They spent the day making love, napping, and making love some more. No mention of the future. No mention of the time remaining, of the six days left to them. Night would come soon enough and they would have to rise and confront the world. Regret and recriminations could come later. Right now, Claire in his arms was all that mattered.

At noon, Gideon ordered two large pepperoni pizzas and watched in awe as Claire devoured one whole pizza herself.

Licking tomato sauce off her fingers, she caught him staring at her. “What?” she asked, looking adorable in his too-big shirt and with her mussed hair.

“Finished?” he asked.

She inspected the empty pizza box on the bed before nodding.

“Good.” He swiped the pizza boxes off the bed with one arm and tossed her on her back.

“Gideon!” She laughed up at him, a rich, throaty sound that rippled through the air and wrapped silken chains around his heart.

Holding her face in his hands, he stared down solemnly at her. “I’ve never heard you laugh.” His thumbs stroked her finely arched brows almost tenderly. “Not truly.”

“I haven’t had a reason lately.”

He frowned, not liking the reminder of all that was wrong, of all that stood between them.

“Until you,” she added, gazing at his mouth. Her fingertips traced its curve, almost as if she wished to erase the frown from his face.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “It feels good.”

“It sounds good,” he whispered, tugging her hand away so that he could kiss her deeply. An emotion very much like satisfaction tightened his throat at the sinuous way she arched against him. Satisfaction… and something else.

He realized he hadn’t felt this good in a long while either. And Claire was the reason.

The sound was soft, barely discernible—just a click. With her heightened senses, it might as well have been a foghorn blaring in her ears for all that it jarred her awake, pulling her from Gideon’s warm arms and a comfortable slumber.

Someone else was in the room with them.

Her senses hummed with awareness, but she waited silently, eyes closed. The wood floor creaked close beside her. Too close. Her eyes flew open, blinking rapidly at the black hole floating directly in front of her eyes. A gun barrel. And beyond it, a grim face of stone. Cooper.

Claire eyed him. Dark-haired. Dark-eyed. Thin, ruthless lips set in a narrow face. He gripped the gun with familiarity, like it was an extension of his arm. Not an ounce of softness detectable anywhere. There would be no reasoning with him. No pleading. He wanted her dead.

Funny. She would have willingly placed herself before his gun last night to spare Gideon. But not now. Things had changed. She had changed. Even if she had only a few more days, those were days she could spend with Gideon.