Rap, rap, rap. “My gift has a time limit,” Zion called. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to miss it.” A harder rap. A crack appeared in the door, the wood no match for his metal glove. “I don’t hear you scrambling in there. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Time. Limit.”

Very well. Bane’s personal desires could wait. “We’ll talk later, yes?”

“Yes,” she whispered, a little choked up.

After shutting off the water, he toweled her off, then dried himself—without kissing all his favorite parts. A true travesty.

Bane donned a black T-shirt and camouflage pants with pockets, watching as Nola hooked a lacy bra in place and shimmied into a pair of matching panties.

Later, I’ll rip those panties off with my teeth.

She covered the undergarments with jeans and a pink T-shirt that read Pre-millionaire. The grace of her movements turned the simple act of dressing into a dance of seduction, and he remained rapt.

Nola plopped onto the toilet lid to tie her tennis shoes. Again and again she opened her mouth as if she had something to say, only to change her mind.

“Things will be better now,” he told her gently. “Whatever happens, we will get through it.” He crouched in front of her to finish tying, his shoulders keeping her knees apart. “Together.”

She nodded, but kept her gaze downcast, inciting a sense of urgency in him.

“Nola? What’s wrong?”

“I just... I feel like a yo-yo. Up and down. Happy one second, certain something terrible is about to happen the next.”

Clench. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“I don’t mean me,” she croaked.

“Me?” Bane thumped his chest, just to be sure. At her nod, the clenching worsened. “I have something to live for. I’ll let no one get the better of me.” He brought her wrist to his mouth, kissed her hammering pulse, then stood, drawing her to her feet.

With a final kiss to her brow, he ushered his beautiful female into the bedroom. A brief glance, and he memorized his surroundings, a habit every combatant developed to aid their survival. A large bed topped by a fluffy comforter. Two nightstands, a desk, a television and three lamps, everything black, white or silver and shiny.

Dagger in hand, Bane entered the hallway, where Zion waited. He didn’t glance at Nola, proving he understood Bane’s cooperation was conditional. Leer at the girl, and their alliance ended. “Let’s see this gift.” A trick?

“This way.” Zion wore lightweight cotton pajama pants and a grin. Though he displayed no visible injuries, splatters of blood wet his skin and clothing.

Bane and Nola followed, cutting through the living room. Once again, he memorized his surroundings with only a glance. Two couches, two chairs. A piano in a windowed corner, adjacent to a wet bar.