Merry wore suits, no ties. His suits were nice. They fit him well. They always complimented his coloring. They made the statement he took his job seriously. Even though he wore them extremely well, what they didn’t do was make the statement that he was up his own ass and knew how hot he was.

And earlier, he’d been in one of them, a dark gray one with a midnight-blue shirt that didn’t do much for him in the muted light of an alley, but I’d seen him in that combo before, and with good lighting, the shirt specifically did fabulous things for his eyes.

Now he was not in that suit.

He was in jeans, boots, a button-up shirt, and a leather jacket.

Apparently, you didn’t go man hunting all dressed up.

I filed this away with the other useless but interesting information in my brain and headed to my door.

I had it unlocked and opened, the storm door the same, and I was holding it slightly ajar with my hand by the time Merry made it to my stoop.

Eyes to me, he pulled it all the way open.

I didn’t hesitate to shift back.

He didn’t hesitate to walk right in.

He kept his fingers splayed on the glass of the door to soften the noise it’d make in closing. Once it clicked, he turned his head so he could pay attention while he locked it.

I shuffled back further to give him room to clear, close, and lock the front door.

He did this and turned to me, dipping his chin down.

“They get him?” I whispered.

“Yeah. Marty tackled him behind the Dairy Queen.”

Something about this made me want to laugh.

I didn’t laugh.

I asked, “Everyone okay?”

“It’s all good, sweetheart.”

I nodded, letting the tension ebb out of me.

In the subdued light that stretched from the kitchen, I saw him look toward the hall.

His gaze came back to me. “Ethan asleep?”

I nodded again. “Had trouble findin’ it, but he got there.”

“Good,” he muttered.

I stood there and Merry stood there. I stared up at him as his eyes moved over my face.

Then he looked over my head into the room as he asked, “You get any rest at all?”

“No.”

His head jerked slightly and his eyes cut back to me.

“Please, fuck, baby, tell me that piece is registered.”

“I bought it in Ohio.”

His mouth got tight.

Ohio liked their guns and the easy ability of people owning them, and Merry obviously knew that fact.

“And, uh…Colt told me as long as I don’t carry it, I’m good.”

“Colt knows you got it?”

I nodded.

“He show you how to use it?”

I shook my head.

His mouth got tight again.

“Jack showed me,” I shared quickly.

He sighed.

Suddenly it dawned on me this was weird, precisely the fact he was there at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Shit, what happened?” I asked, moving closer.

“What happened is, I got a call that reported an armed man was at large within blocks of your mom and your boy.”

Oh God. Oh shit.

Damn it, Merry.

Automatically, I moved closer, putting my hand to his stomach.

“Merry,” I whispered. Just that. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Spending the night, Cher.”

I felt my eyes get big at this declaration, but I didn’t speak or move.

“With you in your bed.”

Oh God.

“And if you don’t lock that handgun away when you’re not sittin’ vigil to look after your kid, we’ll be goin’ to sleep after I make your ass red for bein’ all kinds of stupid.”

I felt my eyes get squinty and I spoke then. I also stepped back.

“You think I’d have an unsecured firearm in my home with my kid?” I snapped.

“Lock it up. You don’t need yours out when I got mine.”

Okay, we were back on rocky ground.

“Merry, I—”

Abruptly, he moved. Hooking me at the back of my head, his face was in mine, and at what I saw in his eyes, I stopped speaking and concentrated on breathing.

“Shut your mouth. Get your piece. Lock it up. And come to bed.”

“I’m not real sure what’s goin’ on right now, gorgeous,” I said carefully. “But my boy’s in this house and—”

“What’s goin’ on,” he cut me off to start and he didn’t let up, “is tonight, you learn you got a man who gives a shit in your life, shit goes down in the night that more than likely would never touch you, but it’s still goin’ down and we both know shit happens, you don’t sleep alone. You don’t because he doesn’t sleep alone. He sleeps where he knows you’re safe. So get your fuckin’ gun. Lock that fucker up. And come to bed.”

I liked that. I wanted that. I wanted to learn that in a way it sunk so deep, I wouldn’t even remember there being a time when I didn’t have it.

And none of that was smart.

“Merry—”

“Now is not the time to fight me, Cher. I been out in the cold with a gun in my hand and a vest on my back, huntin’ a man with my brothers. A desperate man, prowlin’ through family neighborhoods. A man who demonstrated he’s all right with pullin’ a trigger. In a situation like that, anything can happen, to me, to one of my brothers, or to some random citizen who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s done, so right now there’s one thing I need. And right now, I’m askin’ you to shut your mouth and give me what I need.”

What he needed.

Him sleeping where he knew I was safe.

No man, not one my entire life, needed that from me.

Or wanted to give it to me.

So what the fuck did I do with that?

“Cher,” he growled an impatient prompt.

“All right, all right,” I snapped, pulling my head from his hold. “Keep your pants on.”

I moved to the gun. I grabbed the gun. I went to the kitchen and turned out the light. I walked to Merry, by Merry, and down the hall.

I felt Merry at my heels and he stayed at my heels until we hit my room.

I heard him close the door.

I went to my closet, shoved the beaded curtain that hid my shit aside, and reached high to my safe that was on a shelf.

Nothing was in that safe but Ethan’s birth certificate and our social security cards, so I hadn’t bothered locking it up after I got the gun. I shoved the gun in, locked it, and went back through the beads.

I stopped at the sight of a barefoot Merry, leather jacket on the floor, shoulder holster with gun lying on the nightstand, his hands and shoulders moving to shirk off his unbuttoned shirt.

There was a lot of goodness that was Merry that I’d discovered the previous Friday.

His body was definitely a part of this.

I knew he had sinewy forearms because I’d seen him in tees. Those sinews writhed with movement in a way that I had to guard against watching or it would put me in a happy trance I might never want out of.

This, I’d learned Friday night (or actually Saturday morning), was just a hint at the tall, lean mountain of goodness that was Merry without clothes.

I would struggle to rank my favorite parts (outside of one in particular, which was obvious). He had great everything—shoulders, chest, biceps, abs, the hip V, his thighs.

But however that list came about, special mention would have to be made to the dark hair he had on his stomach. Not a heavy mat across his chest and down. The hair started on the upper ridge of his abs, spreading out and down, sparse and enticing.

It got better as it gathered and thickened at the center of the second ridge, down more, more, more, like a line on a map with the arrow at the end, pointing at buried treasure.

And one could definitely say the arrow at that particular end pointed to serious buried treasure.

“Babe.”

I started, my eyes darting from his crotch to his face.

Even though he caught me checking out his package, all he said was, “Tired.”

I nodded and moved to him.

I was barefoot too, in my jeans, tank, and bra from work. I stopped a couple of feet from him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was twisted to turn out the lamp beside my bed.