HANNAH. I’m not making it back tonight.
That was the last thing he’d said to her, followed by four long, mind-numbing, terrifying days of absolute silence. Damn Jonas Harrington to hell. She was through.
She wasn’t giving him another day—another hour—of her time. She’d wasted most of her life waiting for him, and if she meant so little to him, it was past time to make the break.
Just a few weeks earlier he had nearly died from a gunshot wound and nearly taken her with him, when she’d worked so desperately to save his life. What had the ungrateful jerk done to thank her? He’d gone out looking for trouble—and found it—
again.
She had known the moment he was in trouble. She felt his pain, as if across a great distance, and knew immediately he was in San Francisco. Frightened out of her mind, she’d run to the captain’s walk and sent the wind to aid him, but he hadn’t come to her once the danger was over.
Hannah. I’m not making it back tonight. He hadn’t even bothered to call her. Not to thank her, not even to make sure she was all right when he knew the toll the use of her gifts took on her. Not even just to reassure her that he was all right.
Well, she wasn’t going to be the one calling him. She’d had enough of looking like a fool.
She was heading to New York on another work assignment. She detested leaving, but she had a job to do, and this time, maybe she wouldn’t come back. Maybe she’d have to just stay away from Sea Haven.
The thought made her eyes brim with tears and she stood on the captain’s walk, three stories up above the endless waves, and stared down at the turbulent sea below. The water was beautiful in the moonlight; shades of black, deep blue and shimmering silver rippled across the surface. Spray leapt into the air with each rush of the waves crashing against the rocks below. She sighed and leaned her elbows against the railing as she watched the fog gathering in the distance, beginning to spread tendrils above the rhythmic waves. As always, the sea soothed her, tugging every drop of anger out of her, to leave her calm, but sad and wistful, aware that this time she had to act—she really did have to put distance between Jonas and herself.
‘Jonas.’ She whispered the name to the sea, allowed the wind to carry the sound out over the water.
The sea whispered back, blowing vapor inland, long streaks of snow-white mist, so that it looked as if a comforter were being slowly pulled up over the bluff. The fog added an aura of mystery and ethereal beauty to the night. It crept over the sea and into the treetops, and began to surround her home. She always came here to find peace; this time she came to find the strength to leave.
She murmured softly to the wind and it rose in a swell, skipping over the water playfully, tossing droplets into the air so it appeared to be raining sparkling diamonds.
She inhaled the scents of the sea. The swirls of fog danced in the slight breeze, layering over the surface of the water.
Hannah let the familiar sounds of the sea soothe her. This was her favorite place in the world. In all her extensive travels, she’d never found another spot she wanted to call home. She could breathe in Sea Haven, was comfortable with the camaraderie of the people in the small town. She liked that she knew everyone, that she could go to the grocery store and see familiar faces. There was comfort in Sea Haven, and the town was surrounded by the raw, powerful beauty of the ocean, which always gave her peace. The sea was constant, reliable, a source she could draw on in the worst of times.
She lifted her face to the sky, her breath rushing from her lungs when she saw three vapor trails beginning to form into solid circles around the moon. One glowed an eerie red, one a dull yellow and the last a dark, ominous black. Hannah snapped to attention, wariness replacing the dreamy relaxed expression the wind had given her.
One hand went to her throat in a defensive gesture.
She was one of seven daughters born to the seventh daughter in the Drake family.
Hers was a legacy of special gifts—or curses, depending upon how one viewed them.
Hannah could call and send the wind, she could cast spells and had some small talent with herbs. She could move objects with her mind and read the mosaic in the entryway of the Drake home. Like her sisters, she could read tea leaves and, if touching others, often could even read their thoughts. She could also read the moon and sky, and right now they were giving her a blatant warning.
‘Hannah!’
She frowned as the masculine voice drifted up to her from below, inside her house—
the house that had been locked. She had even padlocked the gate again, binding the security device with a spell, but she knew it wouldn’t matter—the heavy lock would be open and lying on the ground as it always was after Jonas touched it. She’d locked him out on purpose, angry that he hadn’t called her, hurt that she didn’t matter. He ignored her until he needed something and then he took her for granted.
She didn’t bother to answer. He’d just keep yelling until she came down to him, or worse, he’d come up onto the captain’s walk and give her a safety lecture. With another wary glance at the moon, she hurried from the deck into the house and down the stairs. If Jonas was in a bad enough mood, the moon might have been circled in the eerie yellow, but not with three rings. Something wasn’t right.
Jonas emerged out of the shadows as she leapt off the bottom steps. He caught her around her waist, fingers biting deep as he lifted her clear and steadied her, setting her back on her feet. The moment of brief contact brought a searing heat, straight through her body to her bones. Jonas always had such a physical effect on her, when no one else ever managed to penetrate her deliberately haughty façade.
‘You aren’t supposed to be lifting me, Jonas,’ she reminded him, pulling away, keeping her face averted so he couldn’t see the flush on her face. ‘You haven’t been out of the hospital that long.’
‘Long enough,’ he replied, his cool, assessing eyes drifting over her from his superior height.
Her heart sank. They were both going to pretend the recent incident had never happened. Jonas wasn’t going to tell her he’d been back working for his old team and she was too cowardly to demand answers from him. She had the sudden urge to cry.
She’d sent him help, maybe even saved his life. His new wounds were recent—only four days old. The moment he’d put his hands on her, she’d been able to feel his pain—it wasn’t like he could hide the information from her. But she wasn’t going to help him heal this time. He could just suffer.
Hannah was tall, yet Jonas seemed to loom over her when he crowded her personal space, which was just about all the time. He always smelled of outdoors, fresh, like the sea and surrounding forest. He was tall, broad shouldered and heavily muscled, and he moved with grace and efficiency and complete confidence. He also saw far too much when he looked at her through those ice-blue eyes of his. No one saw her the way Jonas did, stripped of all her careful defenses and so vulnerable she ached when he was close. She absolutely would not let him see how much he hurt her. This time she’d go—and not come back. No fighting, simple dignity.
She stepped away, keeping her face averted. Irritation crossed his face and his eyes glittered at her, a sure danger sign.
‘Your bags are packed and you’re wearing makeup. You never wear makeup unless you’re going somewhere.’
‘Hence the suitcases.’ She tried to slip past him, but Jonas trapped her against the banister and she was forced to halt. Hannah stared at his impressive chest and tried not to feel intimidated. He was so arrogant and with good reason. She couldn’t stand up to him, she’d never been able to. And why did he choose this moment to show up?
Why couldn’t he have waited another hour? He always managed to find the exact moment when she felt the most vulnerable.
‘Where are you going?’ His fingers caught her chin, forcing her head up.
Her blue eyes flashed at him, letting him see her annoyance. ‘I told you last week. I have a job.’ And of course he wouldn’t remember because she just wasn’t that important to him.
‘I told you not to go. You’re supposed to be looking after me.’
She was fairly certain her legs hadn’t melted, but she felt dizzy being so close to him.
She hated that he unbalanced her usual calm. Only Jonas could make her feel so combative and yet so needy at the same time. Her feelings for him were too complicated to sort out so she didn’t bother to try.
‘You’re not in any danger, Jonas,’ she pointed out. ‘Only bored. You hate not working and you’re so crabby no one else can stand being around you.’ And you’re working anyway, doing exactly what you promised you’d never do again. She didn’t say the words aloud—it wasn’t part of the ‘pretend it never happened’ game they always played—but she wanted to. She even had a sudden urge to just lift his shirt and examine his ribs. She knew there would be a fresh wound or two, but she remained silent like she always did, letting him walk right over her. His faint, answering smile made her heart turn over and she was angry with herself for her reaction.
‘Unfortunately that could be true. All of your sisters have deserted me, not only going out of town, but the country. I’m going to starve. You know that, don’t you? If you leave, I’m not going to get a decent meal and then how am I going to heal?’
‘Sarah will be back from her trip with Damon tomorrow. She’ll fix you dinner while I’m gone,’ Hannah said and pulled away from him. She detested that, as she stepped away, her body felt cold as if his had provided untold warmth and safety.
She hated more that she was torn between wanting to laugh and cry. ‘You aren’t going to starve.’
‘I like your cooking. And she doesn’t give me hell the way you do. She just gets annoyed and tells me to go home.’
Hannah didn’t want to be charmed by him. Jonas was everything she could never be—
adventurous, courageous, a man who lived his life confidently. ‘I should send you home, especially if you’re going to give me a hard time.’ She should, and if she had any backbone at all, she would. She turned away from him, afraid he would read the hurt on her face as she hurried down the hall.
She felt his presence as he kept pace right behind her. It seemed sometimes that she’d always felt Jonas, as if he were a part of her, sharing her skin and her flesh and bones, crawling into her heart and stealing her soul. She blinked back tears, careful to keep her face averted as she made her way through the large house to the kitchen. She was so emotional lately, ever since Jonas had been shot and nearly killed a few weeks earlier. She had nightmares and spent most of the nights pacing or sitting up on the captain’s walk watching the sea. She had to leave just to put some distance between them and get back her balance.
The last four days had been pure hell. She had waited for hours that first night, terrified for him. Then she’d cried for a day, waiting by the phone, not leaving the house. And finally she had to accept that he took her for granted, and that he wasn’t going to call and reassure her—or thank her—or even acknowledge that she might be worried. She didn’t matter; her feelings didn’t matter; once he no longer needed her, she slipped from his mind. She swallowed hard, her eyes burning.
‘Why are you insisting on going to New York? You don’t even like New York. It’s total bullshit, Hannah. And you can forget ignoring me like you do when you don’t want to tell me things. We’re going to talk.’ Jonas settled his fingers around her arm.
The action brought her attention instantly to his strength. That was what Jonas was all about—strength. He had it all and she had none. He never physically hurt her, not even when he was angry with her. And she could make him angry in a heartbeat—it was the only protection left to her.
As if reading her mind, he gave her a small, impatient shake. ‘Don’t think you’re going to drive me away with all your nonsense this time, Hannah. We have to settle this.’
She sent him the haughty, over-the-shoulder look she’d perfected while dealing with his arrogance for years. ‘You mean you’ll talk and I’m supposed to listen. I don’t think there’s anything at all to settle. I have a job and I’m going to New York. There isn’t anything else to say.’ She couldn’t talk to him. Once she said the things she needed to say, she’d lose him forever. There would be no going back, no hope at all. She’d have to accept that she was absolutely nothing to him.
‘Really?’ His hand transferred to the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing her skin intimately and sending a shiver of awareness through her body.
She was fairly certain he did it on purpose—that he knew her physical reaction to him—but she couldn’t be certain so she took the coward’s way out and simply walked the few steps left to the kitchen. ‘I made you something to eat.’
‘But you’re not eating.’ He made it a statement, clipped and harsh—accusing.
She took a breath and let it out, going straight to the stove to put on the tea kettle.
Jonas stopped halfway across the room and she could feel his penetrating gaze on her, demanding an answer. ‘I have a show, Jonas.’
He said something ugly under his breath and she stiffened. ‘I’m not doing this with you again, Jonas. I model. I have an assignment. You don’t have to like what I do, but it’s my job and I keep my word when I say I’ll be there.’
‘I don’t have to like it, Hannah, you’re right about that, but considering what it does to you, you at least have to like it and you don’t. Don’t bother lying to me. I see liars every day in my line of work, and a child does a better job than you.’
She waved her hand at the stove, too tired to argue with him and make tea at the same time, although the ritual often soothed her. The stove leapt to life, burning with a ring of tiny flames, the tea kettle whistling a demand instantly. She caught up the kettle and splashed water into a teapot, pressing her lips together to keep from telling him to leave. She didn’t want him to leave, she wanted him to sit quietly and have tea with her. She needed him to sit quietly and talk with her. Before she left, she had to reassure herself he was unharmed.
She sneaked a quick glance. He looked a little pale, tired, lines etched into his face, but tough as nails. That was Jonas. Hard as a rock. He didn’t need anybody, least of all her. She was fluff to him, nothing more. He’d always made that so clear. Her life was falling apart and he was like the sea, a constant, steady anchor she counted on.
‘You just can’t resist being the Barbie doll, can you,’ he said bitterly.
‘Why do you have to do that, Jonas?’ She turned, anger and hurt waning in her eyes.
‘I’ve never made fun of you being a sheriff. I could, you know. You’re bossy and arrogant and you think you can control everyone and tell them what to do. I don’t like that you risk your life, but you do that, too, and I never ask you not to do it.’ And she hadn’t either. Her sisters had, but she had remained silent, praying he would give his promise, but supporting him in whatever choice he made. ‘I understand that it’s who you are, who you have to be. Why can’t you afford me the same courtesy?’
‘You want me to be okay with you showing off your body to every nutcase in the world? It isn’t going to happen, honey. You’re extraordinary and you know it. No one looks like you, and your face and body are recognized everywhere, by everyone. I don’t think there’s a person in the world that doesn’t know your face. You talk about taking risks. I risk my life to help other people. You risk yours so everyone can see just how good you look.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you just how utterly selfish you can be, Jonas?’ She whirled around to face him, her back against the counter. She was a little shocked at the violence welling up in her. She had an urge to slap his handsome face.
Up close he always surprised her with his size. He was so perfectly proportioned she didn’t always notice his height, but so close to her, he looked down on her, his shoulders wide and his chest a little intimidating.
He stepped even closer, so that his body crowded against hers, caging her, his heat warming her. ‘How am I being selfish by telling you a few truths, Hannah?’
‘Go to hell, Jonas.’
‘Right back at you, baby.’
She took a deep breath and let it out, the air hissing between her teeth. ‘I guess on some level I’ve always known you didn’t think very much of me, but I didn’t realize just how much you despise who I am.’ She steeled herself to let him go—let her dreams go. ‘I want you to leave. And please respect the fact that I don’t want to see you for a while, Jonas. I know you’re part of our—’
‘Shut up, Hannah. Just shut the hell up.’
She stared up at him, shocked—stunned at the stark anger in his voice—the raw desire darkening his features, carved deep into every line on his face. Jonas caught her around the waist and jerked her body against his.
‘You think I don’t want to walk away?’ He gave her a little shake. ‘You know damn well I can’t. I can’t breathe without you. I couldn’t leave you even if I tried. I’ve accepted that you cast one of your damned spells and I’m lost—I’ll always be lost. So if I’m a little angry with you when you take off your clothes for the world, then you can damn well put up with it.’
For a moment she couldn’t think or breathe. He had just insulted her beyond imagination, but… ‘What are you saying, Jonas? Are you trying to convince me that you’re interested in me as a woman?’ She felt behind her for the counter, afraid she might faint from sheer shock. There was a terrible buzzing in her ears and her breath caught in her lungs, refusing to move through her body. Her heart began to accelerate, racing as though it might burst through her chest. She began to tremble uncontrollably, her body shaking, toes and fingers tingling as she gasped, strangling, unable to get air.
‘Oh, hell,’ Jonas muttered. Then louder and more commanding. ‘Breathe, Hannah.’
‘My sisters…’ she croaked.
‘They aren’t here, baby, but I am and I’m not going to let anything happen. You know I’d walk through fire for you.’ Jonas pushed her head down. ‘You’re just having a panic attack, honey, no biggie, you’ve had them before. Just relax and breathe. Do that little thing you do with counting.’
How had he known about that? Her heart beat even faster. Her sisters had helped hide her condition for years, yet now, in front of Jonas, the one person she had worked so hard to keep it from, she was having a full-blown panic attack. And he knew. He even knew the small things she did to try to overcome the attacks.
Hannah sank to the floor, back against the counter, and drew up her knees, closing her eyes and forcing her mind away from terror. She tried to wave him off, wanting him to leave and not witness the utter humiliation of being such a coward. There was nothing to be terrified of—yet it happened all the time.
Jonas sat on the floor beside her, drawing up his own knees, his shoulder brushing hers. He pushed back her mass of curly hair with gentle fingers. ‘This is what was wrong in school, isn’t it? All those years everyone thought you were so stuck up, you were hiding the fact that you had panic attacks.’
His fingers slid around the nape of her neck. Strong. Sure. So like him. The slow massage distracted her as nothing else could have done. She leaned her head against the wall and let his fingers work their magic.
‘It s-started the f-first day of kindergarten.’ She forced the words out, stuttering—the one thing she hated beyond all others. ‘I-I didn’t want to go. I could have s-stayed home another couple of years, but M-Mom and Dad thought I should be in s-school because I could already read and do math at a fourth-grade level. So they insisted.’
Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her. He bit back his first angry response.
Attacking a decision her parents had made years earlier wasn’t going to accomplish anything other than upset her further. Any communication with Hannah was tentative at best if she wasn’t surrounded by her sisters. And if she was stuttering in front of him, she had to be really upset. It had taken too many years of frustration to discover Hannah’s secret and the fact that her sisters helped her speak in public.
He took a deep breath and let it out, continuing with the slow massage on the nape of her neck, easing the tension and fear out of her. For the first time, she wasn’t running from him and he was determined he wouldn’t lose his opportunity. ‘I’m part of the family, aren’t I? Why didn’t you tell me?’ He pushed the hurt away, far more comfortable with his temper. He’d been angry for a long time on her behalf—and at her.
‘I-I was humiliated that I c-couldn’t control it.’ She paused, drawing in a deep breath and forcing herself to stop the stuttering. Her sisters had helped a day or two earlier, and if she just stayed calm and talked slow, she’d be all right. ‘Someone like you, Jonas, someone so in c-control of everything could never understand what it’s like to be so out of control—so afraid of everything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you afraid of anything or anyone.’
She wasn’t looking at him, and her voice, so small and forlorn, broke his heart.
‘Maybe not, Hannah, maybe I don’t have a hope in hell of understanding what you go through, but shutting me out isn’t going to help. I want to be there for you. I want you to trust me.’
Hannah glanced at him, her eyes wide, tears swimming, but not falling. ‘I trust you, Jonas.’
He shook his head. ‘No you don’t. Not really. You thought I’d make fun of you, didn’t you?’
She pressed a hand to her stomach. ‘I hate it. I hate you seeing me so—so—
cowardly.’
‘Is that how you see yourself? A coward?’ He kept his voice gentle, when he wanted to throttle her. She was the last person on earth who was a coward. Why did she persist in seeing herself in such a negative light all the time?
‘You know I am. You even called me a rabbit when you were in the hospital.’
‘I was drugged up and mad as hell. Someone shot me, Hannah, and you and your sisters were in danger. I knew you were giving me your strength. You sat there day after day getting pale and weaker as I grew stronger. It made me crazy. I still get crazy when I think too much about it.’
He leaned close, framing her face with his hands, and told her the truth as he knew it.
‘I’m supposed to look after you. That’s the way it works in my world. Maybe it’s chauvinistic or whatever the political term is, but I like looking after you and your sisters. I don’t want it to be the other way around, especially when I can see you fading away.’
He ran the pad of his finger down her cheek, traced the shape of her lips and leaned in to brush the softest of kisses over her mouth.
Startled, her lashes lifted and her gaze collided with his. Her heart nearly stopped beating. One little touch and she was nearly in meltdown, forgiving everything, every insult, his overbearing, arrogant ways. Forgiving him for leaving her alone, frightened and angry for the last four days.
‘Kiss me back, Hannah,’ he coaxed, an ache in his voice.
She heard his raw need and her body responded, even when her brain told her there was some mistake. His mouth was sheer magic—just as he was. Dark and sensual and so soft when everything else about him was hard. No one kissed like Jonas, she was absolutely sure of it, his tongue sliding along hers until she was lost in his taste and scent and his pure masculine sensuality.
His hand cupped her face, thumb sliding over her skin, his body moving closer, arms tightening with possession. He was gentle, tender even, and she felt cherished—
wanted and cherished.
Jonas lifted his head and looked at her, into her large blue eyes. A man could get lost there, trapped for all time—and he had. He didn’t even care. He didn’t want to escape.
Her lashes were blond, but thick and curly and so damned feminine it made him ache inside. Her skin was the softest thing he’d ever touched. She was so soft, so fragile.
And the look on her face, she looked frightened of him, but she wanted him. He saw it there, right along with the fear.
He could deal with her fear. He just had to go slow, not letting her see he wanted to devour her, share her skin, lock himself inside her until all the troubles of the world dropped away and he found peace again. He just had to stay in control—and wasn’t he famous for control?
He traced her classic bone structure with the pads of his fingers, trying to absorb her into his own skin. No one had bone structure the way she did—it was one of the things that made her so famous and sought after. Her skin was every bit as soft as it looked, so flawless he was always amazed to see the sprinkling of light freckles across her small, straight nose. Her mouth was lush, made for kissing, made to bring a man straight to his knees, to bring him more pleasure than he ever deserved. He’d had enough fantasies about her mouth to fill a library.
He shifted his weight, and brought his head the scant few inches separating them to take her mouth again. What had he been thinking about control? The minute he sank into her dark heat, his tongue stroking along hers, taking her sweetness, tasting her, he knew all control was going to be lost fast. He needed more, needed her skin against his, her body wrapped tightly around his. He had known all along it would be like this, nothing ever enough until he had all of her—until every last inch of her belonged to him.
She trembled, somewhere between desire and fear. He stopped the hand inching up beneath her shirt and pulled back to look at her again.
Hannah took a deep breath and flashed him a tentative smile. ‘Come with me to New York,’ she invited, her gaze shy—hopeful—the invitation unexpected. ‘Come to the fashion show and see what I do.’
Everything in him went still. He drew away from her, putting space between them because he sure as hell couldn’t touch her now and he wanted—no needed—to do just that and it would be disastrous. Hannah was an empath and they had suddenly gotten into very dangerous territory. ‘I can’t go to something like that.’ He winced at the sudden harshness in his voice, but damn it all, she’d shocked him. She’d never so much as suggested he accompany her. He didn’t dare appear in public with her.
Duncan was certain no one had leaked his name, but Jonas wouldn’t take a chance with her life.
Her face closed down, hope retreating. She nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘No, you don’t. I want you to stay home, Hannah. There, is no reason for you to go.
Stay here where you belong.’ With me. Stay with me. Save me. Be my everything.
‘I have a job.’
It was a tired argument and they both knew it. She sighed and shook her head, her long spiral curls spilling in all directions. Something about the way she looked so defeated tore at his heart.
‘Hannah, I’d go with you, but I can’t.’ There was an unconscious ache in his voice. He knew he should sound tough and angry and let her think it was all about her exposing her body, but the regret was there and she was too quick on the uptake to ignore it. He shouldn’t have come here so tired and worn out and needing her, but now it was too late.
Suspicion leapt into her expression and she clamped both hands to his chest, one palm over his heart before there was a damned thing he could do about it. He felt her spirit move against his. If anyone had asked him, he would have denied the connection, but with Hannah the sensation was always strong. He threw up mind blocks as quickly as he could, a practice he’d started years earlier when he realized she could ‘read’ him at will, but Hannah was too fast. She tore through his mind before his shields could go up and exposed his darkest secrets. Her hands slipped down his shirt to the wound in his side. The throbbing stopped instantly, even as her face grew paler.
Jonas caught her hands and took them off him. Healing his wounds wasn’t something he wanted from her. She’d done it once and had grown so fragile she still wasn’t completely recovered.
She sank back against the wall, hands dropping to her sides, staring at him with her big blue eyes, the silence lengthening between them, the tension rising until he wanted to bang his head against the wall in frustration.
‘Jonas…’
He held up his hand. ‘Don’t. Just don’t, Hannah. We’re not talking about this.’
Her eyes glittered at him. Flames crackled in the fireplace that hadn’t been there before. The burners on the stove leapt into rings of fire, glowing red-hot, and he knew he was in trouble. ‘We’re going to talk about it, Jonas. You promised us.’
‘I didn’t promise. I said I was no longer working for the defense department and I’m not—wasn’t.’
‘You’re doing undercover work, you liar, and it’s dangerous as hell.’ Her voice hissed out at him, a whip of anger only Hannah could wield against him. She could flay him raw with her disappointment and her fear. And she was afraid. She reeked of fear, the emotion pouring out of her as if a dam had opened wide.
‘I’ve been going crazy, Hannah, and they asked me to do a little job for them.’
She was silent a moment, her blue eyes staring straight into his. ‘That’s not the truth.
Tell me the truth.’
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair in agitation. ‘Look, honey, I can’t always tell you even when I want to.’
‘That’s why you keep disappearing. What is this all about, Jonas? You seemed past all that, taking the sheriff’s job, living in Sea Haven. You were happy again. It took you so long after you came back.’ It was true, his aura was nearly black at times, and when she touched him, even a small brief brush of her hand against him, the empath in her recoiled from the heavy darkness in him.
What could he tell her? His existence had been one long life filled with death and destruction, the seamier side of life, the dregs, the drug lords, terrorists and mobsters.
He had retreated to Sea Haven needing to change his life before he drowned in the blood and gore and violence he never seemed able to walk away from. How could he tell her she had to save him? That would scare her to death, but it was the truth.
Sometimes it just got too much to sit by and not do something real, like put his life on the line, and he needed her to pull him back from the edge of that precipice.
How could he explain how truly crazy he could be? When he’d seen Terry killed, he’d leapt into plain sight, with no cover, and begun firing at the attackers in a blind haze, somewhere between ice and white-hot rage, wanting to take all of them down.
Hannah would run away and he couldn’t blame her. Hell, half the time he couldn’t understand why he did any of the things he did. He only knew that when he was with her, when he could see her and smell her and breathe her in, his life had sanity and meaning.
He needed to be like Jackson, able to switch off all emotion and get the job done, but he’d never mastered that art. He worried about his men, about his deputies, about the people he protected. Hell. He even worried about the families of the men he killed. He couldn’t turn it off—he never had been able to—and he was damned good at what he did, so his old boss was always ready to hand him another job.
‘Jonas,’ Hannah repeated gently, her fingers brushing his face. ‘What’s wrong?’
There was desperation in his eyes, he looked driven, in pain—not physical—pure emotional pain, his heart beating too fast, his body almost rigid. He was holding on to her too tight, his grip hurting her, when he was always— always—gentle with her.
