LITMIR.BIZ

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didn’t take long. He’d been ready for a long time, sublimating as he tended to her fears. Now it was all focused on him, only she found herself wanting more. Selfish, she knew, but she wanted to kiss him.

      She didn’t. She just moved her hand faster, pumping his flesh, waiting until every muscle in his body tensed, his head jerked back, his legs shook.

      His hand went to her wrist, stilling her.

      “It’s all right,” she whispered at the shell of his ear. “I’ve got you.”

      He let go.

      When he came, it was quiet. Banked so tightly, she wondered if it physically hurt him. She continued to move her hand, but far more gently now. Releasing him wasn’t easy. She walked to the second sink, washed her hands then dampened a washcloth. She handed it to him. He didn’t say anything, or even look at her.

      Feeling suddenly shy, she turned her back to him while she dressed. It felt weird to put on her jeans, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

      When she turned around again, he was in everything but his shoes. “Boone?”

      Finally, he looked at her. Straight on. With his elegant green eyes and his dark, thick lashes. “Yeah?” he asked.

      “Thanks.”

      He breathed in and out, his nostrils flaring slightly. Then he gave her that half smile of his. “We’re a team.”

      She smiled back. “You bet.”

      “I’m gonna do another quick check of the house. You want to come, or stay in here?”

      “Come.”

      “Let’s lock and load.”

      HE WATCHED THEM,WISHINGhe could move the cameras so he could see her better. She was losing it. The blood had been a stroke of genius. And when he killed Boone in front of her eyes? That would be the crowning moment of his plan. She’d be his, then. And she’d do exactly as she was told.

      THEY MOVED THE MATTRESS FROM the guest bed to the floor of the living room. Christie never left his side. When he went to the kitchen, there she was. When he ran his equipment around the front door, she stood patiently waiting, even though he knew she had to be exhausted. The physiological comedown from the shock of finding the blood would drain her of energy. Add to that the bath and the massage, and she should be out cold.

      He was counting on that. He needed to look at his video, and he didn’t want to wait until morning. If there were any chance of identifying this asshole, he wanted it now.

      He had to keep pulling himself back to the job, ignoring what had happened in the bathroom. It didn’t mean anything. She’d given him comfort, just as he’d given that to her. And it was done. Over.

      The house checked out, although Boone didn’t have the same confidence in his equipment after the break-in. He just kept things low and slow, and if the geek was watching, he wouldn’t see anything Boone didn’t want him to see.

      Unless there was some kind of camera Boone couldn’t detect in the bathroom. But then, even if it did give him the major wiggins, if the geek had watched them in there, so much the better. It would inflame him to make a move, to make a mistake. Which was not something he was going to share with Christie.

      She finished putting the covers on the mattress while he got out a flashlight and set it where she could find it easily in the dark. Everything was done. All that was left was bed.

      Jesus, it had been unbelievable with just her hand. What would it be like to have it all? To take what he really wanted?

      No, no. Hold it, soldier. He’d gone into that bathtub to give her what she needed. Safety. Comfort. Relaxation. It hadn’t been about sex. He hadn’t even touched her in any sensitive areas.

      He wasn’t used to this. Where he traveled, the way he lived, there was no safety. Very little comfort. And relaxation usually came after a lot more alcohol than he cared to admit. But he was responsible for this woman. For keeping her alive and well.

      She made it awfully tempting, though. Even with her skinny legs and her tiny little wrists, she got to him. It hurt, how badly he wanted to squash that bug of a geek who was after her. In order to do that, he had to keep his eye on the prize. He had to get her ready, make her an ally, not a liability. He had to incite the geek to rage, to make him come into the trap. And he had to make sure he was on task 24/7.

      Unfortunately, the way to get the geek into position was going to seriously test Boone’s ability to stay focused.

      “Hey, you okay?”

      Boone blinked. Christie was standing by the bed, hands on her hips, hair all over the place. He smiled, but only for a second. “Let’s get some sleep.”

      “You’re one weird dude, you know that?”

      “It’s been mentioned.”

      “So that’s it? We just go to sleep?”

      “Best thing we can do,” he said as he stood up, to the dismay of Milo. “We need to be sharp. All in.”

      “Well, for that, I’d need to have a month in Tahiti—is that on your agenda?”

      “Sorry, wish I could help.”

      She sighed. Looked down at her feet. “Ever slept in your boots, Boone?”

      “More times than I can count.”

      “I guess sneakers shouldn’t be a problem, huh?”

      “I think you’ll be okay without them. Just leave them untied and ready to go.”

      “Nah. If they keep me awake, I’ll reconsider.”

      “Sounds good. Now climb in.”

      She looked around her house, then at Milo. “Come on, boy. You get shotgun. Pardon the pun.”

      Milo walked around the bed, delicately sidestepping the overhanging covers. He turned in two circles, then curled into a ball, watching Christie with clear, clever eyes.

      Christie pushed back the covers and climbed in. She pulled them up her neck, but Boone could see her discomfort, even underneath the blankets. He didn’t blame her, but he hoped her exhaustion would take precedence over her fear. The only thing he could give her now was a body and a weapon at the ready. He slipped off his shoes, and he moved in next to her.

      She faced Milo. Boone faced the front door. He could hear her breathing, could feel her tension. Milo licked some part of his body for longer than seemed necessary, and then, after a soft chuff, fell silent. Boone went through the scene again. Not the one in the bathroom. The one in her bedroom.

      He went step-by-step through each move the geek would have taken to make it happen. He thought about where he’d put the camera and where he’d put the microphones. Boone knew without a doubt that there would be no fingerprints, no trace evidence at all. The fake blood was easy to make from common ingredients found in any supermarket. Even if the geek jerked off, which he probably had, he’d have been careful about that, too. No evidence. Nothing for the police.

      But this asshole didn’t fear the police. He didn’t fear anything. Because he knew more than the cops. He was a spook, a ghost, someone who’d been into the tradecraft long enough to learn the tricks and the traps. But he was unstable, a stalker. Which probably meant he was an ex-spook.

      How had he met Christie? At a party? A bar? She may have smiled at him once, in passing. Sometimes that’s all it took for a stalker to become obsessed. Or maybe it had been more. A date, several dates.

      Nate had said she was picky, that she didn’t suffer fools. She’d probably dated the geek, didn’t like what she saw, and she’d kicked him to the curb.

      Christie shifted, and he stopped breathing so he could listen. He had no idea how much time had passed since they’d laid down, but it was evidently long enough for her to find

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