Page 3 of Stolen

“I will try it, and tell her. I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

He deposited the milk and cheese in the insulated milk box outside the front door, and went off with a wave. “You have a nice day now.”

She would. If her days were to be numbered, she intended to have the best one she possibly could.

Hawk woke abruptly, gunfire still blasting in his ears, with visions of Ariana falling, falling, blood blossoming from the wound in her chest.

For a moment he lay panting, sweat soaking the bedclothes. Trying to orient himself.

Ariana! His stomach jolted with fear. Where was she?

Slowly he realized where he was—the cottage on the outskirts of Rockhaven, at the foot of Outlaw Ridge. Safe. Home.

But his stomach still clenched in fear, and Ricardo De León’s eyes still burned into his soul.

Ariana was in danger.

He fought his way out of the tangled sheets and strode the few steps down the hall to her bedroom. The door was half-open, but her bed was empty.

He fought down irrational panic. There was nothing to hurt her here.

But his wolf was scratching at his insides. Where is she? We should not leave her alone to sleep. We should keep her safe.

True. If Hawk had his way, he’d never let her out of his sight. He would stay by her side all day, sleep with her at night, cover her body with his and make her cry out his name, and hold her through the dark hours.

Safe.

Instead, he was being a fucking gentleman. Giving her space. Letting her figure out if it was him she loved, or if it was just the movie hero she’d thought he was.

He went to the window that looked out over the garden, and breathed a sigh of relief. There she was.

For a long time he just looked at her, drinking in the sight. The fall of her hair, the curve of her neck, the rising sun turning her skin to rosy gold. Thinking of all the ways he wanted to touch her, and couldn’t.

It was crazy for him to have fallen in love with her.

He’d been undercover when they met, pretending to be someone he’d like to believe he wasn’t. It was the longest undercover mission he’d ever had, and the hardest.

You had to put your real self in a box, when you were that far under. You had to watch things you couldn’t stop—horrible, brutal things. Things that stole a man’s soul and left a stone in its place.

The only way he’d been able to do it was to live in his wolf, let his animal have most of him. Predators didn’t judge; they weren’t afraid of blood or death. Wild and ferocious, they hunted and killed without remorse. Survival without guilt or apology.

That was part of who he was, but he’d come so close to losing the rest of himself.

Until Ariana. He’d thrown his last tendril of humanity at her and she’d somehow caught it, wound it around her heart, kept it alive like she was keeping those tiny seedlings in the garden alive.

Life in the midst of death.

Heaven in the midst of hell.

Against all odds, he’d managed to get her out. But somehow it felt like they were still inside the nightmare.

Free, but not clear.

Her brother was a vindictive sociopath, and he wouldn’t stop until Ariana was found.

Punished.

Executed.

All the evidence she’d brought nullified. If they killed her before she could testify…

He had to save her. Even if he died trying. And he probably would.