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“A possessive asshole who growls too damn much and has ‘fuck’ as a favorite word?”

She didn’t smile, but she wanted to. In a different life, she would have smiled. “Someone who believes what I tell him. Who has faith in me. Who sees all of me and still thinks he can fall in love with me.” She watched the droplets of rain slide down the windshield. There were two other cars in the diner’s parking front lot. One was a Benz. The other a Range Rover.

Ms. Rochelle’s car and any staff members would have parked their vehicles behind the restaurant.

From this vantage point, when she and Hunter went inside, she knew he’d be able to keep an eye on their rental vehicle. The better to make sure no one tampered with the car.

“Sweetheart, there is no thinking about it. I love you. I’d fight for you. Take a bullet. Kill for you.”

Her head turned toward him. “No.”

“Kill to protect you,” he amended, voice rumbling inside the vehicle. “Because you matter to me more than anything else.”

Her chest ached. “Life can be over so quickly. You think you have forever, but no one does.”

He stared at her.

“Hunter…”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t rush her. Just waited.

So she took a risk. She stopped being afraid. Stopped— “I’m falling for you, too.” Stark words. “I believe I have been, from the moment I walked into your PI office in New Orleans. It just—it happened, and I couldn’t stop it. You carried me from the street after the gunshot. You stopped the bleeding.” She looked down at her arm. Still bandaged. She’d bandaged it that morning before leaving the safe house, but it was just a small wound. It would have been so much worse. Everything would have been worse without Hunter. She could see that. Her head tilted up as she gazed at him once more. “You saved me.”

“No.” Rough. “You did that for me when I was trapped in a hospital bed.”

She hadn’t. “You saved me. You took my case. You came to this town. You’ve fought for me. You’ve made love to me. You gave me more pleasure than I could ever imagine and I…” A deep breath. “I don’t want it to end. I don’t want it to be over.” Everything, gone in a blink. No, she did not want that. “I want to be with you. I want to stay with you.”

He unhooked his seatbelt.

She fumbled and did the same.

His fingers curled around her jaw right before his mouth crashed onto hers. Hungry. Hot. Possessive. Somehow devouring and worshipping at the same time, and maybe that was a weird thing to think, but it was how she felt. Heat poured through her veins. Her hands rose. Her nails bit into his shoulders. She opened her mouth wider, and her tongue met his. She kissed him with all of the passion that she had and with the love that she refused to fear.

Hunter was not Nate.

She did have a type. She happened to love a good hero.

Hunter was⁠—

A fist pounded into the glass of her window. “Help!” A wild, desperate scream.

Shelby jumped. She broke away from Hunter and whirled in her seat.

A pounding fist came at the window again. “Help me!”

Through the rain, Shelby could make out…Kimber? Kimber Lang?

Kimber grabbed for the door handle and frantically twisted and heaved, but the door was locked.

“Please, please!” Kimber glanced over her shoulder, back toward the diner. “Help me!” Her hand slammed into the window once again, and this time, when she slammed her palm against the surface, blood streaked across the glass.

Hunter unlocked the doors and bolted from the vehicle. He raced around the car, toward Kimber, even as Shelby opened her door.

Kimber collapsed on her knees. Blood poured from slices in her arms. “Help me, help me, help me…” A shudder. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks.

“Kimber!” Hunter reached for her.

She flinched away. Her head whipped back. Her eyes searched for Shelby. Wild. Desperate eyes. “Help me!”