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Chapter 3

Mikayla tapped her fingers against the table as her date, Thad Dawson, stood

beside the table talking to friends. He worked in a law firm all week and then socialized on the weekends with the same people he worked with which made little sense to her.

At thirty, Thad was charming, appeared sincere, and seemed to have all the

qualities of a Mr. Right. Not that she was looking for Mr. Right. She truly wasn't. But as her father often reminded her, she wasn't getting any younger.

She was his baby girl, and he just wanted to see her settled.

Mikayla just wanted to bring a killer to justice so she could get back to her life.

She had dresses she wanted to make, unfinished designs waiting for completion. She had a life to get back to.

She should be doing something besides sitting here on a date with a man more

concerned with the cases he'd been working on through the week than he was with hitting the dance floor, where she could at least expend some of the nervous energy still raging inside her.

At least she was still dating, she thought mockingly. It seemed people were

divided where she and Maddix Nelson were concerned. Those who believed her, or

simply considered her amusing, were inclined to allow her within their circle of friends.

The other side simply gave her a wide berth.

Thad, she suspected, only still asked her out because the owner of the law firm he worked for was still close friends with her father and hadn't, so far, seemed to take a side.

Things had definitely changed between her and Thad, though. The last few weeks,

the budding relationship had become strained, and after tonight she doubted seriously she would see him again.

She might as well have not been here for all the attention he was showing her.

"The bastard was so guilty, Emily." Thad chuckled, breaking into Mikayla's thoughts, and rather than angry, or with a sense of offended justice, Thad sounded merely amused and almost in awe.

The bastard in question had murdered his wife.

"Hey, baby, the prosecutor knew he didn't have enough evidence. I simply pointed it out. That's why we're paid the big bucks. To make certain our clients have every advantage." Thad's friend and co-worker Emily Shaltz was filled with smug satisfaction.

As the daughter of one of the partners of the law firm, she was arrogant and self-

important. Something Mikayla had always been able to overlook in Emily. Her parents were friends of the family, and Mikayla had always tried to overlook some of Emily's more grating qualities. Until the past weeks.

Mikayla's lips tightened at the obvious, in her eyes, miscarriage of justice. No

wonder so many people hated lawyers. All that mattered to them was winning. Well, to some of them. There were a few, she had to admit, who were the good guys. They just weren't a part of this circle.

"And that's why Emily is moving quickly into a partner's position." Thad was 34

clearly impressed.

"I'm not the only one." Emily turned to Thad, her gaze raking over him with obvious interest. "Thad is heading there quickly himself. He clearly has what it takes to make the partners notice him."

Mikayla sat back and watched the display. Tall, svelte, and slender, Emily Shaltz, with her clear dark blue eyes, curvy, tall body, and so obvious superiority, had no doubt of her charisma and sexual charm. The fact that Thad was obviously falling quickly beneath the promise in that cool gaze was really no surprise.

She could slip away and no one would notice her, Mikayla thought with a slight

edge of amusement. She could go home, do a little work, and actually go to bed at a decent hour and she doubted Thad would even know she was gone.

"Ma'am." The waitress at Mikayla's side drew her attention but received no more than a passing glance from those standing at the other side of the table.

Mikayla glanced up. "Yes?"

"The gentleman at the bar has offered to buy you a drink." The waitress pointed toward the extremely tall, had-to-be Nordic, blond man sitting casually at the bar. Even from across the room he presented an imposing figure.

Mikayla glanced back at Thad, gave a little smile, and shook her head. "Nothing for me, thank you." She rose to her feet. "I believe I'm heading home for the night."

Light blue eyes, rakishly long white blond hair, and a body guaranteed to stop

women in their tracks at thirty paces. There wasn't an ounce of give in those broad shoulders, nor in the hard, savage lines of his arrogant face.

A dark overnight growth of beard and mustache shadowed his lower face. He

looked entirely too confident of his own sexuality, and dangerous.

Danger exuded from his pores. It surrounded him. It was so much a part of him

that Mikayla felt her heart racing at the impact of it.

She had seen similar men. Not as hard, not as dangerous. Men who had been in

war for too long, who had returned home unable to fit back into the steady, peaceful routine they had known before they left. But they were a pale imitation of this man. This man was the essence, the very definition, of danger.

The dark rider she had seen on the motorcycle earlier had had a body to die for.

This man had the body, but those hardened features, the cool ice blue eyes, and the expression of hardened purpose held the warning that he was more than just a hard, gorgeous body. This man was a weapon.

It was definitely time she headed home. If she had drawn the attention of this man somehow, then she could be in more trouble than she already thought she had gotten herself into.

Thad didn't even notice when she left the table. Damn if that wasn't enough to

prick a girl's ego. He'd harassed her for weeks for a date before she'd given in. Thad was a good friend, she'd known him most of her life. He was a nice guy, but too intent on impressing the boss's daughter to pay much attention to his date. She understood. She wasn't tall and curvy and a part of the social sphere Thad wanted to enter. She was short, perhaps too curvy. Her long hair wasn't blond; it wasn't brown. It was what her mother called dirty blond. It was straight; it wasn't silky. Her breasts weren't large, and she wasn't available for a quick one-night stand.

That pretty much canceled her out for most men.

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Slipping through the throng of dangers, she headed for the exit.

The Cantina sat below the major convention center and hotel in the county. It was

connected to it and provided a major source of entertainment for the guests there.

It was often a major source of entertainment for Mikayla. In the past weeks, she

hadn't quite been in the mood for entertainment, though.

Pulling the keys to her Jeep from her jeans pocket, Mikayla was suddenly

thankful that Thad had been running late today. It meant she'd had a reason to drive her own vehicle to the club rather than riding with him.

It gave her a ride home.

Moving through the shadowed parking lot, she pressed a key between two fingers

defensively, prepared, just in case. She'd learned the hard way that nothing was really safe. That at any second something could happen. Something one didn't bring on oneself.

Watching the shadows warily, her gaze canvassing each area that could hide a

threat, she moved as quickly as possible to her Jeep.

It had been impossible to park close to the entrance of the Cantina. She'd been

forced to park in a lot across the street. The only place available at the time was far, toward the other end.

She should have gone home when she realized she couldn't park close enough to

the bar to be safe. But Thad had been so insistent.

This would teach her.

Quickening her step, she waited until she was close enough to the vehicle before

hitting the automatic door locks. She heard the click as she rounded the car. Her hand was reaching out for the door latch when she'd realized how serious her error had been.

Hard hands grabbed her from behind.

"Fucking troublemaking cunt!" A harsh growl sounded behind her.

Mikayla didn't have three younger brothers for nothing, and she sure as hell

wasn't going to be a victim who didn't fight back.

Fear roiled through her. Terror became a creature, snarling, fighting, as adrenaline surged through her bloodstream and nothing but the instinct for survival ruled.

She swung her fist with the key tight between two fingers.

A male grunt sounded in the darkness as she felt herself being thrown, flipped

around as she slammed into the back of the Jeep.

Her face raked against the side of the canvas top as her breast was driven against the spare tire. A cry of pain tore from her lips, and with the next breath she was screaming, kicking, scratching, the key gripped between her fingers as she lashed out. In the dark, she couldn't see much: a shadowed face. Her attacker wasn't much taller than she, but he was strong.

His fingers wrapped around her throat, clenched. Mikayla drove the keys into a

soft midsection. A hard grunt, the fingers loosened, but a second later it felt as though a sledgehammer had driven into the side of her face.

A fist. Distantly, she realized it was a fist. Every muscle in her body went lax for precious seconds as shock and pain traveled through her body. The keys fell from her fingers, her only weapon of defense gone as she felt those fingers, too strong, wrap around her throat once again.

She was going to die.

Mikayla could feel that knowledge rattling inside her brain. She couldn't fight

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against strength. She was too weak now. Her senses felt scattered, her breath so short.

She was definitely going to die.

Nik walked out of the Cantina, his gaze searching the brightly lit front entrance of the club as he looked for Mikayla. Cars whizzed by, their headlights flickering through the shadows as he narrowed his eyes in his search for her.

Mikayla had managed to get out of the bar before he realized she had left. She had disappeared into the throng and he'd lost sight of her. By the time Nik realized she was leaving he was too far behind to catch up with her.

She must have been parked close, he thought. The only way she could have gotten

away from him so quickly was if she was parked directly in front of the Cantina.

His jaw tightened.

He was turning to stalk to the far end of the lot to his Harley when he heard it: a muted cry.

He stopped, pausing, his gaze searching the parking area across the street.

Where had it come from?

There. Again.

Moving, Nik raced across the street, seeing two shadows struggling at the far end

of the parking lot. He was pounding across the blacktop when he heard a strangled cry of feminine rage.

The taller shadow fell back briefly. But only briefly.

Nik wasn't close enough.

"Mikayla!" He called out her name as he raced between the cars.

The shadow paused, twisted, and in less than a second sprinted off.

Nik watched in horror as hair the color of the softest wheat shone for the briefest second in the flashes of the car lights on the other side of the parking area.

Almost in slow motion she crumpled to the ground just before he could reach her.

Fuck. Fuck.

He was too late.

Horror raced through his system as he hurriedly crouched beside her, his hands

running over her quickly as he searched for the telltale dampness of blood, the sign of broken bones. The hilt of a knife.

"No." Weak, panting, she pushed at his hands as they moved over her breasts.

"What are you doing?"

She sounded muffled, strangled. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He could

see her face now, no blood. One hand pushed at his as the other rose to rub at her neck.

"Miss Martin?" He brushed her hair back from her face as he helped her sit up.

"Are you okay?"

If he were a lesser man, a normal man, he would have been shaking.

His hands framed her face as she stared up at him, her head wobbling as he felt

her shuddering.

"Mikayla?" He tried to smooth out the ruined sound of his voice, compliments of a fire that had burned too bright, too hot, too long ago.

"I'm fine." Her voice was low, weak. "Who are you?"

"Nik. Nik Steele."

Fuck, he knew her name, but she hadn't met him. She was going to be suspicious

as hell.

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"The waitress was nice enough to tell me your name," he told Mikayla as he watched her fighting to catch her breath, her hand still massaging her neck. "Are you okay?"

She nodded jerkily, the movement halting as she grimaced in pain.

"He tried to strangle me," she rasped, fear quaking in her voice. "You scared him off."

He hadn't scared the fucker off fast enough. She could have been killed. It took

only a second to use a knife, but whoever had attacked her hadn't wanted to kill her the quick, easy way.

Thank God.

"Help me up." She pressed her hands to the ground to push herself up.

"Here." Nik gripped her beneath her arms and lifted her carefully to her feet, holding her as he watched her find her balance. "You should go to the hospital."

Her head lifted slowly.

"Oh, my God, no!" The ragged sound of her voice had rage striking through his chest. The sound of irritated vocal cords. The struggle to breathe as she was being strangled had done minute damage as well.

"You should be checked out."

"My entire family would show up like avenging angels." Her hand lifted shakily to her brow.

"It would be better to make certain you're not hurt."

"I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "I'm just shaky."

"Too shaky to drive--"

"I have to find my keys." She shook her head slowly. "Help me find my keys."

Her keys were at her feet.

Bending, Nik picked them up, holding them away from her as she reached out for

them.

"Hospital, or I can drive you home. Take your pick."

Mikayla stared up at the stranger. There was a sense of familiarity in the way he

acted toward her. It didn't make sense. She didn't know him. She knew she had never met him before. She would have remembered if she had.

"Who are you again?"

"Nik Steele," he answered, his voice, despite its roughness, incredibly gentle.

"That doesn't tell me who you are." She stared at the keys in his hand. "Could I please have my keys?"

He shook his head slowly. White blond hair dusted against his shoulders as his

dark clothing blended in with the night.

"I told you, I can drive you home or to the hospital. There's always the option of calling an ambulance or the police."

"No." Her response was quick.

The last thing she needed was the police. She doubted very seriously they'd help

her anyway. They would probably give her assailant a medal.

"No police." She just wanted to go home.

"Come on." His hand gripped her arm, not roughly but in a grip of steel as he steered her to the passenger seat of the Jeep. "Get in. I'll take you home."

He helped her into the passenger seat, hiding a smile as she watched him warily,

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suspiciously.

There were options. She could feel her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

She could call one of her brothers.

No. No way. Any of the three would freak out, call her parents, and she would

end up in the hospital whether she wanted to be there or not. And her father would definitely call the police. He'd curse and yell at them when they showed their lack of concern. Her mother would be shocked. She knew most of the police officers in town by first name. There was no sense in allowing more of them to disappoint Mikayla's gentle mother.

Jorrey Martin had cried last week when Mikayla had called to report a break-in

attempt at the shop. No one had showed up. Her father had been forced to call and

threaten them with a report to the state police.

Not that that would help.

The driver's side door opened and the huge form of the strange man was forced to

release the catch on her seat, shoving it back the full length before he could fold his frame into the seat.

"Address?" He turned to her as he pushed the key into the ignition and turned it on.

Mikayla gave him her address quickly, then watched as he put the Jeep into gear

and backed out of the parking space.

"Know where that's at, do you?" she asked.

She didn't live in Hagerstown. She'd bought her first house in the small town of

nearby Williamsport.

"Actually, I do. I just rented the house next to you this afternoon. I was waiting until tomorrow to move in." His teeth flashed in the dim glow of the dash lights as he glanced over at her. "Hell of a coincidence, huh?"

She so did not believe in coincidence. The house beside hers was definitely for

rent. The single-story brick and stucco, like her own, was set behind a screen of

evergreen and decorative privacy pine.

"And how do you intend to get back to your car?"

"My Harley," he told her. "Call a cab and have it waiting on me when I get there.

I'll see you safely inside your home; then I'll leave. I'm not moving into the house until tomorrow."

"And you care why?"

That didn't make sense. At the moment, Washington County and the surrounding

area was rather divided over whether to kill her or to laugh at her.

She had witnessed a murder and seen the murderer, and no one wanted to believe

her because the murdered hadn't been well liked and the murderer was a powerful

member of the community with an unbreakable alibi. And it seemed someone definitely wanted to shut her up.

"Why wouldn't I care?" Nik asked as he pulled to a stop at the intersection. "Not all men are assholes, pretty girl."

Her brows lifted. Pretty girl?

Mikayla watched the traffic, her hands clenched desperately in her lap as she

fought to hold on to her control. Fear was a wild creature inside her, barely contained.

This was a stranger. He wasn't the man who had attacked her. If he had been, she would 39

have been simply dead. His hands were huge, a fitting match to the extra tall, corded length of his body and his rough-hewn face.

"I didn't say you or anyone else was an asshole." She touched the bruise she could already feel forming on her face. "Except the person who decided to use me for a punching bag tonight."

"You went out without a purse or anything to steal; it's hard to believe it was a mugger," Nik commented. "Why do you think you were attacked?"

Mikayla glanced at his profile before sighing tiredly. "You're not from around here, are you?"

He chuckled at that. "Nope. Texas."

"Figures." For some reason, it was hard to see him as a Texan, though. "Been here long?"

"Long enough to rent a house." He grinned as he slid a look her way before returning to the traffic. "And you haven't answered my question."

She bit her lip in indecision. "I might have made some people angry." She shrugged, feeling defensive. Angry.

The store was thriving more from curiosity than from her designs. She no longer

trusted friends to hold her secrets, because too many had repeated things she had

confided to them. She had tried to play the game as Maddix Nelson was, keeping her reserve in public and trying to find the truth by talking to those she knew were connected to the foreman. But no one would talk to her. And Maddix had the perfect alibi. An evening business meeting with the chief of police and two of the members of the city council. It was an alibi she would have believed herself if she hadn't known better.

"Might have?" Nik shot her another glance as he turned onto the interstate and headed for the exit to nearby Williamsport. "How did you 'might have' pissed someone off?"

"Something I'd rather not talk about." Mikayla gave a quick shake of her head.

"I'd rather know why you're here from Texas."

"A job." In profile, the hard, sharp planes of his face held a wicked, sexy edge.

The sight, the image of him, had a strange effect on her. Her stomach tightened in response; she could feel her heart racing. It was pounding against her chest, making her breathing short, as she became aware of a peculiar sensitivity within her body.

"What kind of job? What do you do?" She sounded a little breathless, but she could excuse it. She had just been attacked. She'd been struck. God, her father had never even spanked her. That was the first time she had ever been struck in her life.

"I'm in private security," Nik answered, his voice rasping along her senses, almost broken. It was one of the most arousing sounds she had ever heard.

"What kind of private security? Like a bodyguard? A security guard?" She brushed back her hair as the aches of the strikes against her flesh began to actually hurt.

At least nothing had been broken.

"Installation of customized security systems in this case," he told her. "I'm good with electronics."

"You said 'in this case'?" She lifted her hand slowly to the ache in her ribs. "Do you sometimes do other things?"

"Bodyguard, deliveries. I'm pretty well rounded." He made the turn onto the exit, then headed through the small town Mikayla called home.

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"So you're here to install personal security systems. Who are you working for?"

She needed a distraction until she could get rid of him.

"Privileged information," he drawled as he glanced back at her. "Sorry."

"Not a problem." She shook her head as they drew closer to the house. A part of her regretted that the ride was almost over.

She felt safe here with him, despite the fact that she didn't know anything about

him.

"You're hurting," he stated, his voice hardening as he pulled the Jeep slowly into her driveway and slid it into park before turning to look at her.

She almost jerked her hand back from her ribs.

"Some guy just knocked me around for the hell of it," she pointed out with an edge of bitterness. "Yeah, I'll have a few bruises."

"I think you should go to the hospital," Nik suggested, his gaze intent as he stared back at her. "You could be seriously hurt and not know it."

She shook her head. "It's bruises."

"You don't know that, Mikayla," he chided her, his voice lowering. "It could be something far serious and you wouldn't know."

"He slammed me against the Jeep and hit me in the face," she said, rejecting the idea. "There are no internal injuries or broken bones. I'm just going to be sore."

"You're just going to have a bruise across the whole side of your face." He reached out then, his fingertips almost brushing against the ache in her cheek. "He should be killed for that alone."

Mikayla's lips parted before she could control it, her heart speeding up, racing

until she swore she could feel it in her throat.

It wasn't racing in fear. It was racing in excitement at the thought of Nik's fingers touching her flesh.

"Let's not talk about killing." She almost gave a hard, bitter laugh. The last thing she wanted to even think about was killing. "I forgot to call your cab. You're going to have to wait awhile for it to arrive."

His lips quirked in amusement. "Not a problem." He pulled his own cell phone from the holster at his side before hitting a number.

"Pickup," he notified the other end before giving the address. "Yeah. Good thing I caught you. I'll be waiting outside."

He flipped the phone closed.

"A friend?" she asked.

"A co-worker. She owes me a favor." He pushed the phone back into the holster before turning back to Mikayla. "I'd ask for coffee, but I can almost feel the word 'no' on your lips."

She had to grin at that. No matter how much she wanted to spend more time with

this intriguing man, she wasn't as brave as she wished she were.

"Sorry," she sighed, hearing the heavy regret in the sound. "My dad is already going to go ballistic because I didn't call him first thing. If he finds out I let a stranger into my house, he'll begin to question how well he raised me."

"A woman who listens to her father. A strange concept." Nik grinned, causing her stomach to turn flips at the quirk of his hard, bitable lips. Damn, she would love to taste those lips.

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"There are a few of us left," she promised him, letting a small laugh pass her lips despite the ache in her ribs.

"Yes, so it seems." He tilted his head in agreement. "Ah, well, my ride will be here in two more minutes. I have to say, I was glad to meet you, Miss Martin."

"And I have to say, thank you for saving me." She grinned back as she held her hand out. "Can I have my keys now?"

Pulling the keys from the ignition, he placed them slowly in her palm, his fingers touching her flesh as she felt a subtle, low rush of energy as it passed over her skin.

Her fingers curled over the keys, brushing his as his hand lifted.

"Thank you again," she said, her voice more breathless than before.

"I'll see you soon," he promised. "Remember, I live just next door. Come on now; let me see you inside so I can be sure you're going to be okay. Like your father, I'll worry."

"You have children?" Was he married? Oh, Lord, was she lusting after a married man who was going to move in next door with a wife and children?

His expression stilled, though. Something hard and brutal flashed in those icy blue eyes.

"I did once," he finally said before giving his head a hard shake and pulling the latch to the door and stepping out quickly.

He didn't want to talk about it; that was obvious.

He was a father once, he said. His child was dead or somehow lost to him then?

She held her questions, her curiosities. Some subjects were too sensitive,

especially between two people who didn't know each other.

Her door opened; then he reached inside and gently helped her from the Jeep.

"Nik, I'm sorry." She laid her hand on his arm.

"For what?" His eyes narrowed in the dim light.

"For whatever hurts you," she said softly before stepping aside and moving gingerly along the sidewalk, aware of him behind her.

Her door was still locked. Inserting the key, she unlocked it, stepped inside, and pushed in the code for the alarm system. Everything was still secure. Her lamps were still on; her cat, Biskus, meowed from the arched doorway into the kitchen just as he did every time she returned.

"Everything's fine." She turned back to Nik, aware of him staring down at her, tall and broad. Protective. "Thank you again."

"Thank you." He reached out, touched her unbruised cheek, then turned and left.

A car pulled up at the curb and as Mikayla watched the door open she saw the

redhead inside. Tall, of course, and pretty.

And then they were gone.

Closing the door behind her, Mikayla reset the locks and the security system

before staring down at the rather large black and white long-haired cat that had adopted her.

"Well, it's just you and me again, Biskus."

He meowed again, then turned and loped back to the kitchen.

A clear indication he felt he deserved a treat for being left at home alone.

She felt perhaps she deserved a treat herself. For the bruise on her face, the one she felt forming on her ribs, the fear she had experienced that night, and the man she had 42

been forced to walk away from.

Her father would have been horrified.

She could hear him raging even as a smile tipped her lips.

Her brothers would go crazy.

And that still wasn't enough to dim her interest.

Or her arousal.

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