Chapter 3

Once they were back inside the station, Dominic approached Rally, who was pacing in furious disbelief while the station attendant brought up the external camera footage.

"I need a first aid kit, and you need to trace this license plate," Dominic told the detective, handing over his phone with a clear picture of the truck's plates.

"On it." The detective nodded. He went behind the front desk area and returned with a first aid kit. "Quick thinking to snap a pic of the plates."

"Possibly." Dominic wasn't convinced it would help. No criminal worth hiring would roll up to a police station in a legit vehicle.

However, the scenario did confirm his belief that someone had hired a hitman—possibly more than one—to silence Lara.

Tonight's events made a stellar circumstantial evidence case against her boss. Surely video cameras from the strip mall caught the first perpetrator, and the station's cameras caught the second, with her as the intended target of both crimes.

Whatever the Feds had on her boss, the string of evidence could potentially pin him with assault, attempted kidnapping, possibly attempted murder. This Mark Landon guy could go to prison for years on those charges alone.

Despite her harrowing ordeals, Lara could take some solace in the belief that the diabolical bastard behind these threats would pay one way or another. But right now, she had more pressing concerns. Like staying alive. So far, she'd remained resilient, and he admired the hell out of her for it.

Dominic popped open the latches on the plastic first aid case and rummaged around until he found alcohol wipes. He dabbed at the dried blood from a small slice on her lip and the swelling bruise on her forehead. He couldn't help thinking how much he wanted to press his thumb to her lower lip and plant a reassuring kiss on her beautiful mouth. He reined in that base instinct, recognizing that she needed his comfort, not his advances. He hadn't expected their contact to reignite such fierce temptation.

Minutes later, Detective Rally strode up to them in the waiting area. "Bad news."

Lara's shoulders drooped and Dominic folded an arm around her.

"That truck was reported stolen two days ago from one of the run-down towns in Prison Valley."

Dominic muttered, "I figured as much."

"I thought moving to a small, quiet town in Colorado would be my escape from crime in a big city like Las Vegas," Lara muttered. "Instead, I landed on the border of a collection of prisons. Their barbed-wire restraints can only keep people safe for so long."

Detective Rally raked his hand over his bald head. "Yeah, crimes creep into the surrounding regions from that notorious area. An unfortunate blight on our beautiful state."

Lara's eyes narrowed and she frowned as though deep in thought. "What about that P.O. Box, and that transaction Mark had me make right before all this happened?" She sent a hopeful glance to Rally. "Can you find out what was in that box? Is there a way to get a warrant to search it? There must be cameras in the post office catching him there. What if Mark also visited a prison in the region in the past few months? Wouldn't his name show up on a visitor's log?"

Detective Rally whipped open a slim notepad and took down her thoughts. "All great leads. I can start following up on those."

Then she grasped the arms of her chair. "Wait. I recall scheduling several phone conversations on his calendar with Mrs. Swall. That stood out to me, since she's a single older woman of meager means who didn't match his usual clientele. We all know her son's been in and out of prison for decades. Maybe he was recently released?"

"Good thinking, honey," Dominic encouraged.

The detective jotted that down, too, before he closed his notebook with a grim expression. "I'll tell my wife to save leftovers from dinner. Looks like this will be a long night."

"Thanks for following up on these leads." Dominic stood. "Right now, I need to get Lara someplace safe, where she can get some rest after everything she's endured."

Where she can fall apart. Cry. Rage, if she needs to. Feel vulnerable and safe with someone she trusts watching over her.

Dominic was just the man for that job.

Rally glanced at her with compassion. "You've been through a lot," he agreed. "Stay safe. I'll be in touch if there's any news I can share."

Lara's hand trembled as she reached out to shake Detective Rally's hand. Trauma expressed itself in unexpected ways. Dominic would be there to support her through anything.

Dominic chose not to tell Rally where he planned to take Lara. He wasn't sure about the extent of her boss's conspiracies or influence. The man could potentially reach out to someone like Rally, tempting him with false promises of safeguarding his grandparents' life savings in exchange for information on Lara's whereabouts.

"You have my number," Dominic said. "Call me with updates."

"Will do," Rally said with conviction.

Still, for the right price—or a strategic tug on the heartstrings of desperate people—anyone's loyalty could be bought. Dominic admitted his own boundaries might be tested for someone as important to him as Lara. Fortunately, Isaac's request had aligned him with a path of righteous action, sparing him from having to make any Faustian bargains.

Although…keeping her safe under his roof would present its own set of challenges and a different tradeoff. Impossible temptation versus honorable intentions.

He swallowed. "Thanks, Detective. Look forward to hearing from you."

Forty-five minutes later—after taking a circuitous route toward his home to ensure no one followed them—Dominic pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store minutes before it closed.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm a bachelor. I don't make meals or buy food for two. I might have takeout from yesterday in the fridge. But we'll need groceries for the week." Or however long it takes to keep you safe and solve this case.

An upward tilt of her lips was the first hint of a smile he'd seen from her. "You weren't kidding, when you said you were single."

"I'm lucky if I don't set the house on fire trying to cook noodles." He shrugged sheepishly. "Think we can fill a grocery cart together in the next fifteen minutes?"

Smile lines appeared at the corners of her pretty mouth. "I happen to be a good cook. I'll help you fill your bare cupboards."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." He sent her a wink. "I'll take all the help I can get."

She accepted the challenge like a woman who'd been given an important mission. He suspected the chance to focus on something other than her terrifying day offered a distraction…and a much-needed sense of control and freedom. He smiled privately.

They strolled arm in arm through the sliding doors moments before a woman said over the loudspeaker, "The store closes in fifteen minutes. Please bring your purchases to the nearest register."

"Are you a meat and potatoes guy?" Lara asked him. "Or more into salmon and asparagus?"

Were his tastes average or classy?he read into her question.

Arching an eyebrow, he slid her an inviting glance. "You tell me?"

Intrigued, she tapped her chin. He liked that she welcomed a challenge and enjoyed solving puzzles. Two points they had in common, considering he'd based his career on that skillset. She seemed absorbed in thought as he extracted a shopping cart from the stack, and she led the way down the aisles.

"I think, despite your obvious affinity for working out at the gym," she said, glancing at his broad chest, shoulders and biceps, "you're a fried chicken and mac n' cheese kinda guy."

Nailed it. He bit his cheeks to contain a grin. "You might be right."

She smiled, pleased with herself. Then she rolled her eyes. "I can't subsist on your diet for days. I'll meet you halfway. We'll stop at the premade meal section. And then I'll grab some fresh produce and whatever's on sale in the seafood department."

"Deal." Though it bothered him that she instantly considered cost, when he planned to foot the bill.

A woman as beautiful, talented and smart as Lara should be used to the finer things in life. Not cut-rate anything.

If she would ever consider their temporary reunion as something more, he'd give her an unlimited budget to spend at the grocery store or anywhere she wanted. While his wealth wasn't on par with Isaac's millions or the Atlas family's billions, Dominic had made financial and career choices that provided him with the freedom to pursue his passions.

She'd figure that out once she saw the barn behind his home. After selling his father's landscaping business to the highest bidder and fulfilling his military obligations, he'd left the service to pursue high-paying civilian opportunities where he could apply his skills. That had led to his barn housing two collector cars, a new Harley-Davidson motorcycle, and the boat he liked to take out to the nearest lake on the weekends. Colorado offered no shortage of options.

He wasn't hurting for funds. Or toys. But what he really wanted—had craved for the past year—was someone to share his life with.

And when his mind conjured an image of the perfect woman for him, it always painted a picture of Lara. She'd never left his mind or heart, even though their lives had taken different trajectories.

Sure, they'd need to rekindle their intimacy—and damn, he looked forward to that—but some things couldn't be replicated. Respect. Trust. Honor. Chemistry. Desire. He'd felt all those things with Lara ages ago, and he wanted to see if they still resonated.

Traveling down the grocery store aisles, he trailed behind her with the cart, inventing reasons to playfully argue over her choices. Sometimes he tossed in a random item they passed that would never go with their meal prep choices. Like a container of cake sprinkles, or a baby food jar, or a can of pickled herring, or a Cool Whip container from the freezer section.

She glanced at the ceiling with mock annoyance.

She snorted and elbowed his ribs.

She exhaled with exaggerated patience.

She cuffed her palm against his shoulder at his ridiculous additions.

Most importantly, she grinned. For twenty minutes straight. No matter what ended up in the cart, he'd accomplished his mission that had little to do with food purchases.

As he loaded their groceries into the trunk of his car, she set her hands on her hips. "Were you always this irritating?"

"Funny thing about memories. You tend to recall the best about someone, not the less appealing things." He slammed the trunk. "But no, I'm not really like that. I just wanted to make you smile. You're even more beautiful than I remembered."

The tips of her ears turned an endearing shade of pink beneath the parking lot lights.

Then her gaze took on a far-away look. "You're right," she said thoughtfully. "Even when I think about my dad—in some ways an Atlas through and through, in other ways an outlier—I remember the best traits about him, not the worst. During his three-year battle with cancer, when it became obvious I was losing him, I didn't dwell on his shortcomings. I wanted to appreciate the short time we had left."

Dominic felt compelled to say, "There's quite a variety of personalities among the Atlases."

Lowering her eyes, she nodded before he shut her passenger door and returned to the driver's side. When he started the engine, she seemed to have something on her mind.

"But he was an outlier. Mom and I never expected anything from the Atlases after he died," she said, following up on his observation about the family's diversity. "We just wanted a fresh start."

Her admission confirmed that, for whatever reason, her mother had declined any dispensations or claims to the Atlas family fortune. Maybe that was why Isaac felt the need to look out for her.

"Today was the first time I reached out to the family for help. I knew I couldn't do this alone."

"You made the right decision," he assured.

If not for her family, who'd been there for her?Dominic wondered. Who'd held her through grief and carried her through hard times? It seemed she'd grown accustomed to going it alone.

He wanted to change all that. He would gladly be the man she turned to during times of distress.

If he had his way, she could count on him from now on.

Their unexpected reunion today had laid the groundwork for them. While he would've given anything to take away her fear and pain, he recognized, after years as an MP, that the best thing he could give her was humor despite tragedy—a soft yet secure place to land, and the chance to laugh about the ridiculous things in life instead of focusing on what she couldn't control.

No matter what had happened to shake up her world, she'd proven herself to be capable and resilient.

He continued their casual, playful conversation on the drive home while keeping a watchful eye on his review mirror. He purposely took a long, backroads route home.

Convinced they hadn't been followed, he pulled into his driveway.

Juggling bags of groceries, he managed to unlock the side door and ushered her inside.

After climbing the steps into his kitchen, she paused to take in his home. "Dominic, this is beautiful."

Pride filled his chest. He liked that she appreciated the effort he'd poured into restoring this 1920s craftsman cottage. While he unloaded armfuls of groceries onto his butcherblock countertop, she wandered away from him to explore the space as though eager to discover more about him through his surroundings.

"Look at these transoms over the doors," Lara exclaimed, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "They bring so much light into every room! The detail is extraordinary, with all the original stained glass. And that fireplace flanked by bookshelves? It's a masterpiece. Oh, and the inset wood fixtures and intricately carved crown molding… Wow, check out the original plaster medallion above your dining room chandelier!"

Her enthusiasm proved an aphrodisiac. He loved that she adored his house. She's always had a photographer's eye and an artistic bent.

"There's more," he confessed, shedding his coat, loosening his tie, and draping his suit jacket over the back of a chair. "I've been working on restoring the gardens outside. And then there's the barn out back." She joined him as they put perishables into the refrigerator, leaving on the counter what she planned to cook tonight. "I've always been passionate about anything with horsepower. Since you knew me, I might've developed an obsession."

"That doesn't surprise me," she said dryly. "How many vehicles are you up to?"

"Five," he admitted. "One's a nineteen-sixty-nine Corvette collectible. It's on an automatic lift above a Pontiac Trans Am from the eighties I've spent years tinkering with. Next to those is the last and latest model Dodge Charger they won't manufacture anymore. And behind that is a second Harley-Davidson motorcycle I bought last year."

"Naturally." She grinned. "Why settle for one Harley when you can have two? And I suppose you can never have too many cars—especially if they're your passion."

"In the summer I take them to local car shows. It's fun to hang out with other people who share your enthusiasm and nostalgia for a well-tuned machine."

"Sounds right up your alley." She glanced around. "Do you have a cutting board? Where do you keep your pots and pans?"

In his refurbished kitchen he showed her the lay of the land, and where she could find everything she needed. He also grabbed a bottle of wine from the small collection that hung in a crosshatch frame beneath a cupboard. He used a wine key to uncork the vintage he pulled and poured them each a glass.

"What about you?" he asked, half-sitting on a stool at his island counter, taking a sip of wine. He leaned forward, intrigued. "Where have your passions led you?"

A puzzled expression claimed her features. "What do you mean?"

"You were quite the photographer. You always had your grandfather's old camera around your neck. You'd take pictures of your family, kids in the neighborhood doing skateboard stunts or sidewalk chalk art, and me with my jam buddies at garage band practice down the street from Isaac's house. We had big plans of using your photos for the cover of an album we were never going to make."

"I loved that neighborhood," she said wistfully, chopping the tops off bell peppers on a cutting board, then slicing the colorful vegetables into thin strips. She added them to a pan she drizzled with olive oil and added a few spices before she wiped her hands clean on a kitchen towel. "I rode my bike there almost every day after school. Mom worked her second job four nights a week, and I had so much freedom. I still have photo albums stuffed with those pictures. I developed them in photography class before the school lost interest in funding that ancient relic of a room and everything turned digital. Then I set up my own developing lab in my basement."

"I know." A wealth of innuendo infused his voice.

I was there.

Lara could practically hear those unspoken words, obvious in his sultry expression, the inviting tilt on his handsome lips, the smoky look in his eyes.

Be careful, she warned herself. Don't fall for him again. He's not the commitment type.

The next thing she knew, he'd risen from the stool to come around the island and smoothly glide behind her. He planted his feet on either side of hers. His hands flattened on the countertop, and she noticed muscles rippling in his strong forearms where he'd casually rolled up his shirtsleeves.

"We were standing together like this," he said, "in your darkroom. You were showing me the trays with different chemicals you used to develop the photos. Something about seeing you share your passion under that dim red light…I had to touch you."

Mirroring his motions from that steamy long-ago moment in time—forever branded in her memory and emotions—he stroked his hands along her sides, shaping his palms to her contours. She swallowed a sigh of longing.

His attention still felt thrilling, enticing, dangerous in a daring way. Something about an unavailable bad boy never failed to make a rule-following good girl swoon. Pure, volatile temptation.

"I swept your hair to the side like this," he said, reenacting the experience in real-time, "before I kissed the back of your neck."

When his lips touched her, Lara shivered. Her skin tightened pleasurably from her scalp to her toes curling in her high-heeled boots.

How could he still have the same compelling effect on her, all these years later?

Now, like back then, she completely forgot what she was doing, lost all awareness of her surroundings. Distracted by the heat coursing through her veins and the fluttery sensations swooping through her belly.

He set her on fire.

The fingertips of his other hand trailed up her arm and goosebumps scattered. Her body betrayed her determined detachment when desire curled through her abdomen invisibly beckoning her.

"Have you ever fantasized about how it would feel, again, if I kissed your neck like this?" He dragged his open mouth down the column of her throat. His hot breath coated her neck in a fine mist.

The tip of his tongue flicked a pulsing vein. She held onto the steadiness of the counter since her knees had turned to slush.

"Because I have. I remember your taste, how good you feel in my arms."

He gripped her hair and tugged until her head rested on his shoulder. His free hand traveled a bold path over her ribs, between her breasts, and the tips hardened in response. His thumb dipped into her cleavage before his fingers swept up to nudge her chin toward him.

His forearm flattened against her hip bones, pressing her back against his hard body. Damn him and his wicked charm, his uncompromising seduction.

No mistaking the ridge of his powerful erection. Her mouth went dry with yearning. Despite their sensual explorations years ago that had introduced her to pleasure for the first time, they'd never been naked together.

Would that change tonight? Did she want it to?

She leaned into him, cupping a hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him toward her. "I've missed you."

"What did you miss?" he asked, holding back instead of delivering the kiss she craved.

She turned into his arms. "Everything about you?"

As they shared a smile, he leaned his forehead against hers and then kissed the tip of her nose.

The intoxicating presence he surrounded her with was far more potent than the wine. "I have a question."

Noticing the determined look in his eyes, she backed away a few inches and said warily, "Then I guess I have an answer."

"When you were with your boyfriends, did you ever think about me?" His warm hand traced the shape of her neck exposed to him before his strong fingers kneaded the tension at the base of her scalp.

Sinking into the divine sensation, she sighed.

"Is that a yes?"

Unwilling to give away her secrets, she licked her lips. "Maybe."

Leaning down, he traced her earlobe with his mouth, steam curling inside the delicate shell. "Did you ever wish it was me touching you instead?"

His brazen question troubled her as much as it turned her on.

What if she had? He hadn't reached out after she'd moved. He hadn't pursued her. So why was that any of his business?

She wasn't hung up on him or anything. Years had passed, she'd had other lovers, lost her virginity along the way, but their summer fling had ended when she'd moved to Colorado. She thought she'd put her attraction to bad boys behind her.

She peeked at him through her lashes.

His heavy-lidded eyes seared her, the color of a stormy sea, leaving no doubt about how much he craved her, wanted to consume her. His stare traveled straight into her soul.

"Tell me you don't want this," he whispered against her parted lips. "Or I'm going to kiss you. And I don't plan to stop."

"You know what they say about best-laid plans," she murmured. "They don't always work out the way we intend."

His gaze turned sultry at her challenge. "Intentions are for those who hesitate. I know exactly what I want. What I've wanted for a damned long time. Too long."

Then he sealed his mouth over hers in hot possession, claiming her.

A whimper of uncertainty mixed with desire caught in her throat. Then his kiss melted all lingering traces of doubt.

"I want you, Lara." He pressed the heel of his hand to her lower back, cupping her backside with a territorial squeeze.

How many other girls—and women since their brief teenage indulgence—had felt their knees go weak when he said those words? His gorgeous face, outrageous sex appeal, and take-charge bad-boy charm made an irresistible combination.

She didn't actually want to know the number—dozens, hundreds?—she just wasn't sure how cautiously to guard her feelings against eventual disappointment when he got bored and moved on.

"From what I recall," she said, "you were good at leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. I don't want to add mine to that list."

The atmosphere turned from steamy to serious. His eyebrows drew together over an intense, sincere look she'd never seen from him.

"I guess I've earned your caution, given my history. But I haven't gone on a date in six months. I'm not looking for just someone to spend a Saturday night with. I want one woman I can do anything with, every night."

His admission radiated with sincerity. He seemed regretful, even distressed over her assumptions.

He trailed his touch along her back as he looked into her eyes. "I want you, Lara." He sighed. "Part of me has known that for years. Forever? I just never thought I'd find a path back to you." He sweetly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I never stopped thinking about you…wanting you."

"Do you mean that?" And if he said he did, was she a fool to believe him?

Then again, what man would drive like a bat out of hell across counties, and willingly put his own life in danger to protect her, if he didn't care about her?

"I mean it," he said. "Would you give me a second chance to prove I can be the man you deserve?"

"Starting tonight?"

An endearingly hopeful light filtered into his eyes. He nodded.

"Then, yes."

With her admission, she felt an unexpected sense of peace surround her heart, dismantling the protections she'd always kept in place to guard against disappointment.

Ironically, her first experience with him had offered her lessons both in caution and in valuing her own self-worth. That learned wariness had served her well when she'd navigated through subsequent relationships, helping her recognize when something wasn't right. She'd known when to walk away from toxic situations. Without knowing it, he'd contributed to her understanding of her own self-worth and the value of setting healthy boundaries.

He'd been a typical self-absorbed teenage boy. There'd been no malice in his actions. Only the gratification of sexual curiosity—on both their parts. They hadn't thought about the future or where their actions might lead. They'd chosen to focus on that moment—that idyllic summer—until the moment had ended so abruptly and he'd allowed her to disappear from his life without a word of protest.

But tonight, she found the courage to trust the man he'd become. And she wanted to spend the night with him.

The wound he left is the wound that would heal.

Her Sunday online meditation group would be most impressed by her personal insights. Just last week, the meditative prompt had been a Rumi quote: The wound is where the light enters you.

Considering the devoted, repentant look in Dominic's eyes, she felt she could release the past. She could enter into new possibilities with him.

Since her external life had fallen apart today, she craved a glimpse of certainty and the comfort he offered in his strong arms. She could let go…and feel safe.

"I want you, too," she said, guiding his mouth to hers.

Passion sparked in his gaze a moment before he angled his head and kissed her deeply.