Chapter Twenty-Eight

Troy rode his Harley right up to Stacey’s front door preparing for a fight. But instead, she threw the door open and was in his arms the moment he got off his bike. “Hey. What’s up?”

Her face was ashen, and she was shaking. “There was a man wearing a mask staring in my bedroom window.”

God damn it. He’d warned those assholes. He needed to take action, since they hadn’t backed off. No one was scaring his woman. It was time to introduce them to Slayer justice.

“Get back inside. Go sit in the kitchen and pull the blinds down.” He took the gun from his waistband holster and loosened the knife in his boot, ready to take down anyone stupid enough to scare his woman.

She was his woman.

With her safe in the kitchen, he scanned the street for any vehicles he didn’t recognize, then stalked to the side of the house where her bedroom was. There was a cigarette butt on the pathway outside her window. He picked it up and touched the end. Still warm.

There was a copse of trees where he’d hidden way back when he’d spied on her before the kidnapping. Sprinting over there, he checked for new footprints. Nothing. He let himself inside the house and strode into the kitchen.

With her blonde hair plastered to her face, and her large, wide eyes, she looked young and innocent enough for someone to toy with. She didn’t realize she was beautiful. That was part of her charm, but she stood out like a colt on long legs, all new, shiny, and vulnerable.

She was wiping up the dishes from dinner and putting them away, but her hands were trembling and making the crockery clatter. “Did you see anyone?” she asked.

“Nah. They probably heard the bike and fled.”

“I thought it might have been you.”

“I use the front door.” He waited for her to argue. To tell him again they were over.

“What’s going on, Troy? I know my way around New Orleans. I grew up here until the divorce when I was ten. I lived here in my teens when Mum was ill. I’ve never had problems before.”

He shook his head. “You had your father and Animal living here. Animal told me your father served his country, and Animal’s known as a mean fighter. They would have gutted any intruder.”

She put her head in her hands and rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I need to buy a guard dog.”

“You’ve already got one. Come to bed.”

Bed was the one place they had no arguments. He had no sweet words because he wasn’t that kind of guy. Instead, he’d bind her to him with sex. He wrapped his arm around her waist, propelling her down the hall to her bedroom.

He knew how to make her his.