“Brynna, do you understand why I’m here?”

“Because someone asked a bunch of questions that weren’t even about me. Caleb, we don’t even know that anyone is looking for me.”

“Look.” Caleb scoots closer to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I know we have the police keeping an eye out in Chicago, and we don’t know for sure that anyone is looking for you, but Brynna, if there is even the slightest chance that you could be in danger, I need to be here.” He kisses my temple, inhaling deeply. “If Matt’s gut tells him something is off, then something is off.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.” He takes my chin in his fingers and pulls my gaze to meet his own. “Keep telling the girls I need a place to stay. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible. Just keep the damn doors locked and your eyes open.”

“I don’t want our routine to be interrupted.”

“Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

“You already know this about me,” I remind him with a smile.

“You work for Isaac three days a week, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, you should be safe when you’re there, with Isaac there, and all the other guys always coming in and out. I’ll cut my work week down to three days a week so I’m here when you are.”

“You’re working already?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I’m training civilian mercenaries just outside of Seattle.” He shifts, as though he’s uncomfortable talking about his new job, but I want to know more.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“Weapons, mostly. Weapons were my specialty.”

“What kind of weapons?” I ask, settling closer to him, leaning against his hard torso, enjoying the sound of his voice.

“You name it, I know about it.”

“Hmm.”

“In fact, I think I’ll take you to learn to shoot tomorrow.”

“Me?” I ask, and sit up straight. “Why?”

“Because you need to know how to protect yourself. You’ll need a concealed weapons permit too.”

“I already…”

“Stop.” He pushes his fingers over my mouth, earning a vehement glare from me. “Let me teach you this, Bryn.”

His arm is still around me, pulling me against his side, and his other hand is over my mouth, and all I can think about is the fact that his lips are inches away from my own.

Inches.

I drop my gaze to them and take a deep breath.

“No,” he whispers and gently pulls his fingers away.

“What?” I whisper back, still looking at his lips, and my stomach flutters when he licks them.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

My eyes rise to his. “Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

“I do want you to kiss me.”

There, I said it.

He sighs deeply, runs his thumb across my bottom lip and then gently wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

“I can’t do that. Go to bed, Brynna.”

“But…”

He abruptly stands, pulls the beer bottle from my hand and walks away from me. “Go to bed.”

Chapter Two

~Caleb~

What the fuck am I doing here?

The look on Brynna’s gorgeous face as I told her I couldn’t kiss her replays over and over in my head. It’s two in the morning, and sleep is still far away. If it comes at all.

I don’t sleep much these days.

The woman sleeping upstairs has been in my mind more than not for the better part of the last year. She and her two amazing daughters have me wrapped around their little fingers. Brynna is perhaps the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with her long dark hair and deep brown eyes, and those lips of hers were made for kissing. Her legs go on for days, and her ass is round and would be perfect for my hands.

Incredible.

And her girls are just as beautiful with their long dark hair and their mother’s brown eyes.

I rise from the couch and work my way around the inside of the house, for the third time tonight, making a sweep to make sure that everything is as it should be. Both the front and back doors are locked tight, along with all of the windows. The house is still, aside from the occasional creek or groan of normal house settling noises.

A single lamp is burning low in the living room, next to the couch. A red blanket and white sheet are folded neatly on one end, where Brynna left them earlier.

Satisfied that the house is safe for the night, I pull my shirt over my head and stuff it in my bag, unfasten the top button of my jeans and pull the 9 mm pistol from the waistband at the small of my back and set it on the table beside the couch.

Just as I reach for a clean tee and basketball shorts, someone lets out a soft cry upstairs.

Grabbing the pistol, I move quickly to the stairs, climb them swiftly, my back against the wall, and head for the girl’s room, assuming the soft noise came from either Maddie or Josie, but as I cross by Brynna’s bedroom, she lets out a louder, more urgent cry of distress.

I’ll fucking kill who ever is hurting her.

Her door is partially ajar. I push it open carefully, my eyes quickly adjust to the dark, and I make a hasty sweep of the room, trying not to focus on the beautiful woman tossing and turning on the bed.

The room is empty.

“Don’t you touch her!” Brynna cries out and flops onto her stomach.