Page 23 of Burning Secrets

“They mess with you, they mess with me.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Now you really sound like Batman. What are you going to do? Fight the compound for my honor?” She smiled.

Oh, and the desire to kiss her just swelled over him, nearly took possession. His gaze even flickered to her mouth, then back to her eyes.

He blew out a breath, nodded, stepped back. “If I have to.” Then he winked and headed for the door. “Lock this behind me. And don’t let anyone but me back in.”

Then he stepped out into the night and prayed his words didn’t come true.

She just might live through the night.

Freezing, and nearly hypothermic, but alive. And the wool blanket Crew had given her helped.

Still, her soot-free wet hair was plastered against her skin, and she shivered, despite the blanket and being dressed for the dead of winter in an oversized pair of canvas pants, a thermal shirt that came down to her knees, and a thick flannel shirt.

Crew’s clothing, no doubt, because it sort of smelled like him—a woodsy, rugged scent, enriched with the homemade soap she’d used on her hair and body in the rough-hewn communal shower in a building with a cement floor and dim lighting. Crew had stood sentry at the door, but she’d taken the fastest shower in history under water that had frozen her to the bone.

So, that was ultra fun.

In truth, the entire last six hours had her head spinning, from the chase-down by the thugs on their ATVs, to the harrowing ride on the back of the ATV, to her knee-buckling face-off with Viper, to…Crew.

She could barely get her brain around his appearance, his explanation—embedded?—his lie, and then…the kiss.

Yeah, that stuck in her brain, a sort of marker where life had stilled. And in that moment, she’d gathered herself, the screaming inside silencing, her shaking stilling.

She blamed his gentleness and the fact that, regardless of why he’d kissed her, it hadn’t felt fake. And in that moment, all she’d been able to think was…I’m going to choose to trust you, Crew.

So she’d kissed him back.

And didn’t regret it. Not one little bit as he sat, now on the floor, tucked into a sleeping bag, across from where she perched on the cot.

He’d dragged in the bag and thrown it on the wood-planked floor when he’d escorted her back to the cabin. The boards had creaked when he’d sat on the bag, a couple of them rattling. Sunlight fell through the wooden boards of the window.

“No way am I letting you sleep in here alone,” he’d said, leaning against the wall, folding his arms. Didn’t look like he was going to sleep either.

And while her mother might not love her sharing a cabin with her, um,boyfriend, she wasn’t about to kick him out. Not with the cadre of rough-edged men outside, who had watched her as she’d trekked back to the cabin, soggy, shivering, and maybe a little fragile.

I’m one of the good guys.

Yes, this much about him, she knew, was true. The rest…

“How did you end up here?” she asked.

He sat with his eyes closed, his head back against the wall as if wrung out, and it hit her that if he wasn’t one of these thugs—probably not—then he’d been forced to act like them to fit in.

And even pretending to be darkness could seep into a person’s soul. No wonder he looked tired. And handsome.

Terribly, perfectly handsome, with that dark beard and a toned frame that had made her believe him when he’d said that anyone who wanted to hurt her had to go through him.

Yeah, Mr. Michael Crew Sterling had secrets. And she wanted to unlock them.

Now, he opened his eyes to her question. Sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Sun’s still up.”

He laughed, a deep, low rumble that ended in a wry smile. “It’s midnight.”

“So, tell me a bedtime story.”

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