Chapter Ten

L ayne loved the silence of her Wyoming country estate. The solitude was definitely a step up from the bustle of cities where she spent so much time living and working. The only thing missing was looking at that beautiful view, a different landscape painting in every window in Golden Horizon.

Only she wasn't allowed to open any of the blinds or curtains. And the silence was becoming disconcerting.

Carson wasn't exactly talkative, but she felt his absence even more now. After their date, he had wished her goodnight and closed his bedroom door.

He hadn't come to her bed.

He hadn't woken her with tender kisses.

With a sigh, she sank to the chair behind her desk in the study. All the letters were still spread out on the surface where she'd left them. Over the past few days, she'd made her way through three stacks. The ones she'd read were neatly set to the side and held down with a small marble paperweight.

For a moment, she didn't pick up another letter. She just sat there, face turned toward the window as though the blinds weren't closed and she could perfectly see dawn's light spreading across the vast Wyoming sky.

She issued a heavier sigh and turned her attention to her desk.

She had no idea what the Malones were doing behind the scenes to put an end to her stalker problem, but she hoped it happened fast so she could get back to a normal life.

A pang hit her stomach. The end to her problem would also mean an end to any possibility of her and Carson reconciling.

She sat back, eyes blurring as she stared at the stacks upon stacks of envelopes. Did she want to reconcile? Was there any point? They were adults. More than years separated them. After their brief conversation at the restaurant, then at the movies, she'd seen just how different Carson was from the boy she'd grown up with.

Determined to bridge that gap between the past and present, Layne picked up the next letter and began reading.

Hey doll,

It's hard to express how difficult it is being here without you…with the way we left things. It's been three weeks since I arrived, and I haven't received a single letter from you. But if you think that will stop me from writing to you, you're wrong.

Even with states between us, and no communication at all, I know you are thinking about me as much as I think about you. I miss your smile, your laugh. The way you toss your hair over your shoulder when you're mad. My memories keep me going.

Carson's tender words dragged all of Layne's emotions to the surface. Even the spaces between words were like soft strokes to her heart.

But these letters were written two decades ago. While it helped her understand what he'd gone through when they lost contact, she couldn't mistake the past for the now.

Her ex was only here because she called for help.

And possibly because he was keeping his promise to protect her, a promise made twenty years ago.

As she read the rest of the letter, tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. Emotions thickened her throat, making it hard to swallow.

Oh, who was she kidding? Carson was the right guy for her. Years ago, her father didn't give her a say in who she chose to be with. Back then, her opinion didn't matter. Now his opinion really didn't enter into the equation.

The paper trembled in her hand. She set it aside carefully on the stack of letters she'd finished reading.

Was it even possible to work things out between her and Carson? These letters might as well be cement weights dragging them down.

But if they could work things out…what would that look like? He had his hands more than full with Black Heart Security and the ranch that provided a home base for two other businesses. Even with the entire family pitching in to run it all, Carson had always been the leader of the Malone family. He couldn't leave Wyoming.

Layne's home base was states away. She traveled at least one week a month. All of her business transactions took place in other states or even other countries.

They both had a deep responsibility to their careers. They both had businesses to keep afloat.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the door swing inward. The scent of coffee made her senses stir, but the man carrying the mug stole her breath.

When his stare landed on her, his expression was decidedly neutral. The mask was becoming far too familiar to her. It made her rethink her idea of connecting with him. Did she know Carson at all?

He dropped his attention from her to the letters spread across the desk, then flicked his focus back to her, searching her eyes as if trying to determine how many of these letters she'd read.

Cautiously, he drifted silently toward the desk and held out the mug—a peace offering if she'd ever seen one.

"Thank you." Reaching up, she took the coffee with a slight smile she hoped would put him at ease.

"Sure." His fingers lingered on hers a beat longer than necessary for simply exchanging a mug. Then he stepped back, slicing the same hand through his hair.

"What's the plan for today?" Small talk seemed unnecessary to her ramped-up libido—it knew exactly what she wanted from her bodyguard and clamored for it.

He widened his stance, drawing attention to the way his worn jeans hugged his body. "A new case came in this morning. Oaks was next in line to take it, but I need his skills behind the scenes on your case. I sent Colt in his place."

It was kind of hot how Carson called the shots in his company. Making big decisions that literally affected people's lives.

Then she remembered that somewhere out in the world, another person was in a dark place, just like her. Living in fear.

Her respect for the Malone brothers swelled.

Carson went on. "And I asked Willow to work for me today rather than doing horse-girl things."

She'd taken a sip of coffee that quickly sputtered into a cough. "Excuse me—horse-girl things?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He reached out and pinched a lock of her hair, giving it a light tug just like he used to when she spent so much time in her barn with her own horses. Ones she'd always missed desperately when she was in New York.

She batted his hand away.

"Um…forgive my interruption. Carson?"

At the sound of Faye's voice, they turned their heads.

Carson dropped his arm, but she felt Faye's eyes tracking the movement. Her housekeeper had seen him touching Layne's hair.

"What is it, Faye?"

She gave Carson her attention. "A delivery arrived. You made it clear that you're supposed to check everything—"

"I'm coming." He strode to the door.

Layne started to stand. He waved for her to stay. Any playfulness fled from his expression. In its place was the stern, hard look of a man who had seen things. Things she couldn't even imagine .

She picked up another letter, eager to submerge herself in the Carson she once knew and loved.

With it came the realization that the man who'd walked out that door, his mind on keeping her safe, was someone she was starting to love just as much.

* * * * *

Carson's fingers still tingled from the silky feel of Layne's hair. In the future, he needed to refrain from touching her. Sharing a roof with her was proving to be more of a challenge than he ever expected.

It didn't help that she was reading his letters. Cracking open old wounds. Tearing down the walls he'd spent decades erecting around his heart.

Faye bustled through the house ahead of him, leading the way to the foyer. A box lay on the floor in front of the door.

Going on alert, he stepped in front of her and swept out an arm, directing her to stay behind him.

"In the future, please ask the delivery person to stay until I accept the package."

"Of course, Carson. I'm sorry I didn't think of that."

"I should have said something before." He didn't like making mistakes. Least of all in a case that involved Layne. They might not be in a romantic relationship anymore, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her in a coffin.

The thought made his stomach twist.

As he approached the long, narrow box, he assessed the packaging. Cardboard. No markings on the outside.

Over his shoulder, he cast Faye a glance. "Did you see who delivered this?"

"Yes. A flower vendor from Willowbrook."

He went still.

Then he reached for the box.

"Leave the room please, Faye. For security reasons."

"Of course."

He listened to the tap of her footsteps on the hardwood floors she worked to keep polished to a perfect gleam before he looked the package over on all sides. The plain white cardboard gave nothing away.

Drawing it toward him gingerly—he'd seen too many package bombs in his time as a SEAL—he slowly opened the lid to reveal a bed of tissue paper.

Peeling back the top layer, he glimpsed long green rose stems.

He opened the box all the way.

Rose stems—but no flowers.

Someone sent Layne a bunch of thorn-covered stems.

Fury hit his system, injecting him with a shot of adrenaline.

Slipped in next to them was a card in a white envelope. Printed on the front was Layne's name. No handwriting to analyze. The stalker knew what they were doing.

He carefully picked up the card, smoothing it between his pinched fingers. Before he got any further, he needed gloves. If there was a single scrap of a fingerprint to analyze, he was not going to risk ruining it.

He pulled out his phone and called the Black Heart Security office.

"Oaks," he gritted out.

"Well, you sound tense. What's up?"

"Layne just received a delivery. A flower delivery. Only there aren't any blooms—just stems and thorns."

"Hell."

"Yeah. There's a card too. I haven't taken it out to read it yet."

"Get on some gloves and open the envelope. I'll leave Willow in the office to man the phones and I'll be right over."

Carson was still in a crouched position. A position he was trained to strike from. If only he'd been there to open the door and accept the delivery, he'd be one step closer to knowing who was stalking Layne.

"I'll go through the camera footage while I wait for you," he told Oaks.

"Talk soon, bro."

He didn't respond, just mashed his finger over the red button on his phone to end the call. Scooping up the box of stems, he carried it outside. His cowboy boots rang on the wood porch floor as he descended the steps and strode into the yard.

He didn't want that box anywhere near Layne.

He set the box in the middle of the driveway. Then he strode over to his truck and located the forensics kit he needed.

With the gloves on, he returned to the flower box and slit open the envelope.

The card was also typed. No handwriting to analyze. Of course the stalker would be smart about it. But that didn't mean there weren't other ways of finding out who printed this note.

As he read the words, fury swelled in his chest.

He was threatening her life.

I'll have you to myself one way or another. And if I can't have you, no one can have you.

Those words were as good as a death threat to Carson.

"Goddammit." He placed the note back in the envelope and set it in the box.

Then he pulled up the security app on his phone. Occasionally, he shot a look at the house just to ensure Layne hadn't come outside. It was just like her to disobey that order and come running to see what the delivery was.

If she saw those stems, she would really understand the gravity of the situation.

As he checked the last hour of security footage, he focused particularly on the driveway. A delivery van had driven up to the ranch, the vehicle unmarked. Unusual for any floral business; they typically used the sides of their vehicles to advertise.

When the driver got out and pulled the box out of the back door, Carson enlarged the photo. Not a face he recognized from Willowbrook, and he knew pretty much every resident there.

The driver walked to the front door, not looking right or left, and mounted the steps. His attire of a simple polo shirt and pair of khaki pants was as unremarkable as the van he drove.

He cradled the box close to his body, indicating that it couldn't be laced with a substance that would poison Layne. A relief of sorts, but Carson's jaw still didn't unclamp from the bellow he was biting back.

Then he knocked on the door, Faye answered, and he handed her the box. Carson thought the guy drove away quicker than most delivery drivers would, but that could just be his jaded perspective. It was just that if he were delivering a gift meant to terrify the recipient, he'd hightail it out of there.

A couple more minutes passed before Oaks arrived, driving his personal truck rather than the Black Heart SUV.

He parked next to where Carson stood in the driveway and climbed out.

"I've told you a hundred times to drive the company vehicles."

Oaks waved a dismissive hand. "You know I prefer my old Chevy." His stare fell over the box. "That it?"

"Yes." He moved toward the box, bending to open the lid and show Oaks the stems. Then he withdrew the envelope and held it out to his brother.

"Anything on the footage?"

"I think the guy knew what he was delivering, or at least suspected that it wasn't on the up and up. Other than that, no clue as to the identity."

"Any license plate?"

"No. He was good at keeping it on the down-low. He backed up and kept the plates off camera."

Oaks held the small envelope on his palm. "I'll get this analyzed at the private lab right now. I'll drive it there myself."

Carson nodded. "I appreciate it. Be careful."

"Be awesome, you mean."

Carson gave him a flat look, which Oaks ignored. He took the box and drove off, headed to the lab.

He returned to the house. One part of this job he disliked was delivering difficult news to the people he protected. The fact that he already knew how Layne would react caused him even more dread.

He didn't want to see the fear glimmering in her beautiful eyes. Since the first day they ever met, a deep protectiveness had roped his heart to hers.

As he entered the house, he drew a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he needed to have with her. It was a new threat. Intercepted. But still a threat.

When he walked into the study, she was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

His gut clenched. It felt like she'd punched him.

What had she read in that letter to bring her to tears?

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

"Layne. We need to talk."

She blinked rapidly as if to dispel the wetness in her eyes. "Okay. Give me a minute."

He nodded and watched her walk out of the study. As soon as she was out of the room, he picked up the letter open on the desk and skimmed it.

Fuck. Had he really been that damn sappy? When it came to her, he had.

He set the letter back on the desk. Pacing across the room, he stopped in front of a painting in a heavy, ornate frame and folded his arms.

"What do you think of the painting?"

He didn't turn to look at Layne. "I'm not a fan."

The watery chuckle she gave made him swing toward her. Fingers itching to grab her and take her far away from here. Hide her.

And keep her in his bed twenty-four hours a day until she was carrying his child.

Fuck . Where the hell did that come from? It went way beyond protectiveness and barreled into insanity.

She didn't belong to him.

But she could. Those tears she shed over their past were proof that he could still make her feel something for him.

And the passionate cries she made in his bed were an even bigger indicator.

He sucked in a sharp breath. They studied each other for several heartbeats.

"Layne, that delivery…"

"Yes?" She knotted her fingers.

Setting his hand over her twined ones, he met her stare. "It was flowers. Only it wasn't flowers—just stems. And a threatening note."

She gasped. Her face drained of color. "What kind of note?"

"Not a good note. He said if he can't have you, no one can."

Unable to keep his hands off her, he pulled her into his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest, over his heart, and listened to what he had to tell her.

"It's so weird not to feel safe here. This ranch holds so many happy memories."

"I want to move you."

"When?"

"Tonight. When it's dark. I'll have my brothers escort us."

"Where would we go? Your ranch?"

"It's too close. What about Lake Como?"

She pushed away from him, head tilted back to search his face. "Lake Como! What would ever make you think of that?"

"Remember we always said we'd go there?"

She sputtered. "But won't it be dangerous? Airports are high visibility."

"I have a private jet."

Her expression blanked. "What?"

"You'll be safe with me, Layne. Nobody will know where you've gone, and my brothers can handle things here."

"You have a jet ?"

He waited for her to catch up. When she shook herself and focused on him again, he pulled her against his chest.

Burying his nose in her hair was a terrible idea, but he wasn't willing to stop himself from doing it. Her body molded to his, her breath warm against his neck.

"When my brothers find the person who's after you, we'll come back." He couldn't promise that Layne wouldn't share his bed every night they were in the exotic locale, but he could—with complete certainty—promise that he would keep her safe.

* * * * *

Oh god. Why was Carson's I'll-protect-you act so hot? Layne's insides should be quivering with fear, not with desire.

And a private jet? She only knew a handful of people who owned a jet, and she only worked with the wealthiest clients.

He tightened his arms around her. His chest shouldn't make the perfect pillow since it was nothing but chiseled muscle, yet she couldn't think of a better place to rest her head.

The throb of his heart beneath her ear eased some of the panic that had risen inside her the moment he told her about the flowers.

Stems. If she was creeped out before, now she was terrified.

But in the safety of Carson's arms, she didn't experience that terror for more than a few seconds. His sexy, alpha I'll-kill-to-save-you energy replaced it.

She leaned into him. He banded his arms tighter around her.

All those love words she'd just read in his last letter whirled through her mind, leaving glittery gold sparkles—of what she could no longer deny were born of love—around her heart.

When she tipped her face up to his, her breath caught. The intensity blazing in the depths of those gray eyes dizzied her. Passion and need crashed in.

She dug her fingers into his scalp, dragging him down.

Their lips crashed together. His coarse five-o'clock shadow scraped over her sensitive skin. Nipples puckering at the heat emanating from his chest, she kissed him back with everything she had inside her and then some.

The old desire between them was like springtime compared to the scorching late-summer heat they shared now.

With a rumble of need, he planted a hand on her ass, hitching her against the steel of his cock.

She rubbed against him without a care in the world. The worst had already happened between them when they lost each other. Anything else she could live with.

As he backed her up against the wall of her study, she sucked in a sharp gasp. He trapped her with his big body, and there was no place she'd rather be.

He plundered her lips. Sank his tongue deep inside her mouth and swept it over hers until she was moaning. The pulse of want between her thighs made her thong panties slick. She wiggled closer, rocking into his stiff length.

"Take me. Here. Right now." Was that even her voice?

She sounded like she would beg him to claim her.

She sounded like she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

She would.

Clutching at his broad shoulders, she dragged him closer again. Their mouths fused.

In some unspoken pivot, their rough passion faded to a gentle one. He walked his fingers up her spine, inch by inch, taking the hem of her top with them. She angled her head to receive the tender, nibbling licks, kisses and bites that drove her just as crazy as the rougher version.

With a forceful rock, he pinned her hips to the wall with his own. Stripping her top off, he ducked his head and began kissing her neck. Each swirl of his tongue and pull of his mouth drew a louder moan from her.

Suddenly, he lifted his head, stared straight into her eyes, grabbed her wrists and shoved them over her head.

Pinning them to the wall.

Her panties flooded . Her insides melted.

"Don't move." His order showered warm sparks over her senses.

Before she could process what he said, he reached behind her back and popped her bra clasp.

He yanked the fabric off her and cast it to the side. When he wiggled down her jeans, he dropped to one knee.

"Oh god! Carson."

His hot breath washed across her lower belly. Then he blew her mind by gliding a finger over the seam of her pussy through her panties.

Mind spinning, she assisted by stepping out of her jeans. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong underwear and tore them off her body. She bit back a cry that he cut off when he surged up her body and slammed his mouth over hers.

The kiss lasted only a brief second before he grabbed her by the hips and spun her to face the wall.

"Keep your palms on the wall. Over your head."

She shivered as insatiable desire broke over her in lust-filled waves. The dark need tearing through her body was almost too much to bear.

Then he heard the slow grating noise of his zipper lowering. The condom tearing almost sent her into paroxysms of bliss.

By the time he nudged her thighs wider and probed her soaking folds with the thick head of his cock, she was wild for him.

He clamped his hands on her hips, yanking her back into him as he sank balls-deep.

"Fuck!" His voice rumbled into her ear. His tongue followed, tracing the shell as he began to fuck her. Deep. Hard.

She thrust her hips back into him. He ground deep, rotating his hips like a male dancer.

As he withdrew with a slowness that blew her mind, her body clenched to keep him inside. Her knees threatened to buckle so she stiffened them, but they still shook. She dug her fingernails into the paneled wood wall and gave herself completely to Carson Malone.

Her mind. Her body.

Her heart.

"Don't stop! More…more…"

He growled next to her ear and bit down on her lobe. Batting it with his tongue until she shook. The fire building in her core knotted and licked at her. She squeezed her eyes shut and thrust into his every stroke.

"Carson! Oh god. I love you so much. I always have. I never stopped!"

He lost the beat of the lovemaking, nearly stilling with his cock buried deep inside her.

The liquid heat of his cum accompanied by the low curse blasting out of him sent her over the edge. She crested the sharp peak and skidded down the other side in hard, fast convulsions. His hands, his body, cradled her.

His groan vibrated through her entire body.

As her body twitched with aftershocks, he buried his face against her neck, breathing hard.

Her mind slowly began to return from the heights he'd driven her to.

Suddenly, she realized what she'd said.

What she'd admitted.

She loved him.

A flush of embarrassment washed up from her throat to heat her cheeks. Luckily, she faced the wall so he couldn't see it.

With one arm banded around her middle, he practically held her up. Or anchored himself to her so he didn't collapse. Either way, neither of them was unaffected by the moment they just shared.

"Carson—"

"Shh. Just stay right here with me."

She didn't think he meant to stay pinned to the wall.