Cole’s safe house was a lakefront estate in rustic Missouri. Any doubts Tomas had about finding a place to comfortably and safely accommodate their party of nine were immediately quashed when he stepped inside the sprawling mansion.

It sat on a dead-end road, where the asphalt met acres upon acres of woodland. No other houses. No sounds of traffic or life for miles around. Total isolation.

“Bedrooms are down that hall.” Cole paced through the main living area, flicking on lights and tapping codes into a screen on the wall. “Eat. Get some rest, and we’ll reconvene tonight.”

No one moved. Tomas didn’t know what the others were thinking, but Jesus, it was surreal, this glimpse into Cole’s private life. Even Rylee, who had only met Cole a week ago, looked shell-shocked by the grandeur of the place.

Fireplaces dominated both ends of the living room. The cathedral ceiling and natural color schemes directed all attention to the wall of picturesque windows between the hearths.

The view of a private cove, illuminated by the late morning sun, was nothing short of mesmerizing.

“You own this? The estate? The land?” Tomas watched Cole move through the open kitchen. “By yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Clearly, we paid you too much for your services.” Van prowled along the windows, gnawing on a toothpick and taking in the view.

“Seeing how I’ve been saving your asses for free for the past year, I’d argue you’re not paying me enough.”

“You’re either with us, or you’re not.” Liv lowered into an overstuffed chair. “It’s not a monetary decision.”

“Am I with you?” Cole stalked toward her and bent into her space, nose to nose. “Spell it out. What do you want?”

“Secrets don’t keep well for long in this family.” She was a fraction of Cole’s size and managed to look more threatening as she leaned in, forcing him back. “We hide nothing from one another.”

“Except Tomas’ emails,” Cole said.

“Which are no longer a secret.” Tomas clenched his jaw.

“Like I said.” Liv raised her chin. “Secrets don’t keep in our family.”

“If you let me in, I’ll do the same.” Cole straightened and shrugged off his leather jacket. “This property is the entirety of my wealth. An accumulation of the side jobs, the risks I’ve taken over the past twenty years. But it’s more than that. This is my retirement. My sanctuary. And now, I’m offering it to you. To the cause.”

Tomas glanced at Rylee beside him, the surprised look on her face mirroring his thoughts. For whatever reason, Cole had just made an exorbitant bid to be part of their exclusive team.

He’d been working alongside them for a year, but always as an outsider. He wasn’t forced into this by way of Van’s attic. Nor was he marrying into the family. Before now, those had been the only avenues into becoming one of their kindred.

But apparently, he wanted this badly enough to invest his entire future in them.

“How is the kitchen already stocked?” Tiago rummaged through the built-in commercial fridge, his nefarious presence as out of place as his question.

“You’re worried about my secrets,” Cole said to Liv, “when you should be worried about the Venezuelan kingpin who carries razors in his pocket.” He turned toward a scowling Tiago. “I have a caretaker, vetted and trusted, who’s been looking after this property for fifteen years. He prepared the bedrooms and stocked the kitchen this morning.”

Tiago nodded, his expression brooding. Pensive. “You’re already in the fold, Hartman. They need you. Most of them care about you. Trust will take time.” He grabbed his bag and strode into the hallway, vanishing around the corner.

Silence descended in his wake. Looks were exchanged. Someone blew out a breath.

“That was awkward.” Tomas rubbed his nape.

“Fuck him.” Lucia crossed her arms. “He’s just sore because he has no friends.”

“Fix it.” Van pointed a toothpick at her.

She made a growly sound. “Why me?”

“Because Tate and I made our peace with him. You’re still hanging onto the past.”

“Fine.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to follow Tiago. “I’ll do it for Kate.”

“You’ll do it for you.” Tate swatted her butt. “And not until you’re ready. Let’s grab a room.”

The massive living space slowly emptied as everyone wandered off. Between Colombia, Texas, and Missouri, the team had been traveling nonstop for four days. Two weeks before that, they’d been in California, taking down La Rocha Cartel.

Now that they were safe, the first order of business was food and sleep.

Within minutes, only Tomas and Rylee remained.

“I’m hungry, not tired.” She stepped into the kitchen and snatched an apple off the counter.

She’d slept most of the way here and missed the meal they’d grabbed through a roadside drive-through.

“Eat.” He collected their bags and ambled toward the hallway. “I’ll claim a room.”

“Two rooms.”

He didn’t bother acknowledging that ridiculous request.

A gradual slope of stairs ascended into a long corridor, the flooring tiled in an artistic mosaic of slate stones. He lost count of how many doors he passed, all with keypad entry. Christ, there must’ve been eight or nine bedrooms in total. Unless something else was hiding behind these locks.

He stopped at the first open door and gaped.

Inside, racks of guns covered one wall. Dozens of firearms of every size, shape, and caliber. File cabinets, desks, and worktables filled the rest of the dimly lit room, the surfaces covered in laptops, camera equipment, and high-tech clothing and gear.

Cole stood at a table, sifting through stacks of burner phones, all plugged into a power strip that ran along the wall.

“Last room on the right is mine.” He didn’t look away from his task. “The one on the left is still open.”

“Thanks.” As Tomas turned to leave, his gaze caught on a transparent garment bag that hung from a hook behind the door.

White satin and lace.

A wedding gown.

Damn, it looked eerily spectral and downright sad amid the plethora of guns and spy tech.

“I should burn it,” Cole said behind him.

“I don’t know, man.” He pivoted, meeting the starkness in Cole’s brown eyes. “I burned everything, but the ghosts clung.”

“Are they still clinging?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his jaw, rethinking his answer. “Actually, I’ve been too distracted to notice.”

“Your dick’s been distracted.”

“More than usual, and more than just my dick. That woman has her claws in every part of me. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she scared the ghosts away.” He chuckled and quickly sobered. “Do you think her ex-husband hired hits on her and Evan Phillips?”

“I don’t know yet.” Cole turned back to the table of burner phones. “Get some rest. Recharge. We have a lot of work to do and need to be clearheaded.”

With a nod, Tomas made his way to the last room on the left. An airy, tidy space with a large bed and private bathroom—all decorated in simple, natural hues. Beyond the windows, trees rippled on hillsides that stretched to the horizon.

He could see why Cole chose this place to retire. It was lush and green. Peaceful. Calming. Completely void of sand, desert heat, and hatred.

With Rylee, he would take her hatred over indifference. Her fire was irresistible, addictive, and he wouldn’t dare try to control it if it made her happy.

But it didn’t. Her anger made her miserable. He accepted the blame for some of that, not all of it. Nine days ago, she walked into his house with a block of ice around her heart and a grudge against men that was ten years in the making.

Enough was enough.

He dropped their bags near the door, brushed his teeth, and found his angry little hellcat sitting alone at the kitchen island. She’d fixed herself a salad with pre-grilled chicken.

Lowering onto the stool beside her, he reached toward her bowl to steal a meaty morsel.

“No!” She jerked it away, hugging the dish protectively to her chest. “Please, don’t.”

He yanked his hand back, scalded by her reaction. “Jesus, Rylee. I’m not going to take your food away.”

She didn’t move, her glare distrustful and defensive.

He’d done that. Adding to her fears of intimacy and commitment, he’d instilled a new one.

Starvation.

What kind of monster was he?

“Fuck.” He shoved away from the island and paced through the kitchen. “I fucked up. Cole warned me. He told me if I harmed you and learned you were innocent, that I would wear the scars.” His chest hurt, and his stomach coiled in a turmoil of guilt. But he wouldn’t give up. Pausing a few feet away, he looked her square in the eyes. “You have every right to hate me. I know you’re pissed. So yell at me. Let me hear it. Act like a fucking adult and confront me.”

Her lips parted. “The day I walked into your house, those were my words.”

“I’ve been listening.” He lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to apologize. I won’t beg for your forgiveness. Instead, I’m going to make you a promise.” He lifted only his eyes, pinning her with a stare she couldn’t ignore. “I will not repeat my mistakes. Let me be clear. My only priorities are to protect you and keep you healthy. I will not cheat on you. I will not starve you. But I will hurt you.”

“Why?”

“Because when we’re in love, we will hurt each other as much as we save each other.”

She sat still for so long he thought he’d lost her inside her head.

At last, she released her death grip on the bowl, set it on the counter, and tucked back into her meal.

He returned to the stool beside her, bracketing her rigid body in the V of his thighs. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I should be in Texas, helping Evan’s parents bury their son.”

“And get yourself killed in the process? I won’t allow it.”

“Of course, you won’t. You’re a domineering prick.” She chewed slowly, eyes on her salad and voice soft. “I don’t belong here. I’m not a vigilante. I have nothing to offer.”

“You just took out an assassin. The man who killed an innocent motel clerk. You succeeded where we failed. I’d say you’ve more than proved your value in this fight.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Tell me why.”

She finished the last bite of salad and stood, carrying her bowl to the sink. “I didn’t choose this.”

“None of us chose it. You know our histories. This life chose us.”

“I work in law enforcement.”

“Van’s father was the Austin Police Chief.”

“I don’t carry weapons.”

“Amber, Kate, and Josh don’t carry weapons.” He rose from the stool and prowled around the island to stand behind her. “You carry a shotgun in your truck, and let’s not forget the butcher knife you stole from my house.”

She stiffened at his nearness. “I was in danger.”

“You’re still in danger.” Lowering his nose to her hair, he breathed in her mouth-watering femininity. “That’s why you don’t want to be here.”

“Because I’m in danger of getting killed by one of your homicidal friends?”

“No, Rylee.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down her arms, making her shiver. “Because you’re in danger of falling in love.”

“Oh, my God.” She shot out from beneath the press of his body and scurried around the island. “What is this obsession you suddenly have with love? The man who wrote those emails plowed through hundreds of women and couldn’t emotionally connect with any of them.”

“None of them were you.” He stalked after her. “You blindsided me. Knocked me on my ass.”

“I can’t stand you.” She backed away, rubbing her arms, looking for all the world like she wanted to run.

“You can’t stand the thought of me getting too close.” He closed the distance, backing her into the corner of the kitchen. “Because I am getting too close, and when I ram through that armor around your heart, you think you’re going to get hurt again.”

“You don’t know me.” Her back bumped into the pantry door, her eyes darting, searching for a way out. “You don’t love me.”

“You’ll deny it. You’ll fight it with every breath in your body.” He braced a hand on the door above her head and leaned in. “But having already experienced it once, you know it’s a fight you can’t win.”

“Stop throwing my words back at me!” She shoved at his chest, ducked under his arm, and darted toward the hallway.

“Stop running from them like a hypocrite.”

“I’m not running.” She held up her middle finger without slowing.

She wasn’t literally running. But that speed-walk of hers wiggled her ass in a spellbinding way. He followed it like a tractor beam, locked onto the diabolical, heart-shaped curves. Fucking hell, she was built. All toned muscle, flawless skin, fiery temper, and his.

The tightening heat in his stomach was a primal demand, his body thrumming for a fight and his eyes fixed on his meal.

“Last door on the left.” He trailed after her, chasing, hunting his chosen with a determination that couldn’t be extinguished.

She reached the bedroom two paces ahead of him. As the door swung closed, he stopped it with the toe of his boot. Then he kicked it open.

“Get out.” She tried to re-shut it, pushing him back, her resistance at odds with the raw lust in her eyes.

He wasn’t imagining it. Her breathing unfurled at a ravenous speed, noisily heaving from her chest. Her nipples pebbled beneath the tight shirt, her pupils dilated. She licked her lips, stared at his mouth, and shoved him again.

With a hand holding the door open and his boots planted on the threshold, he didn’t budge.

Wild brown hair fell in disarray around her shoulders, the upthrust of her tits so round and tempting. Lashes, sprinkled in dark hues of animosity, hooded the molten silver of her eyes.

He leaned in, shaking with excitement and hard as a rock.

She leaned in, too, angry and gorgeous and not above ruthlessness when it came to getting what she wanted.

Right now, she wanted him. The dip of her gaze to his straining fly confirmed it.

“When I shove down your pants,” he said, “and sink my fingers in your pussy, you’re going to drip all over my hand.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. I love your monstrous cock.”

He throbbed behind his zipper, engorged past the point of pain.

Tension mounted. He didn’t force his way in. She didn’t push him out. They just stared at each other for an endless, unblinking moment.

Then they moved. He grabbed her as she climbed his body. Lips colliding and hands grappling, they locked in a battle they would both win.

The door hadn’t even closed before he had her pinned against the wall. She tore his fly. He wrenched down her pants. In a frenzy of shredded fabric, they managed to rip enough clothing out of the way, and he was in her.

Christ almighty, he was all the way in, plunging to the root and submerged into soaking wet heat. Her hips rose to meet his, questing, demanding, and he gave it to her. Nailing her against the wall, he fucked her with the unbridled force of his strength.

It was so incredibly hot, this unhinged frenzy between them, this mutual, maddening urgency to climb closer and closer until they dug out their souls. They couldn’t keep their hands and mouths off each other. Ripping at clothes, kicking away shoes, they were naked and tumbling across the floor in a matter of seconds.

She thrashed beneath him, her eyes the color of rainclouds. Perky, flushed tits. A complexion so pristine and fair. Sinful pink lips—one set bruising his mouth while the other swallowed the full length of his hunger.

His hips moved like a piston, chasing his release. The sensations blew his mind, the pleasure out of this world. He was going to come. Really fucking hard and soon.

He broke the kiss and held her gaze, his balls tightening, the pressure nearing detonation. “Tell me you don’t need me.”

“I don’t need you.”

He pulled out, rose up, and finished all over her chest and face, grunting and shaking in a surge of liquid ecstasy. With a firm grip, he continued to stroke from base to tip, milking every drop and spraying jets of come across her shivering flesh.

When his nuts went empty, he climbed to his feet, his insides jumping with wild anticipation of her reaction.

She sniffed haughtily, sat up, and reached blindly behind her. Her hand landed in his bag near the door. Without a word, she pulled out his favorite fur-felt cowboy hat and wiped it across her chest, collecting his come on the expensive fabric. She used the underside on her face, cleaning every drop of him from her skin. Then tossed the hat back in his bag.

He stood there in absolute disbelief, staring at her. His hat would forever be traumatized.

Opening her legs, she ran two fingers along her slit and slipped them inside, her wicked eyes fixed on his. “I don’t need you.”

The fuck she didn’t. She needed his cock, his protection, and above all, she needed his love. But rather than forcing any of it on her, he turned on his heel and strode toward the bathroom.

One round with this woman would never be enough. Already, his dick was swelling with blood, pulsing to get back inside her.

Halfway to the bathroom, her footsteps hit the floor, sprinting after him. He didn’t have time to turn before she was climbing up his back and biting down on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Then she slapped him across the head.

His temper flared, and he spun. She spun with him, sliding to her feet while landing a torrent of punches on his spine and ribs. His seething frustration culminated in World War III when her open palm collided with his ass.

She fucking spanked him.

He froze and felt her go deadly still behind him.

“Rylee.”

“Tommy.” Her voice shook.

“You better run.”