She clicked her keychain so that her locks opened and reached for the handle. Blake reached around her, the front of his thigh pressing down the length of hers starting at her hip, the feel of him stealing her breath. “Don’t even think about running,” he warned.

Heat washed through her and over her at his touch, and she was shaken by the depth of need she felt for him. She didn’t look at him for fear he’d see her reaction. “I have nothing to run from,” she said, and silently added, because I have everything to lose if I do.

Silence greeted her declaration, the seconds ticking by again, and she held her breath, waiting for his reaction. Finally he stepped back, and instead of relief, ice slid over her where heat had been moments before. She didn’t understand the sensation any more than she understood anything this man made her feel.

Kara yanked open her door and he walked to the 4Runner. She slid into the car and tried to tell herself everything was fine. But it wasn’t fine. Blake saw too much. “You have a good story,” she reminded herself, needing to hear it out loud. She’d covered her bases, created her identity without flaw. Except for Denver, she thought. It had been a last-minute decision and she knew better than to make unplanned moves. Her stomach knotted with the realization she’d screwed up. If Blake mentioned Denver to Richter, he’d discover she wasn’t working for Richter, Newport, or the cartel that night she’d stolen his files. She’d be dead for sure, which meant she had to do what she’d come here for and get out of here. She was out of time.

Chapter Four

CHAPTER

FOUR

Why the fuck couldn’t he stop thinking about getting her naked again? And why was he still feeling this ridiculous urge to save her when she’d thrown him under a bus in Denver?

Blake pulled the 4Runner out of the garage behind Kara’s car, cursing her for distracting him, and fighting a flashback of blood and loss and…more blood. Damn it to hell, the acid burn of the past never faded and, no matter what he did, no matter what the momentary rush of pleasure or adrenaline rush he created, it always came back. Even trying to make it go away felt wrong, like he was trying to wash away Whitney, when he’d have traded himself for her in a heartbeat. Finally, he had the chance to do the only thing he had left…avenge her. He wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, stand in his way.

His cell phone rang and a glance told him it was Kyle. Blake answered to hear, “Were you going to call and tell me Denver didn’t get you killed, or just drive the new 4Runner around town and break it in?”