Mystery Man (The Dream Man Series Book 1)

I heard the crash and jerked awake, instant adrenalin pumping through my body making my skin and fingers tingle.

Someone was in my house.

I listened and heard not a sound but I knew. I knew.

The Great MM didn’t make noise. Even if I moved something or work was being done on the house, he avoided it and moved silently like he could see any obstacles in the dark.

He did not make a crash. He’d never make a crash.

I turned to reach to the phone and wished I had a weapon. Even a baseball bat. Something that would make me feel less powerless. Less alone. I was happy for the company of an inanimate object if it could inflict injury.

I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

“Nine, one, one, what’s your emergency?”

“My name is Gwendolyn Kidd,” I whispered. “I live at three, three, two Vine and someone has broken into my house. They’re here, in the house. Send someone. I’m hanging up now and don’t call back. This is not a prank.”

I beeped off the phone, dropped it on the bed and rolled the other way, in the direction of my snow globe. I loved that snow globe. It was a Rosina Wachtmeister snow globe with a happy kitty in it, little flowers dancing around the base and if you turned it over and shook it, glitter danced around the kitty.

And, if I used it to clock someone on the head, they might not be able to rape me.

I snatched it up and ran on tiptoes to the opposite wall where I pressed my shoulder against the wall and stared at the door.

My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears, my entire body was alive and I could feel every inch of it. I was terrified out of my ever-lovin’ mind.

Someone was out there. I couldn’t hear them but I could sense them.

Then I heard them, footfalls in the hall.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.

I tried to remember what the response time was supposed to be for cops. Seven minutes popped into my head even though I didn’t know if that was the right number or the wrong number.

I didn’t have seven minutes. He was close.

I silently inched up the wall toward my door staring at it. It was mostly closed. I’d started doing this in an effort to hear when The Great MM arrived. I didn’t close it all the way, I left it open an inch. It wasn’t a noisy door but it did have a creak.

The Great MM never made it creak.

The first thing I saw was the flashlight, not bright, an LED. Then I saw a shadowed hand, a man’s hand, fingers out, fingertips touching my door, slowly the hand pushed it open.

I stopped breathing. I didn’t want him to hear me breathing. If I damaged my Wachtmeister snow globe bonking him on the head with it I wanted to make it count.

I lifted the snow globe and the door kept opening.

Then I heard sirens.

Thank you, God.

The hand stilled then it disappeared. The footfalls were faster and I heard them hit the stairs, thudding down.

Then I heard nothing.

Then I turned my back to the wall, slid down and cradled my happy kitty snow globe.

* * * * *

I was sitting in my kitchen staring into my living room.

I had both heels to the seat of my chair, my cheek pressed to one of my knees, my arms tight around my calves and my nightgown wrapped around my legs.

I was pretty pleased I’d worn my kickass, mocha colored, soft-knit, short bat-sleeved caftan to bed. Caftans weren’t known to be hot but that one was, mainly because it was uber-clingy in all the right places. That caftan rocked and it was the chosen nightwear for when you suddenly found your home filled with macho cops.

This was what I was staring at. The fact that my home was filled with macho cops. They were moving around in my living room looking at stuff while dipping with spoons into the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough that I unearthed from the fridge for them.

My window by the door was smashed, something I didn’t hear, a lamp in the living room that was under a dust cover was also smashed, what I heard.

Other than that, no damage and the officer who took me through the house was told by me, an authority on the subject, that nothing was missing.

But they didn’t take my statement. Two officers became four, four became six and now there were eight and they told me I had to wait until the detective arrived.

I was not hip on police procedure and I couldn’t say I wasn’t grateful (considering the fact that I was super, double, extra, way freaked out) that they seemed to be taking this seriously and sending a large cadre of officers to stand guard in my living room eating cookie batter and a full-blown detective to talk to me. However, nothing was stolen and although my caller headed straight to the bedroom, and I doubted he was after my Wachtmeister snow globe, it seemed a garden variety break-in that the uniformed officers could cover.

So I figured something was up and I figured that something was named Ginger Kidd.

Suddenly there seemed something interesting happening in the living room, someone had arrived and five seconds later, there he was.

I stared at him.

Seriously, was this a cosmic joke?

In my doorway stood a man, a tall man and there was nothing “ish” about how tall he was. He was just, plain tall. He also had dark brown hair, dark brown eyes and a square jaw. His hair was thick and curled a little around his neck and the collar of his leather jacket. His eyes were soulful. His jaw was strong. He was wearing a chocolate brown turtleneck under his dark brown leather jacket, jeans, a great belt, boots and a badge hung on that great belt. I had no doubt he was on the cover of the Men of the Denver Police Department calendar and I was going out first thing tomorrow to buy one.

Why was this happening? Why? What did I do? Not even a day and three hot guys, all three I couldn’t have. One was scary and was the head honcho of a possibly felonious but definitely antisocial motorcycle club, so he was out. One was scary and mysterious and a jerk, so he was out. And this one was not scary, he was gorgeous but he was also the detective assigned to my case which meant he was probably not allowed to fraternize with a victim, namely me, and therefore he was out.

I didn’t lift my cheek from my knee and he didn’t tear his eyes from me as he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a chair, twisted it around to face me, not too close, not too far away, and sat down. With his eyes still on me, he leaned forward, elbows to knees.

“Gwendolyn Kidd?” he asked in a nice, smooth, deep voice.

I nodded against my knee.

“I’m Detective Mitch Lawson.”

Detective Mitch Lawson. Yowza. Great name.

I kept my cheek to my knee when I told him quietly, “That’s the perfect name for a cop.”

His brows went up slightly. This was not what he was expecting. He was probably expecting a “Hi”, or a “Thank you for coming” or a “God, you’re hot”.

“It is?” he asked.

“Mitch,” I whispered. “Strong, the last three consonants that is, but not in a harsh way, in a soft way. And when you’re with someone you care about and you’re close and they say something you can’t hear, you don’t say, ‘What?’ you say, ‘Mm?’ real soft. Put that and the last together, soft and strong, things a cop needs to be… Mitch.”

He stared at me.

I kept babbling. “And Lawson, goes without saying, Law… son. Son of the law.” I pulled in a breath through my nose and then whispered, “Perfect.”

He stared at me some more.

Then he said, “Gwendolyn sounds like a song.”

Uh… nice.

I so totally loved my name.

“A short one,” I replied.

“But a pretty one,” he returned.

Uh… nice.

I smiled at him and Detective Mitch Lawson smiled back at me.

Yowza!

Then suddenly his neck twisted so he could look over his shoulder, his torso went straight and he stood, still looking behind him.

My eyes went there and I kept my cheek to my knee even as my heart skipped a beat.

The Great MM was standing there.

He wasn’t in a fabulous chocolate brown turtleneck, leather jacket and jeans. He was wearing what he was wearing earlier, a skintight, navy, long-sleeved t-shirt that delineated every carved muscle in his chest, shoulders and arms; army green cargo pants and boots. He was also wearing an unhappy expression and his eyes were locked on Detective Mitch Lawson.

Then his eyes moved to me and about a nanosecond later he moved to me, all masculine grace, a big cat on the prowl, fascinating.

My eyes moved with him but my cheek didn’t leave my knee as he got close then bent over me, lifting his hand. I didn’t know what to expect so I braced until I felt his fingers at my temple. They trailed lightly along my hairline, down, behind my ear and I closed my eyes as he slid the hair off my neck. Then his warm hand curled there.

Then I heard him ask softly, “You okay, baby?”

Baby?

My eyes opened and slid to see him bent close to my face.

“Fine,” I told him.

“You don’t look fine,” he noted.

“Well, I am,” I returned.

“Then why are you curled into a protective ball?” he asked.

This was a good question.

I shrugged.

“Heard she was yours,” Lawson noted, MM straightened and turned to him and I was so surprised at this comment, for a variety of reasons, that my head came up so I could put my chin to the space between my knees.

“She’s mine,” MM confirmed decisively.

“I’m not his,” I denied probably not decisively.

Lawson was looking at MM but when I spoke his eyes cut to me. He stared at me what seemed intently for a few beats then one side of his mouth twitched and he looked to the floor a second before he looked back at me.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” he said quietly. “You up for that?”

MM moved to my side, right to my side, in a way where his lower side pressed down my upper side and his hand didn’t leave my neck but it slid to the back.

“Ask,” he ordered shortly, answering for me, Lawson looked at him then sat again.

I lifted my chin from my knees but MM’s hand on my neck didn’t move. His position seemed to be possessive, an indication to Lawson he was claiming me. But that hand… that hand seemed to be supportive, an indication he was worried about my state of mind and, furthermore, he cared.

Now, what did I do with that?

I focused on Lawson and not MM and saw he was leaning forward on his knees again.

“Tell me what happened,” he said gently.

I sucked in breath. Then I said, “I heard a crash, it woke me up and I knew, I knew like you know when you have a bad dream and you jerk awake and your body is all tingly and you just know, you know someone is in the room to hack you up and you can’t get rid of that feeling, you know what I mean?” I paused and he nodded. “I knew like that someone was in my house but I knew it was for real.” He nodded again and I kept talking. “So, I called 911 but not before I thought I needed a baseball bat. But, while I was waiting for you, I decided I didn’t want a baseball bat, I want a crowbar. A baseball bat has more surface area so the force of the blow would be disbursed. A crowbar would work better. What do you think?”

MM’s fingers tightened on my neck but Lawson, clearly not following my ramblings, asked, “What do I think?”

“Baseball bat or crowbar? Which one would you want if you were in a scary situation?”

He paused a second, his eyes holding mine, before he answered softly, “Gwendolyn, I own a gun.”

Jeez. Of course. He owned a gun. He could shoot a bad guy. He didn’t need a baseball bat.

A gun would be handy but I wasn’t sure I was ready for a gun.

“Oh yeah,” I whispered, “right.”

He smiled a small smile and prompted, “So you called 911…”

“Yes, then I grabbed my snow globe because that was all I had,” I told him and his brows drew together.

“The one in the living room?”

I had carried my happy kitty down when I went to greet the police. The officer who took me on a tour of my house eventually had to pry it from my hands and set it aside.

“The one in the living room,” I answered.

“It’s normally on Gwen’s nightstand,” MM added and Lawson’s eyes lifted to him even though he didn’t move his head but I twisted my neck to look up at him.

There it was. Proof. He could totally see in the dark.

“You noticed that?” I asked and MM’s black eyes tipped down to me as his fingers gave my neck another squeeze.

“Don’t miss much, babe.”

Hmm. I suspected as much but, even so, I didn’t think this was good news.

“Unh-hunh,” I muttered.

“Gwendolyn,” Lawson called and I looked back at him. “What happened after you grabbed the snow globe?”

“I walked to the wall and pressed against it, stared at the door and waited. I saw the flashlight first then I saw the hand pushing open my door really slowly.” I stopped because MM’s fingers tightened, this wasn’t a squeeze, this was something else and his fingers didn’t loosen. I had to admit even though I didn’t want to that that strong pressure felt good. “He got it open a foot, maybe more and then there were sirens and he took off. I heard him running down the stairs.”

“Him?” Lawson asked.

“It was a man’s hand,” I told him. “White, um… Caucasian.” I used television show cop speak.

“A man’s hand,” Lawson repeated.

“Um… yeah,” I confirmed.

“You’re sure it was a man’s hand?” Lawson asked and I locked eyes with him.

Then I said softly, “It wasn’t Ginger.”

Another squeeze of the fingers from MM but this time they relaxed.

Lawson sat back and studied me.

“Your sister?” he asked.

“I know she’s in trouble. Bad trouble. And I know that’s why you’re here and eight uniform cops are here for what is normally not likely a priority, all hands on deck call.”

I heard a noise come from MM that sounded like a manly, amused, deep but short chuckle and I looked up at him to see he was grinning. No teeth but he was grinning enough that both dimples had popped out.

When I looked back at Lawson, he had a small, one-sided smile thing going.

“We try to do our best,” he muttered.

“Well, I appreciate it,” I smiled back. “And I hate to disappoint you but Ginger Kidd was not in the vicinity tonight or, if she was, she heard the sirens and took off. Even when she was a kid, she didn’t like cops. I always loved cops, went right up and talked to them, made friends. She ran a mile. We should have known.”

“She did that?” Lawson asked, looking amused.

“Often, first time she was six.”

His face changed as realization dawned and he stated, “You’re not joking.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“That was likely a good sign of future trouble,” Lawson remarked.

“Don’t get her started on her Barbies,” MM put in, my body jerked and my head shot back to look at him.

Uh… what? What, what, what? How did he know about the Barbies?

My eyes narrowed on him.

“Do you know about your sister’s troubles?” Lawson asked and I tore my eyes away from MM and looked at him.

“No, except I know she owes the Chaos Motorcycle Club a lot of money and that would be a lot, a lot but they already know I can’t help them out with that because I’m not tight with my sister and I don’t have that kind of money to give to them in order to get her fat out of the fryer.”

“They do?”

“I had a chat with Tack today. He’s aware that the Kidd cupboards are bare or at least I don’t have two plus million stashed somewhere.”

“You had a chat with Tack today,” Lawson repeated and something about him had changed and not in a good way. He looked pissed.

“Um… yeah,” I answered.

Lawson’s eyes flicked to MM then back to me. “You don’t know anything else about what’s happening with your sister?”

“No, except that there’s more but I don’t know what it is. And I don’t want to know. I officially disowned her today. Therefore, officially, she is no longer my sister.”

This garnered another squeeze from MM but Lawson was watching me.

“So you wouldn’t have any idea who might come visit you tonight?” Lawson went on.

I shook my head. “No idea. All I know is, they didn’t take anything and they came right to my bedroom. Make of that what you will.”

Lawson stared at me. Then he did it some more. Then his jaw got tight. Then a muscle jumped in his cheek, his gaze lifted to MM, he took in a breath and shook his head. Then his eyes locked with mine.

Then he leaned deeper toward me and he said softly, “I’m gonna tell you what I make of this. What I make of it, Gwendolyn, is if my woman had a sister who I knew was in some serious shit, she would not be havin’ a chat with Kane Allen, she would not be sleepin’ alone and therefore she would not ever have to worry about whether she needs a baseball bat or crowbar because she’d be in bed beside me.”

Oh.

Wow.

MM’s hand left my neck.

Uh-oh.

“Did I just hear you?” MM asked in his scary voice.

Uh-oh!

Lawson’s eyes lifted again and again he did it without moving his head. “You just heard me.”

Uh-oh!

“Um…” I started to take my heels off the chair when MM spoke.

“My boys clocked him on his second drive ‘round to case Gwen’s house. No one was close enough to get to her fast so we called it in to you boys three minutes before he even hit her sidewalk. You had units in the vicinity so he was in the house for less than two minutes before they arrived. Gwen was never in any danger.”

What?

“It’s luck we had units in the vicinity,” Lawson returned as he stood.

“Bullshit, Lawson, your boys have been cruisin’ the neighborhood for two weeks, hopin’ Ginger would make a visit,” MM fired back.

“This area is hot but we don’t sit on her house, Hawk,” Lawson retorted.

Hawk?

I looked up at MM.

“Hawk?” I asked.

He ignored me as he was too busy scowling at Lawson. “Your boys were five minutes out, my boys eight. One way or another, she was covered.”

His boys?

“She had to arm herself with a snow globe,” Lawson reminded him.

I stood and looked up again at MM.

“Hawk?” I repeated.

“She was covered,” MM repeated.

“Yeah, but she didn’t know that,” Lawson returned.

“Hawk?” I shouted and MM’s eyes dropped to me.

“Babe. What?” he clipped.

Oh my God. His name was Hawk.

Who had a name like Hawk?

I opened my mouth to confirm that his name was indeed Hawk then instantly remembered Lawson was there and I didn’t want him to know I didn’t know MM’s (or Hawk’s) name so I snapped my mouth closed right when I heard my father’s voice.

“Where’s my daughter?”

Yay! Saved by my Dad.

I leaned forward and to the side in front of my no longer so mysterious mystery man, Hawk and looked around Lawson to see my Dad and Meredith coming through the opened kitchen door. I’d called them when I’d seen my window busted out. I didn’t want to but I did for two reasons. One, they’d find out eventually and sooner was always better than later when it came to Dad and Meredith. I’d learned that the hard way. And two, I needed a place to sleep because I sure as heck wasn’t sleeping here and I knew I was too freaked out to drive myself but what was further, Dad would lecture me if he knew I drove freaked out. I’d also learned the hard way to avoid giving Dad (too many) opportunities to lecture me. He was good at it because with two daughters, and those daughters being Ginger and me, he had lots of practice.

“Gwen,” Dad murmured when he hit the room, I squeezed between the two angry hot guys that were pinning me in, half-walked, half-ran to my Dad and threw myself in his arms.

Whether I threw myself in them, walked into them or leaned into them, my Dad’s arms always did the same thing. They closed around me tight.

Suddenly I didn’t feel so freaked out anymore.

I wrapped my arms around him just as tight, felt his familiar solidness and I was even less freaked out.

“Gwen,” he whispered into the top of my hair.

Back in the day, my Dad was hot. He was almost as hot as the two men standing in my kitchen but I suspected the “almost” part of that had a lot to do with the fact that he was my Dad. He was big and broad and had dark hair (now with a lot of silver in it) and hazel eyes and he was lean and fit and strong. He’d always be lean and fit and strong because he was always doing something that involved carrying something, hammering something, dragging something, lifting something or sawing something.

That was, when he wasn’t watching the Broncos.

And I had to admit, most of the time he was doing all of that he was in my house.

“I’m okay, Dad, just a little freaked,” I said into his chest.

“Honey,” Dad said into my hair.

Then I felt his lips leave my hair and I looked up at him to see he was looking over my head at Hawk and Lawson. He moved me to his side, his arm clamped around my shoulders and Meredith got close. She took my hand, I squeezed hers and she squeezed back as I looked to see her give me one of her small, sweet, everything-is-gonna-be-okay smiles.

Then I heard Dad say, “Are you the police?”

He was asking this into the room, his question aimed at both Hawk and Lawson.

“Yes sir, Detective Mitch Lawson,” Lawson replied, stepping forward.

Dad let me go to shake his hand then let it go and clamped his arm around me again, tugging me into his side in a way that my body jolted and then collided with his body.

Hmm. Seemed I wasn’t the only one who was freaked.

“And you?” Dad asked and his eyes were on Hawk.

I looked at Hawk as Lawson took a step away, his face studiously blank, his eyes alert, taking in everything, namely the fact it was clear my family had no idea who Hawk was.

“Hawk,” Hawk said, his hand extended, Dad let me go again, took it and Hawk went on. “Gwen’s man.”

I felt and saw Dad’s body jerk in surprise as Meredith whispered, “Gwen’s man?”

I had no reaction. I was too busy staring at Hawk with my mouth hanging open.

“Honey, you have a man?” Meredith asked and I knew this question was directed at me but I was still too busy standing, staring at Hawk with my mouth hanging open to respond.

“Hawk?” Dad asked, his gaze never leaving Hawk.

“Flew Black Hawks when I was in the Army,” Hawk stated, giving me the third piece of information about him, the first being he was great in bed, something I’d known for a year and a half, and the second being what was apparently his nickname, something I’d known for approximately three minutes.

But this was not what I was focused on. I was focused on the very small piece of information he’d relayed and what it meant for me. And that was that I was fucked.

I knew this was true when my father stated in a surprised yet clearly elated voice, “You’re an Army man?”

Shit!

Dad was an Army man. He served four years in the Army before he got out and went into construction. There was a reason why Dad married Mom; he was a wild child like her. He credited the Army with sorting his shit out and saving his life. Problem for my Mom was, she didn’t sort her shit out when she was a soldier’s wife. Dad would have stayed in the Army but being in the Army often meant being away and Mom had me and Dad knew Mom couldn’t be trusted alone with me so he got out to make sure I was raised right.

But Dad still loved the Army. Dad bought olive-drab t-shirts with the word “ARMY” on the front of them and wore them all the time. And Dad formed instant, unshakable bonds with any of his Army brethren. He did it all the time, when we were on vacation, when he was at the hardware store, when he was standing in line to buy a bucket of chicken. He had a sixth Army sense and if he got a whiff of Army, bonding ensued.

Like right now with Hawk.

“Yeah,” Hawk replied and Dad still had hold of his hand so he shook it fervently, a relieved, elated smile on his face.

All thoughts of his daughter’s break-in had flown out of his head. I had a man. That man was an Army man. Not a man like Scott Leighton, who Dad told me after I divorced him he always thought was a pussy (and he’d used the p-word right to my face, then again, Dad pretty much hated Scott). All was suddenly right in Baxter Kidd’s world and what was making it right was the man standing in front of him.

Yes, I was definitely fucked.

Dad let go of Hawk’s hand and clamped me to his side again, looking down at me. “Honey, why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?” he asked, giving me a shake and beaming at me like a lunatic.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“This is lovely, we’ll have to have you over for dinner,” Meredith put in, my head swung to her to see she was smiling brightly at Hawk.

That was Meredith. If it was a-okay with Baxter, it was hunky dory with her.

Shit!

“Um…” I mumbled, louder and more hysterical this time.

“Make your lasagna,” Dad put in his order then turned to Hawk. “The lasagna is good, son, but it’s her garlic bread that takes the cake. It’s homemade, from scratch, all the way down to the bread.”

Oh my God! Did my father just call my mystery lover “son” after only knowing him for five seconds? He’d never called Scott “son”. The only thing he ever called Scott was “Scott” and “a pussy”.

“Um…!” It came out like a strangled cry.

“Gwendolyn,” Lawson called and my frantic eyes few to him.

“Yeah?” I answered.

He took a step in to join our huddle, his hand in his jacket pocket and he pulled out a wallet while speaking. “I’m done here but you need anything, hear anything you think I need to know or remember anything,” he was pulling a business card out of his wallet and he handed it to me, his soulful brown eyes locked with mine, “call me, day or night. My cell is on that card.”

“Uh… okay,” I replied, taking the card and his eyes released me and moved to Hawk.

“You got footage?” he asked.

“Yep,” Hawk answered.

“You know this guy?” Lawson went on.

“Haven’t seen the tape,” Hawk replied, “but my boys couldn’t ID him. I’ll have a look at it when I get back to base.”

“The car?” Lawson kept at it.

“Ran the plates, it’s stolen,” Hawk answered.

“Is it too much to ask you to share that footage with us?” Lawson continued.

“It’s already been e-mailed to the Station,” Hawk returned.

“Footage?” my father butted in and Hawk’s eyes went to him.

“Got a business, part of what I do is security. Gwen and I hooked up; I put cameras on her house. It’s monitored twenty-four, seven. Couple weeks back, we installed more cameras to monitor the street. We got tape of the guy who broke in.”

Dad’s arm squeezed me and his face, which had been slightly bemused when Hawk and Lawson were talking, had started beaming again at the thought of my Army man monitoring my house in an effort to keep me safe.

What he didn’t know was that it was an effort to keep tabs on me.

My eyes moved from Dad to narrow on Hawk.

“Bax, do you think this has to do with Ginger?” Meredith whispered to my Dad and I un-narrowed my eyes and looked at my stepmom.

She had a mass of somewhat curly, strawberry blonde hair that was streaked now with attractive white. She had a pixie-pretty face, upturned nose, cornflower blue eyes. She was petite, at least three inches shorter than me and eight inches shorter than Dad, standing at five foot five. This meant she could wear high heels, which she did almost all the time even now in the middle of the night, out to respond to the call of her stepdaughter who had a break-in, she was wearing stylish high-heeled boots. She’d taught me how to wear high heels and she taught me about style, in other words, how to embrace mine, however that came about and with her encouragement, I did.

The skin around Dad’s eyes got tight, he looked at the men and declared, “I have another daughter and she –”

Hawk broke in to announce, “We know about Ginger and it’s likely Gwen’s break-in has to do with Ginger’s recent activities.”

Dad’s whole body got tight at my side and Meredith emitted a small gasp.

But me? I lost my temper.

I stepped out from under Dad’s arm, grabbed Hawk’s hand and snapped, “Can I talk to you?”

Then I didn’t wait for him to answer. I turned and dragged him out of the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall and into my bedroom. I closed the door, it creaked then I turned, released his hand and stepped right into his space, getting up on my toes to get in his face.

“Why’d you do that?” I hissed under my breath.

He was looking down at me. “Do what?”

“Tell them about Ginger!” I was snapping now but still under my breath.

“Babe,” he replied then said no more.

“Babe? That’s your answer?” I asked sharply. “You can’t tell them about Ginger.”

His brows shot up. “Why not?”

“Because it will upset them and worry them and, I’ll repeat, upset them,” I retorted.

His hands went to his hips and he replied, “Sweet Pea, I was a man with two daughters in trouble, I’d wanna know and I would not be happy that knowledge was kept from me.”

“Maybe so but I’m a daughter with a sister in trouble who knows a lot more about my family dynamic than you do and you might think you’d want to know but, trust me, Dad does not want to know and what’s more, Meredith shouldn’t know.”

“You need to explain shit to them,” he informed me and I felt my temper spike so I got closer to his face.

“Don’t tell me how to deal with my family,” I snapped.

“I can keep you safe, Gwen, and I will but I’m not expending energy to sort out your sister’s shit. She doesn’t pull off a miracle, things are gonna go bad for her. They gotta know that’s a strong eventuality.”

There was a lot of ground I needed to cover so I started multitasking.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” I told him. “You are not doing anything, not only for Ginger but also for me. You can take down your cameras and stop keeping tabs. You and I, we’re over.”

He grinned then he said, “We had this conversation earlier, babe.”

“Yes, you told me you end things but you live in Badass World. I live in the Real World and in the Real World, when a woman says it’s over, it carries the same weight as when a man says it.”

Hawk’s eyes drifted over my face.

Then he murmured, “See my mistake.”

“What?” I snapped.

His eyes moved to mine. “Shoulda given you time not fuckin’ you, missed out.”

“What?” I repeated on another snap.

His hands lifted and came to my jaws so I instantly jerked my head free of his hands and took a step back.

Then, so suddenly my breath flew out of me and I couldn’t say for certain how it actually happened, I was pinned to the wall by his big, hard body, his hands were at my jaws in a way I couldn’t jerk my face free and his face was right in my face.

“About five seconds after I left you today, things between you and me, they changed,” he informed me in a quiet voice.

I felt my brows draw together as my mind processed the fact that this was not good.

“Changed?” I asked. “How?”

“You got attitude, the kind I like. So I decided I’m gonna ride that attitude wave of yours, see how things work out.”

I blinked. Then I did it again.

“You’re going to ride my attitude wave?” I asked even though, firstly, I didn’t really know what that meant so even if he affirmed I couldn’t be sure how that would affect me and secondly, I didn’t like talking about him riding anything that had to do with me.

“Yeah,” he answered and I was right, I didn’t know what that meant but I did know what it meant for him was that we weren’t over.

“You’re right,” I told him. “Earlier today, things between you and me changed but it happened about five minutes before you walked out and the way they changed means you and I are over.”

His eyes never left me and he didn’t speak but he shook his head.

“Listen to me,” I demanded. “I just learned your name, not your real name, your nickname. I just learned you have a business, you have ‘boys’ and you watch my house. I’ve known you for over a year and you didn’t tell me any of that shit directly. This isn’t working for me anymore. This has been not right for a long time and finding out you’ve intruded into my life, investigated me, kept watch on me without my knowledge makes it not only just not right but very, very wrong. Therefore, we are over.”

He studied me for awhile then his thumb swept my jaw before he remarked, “See you’ve decided not to make the right play.”

“And I see that you think it’s not the right play because it’s not the play you want me to make.”

He smiled and informed me, “You don’t get it, babe. That heat in your eyes, that mouth of yours…” his thumb did another sweep as his face got even closer and when he spoke again, his voice dipped lower, “used to be, I thought about visiting you, could let myself start to get hard. Now, I just think about you, I start to get hard. You wanna play this with that attitude, Sweet Pea, I’m tellin’ you, that is not the right play because that attitude of yours is not a turn off.”

“Stop calling me Sweet Pea,” I snapped because I was again freaking out and I was trying to hide it.

His smile got bigger. “There it is,” he whispered, “and I like it.”

“Step away,” I demanded, pushing at his waist where my hands were but he didn’t move.

“There it is again.”

I clamped my mouth shut and glared at him.

He emitted another short, amused, deep, manly chuckle.

Then his lips hit mine and he murmured, “Hot.”

And me being me, in other words my mother’s daughter and a screaming loser, felt that one word murmured against my lips give me a tickle, a sweet one in a very private place.

Shit!

I pulled my head back the half an inch his face and the wall afforded me and I called, “Hello? Break-in? Sister in serious shit? Parents downstairs? The middle of the night? I’ve got deadlines, loads of work to do, a house that’s unsafe and I need to go to sleep so I can wake up tomorrow with the energy to get my life under control. Now can you please step away?”

He didn’t step away but his hands slid from my jaws to curl around my neck and his face moved back an inch.

“Sure, babe, but you need to know you’re not stayin’ here tonight. Got boys on the way to board up that window and you’re comin’ with me.”

I stared up at him, shocked at this news, and, because I was a loser, titillated at the prospect of going with him wherever that would be. A major component of my daydreams the last year and a half centered around where he lived and spent his time and the idea of finally discovering the truth behind that, damn and blast, I had to admit was a discovery I really wanted to make.

Then I got smart and stated, “Dad will take care of my window tomorrow and I’m staying with him and Meredith tonight, that’s why they’re here.”

He completely ignored me.

“You’re comin’ with me.”

Seriously! This guy!

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, Gwen, you are.”

“I don’t know you other than knowing you and what I’m learning I do not like. I had a break-in tonight and it freaked me out in a serious way. It scared the hell out of me. I know my Dad and Meredith. I want to be with them tonight. I want to be someplace I know with people I know where I feel safe. I want to go home.”

He studied me again then his thumb did another sweep, this time against my neck and, being a loser, it felt nice.

“I can see you need that so I’ll let you do it,” he said softly.

“Well, thanks,” I replied not softly.

He grinned.

I glared.

He kept grinning as I kept glaring then he murmured, “Yeah, totally fuckin’ missed out.”

Then his head dropped and since I had no place to go, I couldn’t avoid his lips brushing mine lightly in a way that made them tingle.

His head came up and he whispered, “Be smart, baby, my boys’ll secure your house and you can come home tomorrow. Yeah?”

Then his thumb swept my neck again, I liked it again but before I could answer, he let me go and he was gone.

I stood with my back against the wall, staring in the space he’d been in, wondering how he could vanish into thin air right before my eyes and then I realized I was breathing heavily.

Then I shook it off, telling myself I didn’t actually care it was fascinating he could evaporate. Telling myself the fact that he had “boys”, he flew Black Hawks, he had a “base”, part of what he did was security and his nickname was Hawk was not fascinating either.

And also telling myself he could do what he wanted, I was going to do what I wanted and he couldn’t make me do what he wanted.

Ef that!

Then I set about packing a bag to go home with Dad and Meredith.

When I was in my bathroom getting my stuff, I grabbed my lotion and bath gel and stopped dead.

It hadn’t registered with me until then, when I stood in my bathroom and stared at the plastic bottles in my hands.

My scent, the one I always used, was sweet pea.