What did it even matter? Everyone in that photograph aside from her was dead. Whoever had stolen the photograph couldn’t hurt anyone else in it. Not anymore. They could only hurt her by revealing the truth about her family and telling Shane would accomplish the exact same thing.

She couldn’t think about it right now.

It was after midnight. She was exhausted. Her gaze lifted until she reached the honed lines of his face. The stubble on his jaw. Warm skin that still held a touch of a summer tan.

“Shane?” she whispered.

He made a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a sigh.

“Can we go to bed now?”

His face softened. He took her hand in his right and held his handgun in the other. He led her into a darkened bedroom and pulled back the quilt.

Much to Shane’s amusement, Novak’s FBI negotiator girlfriend Charlotte Blood had dashed back here from the bar to change the sheets and throw a few basic supplies into the fridge. He hadn’t missed the strip of condoms she’d put on the bedside table but Shane had no plans to use them tonight. Yael needed to rest.

He placed his SIG on the side table. Then removed the Glock from the ankle holster. Novak’s carbine was within easy reach should someone break down the door. Gold team had set up cameras in the hallways and stairwells, plus had people watching the entrances.

Shane knew Yael was being evasive about what had been taken from her house but he wasn’t sure whether or not it was important. Not all lies mattered, but Shane would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that Yael still didn’t trust him enough to confide in him completely. But he’d also been the guy having a beer when her house was being attacked so maybe he couldn’t blame her all that much.

She stripped off her clothes and his eyes almost popped out of his skull when she got down to her underwear even though she was too busy struggling to remove her jeans without pulling off her bandages to notice.

“Sit.” He knelt in front of where she sat on the edge of the bed and took her calf in his hand as he eased the material over her socks, one at a time. She smelled so sweet he closed his eyes and swallowed the punch of desire.

“I wore these for you.” Her smile was sad as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Unable to stop himself, he pressed his face against the softness of her thigh.

Black lace seemed to have been designed with the sole intention of destroying a man’s control. He nuzzled her skin, the warm womanly scent of her wrapping around his senses and snapping him to attention like a flagpole.