The light drew her in, instantaneously lowering her pulse from a gallop to a steady jog.

She threw herself on the worn, plaid couch and went to work pulling her boots off. Brick waited until she was done and moved the boots closer to the fire.

On the coffee table, a laptop was open to a search engine. She sneaked a peek when his back was turned.

Remington Ford artist Chicago mayor.

That sneaky son of a bitch was snooping on her.

Under most normal circumstances, it would piss her off. But in the current situation, it damn near made her panic. He needed to leave this alone. She couldn’t let more people get hurt because of her.

While she feigned interest in a blanket on the back of the couch, she noticed him close the computer and move it.

It was quiet, aside from the soft whir from the fireplace fan and the purr of the generator outside.

“Do you want me to turn on more lights?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn that Darius and his pink flamingos. So I did tell you?” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and held them there. “I couldn’t remember if I actually opened my big, fat mouth and told you I was afraid of the dark or if I just wanted to tell you.”

“Why did you want to tell me?” He hadn’t moved any closer. His back was to the fireplace, the coffee table between them. But he still managed to take up all the space in the room.

“Because you used to make me feel safe.”

He flinched. An actual physical recoiling like she’d managed to hurt him. Then it was gone.

“Tell me why you don’t feel safe now. Why you sleep with the lights on. Why your name doesn’t come up in any accident records but you were taken to the hospital for a severe asthma attack.”

She jumped up from the couch, and something slid to the floor, landing with a soft thump.

“Tell me why you’re carrying a pair of fucking scissors in your pocket?”

“You spied on me?” It had been a mistake coming here. Coming home maybe. But running to Brick? Definitely. “You can barely look me in the eye but you went digging for information on me?”

She didn’t make it two steps before he caught her around the waist. They both went stock-still. She could feel the steady thump of his heart. His heat. His glorious, intoxicating, hypnotizing heat seeped into her bones.

“You’re shivering.” His voice was a rumble at her back.

“I’m not shivering,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’m shaking with rage. Totally different.”

For a beat, they stood exactly where they were, bodies touching, breath audible. Then he released her and pointed to the couch. “I don’t care if you’re trembling with hysteria. Sit your ass down and explain to me what the fuck is going on,” he said.