Rebecca Zanetti: Sweet Revenge

His hands remained at her waist, warm and strong.

“No,” she murmured.

His eyelids creased. “Why not?”

“B-because.” She couldn’t help but focus on his full lips.

“A woman who ventures into a darkened alley and helps a stranger is brave and likes to take chances.” Challenge and something darker lurked in his eyes.

He smelled like the forest: wild and free.

Heat washed down her torso, and she tried to breathe slowly. What in the world was going on? She liked safety, and she liked security. Plus, she loved her daily routine. This guy would blow that to bits. “I hate taking chances.”

His mouth quirked as he studied her. “Somehow I don’t think so.”

“I do.” She pushed away from him.

“Okay.” He turned and drew a shirt from the bag he’d tossed on a table and pulled it over his head. Dark gray, it matched his eyes perfectly.

A yowling set up outside the entrance door. He pivoted, shielding her.

Her skin chilled from his removed hands, while her heart warmed at how quickly he’d moved into protector mode. “It’s all right,” she said, stepping around him.

One hand banded around her arm and tugged her back as the yowling increased in volume. “What is that?”

She chuckled. “Let me go.”

“No.” He released her and moved toward the door, gingerly unlocking it to open a crack. A heartbeat later, he stepped back, surprise lifting his dark eyebrows.

Matted brown fur came into view first before a battered face. Eugene meowed at seeing her. She dropped to her haunches. “There you are.” Thank God.

She rubbed his thick fur, careful to avoid his scars. He’d been wounded when she’d found him, and she was the only person he’d allow close. For a brief moment, she’d feared he was in danger again.

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” she crooned.

Matt locked the door and leaned against it, muscled arms crossed. “I take it that’s Eugene?”

“Yes.” She smiled as Eugene purred like a diesel. “I thought maybe—” Oh. Too much information to the stranger. “Nothing.”

Matt frowned. “Maybe what?”

“Nothing.” She relaxed. “He’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” That gray gaze narrowed on her.

She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly like a specimen on a slide. “Life isn’t always smooth, even in a small town.” Her life was nowhere near peaceful. Life was also too short to spend time dumping her problems on a guy who had enough of his own.

“Are you in trouble, sweetheart?” he asked softly, pushing off from the door.

Yes. Definitely. Trouble with all capital letters stood before her like every dangerous fantasy a girl had about tattooed bad boys on motorcycles. “No. So, how about you start tomorrow?”

He rubbed his chin. “The sign says ‘Pay and Board.’ Where’s the room?”

Heat flushed down her torso. “Um, no room.” No way, no how.

“Oh.” He blinked and took a deep breath before wincing. “Okay. The forests look decent around here. I’ll head out and find a nice campsite.” He lurched off of the table, his face paling further.

Thunder rolled above them as if on cue.

She sighed. God, when had her heart gotten so darn soft? “Fine. There’s a room upstairs you can rent by the week while you’re here. I’m across the hall, and I have not only triple locks but a couple of guns I know how to use.” As a threat, it was accurate.

Matt stepped into her space, bringing warmth and the scent of male. One knuckle tipped up her chin. “Sounds perfect. You saved me in the alley, and I owe you.”

The absolute strength and determination across his face should scare her. Lava burned through her veins instead of fear. While she had issues, no doubt the biggest threat stood before her with hard muscles and bloody jeans—because against all caution, she wanted to avoid reality and jump into the heat.

That’s how a woman already in danger got burned.

Laney unlocked the apartment door and gestured for Matt to come inside as Eugene waited by the stairwell. “There are two apartments here on the second floor, and mine is across the hall. I own them both along with the bar downstairs.” The scent of male wafted by her as Matt surveyed the small living room.

She pointed him toward the sparse kitchen and wandered past him to open the bedroom door. Habitually, she glanced at the windows to make sure they were still secure. “The sheets are clean, as are all the appliances.”

He leaned over her to view the bed. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

“No problem.” She had to get away from his body before she tried to lick his smooth skin and tackle him to the navy blue bedspread. She ducked under his arm and hurried toward the hallway before turning. “The tattoo above your heart? What does it mean?”

He followed her and put one broad hand on the door’s edge. “Freedom.”

Ah. Perfect for a soldier. “That makes sense, considering you fought for freedom.”

His eyes darkened to the gray of the sky before a storm hit. “You have no idea.”

The low rumble of his voice gave her all sorts of ideas, but she had enough trouble.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“Laney? Why do you own a bar?” he asked.

She paused, studying him. Nobody had ever really asked her that question. “I was raised by an alcoholic.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Interesting. Why buy a bar?”

She shrugged. Her mother had battled booze her entire life, often leaving Laney to raise herself. While safe and clean, she was often lonely and afraid of the world. “I learned early that alcohol controls you, or you control it. This way, I win.”

Intrigue creased his cheek, and those eyes warmed. “Fascinating.”

Her belly flopped. Why had she told him the real truth? Ignoring the sizzle in the air, she turned to the matching door across the hall. “Well, I’m in there. If you need anything…” God. She hadn’t just said that.

One second he was glancing at her door, the next moment, he’d grabbed her waist, turned, and planted her behind his hulking form.

“Whoa—” she sputtered. Who moved so fast?

His back all but vibrated, the muscles shifting. “Did you leave your door ajar?”

“Um, no.” Dread ripped down her spine. She peered around him to her quiet doorway. “Why?”

He crossed the hall, dropping to his haunches. “It’s open.”

She tiptoed toward him, her mind spinning. Leaning over his shoulder, she squinted. “Are you sure?” The door appeared closed. But the thought of somebody waiting inside dropped a hard ball of terror into her stomach. “We should run.” She grabbed his arm and tugged.

He didn’t move. “No need to run.”

Fear surged through her veins and clogged her throat. She couldn’t move him. She’d been on guard for so long, she never would’ve left her door unlocked. “Please. Let’s go.”

For answer, Matt set a knuckle against the wood. The door coasted open.

She gasped, and he turned toward her.

Eugene chose that moment to jump for her knee, and she tumbled into Matt. Heat, toned muscle, and male warmed her palms as he pivoted to keep her from falling. Her hands skimmed down to his abs. He grasped her upper arms, steadying her. She swallowed, glancing up at his hard-cut face, and tried to retreat. “Sorry.” Run. They had to run.

He gently pushed her toward the other apartment and bent to draw a wicked knife from his boot. “Go in there and lock the door.”

At the sight of the blade, her mind cleared. “That’s quite a knife.”

“Yes.” He gestured her toward his apartment.