Jude clutched the lighter to his chest, sweat rolling down his temple as the scene shifted.

He dropped his face into his hands. In the wake of this terrible exercise of connect the dots, he’d be goddamned lucky if he didn’t wind up at the bottom of the Atlantic. In five different oil drums.

Because a traitorous, murdering bastard was coming for him. No doubt about it.

If he had a whisper of a prayer of avoiding a grisly fate, he had to work fast.

His fingers flew on the keyboard, precious seconds being whittled away.

The door to his motel room burst open, hitting the inside wall like a gunshot. He spun, the SIG from the desktop already in hand, arm leveling at the leader of the traitor’s cleanup crew.

Too late. A pop split the air, and pain blossomed in his chest. He stumbled backward, managing to get off a shot, the explosion deafening in the tiny space. The leader went down with a grunt as he trained his gun on the second man, tried to squeeze the trigger. And couldn’t. His arm fell limp and useless to his side.

“Holy fuck, I’m losing my goddamned mind,” he rasped, wiping the sweat from his face. “I’m an artist. A painter. I open shelters for the abused. I don’t kill people, I don’t play espionage games in crappy hotel rooms.”

Do I?

Merciful God, this was worse than he’d thought. What sort of man was he? What had he been doing on all those trips? And why?

“Jude? How are you feeling?” Lily asked, her soothing whiskey voice cutting through the growing panic.

“A little out of sorts,” he said with a shaky laugh, sliding the lighter into his jeans pocket. He hadn’t heard her come in, but her presence was a balm on his nerves.

“What are you doing?” Her slight weight dipped on the bed next to him.

“Just sitting here… reflecting.”

“Oh? On what?”

He almost told her. He wanted to confide in her, but fear, self-doubt, held him back. “Nothing important. At loose ends and wondering what to do with myself, I guess.”

“Right this minute or in the future?”

“Take your pick.”

Scooting closer, she brushed his hair from his face. “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine.” Unable to help himself, he pushed into her touch. Kissed her palm.

“I’m not so sure about that. Jude, I want to tell you something. I know all about loss,” she said quietly. “Losing a part of yourself that hurts so badly you’re sure you’ll bleed out. And I’m not speaking of things like memory or sight, though those losses aren’t small.”

“Your father’s death?”

She froze. “How did you know about him?”

“I don’t, really. But when you mentioned him the other day, you spoke of him in the past tense.”

“I see.” She dropped her hand, and he immediately missed the contact. “Yes, my greatest heartbreak was my father. He was a shining light to everyone around him, kind and brilliant. He was a scientist, patriotic to the core, developing revolutionary new weapons technology that would’ve changed the face of American defense. And he was murdered for it before he could realize his dream.”

“Lily, I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She took it, curling her fingers around his. “So am I. I lie awake nights fantasizing about all the different ways there are to make traitors pay, men like the ones who snuffed his wonderful light. Is that wrong?”

“No.” He pulled her close. “In your position, I’d likely go one giant step further. With no remorse.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

She sounded so sad, he wanted only to erase her pain. She’d shared a part of herself he suspected she’d never divulged before, and he felt honored. Closer to her than to anyone since the day he’d met Liam, and still…

This was different. These burgeoning emotions inside him, the connection to the woman at his side. He couldn’t name them, didn’t care to.

But in his own way, he’d show her.

“Let me make love to you,” he said.

Her breath tickled his ear. “Please.”

She’d given him a gift. Now he’d give her one in return.

Something he’d given no other woman.

Ten

Watching Jude shed his jeans and shirt, Lily trembled inside. A profound bond had been forged between them. Not the one he imagined, but a bond all the same.

She’d had to explain to him about her father, allow him the opportunity to understand her motivations even if he’d never know the truth about why she needed absolution.

What part of him greed and evil hadn’t destroyed understood that she’d brave hell itself to eliminate men like those who’d murdered Brandon Vale.

Men like Jude.

Hard to believe; he was so beautiful. Muscles rippled under taut skin as he tossed his jeans aside, his cock hard and leaking. Green eyes glittered with desire, his strong jaw clenched. She couldn’t help but respond to him, crave him inside her. Her sex burned, nipples ached.

“I need you,” she heard herself say. “Now.”

“Your wish…”

She took his wrist and guided him to her. He pushed her onto her back and unzipped her skirt, pulled it down. Brushed her slick sex, ever so lightly.

“Sweet. Already hot for me.”

Next, he helped her off with her blouse, plucked each of her nipples to points. He grazed one, then the other, sucking while raking his fingers through her long black hair.

One palm skimmed her belly, delved between her thighs. He stroked, spread her dewy moisture over her sex, rubbed her clit. Sent electric sparks zipping to her nerve endings as she opened her legs wider, inviting more.

His lips lowered to hers in a kiss so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. As they kissed, his fingers parted her flesh, dipped inside, stroked in and out, preparing her.

“I want to feel you with nothing between us,” he whispered into her mouth. “No barriers, just our skin. I’m clean-I swear. Liam’s the only one…”

“I’m healthy, too. Jude, please.”

He crawled over her, positioned himself between her legs. His cock probed her opening, pushed into her heat. Deeper, every bump and ridge massaging her inner walls. So good, so right.

When he was fully seated, he braced his arms on either side of her head, cradling her close. Holding her as though she was precious to him, he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to feel each stroke to the fullest.

His back muscles flexed and rolled under her hands. His auburn hair curtained his face, full lips parted. Driving deeper, he tilted his head back, throat exposed. She couldn’t help but bite and kiss him there, tease the vulnerable area with teeth and tongue.

She reveled in him. His movements, his musky male scent. This wasn’t the wild, explosive fucking of before, but something far more meaningful.

“Mine,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “Mine.”

She’d never been so complete. Cherished.

This man was truly making love to her.

Thrusting in slow, sure rhythm, he drove them to the peak. Overwhelmed her like a spring storm, replenishing a barren desert. Strong and true, his passion carrying her with him over the edge.

“Oh, baby, yes,” he moaned, big body shuddering. “Yes.”

She arched into him, his name on her lips, clinging tight. Never wanting to let him go.

They came down together, Jude stroking her hair, kissing every inch of her face, petting and loving. He was such an affectionate man, in bed and out.

But only because he didn’t recall being any different.

Slipping out of her, he rolled to his back and gathered her into his arms. She settled her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He kissed her head, voice low and rumbly. Protective.

“Don’t even think of going anywhere.”

“Right now?”

“Or tomorrow, or the next day.”

She swallowed hard. “No worries there.”

“Good.” He let out a big yawn. “God, I’m tired already.”

“You’re probably still recovering from being sick. Do you still hurt?”