Dammit, he wasn’t a fucking hero. He didn’t give a shit about the Rescue residents. He didn’t want to protect them. People weren’t worth his life—or his death.

But his brothers were worth…anything he had to give.

Hell.

He wasn’t about to give in without a fight. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Two

The first week in May at the University of Illinois-Chicago was an intense time as students and faculty revved up for final exams the following week. End of the school year and commencement parties had started, as well.

Thursday evening, Audrey Hamilton glanced back at the university in her rear-view mirror. Her fellow university librarians were heading off to a faculty party.

As always, she’d made excuses not to attend.

She scowled at herself in the mirror. You are one timid, vacillating, spineless coward. An invertebrate in human form.

The truth hurt.

She loved the reference part of her job. She enjoyed helping students and faculty locate the materials needed to complete their work or studies.

The liaison responsibilities? Having to schmooze and build relationships? Totally not in her skill set and way outside her nerdy comfort level.

And tonight, rather than facing her fears and attending the staff party, she’d fled. With a sigh, she settled down to a rainy drive through rush hour traffic.

In her apartment complex’s parking lot, she started to turn into her designated slot and almost rear-ended a beat-up yellow car parked there. The high-pitched squeak she gave probably woke every cat in the neighborhood.

She glared at the trespassing vehicle. Seriously? That’s my parking space. Growling, she backed up and quickly discovered that building C’s visitor slots were filled…as were building D’s and E’s.

Finally, she found parking at building F. F for eff-it-all—a word infinitely satisfying to mutter under her breath.

Before getting out of the car, she pulled her cell out of her purse. No calls from Quentin.

Eff-it-all, eff-it-all, eff-it-all. She punched in his number. Again.

No answer. Again.

Worry festered in her stomach. Where was her client? He’d promised to call her, and yes, as an author, he was absent-minded when writing, but today, he’d gone to interview some people. Possibly scary people.

There was nothing she could do now. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she picked up her groceries. With a heavy recyclable bag on each arm, she paused in the drizzling rain and eyed the distance to her building. Her laptop would have to remain in the trunk. Laptops and rain—not a good combination.

She was drenched before she’d gone past the first building. Spring in Chicago was so…nice. Really. She loved the rain. Loved it more when she didn’t have to walk in it.

As she approached her building, she was panting like a steam engine. Sheesh, maybe she should visit the complex’s gym now and then.