Navy SEAL Rescuer. Shirlee McCoy

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      She shuddered, grabbing her cell phone and dialing 911 as the car door opened and a dark figure climbed out.

      * * *

      Darius eased around the side of Catherine’s house, approaching from the back rather than the front, hoping to catch the car’s driver by surprise. He could have brought his truck, but that would have warned the guy off before Darius got a good look at who he was dealing with.

      The bushes near the corner of the house provided perfect cover, the full moon laying thick shadow against golden light. Darius hugged the edges of the porch, tensing as a door closed and an engine revved. Leaving?

      Surprised, he stepped out from the shadows, let the driver see him standing in the moonlight, his gun held loose in his hand.

      Black Toyota. Tinted windows. No way to see the driver, but the car pulled away so quickly, he was positive the driver saw him.

      Good.

      He wanted the guy to know that Catherine wasn’t alone with Eileen. She had a neighbor who was keeping his eye on things. He tucked the gun back in his shoulder holster, and jogged up the porch steps, phantom pain shooting up from his phantom calf. He’d moved too quickly too many times today and his thigh muscles ached, the stump beneath his knee throbbing.

      The porch light went on, spilling onto the newly painted whitewashed wood. No hint of the bloodred words that had been there earlier. Darius had made sure of that.

      He thought about ringing the doorbell, but Catherine and Eileen were probably asleep, and he didn’t want to wake them. Not yet. He surveyed the door and windows. Everything locked up tight just the way it should be. No hint that anything untoward had happened.

      He retraced his steps, this time veering to the left and the driveway where the car had been parked. Packed earth left no evidence. No tire marks. No tread. Nothing that would help trace the car.

      A lock clicked, the sound loud in the silence, and Darius frowned as the door opened and Catherine stepped outside.

      “He was over near that old pine tree,” she said, not offering a greeting, not seeming at all surprised to see him there.

      “You saw him?”

      “Yes.” She walked toward him, her legs long and slender in cutoff jeans, her arms well muscled and too thin, her tank top clinging to slender curves and a flat abdomen. She looked like a dancer—long, lean lines and graceful, upright carriage, but her eyes were wide in a too-pale face, her breathing shaky.

      “You okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

      “Fine, but he had something in his hands when he got out of the car. It wasn’t there when he got back in. I think it’s under the tree.” She gestured to the edge of the yard and towering pine that stood there.

      “Wait here. I’ll take a look.”

      “You’ve done enough already, Darius. I’ll look.” She started walking as if she really expected him to fall in line with her plans.

      He snagged the back of her shirt, his fingers skimming over warm flesh before slipping into the belt loop of her shorts. “I don’t think so, Cat.”

      “I told you not to call me that.”

      “Let’s not waste time dancing around the real issue.”

      “Which is?” She raised an eyebrow, her hair tawny in the moon’s yellowish glow.

      “You don’t want me involved in your life, and I’m not. I just happened to hear a car pass my house, and I happen to have the kind of training that makes me more suited to dealing with danger than you are, so I came over. It’s as simple as that.”

      “I don’t think there’s anything simple about you, Darius,” she responded.

      “That isn’t the point, either. Stay here. I’ll go take a look.”

      “But—”

      He walked away, ignoring her protest.

      Sirens split the night as Darius crossed the yard. Good. The police were on the way. The more people moving around, the less likely the perp would return. Since he didn’t think Catherine was going to hide in the house while he looked around, he’d rather the guy stay far away.

      The pine tree sat close to a whitewashed fence that nearly glowed in the moonlight. He surveyed the ground, searching for signs that someone had been there. Wilted grass, a thick layer of pine needles, a few pine cones. Nothing that looked out of place.

      Darius eased closer, watching his steps, studying the ground carefully. One jerry-rigged explosive device had taken his lower left leg. He wasn’t in the market to lose the other one.

      Pine needles rustled, and Darius caught a hint of soap and something indefinable and feminine. Not flowery. More like rain on a hot summer day. Fresh and clean with just a hint of sweetness.

      Catherine.

      He frowned, glancing over his shoulder. “Stop.”

      He barked the command, and she froze, her eyes gleaming in the bright moonlight. “Do you see something?”

      “No. But it’s not what I can see that I’m worried about.” He studied the ground near his feet, crouching low and tracking a line of tamped-down pine needles to the base of the tree. The trunk was thick and rough, the bark flaking off, and at first, he thought that was all he was seeing. Old flaking bark, slightly darker than the wood. He let his eyes adjust, sirens screaming in the driveway behind him. Doors closing. Someone calling out, and he just kept staring at the trunk, his brain seeing what his eyes couldn’t.

      A too-regular shape a foot up from the base of the tree, nearly hidden by the lowest boughs. Sharp edges that didn’t occur in nature. Something that shouldn’t be there, but was.

      What?

      “See anything?” Logan Randal crouched beside him.

      “Maybe. Do you have a light?” He took the flashlight Logan offered, shone it on the tree trunk, his pulse jumping as the strange shadow came into full focus.

      Wires.

      Explosives.

      Set on a timer? A remote?

      “Back off. Now!” he ordered, but Logan was already moving, jumping back from the bomb, words spilling out as he called into his radio.

      “What is it?” Catherine moved forward, heading in exactly the direction she shouldn’t be. Darius snagged her waist, hauled her up and away, her body stiff and unyielding, her skin soft and pliant.

      “Put me down!” She panted, fighting his hold as if he were a stranger taking her to certain doom rather than a neighbor trying to keep her from it.

      “Gladly,” he responded as he crossed the threshold into the house, set her down in the foyer, his hands sliding along the smooth skin of her abdomen, heat spearing through him.

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