“I am.” One of these times, he was going to kill her. He could control himself today, but he had to figure out a way to get that evidence she’d collected. Torture wouldn’t do it, because she was too damn smart. She had given it to a friend, one he couldn’t track down, with instructions that only on her death would it be released. Rock just had to find the friend. Theresa was almost as big a threat to Rock as Wolfe was. Not quite, and she had other attributes he quite enjoyed. He released her wrists.

She pulled back, rubbing them. “Wha—”

Then he grabbed her hair, yanking her toward the bedroom.

Her pained laugh filled the day as she grabbed onto his belt loops. “Rock? Do you care for me at all?”

The question caught him off guard, and he paused in the doorway, pressing her against the wall. If he cared for her, wouldn’t he get her help? Or would he continue bringing out her darker side? “I care for you.” Probably. He’d never met anybody like her.

For the briefest of seconds, she looked sweet. Even vulnerable.

“But I’m still going to hurt you.” He threw her toward the bed, not surprised when she laughed.

Definite issues.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Dana glanced at her bag in the back seat of Wolfe’s truck and then waved as her parents drove by, heading home. The breeze of the day before had disappeared, leaving a sweltering heat laden with moisture. The bomb squad had arrived surprisingly quickly, followed by federal agents whom Angus Force had handled over the phone.

“Well. That was exciting,” Dana murmured, her heart still pounding.

“Your folks took all of it pretty well,” Wolfe murmured, starting the engine, his gun tucked into the side of his waistband.

“Dad was a marine,” Dana said, shivering. “Those were real explosives? Not a bluff?” She’d watched, from a safe distance, as Wolfe had met with the bomb guys.

“Yes,” Wolfe said, his voice clipped.

Roscoe sprawled across the back seat, his nose on his paws.

They both seemed out of sorts.

Okay. Something was so not right. Dana secured her belt, her hands trembling. Gone was the good-natured and finally relaxed Wolfe of the night before. Not that she could blame him. She remained quiet as he drove by the golf course and out of the club grounds, turning toward home.

The silence between them was nothing like what they’d shared that morning before breakfast, when she’d cuddled in his arms and just enjoyed being near him. This was hard and cold and distant.

She swallowed. “What all did you and Rock talk about before I came outside?”

Wolfe remained silent, his gaze on the shimmering asphalt through the window.

Irritation itched through her. She tried to remain calm, but he was freaking her the heck out. “I asked you a question.”