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I watch her disappear down the hallway.

“Well,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “Guess it's time to introduce myself.”

“Want company?” Striker asks.

“I can handle one woman.”

“Famous last words,” Grim says.

I flip him off and head outside.

The ride to my cabin usually gives me time to clear my head.

Today, all I can think about is the woman inside it.

Who the hell is she?

And why go through so much trouble to get inside my home?

I'd spotted her car twice over the past three days. The first time, she was checking the windows. The second, she was examining my front porch like she expected to find buried treasure beneath it.

So I'd started changing my routine.

Coming and going at different hours.

Spending more time at the clubhouse.

Partly because I wanted to know what she was doing.

And partly because I didn't particularly like the idea of someone knowing exactly when I was home.

My phone vibrates in its mount.

Another security notification.

I pull over and check the feed.

She's in my bedroom.

Of course she fucking is.

Little trespasser's got some balls.

I almost smile.

Then I notice the way she's gripping my desk.

Her head dips.

She sways.

What the fuck?

I enlarge the image.

She takes a step, stumbles, and catches herself against the doorframe.

Every muscle in my body locks.