It was exactly the kind of situation that usually made Misha bow out gracefully and go looking for an easier hookup. Instead, he’d broken his rules. Still didn’t know why, but looking back, he thought it’d been inevitable. He’d been a goner the second he’d met Riley’s eyes for the first time. Misha had left the bar in the early morning hours with blue balls and his belly aching with a weird, kindled hunger that wasn’t slaked by anything but Riley’s company. It had driven him to come back, to spend time with this strange someone who was neither part of Misha’s violent world nor an anonymous ass to fuck.

For the first time ever, he’d made an effort, had ditched common sense and followed his baser instincts. He’d given up pieces of himself so Riley would reciprocate and they’d become tangled up in the process, all those tiny barbs and burrs of their lives catching and holding until Misha forgot why it was such a bad idea to let it happen. By the time he had finally gotten in Riley’s pants, everything that remained of Misha’s ability to care had already latched on to Riley like crazy. The sex had become a bonus, no longer the prize.

The sad truth was he was neither willing nor able to give up. Not unless he was dead sure Riley didn’t want him back… frankly, probably not even then. It was a matter of pride and passion and the visceral knowledge that he’d never meet another Riley. Most people spent their entire life

looking for that kind of certainty without ever coming close. Misha wasn’t about to let it slip away without one hell of a fight.

IT WAS a subdued but unwavering Misha who went back into the office, once again drawn to the Texas road map on top of the pile on his desk. He’d spent so much time studying it, he knew it by heart. Every highway, every street. He could name each of the two hundred and fifty-four counties; point out every little speck of a town blind. He’d traced the lines with his gaze and fingers over and over, knowing Riley was out there somewhere, driving one of those roads, living in one of those towns. Misha felt a bit closer to him when he was touching the map, as though maybe, if he wanted it enough, was tenacious enough, he’d be able to reach through the paper and grab the man. Hadn’t worked so far, but that didn’t stop him. His need for Riley had never been entirely rational.

El Paso. He circled the city with his index finger, round and round. El Paso.

Hold still, you stubborn bastard. Let me get to you. We’re not done yet.