She blinked. He shouldn’t have said that. It was the truth, and he wondered more than once if the feelings she elicited from him were any different from those felt by any number of men who passed through her life. But he shouldn’t have said it.
“More than I can count,” she answered. He hadn’t expected her to really respond, let alone so bluntly.
“I can imagine,” he replied, shoving his fascination with her deep down into a little box inside him.
“It’s meaningless, though,” she said before taking a sip of her drink. “When I was younger, I made the mistake of confusing ‘coveting’ for attraction. A lot of men wanted this.” She gestured to her body and face. “But they weren’t really attracted to me.” She paused. “Although, in those early days, I didn’t really know who I was, so there probably wasn’t much ofmeto be attracted to.” Her gaze swept over him. “I imagine you’ve had some of the same experiences.”
He frowned. He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but he had. While part of Special Forces, there were always women who wanted his body, or a night to brag to friends about, or a data point in their growing collection of one-night stands. In his younger years, he’d been happy to oblige more often than not. He hadn’t thought of it in Daphne’s terms—the women coveting him rather than being attracted to him—because it hadn’t really mattered. A shallow, but honest, truth. That dynamic hadn’t lasted long, though. By the time he discharged, he’d wanted something more meaningful.
“A few, yeah,” he said.
A quiet laugh filled the room. “Only a few?” she teased. Her eyes held his as she took another swallow, then lowered her glass. He had no idea what was going on behind those dark eyes, but he didn’t want to look away and miss a clue.
A beat later, she lowered her lashes, then looked away. Disappointment coursed through him.
“I’m heading to bed now,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning. An easy day for you, since Callie and I will be hanging out at their place all day.”
He nodded, then watched her walk to her room. She paused at the door where he could no longer see her. He stilled, waiting for whatever move she’d make next. Twelve beats of his heart passed before he heard the door shut softly behind her.
His gaze, though not his attention, dropped to the pile of mail sitting on his lap. On an exhale, he reached over and flicked the table lamp off, casting the room into a warm orange flickering glow.
He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when the alarm on his phone sounded, a muted version of a tsunami siren. He was already on the move before silencing it. Someone, or something, had breached the property line.
Pulling up the cameras on the app he’d installed, he tugged on his socks as he cycled through the angles. There, on the southeast edge of the property, was a figure moving through the woods.
“Lovell?” Daphne said, her voice clouded with sleepy confusion as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom.
“There’s someone on the property. You need to get down to the safe room,” he said, glancing at his boots. “Let’s go.” He’d pull them on later.
“Weneed to get to the safe room,” Daphne corrected, spinning back to her room. She was tugging her cardigan on when he entered. “HICC has been alerted and are on their way,” she replied, holding up her phone to show him a text message. He’d hoped she’d stay groggy for a little longer, but no such luck.
“Let’s go,” he said again. He had no interest in fighting with her now. He’d wait until they were downstairs. In truth, they weren’t in any imminent danger. The line their trespasser had crossed was three-quarters of a mile away. In snow and without a trail, it would take him a while to reach them. And then there were the other defensive systems in place along the way, including floodlights and speakers. Lovell could use those to warn the trespasser to leave.
He didn’t want the man to leave, though. He wanted him caught.
Opening the closet, he pressed on the spring-loaded door. A slab of wood at the back popped open, revealing the steep staircase. Stepping aside, he gestured for her to take the lead. Thankfully, she didn’t argue and started down.
Halfway to the safe room, she paused and read a text. “Tucker and Ryder are eight minutes out,” she said, referring to two HICC operatives.
He didn’t bother responding as they navigated the rest of the way. He waited not so patiently as she plugged in the code, then set her palm on the machine. Two seconds later, the reinforced door swung open.
“Go on in and shut the door. I need to grab my boots,” he said. She stepped in, then turned and eyed him suspiciously.
“You’re coming back, right?”
“I’m coming back,” he replied. At some point. Not when she thought he’d be back, but he’d be back. As soon as he caught the fucker on their land.
She took a wary step into the room, eyeing him with suspicion. “You’ll be right back,” she said.
“I’ll be back. Stop wasting time,” he said. He’d pay for this later, but if it meant he could catch the person—likely Weeks—and end this whole thing, he’d take the hit. At least he’d have Philly in the doghouse with him, since Callie hadn’t quite forgiven him yet for the stunt he’d pulled the day before.
With obvious reluctance, she let go of the door, allowing him to shut it. The moment the locks tumbled into place, he darted back up the stairs. Checking the cameras again as he tied his boots, he noted their visitor was heading straight for them, a ballsy move on his part. Ballsyandstupid.
After dashing out a quick text to Daphne telling her he’d be back, as promised, as soon as he caught their trespasser, he slipped his phone into his pocket, tugged on his winter gear, and stepped out the back door onto the porch. Ignoringthe aggressive buzzing of his phone, he snagged the snowshoes hanging on hooks beside the door. As soon as he had the bindings adjusted, he headed out into the night.
With a full moon hanging high in the sky, and the trees casting shadows on the pristine snow, it wasn’t a night for hiding. But he had the security system and snowshoes, and the element of surprise was on his side.
Pausing in the shadow of a tree, he sent a quick text to Tucker, telling him he was on the hunt as well. Tucker pinged him back a thumbs-up and three-minute ETA. Doing a quick calculation in his head, he suggested the two operatives split up, with one coming in from the northeast and the other circling behind Weeks and coming in from that direction. He ignored the furious texts from Daphne, even the one threatening to come after him. He didn’t think she’d really do it. She had her car, but he’d taken the snowshoes. The car wouldn’t make it through the woods, and he doubted another trek through the snowy forest in her boots was on her wish list.
