Chapter Ten

Colton tossed for what felt like the twentieth time in fourteen minutes. He couldn’t fall asleep. And who could blame him?

His sleeplessness wasn’t because there was a wanted fugitive sleeping under his roof. Or because said fugitive was also sexy as hell. No, his restlessness was caused by his fear that she would sneak out in the middle of the night, and he’d be right back where he was before she showed up on his doorstep.

Alone and bored out of his mind.

Spending the evening at a yawn-fest retirement party hadn’t helped. It was too easy to see himself with gray hair, sitting in front of a cake that wished him a happy remainder of his already tedious life.

Was that all there was in store for him? Day after day of monotony, until the day he died?

“God damn,” he muttered, and tossed again. There had been a few dark moments when he’d missed his family and the loneliness had been so overwhelming he’d actually wondered if he would have been better off not surviving being shot half a dozen times in the chest.

It sometimes seemed as if he was being punished for cheating death.

But for the moment, he had something important to do—keep Angel safe. He almost hadn’t recognized the surge of adrenaline in his blood when she’d stepped out of the shadows on his porch. It had been so long since anything had sparked his fight or flight response, he’d worried it didn’t work anymore.

Fortunately, his instincts weren’t in such bad shape. He’d drawn his Glock pretty damn quick. It had felt good.

Most people wouldn’t like finding an intruder on their back porch—even a hot one—but Colton had been yearning for something exciting to happen. He’d been raised for danger and didn’t know how to function without it in his life.

For most of his adult years, he’d either been a soldier or a DEA agent. His life had been a constant rush of activity. His brain was conditioned to jump ahead and anticipate his enemy’s next move. His body had been trained to be sure and swift.

Now he spent his days with teenagers who didn’t think they needed math because they had a calculator on their phone, and he occupied his evenings with more cooking shows than was healthy.

He heard the telltale jingle of his dog’s collar and tags moving down the hall toward his room. He knew what would happen next. Sure enough, he felt the dip of the mattress next to him.

“Off,” he said firmly but quietly, so as not to wake Angel if she’d managed to fall asleep.

There was a snuffle, then the bed moved again and the jingling moved out of the room. Angel had probably allowed Pudge up on the sofa, so the dog had decided to test his limits.

Not that Colton was complaining. It was nice having Angel here. And despite what he’d said to her earlier, he figured she’d hang around at least long enough for him to pick up the computer she’d ordered after dinner. So he finally let himself drift off to sleep.

It seemed like only a few minutes later when he awoke to the sound of Pudge barking like crazy.

It was still dark.

And someone was definitely outside.