Chapter Twenty-One

With that shot still reverberating inside the over-sized, empty barn, Everlee took a chance and leaped off the silo's wall with her chair leg in hand. She was determined to get out of this whacked-out version of Crazy Town before someone shot her. With a heart-pounding whoosh, she dropped to all fours, the distance to the barn floor deceptively farther than she'd guesstimated. So far, so good.

But damn. A thick, hefty male body in gray pants and a bloodied dress shirt lay sprawled on his back to her right, blocking the barn door from closing all the way. No one else was in sight. The silo itself was a wide, squat concrete thing that took up one entire corner of the front of the barn. At least, she thought that was the front corner, given that was where the only door was that she could see. Taking advantage of the silo's curved wall, she ran around it and tucked herself between its far side and the barn wall, hidden in the shadows from the dead guy and his killer. That woman.

Breathing hard, she took stock of her new predicament. Sturdy rafters ran the length of the roof, but the roof itself was no more than a see-through conglomeration of missing and broken timbers, laths, and shingles, all pieced together by a ton of rusty nails.

An empty hayloft stood on twelve eight-by-eight wooden stilts across from Everlee. No windows anywhere. Below the loft, wooden-slatted stalls stood in a single row along the rear of the barn, just as old, unused, and forgotten as the rusted farm implements parked nearer the partially closed door. Dusty tack that looked like it had been hanging there for years, decorated the half-wall to the right of the door. Ropes. Chains. Bridles. Halters. Leather-wrapped poles Everlee had no idea what they were used for. No farmyard animals, just sparrows and swallows coasting between the desiccated walls and roof. This place wasn't a barn as much as a disaster waiting to fall down. One good breeze and it'd be rubble. It'd be damned nice if she'd found her boots before then. Who knew what she might step on?

Keeping out of sight, Everlee crept far enough toward the door to take a quick peek at the dead guy. Another muscle-bound man, dressed in an identical black business suit had arrived by then. Leaning in from outside the barn, he grabbed hold of the dead guy's ankles while telling someone at his right, "Understood, yeah, you bet. Yes, ma'am. Get the right woman. Kill the one we got. I'll handle it from now on. Uh-huh, yeah, no problem. Never shoulda left these two numbskulls in charge in the first place."

Everlee found it interesting that these guys, including the dead one, fit the description of the man who'd followed Ms. Smart in Texas. Heavy weight. Black suits. Black polished dress shoes. It didn't take much to connect the dots between the victim burned to death at her house with the guy murdered here. Was that guy just expendable muscle? Was he killed by the same hot-tempered woman? Made sense. But that meant Smart was telling—the truth.

Everlee let that take root for a couple seconds. She guessed it was possible, but the evidence against Tuesday was damning and eyes didn't lie. Neither did security cameras. Yeah, no. Everlee chalked these new revelations up to coincidence. Smart was guilty, damn it.

No one answered the guy now in charge, at least no one close enough that Everlee could hear. He must've been on the phone. Did that mean the woman was already gone? Didn't matter. This might be her only chance to escape. The thug outside the door would have to climb into the silo to kill her, right? She'd escape then, and, somehow, she'd find her way back to Shane. Wherever he was. He'd probably been hurt in that rollover, maybe Ms. Smart, too. They needed her, and Everlee meant to get back to them as quickly as she could. If she could figure out where they were. Hell, if she could figure out where she was.

Her pockets were empty. She had no phone. Plan B. Rush the creep, hit him over the head with her trusty chair leg, steal his phone, and run for her life. Nothing to it. Sounded impossible, but she'd been in impossible situations before.

Stealthily, she inched forward, keeping her back to the silo, the chair leg on her shoulder, and her body obscured in shadow as long as possible. She could almost taste the freedom beyond that open door. But Jiminy Christmas! Now that she'd gotten closer, she could see that door was narrow, damned narrow. Weren't they supposed to be wide enough for tractors and wagons and horses and stuff like that to fit through? Not this one.

Her unspoken rant stalled when another big, burly gorilla stepped over the raised door sill and into the barn. Shit. Now it was two against one, maybe three if that demented woman was still out there. Everlee had no way to know for sure how many she was up against. Whatever she did next would be risky. And these guys were big and wide and mean and…

Jiminy Christmas! Freaked out at the odds stacked against her, Everlee ran a quick hand over her short-cropped hair. Too bad Shane wasn't there. He'd know what to do and, for sure, he could take down both these men, easy. But he wasn't and Everlee was, and—

"I ain't gonna do nuthin' with that bitch you and Rick took," Thug One told the new guy now at his side. "Dumb asshole. Talk about a rookie move."

"Rick's who grabbed her. Not me!"

"I don't fuckin' care! You want her, you climb down into that shithole while I stash Ricky boy outta sight. Far as I'm concerned, she's already dead. Ain't no way outta that fuckin' box you built, and I din't leave her no food or water or nuthin'. She won't survive long once we leave, but if you wanna play, Ringo, make it fast and make it lethal. Maeve's already plenty pissed. She'll kill both of us if we let her down again."

By then, he'd dragged Ricky Boy mostly outside, but left one arm with its ham-sized hand draped over the door sill.

"Just make sure you kill her when you're done messing her up, then take pictures of what's left of her and send 'em to Maeve. Maybe that'll keep her off our backs."

"I ain't gonna just mess 'er up, Bud. I'm gonna fuck her every which way I can till she dies screaming or choking. Makes no difference to me. No one can hear anything what goes on inside that toybox. Those concrete walls are a foot thick and that box is damned near airtight. No weak little bitch is gonna escape what I've got planned."

When that rat bastard palmed his junk and sniggered, Everlee cringed. He meant to kill her. All the more reason to run.

"Which is why I built it as tight as I did, and why I put it where it is. Simple solutions are best, and I've had a lotta fun in that box you call a shithole. You oughta try it some time." He blew out what sounded like a disgusting satisfied sigh. "Messing up a bitch is what makes a man a man, know what I mean?"

"I don't, but thanks for the creepy visual, you perv. Maeve ain't coming back, but if you wanna get on her good side, don't forget she likes trophies. You got ten minutes, Ringo. Get the hell down there. Do what you gotta do. When you're done, cut a finger or something off that dead bitch for Maeve's collection. Then we gotta get gone. I like my hairy balls where they're hanging, not dangling off Maeve's rearview mirror like fuckin' fuzzy dice."

"Start counting," Ringo replied almost cheerfully, now hanging by one hand off the silo's ladder, like the long-armed ape he was. Not that Everlee wouldn't have used that ladder if she'd known about it before. Turned out that jump had probably saved her life.

With every noisy step Ringo took up, Everlee's time was running out. She didn't recall if she'd shut the door to that toybox behind her. As soon as he saw the open door, he'd—

"She's gone! Shit, you hear me? She's gone!"

Too late. Time was up.

"Then she's still inside this here barn," Bud growled as he tossed Ricky Boy's arm outside and slammed Everlee's only escape route behind him. "Oh, girleeeey," he crooned like the sick bastard he was. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

When Hell freezes over.

Jumping off the ladder, Ringo hit the barn floor with a clap of thunder. He crouched low, a switchblade now gleaming in his right hand. "You still got that lighter, Bud?"

"Yup." Bud dug it out of his pants pocket, along with a pistol that… no, make that a Taser. Guess they wanted her alive for their idea of fun and games. So what was the lighter for? Shit, shit, shit! These morons meant to burn her out.

Everlee shrank deeper into the dark corner. She didn't have a proper weapon, only the broken chair leg, but no real way forward, and from the way Bud kept flicking the lighter, luck wasn't on her side. The second he set fire to anything in this place, even the tiniest scrap of leaves scattered across the floor, the dry, dusty air inside the barn would explode. This day was going to get uglier before it was over. But by hell, she'd go down fighting, and maybe she'd get out alive.

Maybe…

Miracles still happened, and Everlee prayed for one now.

"You go that way," Bud ordered slyly, like he thought she couldn't hear them breathing. "I'll check the stalls, start a few small fires in there, get the place burning, and flush her your way. Catch her fast though. Once this place starts burning, it'll go quick."

"Let the fun begin," Ringo whispered.

"Just don't lose her."

"No worries. I like a good chase before a barbecue."

Everlee heard a click that could've been a lock. Which spelled doom if her only escape was now lost. Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor. Only problem with that philosophy was Everlee wasn't born with discretion or patience or a think-twice chip in her brain. Slow and steady were not her modus operandi—never had been, wasn't going to suddenly start happening now. She acted and reacted, that's who she was. She was impulsive and she was on the verge of going toe-to-toe with these assholes. Either die trying to escape or be tortured and burned alive. There was no in between. No time to wait. She might just get a sandwich out of these guys before they made a meal out of her, but by hell, she refused to hide like a sissy coward crying for mercy.

Not me, damn it! If I'm going to die, so the hell are you two!

Stepping into the open, she kicked a half bale of old hay out of her way and came face-to-face with Ringo's killer grin. Man, he was an ugly sucker. A wicked scar ruined one of his cheeks, then hung a sharp curve into his mouth, making his lips a gnarled mess that twisted his face into a huge, creepy grin. He could've played the Joker . Wouldn't have needed make-up.

His eyes lit up and his ugly lip quirked higher, adding to the whole Chainsaw Massacre vibe he had going. "There you are," he purred, then yelled over his shoulder, "Found her! Come get a piece of her before I end her."

That brought Bud to his side. Big, dumb Bud, still flicking his lighter in this tinderbox of a barn.

"You guys want a piece of me? Then come and get it!" Everlee barked, the chair leg swung over one shoulder like a baseball bat. She would go down fighting, damn it.

Aim for their heads, then balls. Throats next. If Bud wants to play with fire, fine. But he'll have to wait his bloody turn, because I'm killing Ringo first. It'll get bloody before I burn to death. Damn you guys to Hell!

Planting her feet, she growled, determined to get the first swing in. Yeah, these guys were bigger and stronger, but she was a woman! Pissed and righteous and—

The damned barn door burst open with a thunderous clap. Into the sharp, white beam of sunlight stepped a monster of a man. Her one and only exit was blocked.

God, why me? Everlee thought, but then she thought better. Son of a bitch! If I can kill two, I can kill three!

Maybe.

Whoever this creep was, he had a chest that made Bud's and Ringo's look puny. He was so big and broad that he had to slant sideways to clear the doorway. She would've laughed at the shocked expressions on Ringo and Bud's faces, the way they'd frozen in their tracks when they saw him. But there wasn't time to waste and nothing about her desperate situation was funny.

So strike first and hit hard!

Everlee screamed like a banshee and ran straight at Ringo. Quick, while he was looking the other way. She lifted the chair leg high over her head, the battle for her life now begun. With hate in her heart for cretins like these two dirtbags, she screamed her one and only war cry. "Come get some, assholes!"

She was nearly within reach. She had him, by God. Righteous rage fueled her every footstep. She swung the chair leg high over her head. She would win this fight, damn it! At least one of these guys would die at her hand.

Until—a shot blasted from the doorway and something gooey splattered across her bare feet. Ringo dropped dead. Just keeled over, on his face, stiff as a board. A widening puddle of blood pooled under his chest. What the hell?

Before she could lift her chair leg for another attack, a solid THUNK hit the center of Bud's skull. Thin, red mist swooshed out the opposite side of his head, like his brain was in a hurry to get away from him.

Everlee froze, her best-laid plan shot to hell. She stood there in shock, waiting for her turn to die. Holding a short, stubby chair leg against the damned precise weapon that had just ended Ringo and Bud. Had the witch who'd given the order for her to die changed her plans? Had her executioner come back to silence Bud and Ringo instead?

Her poor heart pounded at the very clear knowledge that her time was up. There was no way to best the hulking shadow at her one and only exit. Her stomach lurched, threatening to upchuck. So much gore lay between her and her last opponent—the assassin whose face she still couldn't make out against the sunlight blasting behind him. Almost seemed like a halo. Damn, he was good.

This was not what she'd expected, not how she thought she'd die. Not by another killer. Two she could've taken. But three? She lost her nerve. The last thug standing was quietly waiting for her to make her move. Then what? Did he honestly think she'd scurry beside him like a scared rabbit trying to get through that narrow door? He was the only way out. Those two big pistols were still smoking. He was too big. Too thick and too deadly. There was no other way.

Still, she licked her lips, determined to fight to her last breath. That shouldn't take long. Everlee's heart sank. The asshat was toying with her, that was what he was doing, like a cat with a stupid mouse. She was trapped, and he knew it. The light squeezing into the barn behind him made him look bigger and blacker, just plain evil and—

Damn him! She refused to back down. Hadn't backed down to the two dead guys, wouldn't to this bastard, asshole, whatever! What was he waiting for?

"Through you or over you, Mister," she declared defiantly, her voice quavering just a little. "I don't give a shit who you think you are, but I know who I am, and I'm leaving right damned now. Get out of my way. Move it or lose it!" she screamed.

"Everlee?" the last killer asked, his voice deep and quiet, as even as the sunlight behind him.

"Shane?" she croaked, not daring to drop her weapon, but willing to hope.

Her miracle came back to her with a raspy, "Yeah, babe, it's me. But I can come back later if you're busy."

"I'm not busy!" she yelled. Tossing that stupid chair leg aside, she ran to Shane and crashed into his wide-open arms. Craving the safety she knew she'd find in his embrace, she burrowed her face into his magnificent chest, so damned thankful he was there. "It's you! It's really you!"

He was there! Lifting her head, she took possession of his handsome, sweaty face with both hands and climbed his body until her legs wrapped around his hips. Tightly. As tightly as she could. Tighter than before. Everlee wanted more than a hug. She wanted all of him. Somehow. Right damned now. He was there!

"You came for me," she cried, hiccupping like a damned girly girl.

With a delectable, throaty grumble, Shane took a half-step backward to reinforce his balance, then cupped her ass with both gun-wielding hands. A shiver raced up her spine at the intimate contact. Talk about him taking possession. The barrels of the weapons he'd just fired were warm against her backside. But she was more attracted to the smoking hot barrel pressed against her core.

She was out of control, not her usual smug self. No longer aggressive or ready to fight. Just the opposite. She felt inexplicably wanton for the first time in her whole, messed up life. With stupid tears in her eyes, Everlee grabbed hold of Shane's jaw and mashed her mouth over his.

He came for me. Somehow, he found me. Shane being there in the nick of time proved it. Miracles did happen. Shane saved me! He did! And he tastes so damned good.

Everlee pressed in closer, smacking her lips and ready to devour him. Man, this guy could kiss. He was making a meal of her mouth, and Everlee would've given him everything, right there and then. Instead, she offered her tongue and her air and every last bit of her wild, crazy heart—if he'd have it. If he'd take her and help her forget what a loser she was.

But as fast as she'd taken possession of his mouth, he took it back. Angling her away from the dead men and the gore, he carried her out of the barn and into sweet, clean sunlight. Might as well have been starlight. She was so much in lust and love with this sexy man.

Once outside, Shane took a sharp about-face and pressed her back against the barn, and held her in place with his hips. Growling like a beast, he plundered her mouth, the in-and-out actions of his tongue mimicking what his hips seemed to be doing with her core. She had no idea that dry humping was a real thing or that it could feel so good.

Holding their bodies tight against each other, Shane ravaged her mouth, lips, chin, and cheeks with a pent-up passion that put whisker burns everywhere he kissed. And she loved every last one of them. This was as close to indecent exposure as Everlee had ever been with any male. If she was what and who Shane wanted, she was ready to bare all, give all. Standing against the barn wall. Lying in the dirt. Any. Where.

The more their physical connection overheated, the more the air between them buzzed with feral electricity. Her body wanted this man inside of her, now. Again. Every tingling part of her hummed until—

A polite, feminine "Ahem" broke the spell.

Shit! "Bremmer?" Everlee gasped, literally gasped into Shane's mouth, almost swallowing her tongue at what their prisoner had just witnessed TEAM agents doing to each other. Pulling far enough away from Shane's up-close and oh, so ruggedly handsome face, Everlee glared at the alleged killer in their midst. "What are you doing here, Bremmer? I mean Smart?" Shit, she couldn't think straight. Was she Tuesday Smart or Tuesday Bremmer?

Everlee settled for Tuesday.

Tuesday's shoulders lifted in a shy shrug that almost—almost—made her look innocent.

Yeah, right. "Where's your damned cuffs?" Everlee growled even as Shane breathed like a sexy beast in her face and told her, "No worries. She's with me."

Like that was supposed to make her feel better? "She's what? With you how? What's that even mean?"

"Hi again, Agent Yeager," Ms. Smart offered quietly. "Yes, I'm here. Guess Shane forgot to tell you that before he dragged you outside to kiss you, huh?"

Swiping off the tears dripping down her face with a quick hand, Everlee glared at the woman and snapped, "Damn it, Smart. You're a convicted, err, suspected—oh hell! You're a child-killer and murderer and a—Shit! I don't know what you are anymore!"

"She's not a killer," Shane declared huskily, the sensation of his warm breath tantalizingly heady on Everlee's sweaty neck.

Her stare snapped from him back to Smart, then back to him. Hot damn, that sexy rumble of his was a distraction Everlee didn't need. Normally, she wouldn't've been bothered by a male. By any male! But this was Shane, and he was here, and he had come expressly for her, and…

He was holding her and loving her like she'd never been held or loved before. With his entire body and both hands. With his mouth and his tongue and his lips. With his breath. With everything he was. He had risked his life to save her. She was alive because of Shane. Not because of Alex or Butch or… or anyone else. Just Shane.

A wave of humility rolled over her, dousing her self-righteous snark. Everlee buried her face in the warm, sweaty corner where his shoulder joined his neck and took a deep breath of him to help her think. Until Smart ruined everything, all Ev wanted was Shane. On his back. In bed.

But now, the position she and he were in was inappropriate on so many levels. Did she care? Sort of, yeah. Not about what Smart had seen or about TEAM rules, though. Only about Shane. No way was she letting go of the man in her arms. She refused to push away just to make Smart feel more comfortable. Everlee didn't care what offended the alleged murderess or what she wanted. Only Shane. He was here and he could hold onto Everlee all day if he wanted to. She wished he would, and they could—

But Alex would care. Oh, yeah. Alex. Damn. The brittle warmth of embarrassment flamed up her neck, her face, and on up into her scalp. She was prickly all over. Probably looked like a sweaty, red-faced troll. True, some of that red was probably the blowback from one of those dead guys' heads. And sweaty or not, Tuesday Smart somehow managed to look fresh and kind and…

Shit.

Turning away from her sharp, green eyes, Everlee bumped her forehead against Shane's scruffy cheek. "I needed you and here you are," she whispered. "How'd you know where I was? I know you're smart, but how—"

"No, babe," Shane mumbled into her mouth, his incredibly sexy five o'clock shadow abrading her already tender lips. "She's Smart. I'm just some guy."

Everlee couldn't help smiling. "I know she's Tuesday Smart, smartass. But how… how'd you find me, and why isn't she locked up? Did you have to bring her with you?"

"Of course. She knew the way. Where else would she be? We were in the same Toyota when it rolled, remember? She's the one who saw those asshats fly off with you in their chopper, not me. Not sure I'd even be alive if she hadn't pulled me out of the SUV."

"You're hurt?"

Shane pressed his forehead against hers. "I think we're all a little dinged up, but I'm good, and you're here and…" He took a breath and purred. "I like this, Everlee. I like you. You're perfect."

Oh, man, he was killing her with every sweet word out of his mouth.

"She saved your life?" Everlee asked, incredulous that a black widow would do something so noble—unless she had ulterior motives. This could all be a trick.

"No, I just—" Tuesday started to explain.

Shane interrupted Ms. Smart's quiet rebuttal with a firm, "Yeah, she did. She saved my life, Ev, and she even talked with Mother. Err, Mom."

"I only did what anyone would do after an accident," Tuesday said evenly, which made Everlee look closer at her dirty hair and the smudges on her chin and cheeks. The model-worthy lady Everlee who had taken down just last night, looked more like a battle-worn soldier just come in from a firefight now. Her t-shirt was filthy. Her fashionably tattered, stone-washed jeans were so torn up they showed more skin than before, and some of that skin was scraped and scratched, dirty and bloodied.

"Really, I just did what anyone else would've done, Agent Yeager. I'm sure sorry I couldn't get out of my seatbelt before those men took you away, though. You were dazed and hurt, I could tell. You took your seatbelt off before we rolled, didn't you? Do you remember anything? Did you hit your head when the SUV rolled?"

That seemed to be the question of the day, hour, minute. Still clinging to Shane, with his hands still clamped under her butt, holding her to him, Everlee shook her poor aching head and replied, "No. I can't recall the rollover or even what kind of car we were in. Shane said Toyota? Where the hell did we rent that? Only thing I remember when I came to is being on my stomach inside a buzzing machine with a rag stuffed down my throat and a smelly bag over my head."

Fragments of what happened came back to her. The Toyota rolled. A Land Cruiser, "Oh, yeah. The vehicle behind us was a POS sedan, but I couldn't make out the model. POS sedans come in so many different flavors these days. I never got a shot off because—"

"We blew a tire," Shane interrupted.

"Yes, and I undid my seatbelt. I was going to shoot out their radiator. But I didn't, did I?"

"I have no idea, babe," he answered, letting her slide slowly down his body until she was on her feet. But still in his arms.

Pursing her lips, Everlee blew out a stream of fresh air—just because she could. She peered around Shane and faced Ms. Smart. Shane hadn't let go yet, and Everlee was afraid she'd fall down when he did. But he probably should. They were, after all, trusted TEAM agents. Nothing more. And that kiss probably didn't mean as much as either of them thought. It was just an impulsive reaction to seeing each other again and hormones and adrenaline and being alive and…

Yeah. All that.

"One of the guys you just took out punched me when we were in the chopper. I remember that," Everlee told Shane, her gaze still fixed on Ms. Smart. "He knocked me out. Next thing I knew, I woke up tied to a chair inside the big wooden box that's inside the silo in there." She jerked her head toward the now closed barn door. "There was a woman with them, though. Here. I heard her but couldn't see her. She was in charge. She didn't come inside the barn, but she wasn't happy. She screamed they'd taken the wrong woman. She ordered them to get rid of me. I think she killed the dead guy outside the barn."

Everlee craned her neck around Shane's beefy body to see the body she was talking about. But Shane quickly blocked her view, and Everlee didn't push for control like she usually would. Shane was protecting her, and for once in her life, she let a man stand between her and trouble.

"That woman killed her own guy, Shane," she told him, her voice growing squeakier with every word. Why do I sound like a frightened little girl? Clearing her throat, Everlee tried again. "That woman—"

"Relax, Ev. I've got you. It's okay to let go." With the tip of his index finger, Shane forced her chin up. "Breathe. Just breathe, babe. Cry if you need to."

"I don't cry," she growled. But she might now. No one had ever called her babe before. Bitch, yeah. She'd heard that behind her back plenty of times. Skank. Whore. But an actual endearment? Rare as flying pigs.

Everlee all but fell into Shane's ocean-blue eyes. The tender light swamping her was so hard to bear. She'd never been weak. Never wanted to be a sissy, prissy, pretty girl. Had always had to rely on herself. Because, hello. Until Alex's TEAM, there hadn't been anyone in her life to count on. Murphy might never know but he'd saved her life the day he'd hired her.

Sucking back a shuddering breath, she relented. On the verge of breaking down beneath so much gentle, male kindness and concern—both rarities in her life—she gave that inch where most men would've taken a mile. She let go. Just took a cleansing breath and decided to believe Shane. If he trusted Tuesday, she would, too.

The way he held onto Everlee wasn't so much possessive as just plain comforting. There'd been damned few times in her life when any guy had been this careful of her body or her feelings. And she had feelings, damn it. Sensitive feelings. And right then, they were about to pour out of her big mouth and her eyeballs if she didn't calm down and man-up and—

Oh, hell. She was so sick of having to ‘man' up. Just once, it'd be nice to be soft and feminine and just be who she really was, a strong female. A woman! For a minute or two, it'd be nice if that part of her didn't scare guys away. Was it asking too much for a man to let her be what and who she was? A little worn around the edges. A lot of trouble, okay, sure. A challenge because of her unpredictable ADHD. Clumsy. Pushy. But so damned willing to always step up and give a hundred fifty percent, no matter what. Could she help it if her enthusiasm pushed others away? And sometimes helped her fall on her ass? And sprain both ankles? And look bad in front of her boss? Although he was as OCD as she was. Maybe Alex truly did see something in her that others didn't. Maybe he really was just teasing her when he joked about her falling down. Maybe he did like her. As an agent, not a wannabe girlfriend or anything outrageously foolish as that. Because he loved his wife and Everlee adored Kelsey and…

Jiminy Christmas, where the hell am I going with this?

"Not sure I'd be alive without both my partners," Shane continued easily. "Tuesday, may I introduce my companion agent and my very best friend, Everlee Yeager. And no, she's not related to Chuck."

Your very best friend?

Everlee had never had one of those, not like she wanted him to be just a friend. Not as deep as her feelings were for this big guy. But she had a feeling he was just taking the attention off her so she could regain her self-control and common sense, which was getting harder to do by the minute. But she was his very best friend? No one had ever said that before. Everlee let her head fall against Shane's chest, sure she looked like a sweaty, bloody mess. But she was past caring. He'd just admitted, in public, well, at least to Smart, that Everlee was important to him. She'd take that to the bank and worry about the details later.

Shane didn't seem to mind her snapping out orders or bossing him around, or acting like she knew more than he did. But Everlee knew better. Of the two, he was the true warrior, the one who'd come home from years of combat, with real scars on his body and on his soul. Good soldiers, airmen, and scout snipers were each entitled to every last one of their scars, wounds, and bloody messes. Those scars were the true medals, each backed up with stories of valiant struggles to survive, of true heroism, and tons of outstanding courage.

And— Thank you, God— Shane was here. That alone declared what kind of man he was. And if he trusted Tuesday Smart, well, Everlee would, too.

She stuck her arm around Shane and extended her hand in friendship to their prisoner. "Good to see you again, Ms. Smart. Thanks for taking care of my buddy. My friend."

"I think. No…" Shane started, "I'm absolutely sure we've got the wrong woman, Everlee. Ms. Smart could've taken off after that wreck. She had the chance, but she didn't leave me. She gave aid when I needed it, and she gave credible intel on what happened to you."

"How'd you know where to find me, though? There's no way you could've known where I was." Or what they meant to do to me when they found out they'd kidnapped the wrong person. Everlee shivered as Ringo's ugly plan for her came back. Ringo and his torture chamber. Bud and his lighter. Geez!

"Easy. We talked to Sasha" —he toggled a finger between him and Smart— "and Mom tracked your burner phone. Don't ask me how. I just told her where you bought the burners and she worked some kind of magic. Want to bet your burner's either still inside this barn or in that chopper over there?" Shane jerked his stubbled chin at the open hangar across the yard.

Everlee hadn't thought once about her missing phone not being her TEAM phone. Holy shit. She'd been in a more desperate situation than she'd realized. And that chopper? The hangar? Two more things she hadn't noticed until Shane mentioned them. She'd been too close to falling apart to see anything beyond Shane and Tuesday. And, okay, she only had eyes for him. She was smitten with the guy. But she was noticing the white, turbine-powered, six-seater helicopter resting on its skids near the hangar across the weed-filled yard now. The damned thing looked like a giant mosquito sitting there, waiting to suck the blood from some other defenseless woman.

Pissed that she'd been abducted by idiots the likes of Ringo and Bud, Everlee wanted to squash the shit out of their chopper. With the heel of her boot. Then stick a block of Semtex in its carcass and blow it back to Hell. With them! After too much adrenaline, she was still feeling unusually aggressive. She needed to hit something. Or cry. But whining and bawling were her least favorite things to do, so yeah. Her hands clenched into fists in anticipation of a brawl.

"They were going to kill me," she growled. "I don't know where that big-mouthed woman went, but Ringo said he would fuck me up until I died screaming or choking. He said he liked to play games. I think these creeps have killed other people here before."

Shane pulled her in tighter. Man, his arms were the best medicine in the world. "You and Tuesday wait here while I go inside and get what I need to identify them. Tuesday?"

"Sure thing, Sha—"

"No!" Everlee spat, thumbing her chest in case he forgot who was in charge. " My job! If anyone's going back inside, it's gonna be—"

Before she could spit out the rest of her threat, Shane whirled her around and got straight in her face. "No way, Agent Yeager. They're already dead, and you're compromised. Stay out here. Neither of you ladies need to see what I'm going to do to those asshats in there."

He thought he could boss her? Just because he was male, bigger, stronger, and wider? Forget that bullshit. Everlee opened her mouth, prepared to dress him down and spit him out when—

Shane's warm, wet mouth crashed over hers, silencing her out-of-control rant and swallowing every last bit of her angst and her rage and…

Oh, hell, he tasted good. Her fingers tightened over his biceps. Jiminy Christmas, he was solid and she loved the way his muscles flexed under her fingers. His hands were hard and his fingers long and right then digging into her upper arms, reminding her that he truly was all things male. That males were instinctively dominant fighters and winners and protectors of all they held dear. Never mind that he was also holding her again like he'd never let her go. Like he truly, honestly cared about her.

Best friend, nothing. She wanted this friendship to be the kind that came with benefits. Everlee's eyes rolled back in her head at the delicious power radiating off this intense man. The taste of his bossy mouth was so damned sweet, and this time he was demanding in an entirely different—better—way. He was right, damn it. She didn't have to be in charge all the time. She could let go like she wanted to. She already trusted him.

Her out-of-control need for vengeance dissipated in the passion that was right then owning her mouth and her lips and… yeah. Her poor battered, tenderized heart. Maybe her soul. Succumbing to the animal magnetism running like a steaming hot current between Shane and her, she huffed through her nose. Her hands moved from his biceps to the strong cords in his neck, then to his stubbled cheeks. Damn, he had one helluva five o'clock shadow going for him. What time was it anyway?

"For once, do as I say," Shane murmured around their nearly indecent kiss. Then he added, "Please? For me?"

Smart, smart man.

Everlee hadn't realized he had her off the ground again. Like he could've held her all day. Like she weighed next to nothing. If she were a braver, gentler, girly woman, Everlee would've told Shane she'd fallen in love with him. She'd never felt the wonderful sensation zinging between them like sparking electricity before. It left her breathless. Maybe a little brainless, and—

Yes, her silly heart whispered. Tell him. You do love him. You know you do.

Instead, Everlee eased out of his arms and let Shane go. He'd been in combat; she hadn't. He just might have skills she didn't. Might even know a few things she didn't. Like what to do with three dead morons. Maybe there were things men did better than women. She was willing to explore the possibility. For now. She decided to obey, but only because Shane asked. He wasn't some guy with a dick bigger than his brain. No, Shane was smart. He put her feelings first, and more than anything, Everlee needed that kind of thoughtful, positive reinforcement.

Pursing her lips, she blew out another deep breath and whispered, "Yes, sir. Yes, for you. Okay. I'll stay here."

"This won't take long," he assured her, his voice less stern, but so rough and hoarse that wet heat pooled between her thighs again. What was that about? She was hot and bothered just because he'd bossed her? Apparently.

"Come on, let's find some shade." That was Ms. Smart and she was holding her hand out for Everlee to take. As if she were the adult in charge, and Everlee was just a civilian, a child. Also as if she might've already suggested that more than once and had been trying to get Everlee's attention.

With her heart pounding, Everlee turned to Ms. Smart. They weren't besties or BFFs, didn't even like each other. Ignoring Smart's silly act of female friendship, Everlee turned her back on Tuesday and walked over to the far side of the barn all by herself. Meanwhile, Shane was busy dragging the first dead guy into the barn.

There were no chairs in sight, not even a dried-up tree stump to sit on, but hey. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Everlee sank down against the barn's cool, stone foundation and let her head fall forward to her bent knees. She was free. She was alive, and there really were times in a woman's life when the sound of her own breathing was all she needed. There was no way this dilapidated barn could keep out the rain, but its stone foundation was solid, and its east side offered a ton of cool shade this late in the day. If shade could be measured in tonnage. Totally useless, random thought, probably caused by all that fading adrenaline. And lack of sleep. And dehydration.

She tempered her snark and aimed to be, well, pleasanter. More pleasant? Aww, who knew? Everlee didn't. Turning to Ms. Smart, she huffed, but only because the short walk had left her breathless. "So, Tuesday ." She managed to sound civil for a change, and she used the name Shane used. "You and Shane are on a first name basis now, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am, we are. I'm here to help you guys, Agent Yeager. Any way I can. Shane said he'd help prove my innocence. It's a fair trade, us helping each other." Her statement ended sounding more like a timid question.

Helping each other sounded like a great idea, and because Everlee was too tired to get spun up over Smart's apparent loyalty to Shane, she simply nodded. "Please, just Ev. Shane's right. We've been through enough shit to trust each other."

"That'd be nice," Tuesday replied without a trace of attitude. "He likes you. I'm glad. But he's always so polite. I didn't think he had it in him to do what he just did with you."

"What? Kiss me?" Everlee ran her tongue over her bottom lip, savoring the delicious taste that lingered. What would it be like to be able to kiss him any time she wanted? To make love with that rugged, handsome body. To put her hands all over him, morning, afternoon, or night time?

Tuesday's head bobbed. "Yes, and he killed the men who hurt you. He cares for you. A lot. You should've heard him swearing before he kicked in the barn door."

Why did Shane's caveman act make Everlee grin? Shane kicked in a door to save her? How sweet is that? "What'd he say?" And now she sounded like a junior high teenager bonding with her girlfriend.

"Well, he heard what those guys were saying they'd do to you, then he dropped a lot of F-bombs. You should've heard him. He was already a walking, talking, cursing maniac with Sasha. She helped us locate you. But he went ballistic once he knew you were in trouble."

"I was in trouble."

"That man looks at you like you're his whole world. Haven't you noticed?"

Everlee cleared her throat and shook her head, afraid if she acknowledged how much she cared for Shane, she'd only fall deeper in love with the guy. Which was not smart for agents who worked together. Connor and Izza Maher seemed to make it work, but they'd been married before they'd worked together. Rory and Ember Dennison, Walker and Persia Judge made it work, too. But Everlee had already proved she sucked at the marriage thing. She'd been burned before. Once was enough. Wasn't it?

"He's just pumped full of adrenaline right now," she explained, needing to set Tuesday straight. "It's simple biology. Intense situations create dramatic feelings of loyalty and duty, and sometimes, those feelings get confused with lust and love, especially between males and females. Especially when one of them gets hurt. Not that I'm hurt. I'm not. But because of what happened inside the barn, and when he saw me, and he knew they'd hurt me, but I was alive, and…"

Jiminy Christmas, I'm rambling.

Tuesday's hand on Everlee's shoulder was all that shut her up. "Trust me, Everlee. I've photographed thousands of people all over the world, and in my job, I've seen true love up close enough times to recognize it. I've seen it in the middle of famine, warfare, battle, and peace. It's more a feeling than talk. It's actions, not words. It's him going back inside this barn to do whatever he thinks he has to do to make sure you don't. Love is stepping up to be more than you ever thought you could be. Sometimes, it's simply showing up, not saying anything, just being there for someone. That man adores you. It's written all over his face, but especially in his eyes. Don't you see it? I sure do."

Everlee had no idea what to say. So she grunted because, well, grunting was kind of an answer, wasn't it? Not a denial, not exactly affirmation, either.

But Tuesday had just confirmed everything Everlee had felt in Shane's arms. He'd become important to her in a brand-new, exciting, and unexpected way. If this was love, and even if it wasn't, she wanted to see what happened next between them.

But she was still afraid to take that risk. What divorced woman wouldn't be? That realization astounded Everlee. There was a day—like yesterday—when she wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. Wouldn't admit it, didn't consider it a conceivable option. But now? Getting close to this guy, only to wake up some day and find out he'd stepped out on her? That he'd played her, only needed a good time, short time fuck buddy?

No. Way. She refused to go through that again. And yet...

Like the temptress it could be, her tongue traced her sore bottom lip, still searching after the deliciousness of Shane's mouth. She smoothed her fingers over the tenderized abrasions his passionate kiss had left on her chin and lips. Her buttocks remembered how it felt having his hands in charge of her body, his big, capable fingers gripping her ass as if he'd never let her go. Her core heated with need.

If this strange new feeling was love, she wanted more of it. But fear of failure had planted itself firmly in her way, and for the first time in her life, Everlee didn't know what to do.