Page 49 of Lone Star Showdown

“Accessing report,” Spike said, and one popped up.

Not from Nash this time but from Ruby. And it was very brief.

“No camera feed of Paulie for the past twelve hours. I’ve sent someone out to do a visual of his apartment,” Rachel read aloud.

She sighed because she knew that meant Paulie could be off somewhere murdering someone or planning a murder.

“The people on the hit list are still secured, right?” she asked.

“They are,” Jericho verified. “If that situation had changed, Ruby would have let us know.”

Of course, she would, and it was good that those directly involved with Marla had some protection. But they had friends and family. Even exes. The killer had gone after Chase to get back at her, and he or she could go after someone who wasn’t even on their radar. At this point, any attack, assault or murder would be a direct blow to Rachel.

And the killer likely knew that.

That was a horrible punishment and a reminder that to hit her the hardest, the killer would now go after Jericho.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she blurted.

Then, she winced. Great day, that wasn’t something she should be blabbing about. Not when she wasn’t even sure if they had a future together.

“Good.” He flashed her another of those grins, and this one was even more potent since he was only wearing that particular expression and his boxers.

Rachel wanted to repeat her earlier comment about how the heck could he look this good after escaping death only hours earlier. And it definitely wasn’t the lighting, though the sun’s rays were now sliding through the window and over his face.

She wanted to kiss him. And she wanted it bad. That’s why she had to move away from him. She started to do just that, but Jericho took hold of her hand.

“Stay,” he insisted.

Rachel figured he was about to issue a reminder that nothing sexual could happen. Not in the shape he was in. But he didn’t. Jericho went in another direction.

He kissed her.

It was instantly hot. Instantly intense. Which was why she instantly pulled back.

Jericho had a different notion about that though. He eased her right back to him. Not for a kiss but rather so their gazes could connect. Then, hold. And lock.

Mercy. This was not the way to boost her willpower. Not by looking into those amazing, drown-in-me eyes.

“You’re in no shape for sex,” she pointed out.

He shrugged with his good shoulder. “I feel like making up for some lost time. I’ve had you twice in the past decade and a half. That’s not nearly enough.”

It wasn’t nearly enough for her either, but she had a solid argument. “You have stitches. Massive bruises. And you should be resting.”

“Sex is a good relaxer for resting,” he pointed out.

It could be, but she still planned on putting this aside. At least, that’d been the plan until one thing happened.

“Rachel,” he whispered.

Just that. Just the sound of her name. Of course, the hot look he gave her aided that along. So did everything else about him, and despite her assurances to herself that nothing was going to happen.

Something did.

She kissed him, way too hard, way too deep. It was as if she’d already launched into the point of no return with just that kiss. Then again, this was Jericho, and his kisses did indeed put her on one certain path.

Straight toward sex.

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