“You’re not leaving. I told you that.” She worked to keep the calm in her tone to counter his fury. “I’m going to shoot.” “It’s time to put your gun down, Noah.” “His blood will be on you.” Rook made eye contact with her and mouthed, Shoot. Him. She had no shot and said so with the smallest head shake.”

“He trailed his eyes down over her beautiful breasts then told her, “You’re going to keep your mouth shut and I’m going togive you that Orgasm you asked for.” He thought for a moment she was going to tell him to get lost, but instead she leaned her head back against the wall and pushed her hips out toward him.”

“He’s the kind of man who if you gave him a gun and told him he had two choices—“shoot one of your dogs or shoot yourself in the head”—he’d put the gun to his ear and pull the trigger.” “Hell, Jules, you’d do the same thing if someone did that to you and your goddamned cats,” Blake said in amusement. “No,” Julian murmured with a shake of his head. “No, there’s a third option. People like us, we’re third-option people. We take the gun, stuff it in the person’s mouth, and eliminate the problem. Walk off into the sunset with our kitty.”

“Ochoa pulled the door and held it open for her. Nikki pivoted around the jamb, squaring her aim up the hall. She stopped, still holding her combat stance, shook her head, and mumbled, “Mother...” ...Rook was standing halfway up the hall with Paxton snugged behind him holding the gun to his head. He looked at Nikki sheepishly and said, “So, I’m gonna guess it’s Noah.”

“Time seemed to stand still as they remained embraced, him holding his body weight on his elbows as he looked down at her and grinned. “Now that’s a vacation.” She laughed and then his grin fell and he shook his head.“Like a couple of horny teenagers with no thought of tomorrow and no thought of protection. We should both be shot.” “Can you wait until the glow leaves me before you shoot me?” she asked. He smiled down at her. “You are glowing. You look gorgeous.” “It’s the look of a sated woman.” “I like it.”

“It’s alright, Kitten,” Bones said. “He won’t shoot.” Tate lowered his gun, even as the sudden dizziness from blood-loss made me sway. Bones took my gun and casually handed it to Juan, who gapped at him in amazement. “You called her Kitten? And she let you? She put me in a coma for three days when I called her that. My balls never recovered from her smashing them into my spine.” “And well she should have,” Bones agreed. “She’s mine. Kitten, and no one else’s.”