“Can’t see that happening,” Adam said. After that fateful night he’d learned a bit about the man who’d done what he couldn’t. And he doubted the former Army Ranger had forgotten much.

“Always a chance,” Quinn said. “And you,” he said to Amanda, “don’t go out alone.”

She flushed. “You don’t need to remind me, believe me. It was stupid to do it the first time, but...”

“You didn’t really believe any of it, did you?” Adam asked gently.

“No,” she admitted. “No, I didn’t. I know better now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it completely differently this time. He was sorry that she was having to deal with this, face the fact that someone was trying to hurt her. Or worse. He couldn’t even form the word for that “worse” in his mind, let alone say it. The injustice of that, if they succeeded, first her father and now her...it made him want to go blow something up. A feeling he’d had only once before in his life, that moment he’d known Greg was truly dead.

She was looking at him as if she somehow knew exactly how he’d meant it this time. And then, quietly, she said, “If it wasn’t for you I might not even be here to dwell on it.” He started to shake his head, but she spoke again, quickly. “You pulled me out of the car, you chased that guy off last night. That’s twice you’ve saved me from serious injury, or last night likely worse.”

He hadn’t really thought about it like that. But even if she was right, it still didn’t make up for that night.

When he finally lay in darkness that night, he was aware of being more comfortable and, thankfully, much warmer than he had been for days now, but he was much more aware of being in Amanda’s house. The house that she’d once shared with her father.

In the end, renewing his vow to Greg that he would not let her be hurt was the only thing that let him slip into much-needed sleep.

Amanda pondered the food in the fridge as the coffee brewed the next morning. Hayley had seen to it that they had all the basics. Foxworth handled that sort of thing when they moved in on somebody, she’d said.

She could tell by how she caught herself staring at the shelves that she was still a little fuzzy after a restless night. She’d expected to have nightmares about the attack, and so her mind had been reluctant to let her slip into deep sleep. But when she did, it wasn’t her attacker she dreamed about. It was her rescuer.