Her words had come out too fast and probably too high, but she was nervous. Scared. Scared of the stalker. Scared of losing Eric. Scared of someone else getting hurt. She pulled on her ear lobe.

“Good.” A rumble of satisfaction came from him. “Because I can’t imagine not wanting you.”

She sucked in a breath. Let it out. Sucked in another. “Have I ever told you that when you say nice things, it makes me nervous?”

“It’s because I spent too many years being an asshole. I want to make you forget that.” The car stopped. He turned to look at her. “You are beautiful and smart and funny. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and I don’t plan to let you go.”

She didn’t want to let him go, either. “You are handsome and smart, and I think you’re funny when you don’t mean to be.”

His lips quirked.

“You are by far the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and you are an incredible lover.”

His eyes gleamed…

“But I like you alive. I don’t want to put any extra risk on you or shove danger toward you, so if it’s better for me to be in a hotel—”

“It’s not.” Flat. Hard. “I’ve got this. My team has this. Hell, a team has been following us since we left the hospital’s parking garage. I have them watching you always. If he comes at us, he will be stopped.” Eric reached for her hand. “I’m not about to lose you.”

Good because she didn’t want to lose him. Not now. Not ever.

And that was another truth that was pretty terrifying.

***

His fingers flew over the keyboard. When Eric got in the zone, Piper realized that he was well and truly in the zone. They were at the police station, in one of the back rooms, and several of the PD’s tech members were hovered around him. They barked questions at one another. And they drank coffee—a lot of it. Time had flown by. Morning had come, and the harsh light trickled through the nearby blinds.

She watched, she listened, and she wished that she was in the interrogation room with Detective Lopez. Earlier, she’d caught a glimpse of Mark as he arrived at the station. He’d been wearing a leather coat, a black t-shirt, and battered jeans. He’d smiled when he’d seen her—she’d been heading back from the vending machine area—but then Detective Lopez had pushed him toward interrogation.

Mark had lost his smile.

He’s a suspect or a would-be victim. All because he had the misfortune to date her.

Her gaze darted to the door, and as if on cue, it swung open.

Detective Lopez stood there. Her eyebrows lowered over her narrowed eyes. “Any progress yet?”

Eric didn’t glance up from the computers around him.