Military Romance Academy! The Series

P R O L O G U E : R E C R U I T M E N T

Undisclosed location

Luke blinked, adjusting his gaze to the dimly lit room once the

black bag had been removed from his head.

"Sorry I had to do that, but I can't let anyone know where we are. Not even you." A deep voice came from behind, which had Luke casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder at a man in a suit.

"And binding my wrists behind my back? What was that for?"

"Had to curb your impulse to yank the bag off your head." The man now held a seven-inch, partially serrated steel blade and circled the chair to remove the flex-cuffs.

Luke eyed the weapon as the man set it on the table alongside a laptop.

The man dropped his focus to Luke's shoes before his attention gathered back up to his face. "Why the hell are you in your dress blues?" He folded his arms and squared his shoulders.

"Why else does one take a C-17 cargo plane in the middle of the night to Dover . . . unless to ID or pay respects to a serviceman lost?" Luke wasn't about to show up in cargo pants and a tee for that.

"Hm." His head crooked to the side ever so slightly.

"Clearly, since men in suits bagged and cuffed me upon landing, this trip is about something else." Luke stood and hooked his thumbs in his slacks pockets, trying his best to maintain his cool. "So, you gonna tell me why your man pulled me from Jalalabad?"

The guy remained quiet for a moment, simply observing Luke as if unsure about him. The feeling was damn mutual. "Speaking of which, you didn't need to give my guy a hard time in J-Bad about leaving. Surely you have confidence in your team to handle the HVT you were recently greenlighted for."

Tension tapped at Luke's temples, pressure building there. "Who the hell are you?"

Few people were privy to commissioned ops led by the Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or more commonly known as DEVGRU or SEAL Team Six-so this man had to be high up in the chain of command.

He continued to study him, trying to gauge if he'd seen him before and just couldn't remember for some damn reason. Threads of silver darted through his black hair, and his green eyes tightened as he continued to observe Luke right back.

The guy's chin edged forward. "Your sister's been kidnapped."

An instant coolness frosted his insides as the man's words replayed in his head for a solid minute. "Who took her?"

"Kaleem Rassani."

Silence hung heavy in the windowless room, the only light coming from a low-watt bulb dangling from a thin cord at the center of the ceiling.

Was this an interrogation site?

"Why'd you bring me here?" he asked through gritted teeth, his arms hanging loosely at his sides now.

"Your sister, of course. We thought you'd want to be part of the investigation." He kept his green eyes steady on Luke's.

Neither man blinked.

"For starters, the Feds would handle a kidnapping case." Luke took one step forward. "There's no way a Tier One operative would be pulled from J- Bad to interfere with an FBI investigation." He took another step, the distance dwindling to a foot between them. "Interfere being the key word because I couldn't possibly remain objective. Also, if I found the cocksucker who'd taken my sister I'd slice and dice the pig. And that kind of shit might float during war, but not on U.S. soil."

The guy remained quiet and impassive, his lips a straight line, his face resolute and unreadable.

"Secondly, Kaleem Rassani's dead. I should know since I double-tapped the bastard two months ago outside Ramadi. Two kill rounds fired because

the guy wouldn't put his hands behind his head."

"Anything else you want to add?" he responded with a mock of casualness in his tone.

"Actually, yeah. I'd venture to say you're not a congressman based on your cocksure attitude and posture. And given the SOG S 37-K blade you've got over there, it's safe to assume you were once a Teamguy. How long have you been out of the SEALs? And why the hell are you lying to me about my sister being kidnapped?"

The only door into the room opened a split second later. A spear of light shone through, and his sister walked in.

Luke looked back at the man, and the guy removed a comm from his ear. He assumed his sister had been listening to the conversation.

"What the hell is going on?" Luke sidestepped him and strode across the room, embracing his sister.

It was nice to see her alive and safe, even if he'd known in his gut she hadn't been taken.

When Jessica pulled back, he realized she looked different. There was an unmistakable hardness in her blue eyes. He recognized it because he saw the same look in the mirror every time he viewed his reflection.

"You might want to sit back down." Jessica motioned for the chair, but her eyes were on the man Luke didn't trust right now. And trust was everything to him.

"I'll stand. Thanks," Luke responded.

"I told you he wouldn't fall for it." A kick of sarcasm bit through her words as she stood before the man, her hands settling on her hips.

"He passed the first test, but we'll need to run more," the guy said as if pained by the idea.

"Tests?" Luke pinched the skin at his throat as he faced his sister, a rush of unease gathering up his spine.

Jessica brushed a loose strand of blonde hair off her face. "Can I take point on this?" She directed her question to the man, clearly a superior, which didn't make a lick of sense since she worked for a civilian cyber company.

"It was your idea to bring him in, so yeah, I suppose." He extended his palm. "Will Hobbs."

Luke's eyes widened as he gripped his hand. "The Ghost?"

Will Hobbs had been a legend in the SEALs back around the time of 9/11. The man had basically reinvented what it meant to be a Teamguy. He and Luke belonged to the same exclusive fraternity, which must have been why Luke had sensed a familiarity about him.

It was the job of a SEAL to stay in the shadows, and Will had been a master at that. But the last Luke had heard, Will worked for the Department of Defense.

So, why was he standing before Luke right now, and what was Jessica doing with him?

"I need answers, Jessica."

"I'll be outside when you're ready." Will tipped his head in Luke's direction, but the icy edge in his eyes remained.

Jessica waited for Will to leave and inhaled a deep breath as if she were about to go diving without the proper gear. "So."

"So." He stood before her with his hands tucked beneath his armpits. "I'm not who you think I am," she said softly.

"Yeah, I'm getting that." He cleared his throat and kept quiet after that, waiting for her to drop something seriously heavy on him.

"I was recruited from MIT my last year of school. I went to the Farm when I was twenty-two, and my job at Henly Computers has been a cover ever since."

"You're CIA?" He couldn't believe it. How the hell could his baby sister be government and he not know it?

Her eyes cruised the room before finding his again. "No one knows. Not Mom or Dad. No one. I'm sorry I had to keep this from you."

He turned his back and shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind racing faster than the bullet from his 50-caliber sniper rifle.

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because I need you." Her voice dropped an octave, and she walked around him and toward the laptop on the table. "Your country needs you."

"My country has me." He stood next to her and looked at the screen. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She began clicking through various case files of operations, including some ops he'd led as master chief. "I know about your missions. I know your kill count. Hell, I've provided the DOD with some of the intel needed to greenlight a few ops."

His sister's government-talk blew his mind. "And?" He pressed a closed fist onto the table and glimpsed a woman he didn't recognize anymore.

Seven years in the CIA. Seven years of lies.

But he was familiar with lies, wasn't he? Only his closest friends knew he was a SEAL, and they only knew because they were military, too. He didn't have friends who weren't in the service, or at least former Teamguys. He'd even lost touch with his college buddies.

It was hard to carry on a conversation with most people when work was your life and your job was classified.

"These are either the missions that were screwed up because intel got leaked to the press," she said while pointing to new data onscreen, "or the ops that never got the go from Congress or the DOD because they were in friendly nations or whatnot."

He straightened, his spine going stiff. "What's your point?"

She looked away from the screen and rested a hand on her collarbone. "Ever since bin Laden was taken down our Tier One operatives have been increasingly in the public eye. It's become more difficult to stay out of the spotlight." She found his eyes, and an almost grim look reflected off her irises and slammed into him. "And even though you guys pretty much operate under different rules, there's still too much red tape."

This wasn't new to him, but he waited for her to get to the point. "Will got approval from President Rydell . . ."

"For what?"

"We want to form a team to run more covert special ops. We want you to lead ten men-all active duty SEALs."

"Why poach from the SEALs? Why not recruit retired Teamguys?"

"Will thinks we should recruit men who are still at the top of their game."

"This is crazy."

"Crazy or not, it's going to happen. The team will be on call for the powers that be."

He almost laughed as he stepped back from his sister. "Which powers exactly?"

"Secretary of Defense Tom Handlin and CIA Director Paul Rutherford. And, of course, POTUS. If they need something done that can't be on the books, they'll come to us. Only a handful of people will know about this."

He continued to eye her like she was, in fact, nuts.

She took a breath before continuing, "You'd be handling the sensitive jobs we can't get Congress to approve, or other matters that may involve dipping our toes in friendly nations. Hell, some ops may take place on American soil. The funding won't be great because we need to stay under the radar, but the jobs will be impactful."

"Sounds illegal to me." He shifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Besides, I don't want to step on the Feds' toes and get into hot water by operating in the U.S." He turned and closed his eyes when she remained quiet. "Why'd you lie about being kidnapped?"

"To prove to Will you're the man for the job. He's worried because we're family you and I can't work together, which is ridiculous since I put you in harm's way in the past. Of course, my intel was always spot on." She touched his back.

"I can't believe you're a spy. Mom and Dad should never have let you watch that Alias show growing up. You always wanted to be like that CIA character." He made a tsk noise and faced her.

"Luke . . . this is serious."

"You think I'm kidding?" He shook his head.

"I guess it runs in the family then." She gave him a shy smile.

"So, you're asking me to lead some black ops group-and what else, exactly?"

"Co-lead, actually. I'll run it with you." Her lips tightened for a second. "We'll recruit SEALs with limited family obligations. We'll need a good cover though."

He half-grinned. "An alias?"

"How does Scott & Scott Securities sound?" He laughed. "Like we're going to be lawyers."

"No, not even I could fake that. But I figure the best way to hide is behind the truth. Well, a version of the truth."

He rocked back on his heels, trying to wrap his head around everything. "We'll run a security company." She crossed her arms. "It'll look as if our people retired and work in the private sector. Government contractors or

whatnot."

"Then you might consider actually hiring some retired SEALs, too." She opened her mouth to object, but he raised his hand.

"Hear me out." He quirked a brow and smiled when she nodded. "Hire some younger vets to run the day-to-day operations of this tactical security

company. They won't be privy to what we're doing on the side, but it'll look more legit if we have more people. Plus, they can run things when we're not around."

"It might be hard to keep it a secret from a bunch of SEALs, but I get what you're saying. I'll talk to Will."

"And where does Will Hobbs fit in with all of this?"

"He'll be our only point of contact, the one to alert us to a mission."

Luke thought about everything carefully, but didn't know what to say. He didn't want to leave his platoon, but the idea of his sister getting hurt had his stomach wrenching.

"There's an important caveat . . . if an op goes south-"

"The government doesn't know us," he finished. "We're on our own." She gave a hesitant nod. "So, what do you think?"

Instead of answering, he asked, "How'd you move up so quickly in the agency? You must be damn good if Will came to you with this idea."

A smile lit her face as she pointed a finger at her chest. "Came to me?" She playfully rolled her eyes, her blues softening. "I'm the brains behind this."

"And you really want to give up your cushy CIA gig to do this deep- cover stuff?"

She chuckled and swatted at his arm. "'Cushy' my ass. I've been holed up in barracks not much different than yours these past several years."

His eyes narrowed even though a slight smile tugged at his lips. "How the hell did you pull the wool over my eyes all these years?"

"My boss thought it'd be dangerous for you to know the truth in case I ever needed an extract. He was worried you'd, literally or figuratively, jump ship to save me."

"And Will seems to have a similar idea about me."

"What would you have really done if you thought I'd been kidnapped?" she asked.

"I guess you'll never know because I won't let anything happen to you." "Does that mean you're in?"

He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck. "You think I'm going to let someone else take point on this, with you at the helm? No damn way. I've got your back, sis. As always."

She threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you. You need to jump through a few more hoops for Will, but I promise you won't regret this."

C H A P T E R O N E

Istanbul

Five Years Later

"I'm beginning to regret this gig. Maybe I ought to start a normal

life." Luke kept his voice low as he walked through the bazaar. The place was like a maze, and despite having his people on comms to help him make the right turns, today he felt like Alice after she went down the rabbit hole. He was in a tourist Wonderland with signs pointing every which way, making him dizzy.

"Give me a break," Jessica sputtered through the earpiece. "I know you don't like malls, but come on; you don't even know the word normal."

The Grand Bazaar may have been one of the first malls in the world, but damn, it was just too much. Most of it was enclosed and gave off the vibe of a cave. The bazaar covered over sixty streets and had more than four thousand stores. Heaven for shoppers, and hell for a SEAL.

The place made him itchy: the buzzing of voices, the people jamming up near him from left and right as they bargained with shopkeepers as he passed. Too many people meant he could be taken out easily by a sniper, or lose his target.

"American, yes? Can I interest you in this gorgeous handmade carpet?" a Turk asked as he slowed near one of the storefronts.

Luke was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt with BIG APPLE printed on it, and cowboy boots. Between his wardrobe, blue eyes, and a

complexion lighter than most Turks', he may as well have been wearing a

MADE IN THE USA stamp on his forehead.

It was one of the few times in his life he wanted to be identified as an American in a foreign country.

"No, thanks," he said, checking his impulse to answer in the native language.

In the SEALs, if you didn't know something you had to learn it. Preparation was vital to survival. And the black ops group he now co-led, which was so secretive it didn't even have an official name, was no different. He required more knowledge because he didn't have the entire government working behind the scenes.

"There's a military-aged male about a half klick away from you." His crew member Owen's voice came through the line. "I'm going to move in closer to confirm the target," he said. "Keep past the rugs and swing a right once you see the belly dance skirts."

"Copy that," Luke said.

"The target has stopped moving, and he's talking to another military- aged male. I'm uploading the images to my program for facial recognition, but by sight, it appears to be Ender Yilmaz," Jessica said a few minutes later.

"He's a hundred yards up on your right. You got him in your sights?" Owen asked.

Luke spotted the target up ahead. "I've got him." "Make sure he sees you," Jessica directed. "Roger that, boss lady."

Ender was about five feet ten, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a trimmed beard. His face had been a permanent imprint in Luke's mind ever since the prick shot him in the arm three weeks ago.

Luke slowed as he neared Ender, trying to ensure eye contact.

Look at me, motherfucker. A second later, the target lifted his head and locked onto Luke, recognition dawning on him.

Luke walked past him, his eyes remaining connected with Ender's, and then he purposely increased his pace, breaking into a fast walk, appearing as if he wanted to escape. "Is he following me yet?"

"Yup. He's hanging back, but you've been marked," Owen answered.

Luke exited the bazaar, following the signs to find his way to the street. "Heading for the car."

A few minutes later, Luke arrived at his rental. Once inside the little blue sedan, he shifted his rearview mirror and watched Ender hop inside a taxi behind him. "He's tracking me."

"Perfect," Jessica said into his ear.

C H A P T E R T W O

WHY ISN'T HE RESPONDING? SHIT. EVA REFRESHED HER EMAIL A FEW MORE

times, but no new messages appeared.

She put her phone in her back jeans pocket right as the director yelled, "That's a wrap!"

They never finished shooting four days ahead of schedule; they were always a week behind, which currently left her with a dilemma.

After filming, she'd planned on leaving Manhattan and heading to her place in the Adirondacks to get some writing done. With this unexpected extra time, she wanted to head there now.

But she couldn't, could she? Well, not unless Travis Davenport replied to her email that begged him to change the terms of their agreement.

She'd rented out one of her cabins in the mountains to make some side money, but that wasn't the actual issue. No, it was the fact that the guy had demanded that her other cabin on the 100 acres of land she owned remain unoccupied.

And had he not offered to pay five times her booking fee, she'd have told him hell, no.

Given her profession as a screenplay writer, her overactive imagination had her creating about a hundred different scenarios as to why this man would want the land to himself.

She'd run a thorough background check on him, and Travis appeared fairly boring: a businessman from North Carolina.

Normal-looking guy. Normal job. Normal everything. Almost too normal.

She should've said no, and then she could be heading up to her place now.

Damn it.

She'd spent the last month dreaming about her vacation; she was itching to move her fingers over a keyboard and finish her screenplay.

And now, she even had four extra days. Four days of solitude to write.

As much as she craved a break to work on her script, she still loved her current job.

Being a screenplay writer and a co-producer for a hot drama that had already secured two more seasons on one of the primetime networks-it was a dream position, and she'd worked her ass off to land her current role.

"You guys killed it." Eva waved a hand in the air to fan away the smoke still settling from the last scene, then directed her attention to her best friend, heading her way.

"Are you thinking about your script?" Jayme asked.

"How'd you know?" Eva snatched a pink frosted donut off the table near the director's chair as more of the crew streamed past them and toward the exit.

"You always have that constipated look on your face when you're stressing about it."

Eva cracked up. "Oh my God, I do not."

Jayme grinned. "So, I take it you haven't finished."

"No, I keep rewriting it. It'll never be good enough to pitch at this rate." She bit into her donut. Maybe if I have those extra days.

Jayme eyed the dessert like it was a hot guy with a six-pack, standing, sweaty and naked, in her living room. God, Eva would give anything for that vision to actually be waiting in her loft when she got home later.

Who am I kidding? I'd run out screaming and calling 911.

"Well, we have three weeks off before we start shooting again. Why don't you use that time to work?"

"I have plans to write when I go to my place at Lake Placid, but I-" "Just pitch it to your dad," Jayme interrupted. "Stop being so crazy, and

give him the script."

Eva shook her head and polished off the rest of her donut, relishing the sweet taste that kicked in the back of her throat.

One of the perks of being behind the scenes and unknown, unlike Jayme, meant she didn't have to live on salad. Carbs were her best friend, and how could one survive without her BFF?

"I'm not putting my real name on it. Dad doesn't even know I'm trying to make a play for Hollywood, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Jayme's eyes tightened, determination competing with the Botox injections in her forehead. She'd been on Eva for months about this issue, ever since Jayme discovered her true identity.

It'd been hard keeping the truth from her, but once Eva's brother showed up at her door to surprise her for her thirtieth birthday-it'd been game over. Everyone in the film industry knew Harrison Reed, and Jayme had practically fainted in her dangerously tall heels, nearly collapsing right into his arms that night.

"Only you would do this, you know. Anyone else would kill to be the daughter of an iconic director. And don't get me started on the rest of your family, especially"-she looked around-"Harrison."

"I don't want anyone to know who I am, or that I'm working in the industry." Aside from making money from renting the cabins her parents had sold to her as "Eva Sharp," she didn't take a dime from her wealthy family. The Reeds were to Hollywood what the Kennedys were to D.C., minus the tragedies.

"No one earns anything anymore. It's all about who you know. And you know everyone."

Eva's lips pinched together as her eyes journeyed the room, taking in the remaining crew. "So, what will you do with your time off?" she asked, hoping to deflect.

"Nope, you're not getting off so easy." Jayme smoothed a hand through the air with dramatic flair. "Picture this: Everly Reed, Oscar-winning-"

Eva puckered her face like she'd eaten something sour. "Shhh."

"You're so damn stubborn. If I didn't love you like a sister I'd probably rat you out."

"You just want to stay in my good graces so you can get cozy with Harrison. The way you swooned over him that night . . . please, woman. You think I don't know you have the hots for him."

"And who doesn't?" She laughed.

"True." They grabbed their coats and purses and left the studio, following the last few people out. "So, where are you spending your time

off?"

"Probably on a beach. I don't know. I might throw a dart at the map and see where life takes me."

"I wish I could be like you." Eva smiled.

"So, come with me." Jayme stopped walking once out on the street and faced her. "We'll have a girls' trip. I'll get a few of us together, and we can get out of this cold weather and have hot guys serve us mojitos."

"As tempting as that sounds-"

"You have a script to finish. A script that'll end up in the junk pile unless you put your real name on it."

"I shouldn't have such an unfair advantage."

Jayme looked up at the cloudy sky, rolling her tongue over her white teeth. "Don't the rumors bother you? I'd lose my shit about some of the things people have said about you. I mean, about the former you."

Eva stepped out of the way of the foot traffic and leaned against the exterior of their usual coffee shop. "I don't care about that, but what I do care about is going to my cabin."

"Uh, okay-and that means, what exactly?"

"It means I've made up my mind. I'm going to the mountains tonight, whether Travis wants me there or not. There's enough room for the both of us." And maybe he won't even know I'm there. I can be invisible.

"Who the hell is Travis?"

Travis's text came too late. Eva was a few minutes from the cabin

and had no intention of turning back.

As the taxi driver made the last sharp turn before entering the final road, his message popped up on her phone: You can't come. That's not the deal we made. This is non-negotiable.

She reminded herself he was a businessman, and so maybe that's how business people talked. But his rude text rubbed her the wrong way.

"Too late," she whispered under her breath and stowed her phone back into her purse.

"What?" the cab driver asked.

She smiled and adjusted her black-rimmed glasses. "Talking to myself. Sorry." She clutched her purse against her puffy winter jacket, her pulse quickening when they neared the home.

Maybe the renter wouldn't notice her, anyway. The cabins were several acres apart, and the snow would be falling soon, reducing visibility.

"It's going to storm pretty bad. You sure you're going to be okay at this place all alone?"

His eyes caught hers in the rearview mirror and a sudden barrage of Tweets played out in her mind: Taxi driver attacks woman staying alone in the woods during a freak blizzard. Woman turns out to be part of the Hollywood Reed family. She's lied for years about her true identity. Why? What horrible secrets is she hiding?

People would be disappointed to discover that her life was uneventful, plain, and super boring-well, compared to her siblings' at least.

"I won't be alone," Eva lied and nearly choked on the words as they rushed from her mouth.

He nodded and returned his attention to the drive. "You have food and everything if you get snowed in?"

A couple of days ago, she'd had her cabin stocked by the manager who looked after her place. "Uh, yeah," she answered as they rolled up the driveway.

She eyed the two-story red cedar home. Memories from her youth raced to mind-the few peaceful moments in life when her family escaped to the cabins for a little R&R with no cameras in sight. They hadn't come as a family since her parents split over two decades ago, but the memories hadn't faded with time, even though the vacations had been rare blips in her normally chaotic Hollywood childhood.

Her younger brother playing guitar on the porch swing.

Her sisters swimming in the lake and dancing on the dock with her.

And, of course, Harrison, sneaking off with every pretty girl with a pulse this side of the mountain.

A soft sigh left her lips as she swallowed the past and let it simmer once again in the corner pocket of her mind.

Once inside the place, the smell of roasted hazelnuts flooded her nostrils as she dropped her bags inside. Nice touch on the manager's part, she thought.

A lick of worry darted down her back as she thought about her current tenant and neighbor. What if Travis, aka Normal Guy, had a scope or binoculars and spotted her?

She hurriedly closed all of the blinds before plopping down on the brown suede couch in front of the massive stone fireplace.

The flight out of the city had been short, but the drive from the airport to Lake Placid had taken her longer than expected. The night sky would be dropping down like a movie curtain within a few hours.

The land Eva owned had a view of the lake, but her love for the place had more to do with her memories and the breadth of solitude it could give her.

But was she crazy to be alone in the mountains, especially with some guy so close by, demanding "alone time"? Just because his background check cleared didn't mean he wasn't some crazy killer. Everyone was normal until they suddenly weren't . . .

"I've got to shut off my brain," she said as a cold bluster of air moved down her spine.

Maybe drinks on the beach with Jayme would've been a better idea. Before she could close her eyes, a sudden banging had her startling upright to her feet.

"We need to talk," a voice sounded from outside, followed by another hard tap that shook the door.

"Shit." Normal Guy?

"I know you're in there. Open the door."

Yeah, sure. Is he insane? Her heartbeat took a panicky climb. "Who is

it?"

"Travis Davenport."

"I just got your text. Sorry." She approached the door, trying not to trip

over furniture on her way through the dimly lit room.

I'm going to die in the woods because I'm a moron.

"You need to go before the storm hits," he said, his voice a little calmer now. But damn, it was still deep and laced with something else-a gruff sexiness she hadn't expected from Normal Guy.

Sexy could still be dangerous. Probably even more so. "Can you open up?"

Both palms went to the door as her heart ticked up to the speeds of an Indy racecar driver. "Can you slide your ID under?"

"I don't have it on me."

Of course, you don't. "Yeah, and how do I know it's really you then?" She looked back over her shoulder, wondering if her father's gun was still in the safe upstairs. Her father still came to the place once or twice a year when he wanted to escape the public eye. Since the land was no longer registered under the Reed name, it was the perfect destination for someone in need of hiding.

"It is me, and I won't hurt you."

A sense of alarm buzzed through her arms and she staggered back, assessing potential outcomes if she opened the door. "I-I promise I'll be quiet, and you won't even know I'm here. Okay?" A tremble poked through her voice, even though she desperately tried to steel her nerves and remember the combination to the safe upstairs.

Whose birthday did her dad use for it? Probably Harrison's.

"You need to leave. This isn't up for negotiation."

"I'll return your money, but I can't go. Besides, I got dropped off, and I'm alone." Just great. Perfect. Nothing like giving him permission to bust the door down and hack me into little pieces. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and took shallow breaths.

"Can you please let me in? I won't hurt you. I promise. You ran a background check on me, right?"

"That doesn't mean anything." She placed her hand on the wall, searching for the light switch.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it already."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Her spine bowed with unease as she flicked on the light and adjusted her gaze in the now lit room. "I'm sorry again about the mix-up, but this is my home, and my plans changed, so here I am . . ."

"You need to go." A grittiness bit through his words, loud enough to penetrate the thick door.

"I already explained I-"

"I'll drive you to the airport, but we need to leave now before the snow gets worse."

She moved to the closest window and shifted the curtains a touch to steal a glimpse outside.

"Can we please talk face-to-face?" he asked.

She slowly edged back to the front door and rested a hand on the knob. "I'd like you to leave."

"I can't do that." His voice had changed. It was more intense. More

everything.

"It's almost dark, and the storm's going to be bad. It won't be safe here."

"But for you, it will be?"

"Don't worry about me." He was quiet for a moment. "I need you to trust me. I'm trying to keep you safe."

The word safe hummed in her ears like a soft echo on repeat. There was something in the sound of his words that made her want to believe him.

Am I overreacting? "One minute." She went into the kitchen, spinning around in circles like a dog chasing her tail. She needed a weapon, but she was too frazzled to think straight.

She grabbed the largest knife she could find and walked back to the door. "You promise not to hurt me?"

"Of course."

Her eyes fell shut for a brief moment as she tried to steady her heart rate. With her free hand, she cracked open the door.

But, holy shit, the man standing before her wasn't Normal Guy.

No, there was nothing normal about this tall, well-built man with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

Not only was he gorgeous-he wasn't Travis at all.