And on top of that, he also couldn’t believe he’d agreed to stay—especially given who had stepped into the ring with him. But he couldn’t argue with what he’d seen in the back of Grier’s closet—and although Matthias didn’t mind collateral damage, he sure as shit wouldn’t seek it out. Especially if her dad was military: Matthias knew everyone—and was fully aware of any complications that could arise if he killed the daughter of somebody important.

With yet another curse, Isaac went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth; then he stretched out on top of the duvet and turned off the light. As he focused on the ceiling, he imagined her in that cozy bed up above him, with the television on and something from the Magnum P.I. era playing in front of her closed lids.

He wanted to be up there with her.

He wanted to be up there . . . and all over her.

Which meant he had to leave at the crack of dawn before she even woke. Otherwise he might not be able to go without trying to take something he had no right to . . . much less deserved.

Closing his eyes, he made it about fifteen minutes before his tossing and turning rode those pj bottoms so far up his crotch he felt like he could cough flannel.

If he was doing the mattress and pillow thing, he usually slept naked and now he knew why. This was f’in’ ridiculous.

Half an hour later he couldn’t stand it anymore and stripped down completely. The only thing he kept near were the pair of guns tucked just inside the blankets. After all, he might be flashing his ass, but there was no reason to be vulnerable.

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

The Comfort Inn & Suites in Framingham, Massachusetts, had corridors that stank of Febreze, windows that were caulked shut, and sheets that were a little itchy. But at least the quietly humming Coke machine by the elevator spit out an endless stream of glacially cold caffeinated heaven.

Adrian Vogel loved a good Coke, preferring the old-school glass bottles to cans. But he’d take the plastic long-necks happily enough.

And he was going to buy two as soon as he got off on his floor. One for himself and one for . . . “What did you say your name was?”

The redhead next him was exactly his type: totally stacked, partially wasted, and under no illusions that this was going to be anything but sex.

“Rachel.” She smiled, showing teeth that were sparkly and superwhite. “And I think I’ll keep my last name to myself.”

Man, those chompers of hers were incredible—as lined up and shiny as bathroom tile. Then again she was a dental hygienist, so she probably got a discount.

Hell, with her looks, she could be a model for their product lines.