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He caught the faint exhalation she made when his fingers made contact with her. He ignored the surge of heat that he felt. At this point, Hunter figured that touching her would always cause that reaction in him. A side effect that he’d just have to get used to experiencing.

Hunter tilted back her head. Got her eyes on him again. Those amazing eyes. “Someone just tried to kill you.” Gruff. Hard.

“A-a random bullet.”

“Tragic, but those things happen.” Words from the EMT. A guy in his twenties with dark brown hair and a face that showed he had too much interest in his patient. “Glad you’re all right, Shelby.”

The EMT was on a first-name basis with her? Already? Oh, that guy could just calm his ass down.

“Not random.” Hunter would just not buy that BS. “That’s why the bodyguard duty is starting now.”

“Hunter?” Hushed. Not scared. Not confused. Because Shelby was still locking up all of her emotions.

He leaned closer to her. “From now on, you have me.” The next bullet will have to go through me before it ever hits you. “Twenty-four, seven,” he swore.

Chapter Four

Hunter liked the barbed wire. And the broken bottles? Nice. Brutal, too. The huge, brick wall around her place was another plus in Hunter’s mind. But that barbed wire, the bottles…oh, those were viciously delightful.

If any predator actually managed to scale the wall around Shelby’s French Quarter home, the jerk would find himself with fingers that were sliced to pieces. He’d also be caught on one of the many cameras that she had nearby.

The woman had given herself a fortress.

He approved. Whole-heartedly.

“The bottles were suggested by a neighbor when I moved in.” They were beyond the heavy wall that circled her property. Shelby stood in front of a big, wooden door. The main entrance to her home. She pushed a key into the lock, and his gaze darted down to the bandage she wore. “Said it was almost a New Orleans requirement to put up the broken bottles.”

She’d gone to the hospital. Mostly because he’d insisted. The blood flow from the bullet had stopped, and the doc on duty had said she didn’t need stitches. The wound had been thoroughly cleaned because infection was always a risk, but then Shelby had been bandaged up again and sent on her way.

With me.

Because, as promised, he was gonna be with her, twenty-four, seven, from here on out.

He’d ditched his t-shirt. Her blood had been on it. Fortunately, he’d had a backup in his car. He had a whole go-bag in his car because he believed in being prepared. That go-bag would be particularly handy right now, since he intended to stay with her.

Shelby unlocked the door. Stepped inside. Turned off the alarm before she moved into the doorway and faced him. “You’ve seen me safely home.” Shelby inclined her head toward him. Serious expression. Unreadable eyes. Night had fallen over the city, but he could see her perfectly. A bright light had been positioned to the left of her door. As they stood facing one another, jazz music drifted toward them on the breeze. Someone always seemed to be playing jazz in New Orleans. “I’m good now,” she assured him. “You can leave.”

He could. However, he would not be doing so. “Nice try, but you’re not kicking me to the curb.”

“I—”

“You’re going to invite me in.” On this, he was adamant. “Then I’m going to search your place, and I’m going to make one hundred percent certain that you’re safe.” After that…“I’ll bunk on the couch, and if you should need me for any reason during the night, all you have to do is call my name.” While she got ready for bed, he’d snag his go-bag from the SUV.

She didn’t invite him in. “I talked to the cops.”

Yes, she had. He had, too. Not very useful conversations. The cops possessed zero leads. They’d finally gotten around to searching the old Morgan Finance building, but they’d turned up nothing. Which meant the shooter was on the loose, somewhere in the city, and that Hunter had no intention whatsoever of letting Shelby out of his sight.

The street cam footage had been useless, too. Useless as in, there was no footage. The cameras on that road had been down for two weeks. Something the city had kept quiet. A lucky break for the shooter. Damn lucky.

“You heard the police officers, Hunter. They don’t think I was targeted. They said it was probably a stray bullet.”

“There is a chance it could have been.” Hunter had to say those words. Because maybe it had just been random. Perhaps. Like a .02 percent chance in his head. “Or maybe you were the intended prey.” What every instinct he possessed screamed. “You have to consider that someone has been watching you.”

Her shoulders tensed.

Time to drive this point home. “Someone knew you’d be on that street. Someone knew you’d be coming to my office. Someone watched and waited, and when you left alone, that predator used the opportunity to take a shot at you.” He motioned behind him toward the big, brick wall. “You’re hard to access here. If I were a bad guy and I wanted to get to you, to hurt you, I’d wait until you were at your most vulnerable, too. I’d wait until you were away from these walls. Until you were out in the open. Just like he did.”

She swallowed. He saw the small, delicate movement of her throat. “I’m back behind the walls now.” Her lower lip trembled even as she lifted her chin. “So I guess that means I’m safe once again.”