s death. “You’re dead on your feet. Why don’t you go lie down in the bedroom? I’ll wake you if we find a lead.”

Jane nodded, her eyes brighter than a few moments ago. “I’ll also expect that meal you promised when I come out.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest as Sullivan watched her disappear into the bedroom. Flashes of those long legs peeking out from under his blanket skittered across his mind, and his gut warmed. He stared after her a few seconds longer, but the weight of being watched pressed between his shoulder blades. His neck heated. Damn. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you’re going to break your own rule if you’re not careful.” Elliot dropped the box of Jane’s case files and laptop onto the built-in desk and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, now you look like you want to kill me.”

No way was he going to talk about this with his private investigator. Or anybody. Ever. “What did you find when you went through the files?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities within the army after you said the guy erased his tracks after taking off with your supplies. That takes a lot of skill, and not many of the people she has regular contact with have any kind of training like that.” Elliot shoved the lid off the box and extracted three manila file folders. “Your girl took some damn fine notes on the cases she worked. Made my job easier.”

His girl? Not even close. But Sullivan didn’t correct his investigator. He took the files from Elliot and scanned over the extensive notes inside. Must’ve been Jane’s handwriting. Precise, to the point. Nothing fancy. But the purple and pink Post-its stuck through the files surprised him. Just as her red toenail polish had. He scanned over the first file. “Staff Sergeant Marrok Warren.”

Something sour swept across his tongue.

“Now, that guy is a piece of work. There’s only one problem.” Elliot leveraged his weight against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jane prosecuted him for sexual assault of three female enlisted soldiers, but—”

“He’s dead.” There it was. Stamped across Jane’s case file in big red letters. Deceased. Sullivan’s ears rang. He discarded the file back into the box, his body strung as tight as a tension spring. His brother might’ve had the skills to pull off blindsiding them in the SUV and taking their supplies without leaving behind a trace, but it wasn’t possible. Marrok Warren was dead. Sullivan had buried him ten months ago almost to the day.

“That would be the problem. I tied him to Jane’s case because of the guy’s father.” Elliot pulled a bag of peanuts from his jacket pocket. “Ever heard of the Anchorage Lumberjack? Killed twelve victims, all with an ax. With Staff Sergeant Warren dead, could be a close family member coming after Jane now, maybe one of those psychopathic groupies I’m always hearing about. Wonder what they’re like...”

Sullivan crumpled the files in his hand, the tendons in his neck straining. He locked his attention on Elliot, then took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. “Who else do you have?”

“We’ve got her commanding officer.” His private investigator nodded toward the second file in Sullivan’s hand, ignoring the obvious tension that’d filled the room. “Major Patrick Barnes is Jane’s CO. He’d know her daily schedule, her routine, and have access to all of her files. He would know her whereabouts while on tour, and he’s the one who grants permission for her to go on leave.”

“It’s not Major Barnes,” a familiar voice said.

Twisting around, Sullivan locked on to Jane, the grip around his rib cage lightening at the sight of her. As long as she was in his sights, she was safe. He tossed the files onto the desk. “You should be resting.”

“Couldn’t wind down. Besides, this is my case. I should be helping.” Jane shoved off from against the doorjamb and sauntered forward. Reaching for Major Barnes’s file, she scanned through the pages, her proximity setting Sullivan’s nerve endings on high alert. She tossed the file on top of Marrok Warren’s and crossed her arms over her chest. “I owe Barnes my life. He tackled me to the ground after an IED exploded in the parking lot outside my office in Afghanistan two months ago. He wouldn’t have done that just to turn around and come after me himself. And he has no motive.”

“All right. Then we take a tour of your life outside the army. The only other name that stands out to me is Christopher Menas.” Elliot handed the file to Jane, but shifted his gaze to Sullivan before settling back against the desk. Hesitant? “He’s won a few hunting awards, but that’s about all I know aside from his criminal record. I can’t find any employment records, no college degree, no military record, nothing that says he’s changed his name, or a death certificate attached to this guy. Menas simply dropped off the grid after skipping bail, but you two had a complicated past and that’s why I’m pinning him as a suspect.”

“I can’t believe this.” She stared at the name on the edge of the folder, her eyes panicked and wide. She slipped her index finger between the yellow card stock but didn’t move to open the file. “I haven’t thought about Christopher in years.”

“Jane?” Warning bells rang in Sullivan’s head as he closed in on her. “What are you thinking?”

Tearing her attention from the folder, Jane lifted her gaze to his. “It’s him. He’s the one doing this to me.”

* * *

CHRISTOPHER MENAS.

Flashes of his face, of those cold brown eyes and dark skin, lit up the back of her eyelids. Jane bolted upright off the bed, out of breath, surrounded by pure darkness. She’d been in love—outright smitten—with the quarterback of the University of Washington Huskies football team. And it’d all been a lie.

She couldn’t see anything with the bedroom door shut, but her instincts screamed she wasn’t alone. The silhouette of a man shifted in her peripheral vision. She slipped her hand under her pillow, curling her fingers around the gun Sullivan had lent her when she’d gone to bed.

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