Once the boy had completed his nightly routine, he settled himself on the couch, with Festus keeping him company.

Eli took a quick shower, put on a pair of sweatpants afterward, brushed his teeth and headed for bed.

He didn’t lie down so much as collapse, but, not surprisingly, sleep eluded him, at least for the first fifteen or twenty minutes.

He wasn’t thinking about the Lansings and the danger they represented, or about Sara, home alone with a Glock in her nightstand drawer, or about what he’d say to Dan Summers the next day, when he intended to outline the need for professional security.

No, Eli was thinking about Brynne.

About their midnight kiss.

It had been electric.

He thought about their conversation afterward, in her apartment, and the way she’d felt in his arms, all soft and warm and welcoming.

He’d wanted nothing more than to lead her to the nearest bed and make slow, sweet love to her. To caress her silken skin, run his fingers through her hair, bury his face in the curve of her neck.

And a few other places.

He knew she’d wanted him, too. Knew she would have arched her back and gasped his name as she received him.

In the cold silence of his otherwise empty bed, Eli bit back a groan.

Brynne wasn’t like other women he’d known, and not just because she was so beautiful. He sensed that, beneath that fragility, that desperate need to proceed with caution where any romantic entanglement was concerned, she was strong as steel.

With Brynne, casual sex wasn’t an option—never had been.

Not that Eli had anything against casual sex; he’d indulged in it plenty of times, starting with Reba Shannon. That had been irresponsible, of course, but after that crazy, hormonal summer, his eighteenth year on the planet, he’d always taken precautions.

He thought back to the time before Reba, when he and Brynne had “gone steady”—an old-fashioned term, these days. For most kids, it meant swapping class rings, doing a lot of necking, and pairing up for movies, dances and the like. Maybe a burger and fries, if the funds were available.

He and Brynne had done plenty of kissing and plenty of hand holding, too, but things had never gotten hot and heavy between them. God knew, he’d been as horny as any other kid his age, but he’d enjoyed a special kind of intimacy with Brynne.

She told him her secrets.

Shared her dreams.

As much as he’d wanted Brynne, Eli hadn’t pushed for more than she was willing to give.

And he wouldn’t push her now.

He’d wait, if it killed him.

Which he figured it might.

He lay sprawled on his back because lying on his stomach would have been like straddling a fallen fence post.