LITMIR.BIZ

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      Bang!

      The sound sent adrenaline coursing through her blood.

      She glanced back, saw the storm door lifted by the wind.

      Bang!

      The door slammed again, and a dark figure appeared around the corner of the house. Tall. Obviously masculine. Coming toward her with quick, decisive steps.

      She sprinted to the shed.

      “Arden DeMarco!” the man yelled, his voice carrying over the sound of the crashing surf and wind.

      She reached for the shed door with shaking hands, yanked it open just as he grabbed her shoulder.

      Arden was ready for him.

      The youngest of five children, and the only girl, she’d learned to hold her own early on—her brothers had made sure of that. And what they hadn’t taught her, ten years of mixed martial arts training had. Without hesitation, she pivoted, grabbing his hand and twisting it at an unnatural angle.

      He released his hold, giving her just enough space to throw a punch. He dodged at the last minute, her knuckles just brushing his jaw. She pulled back, aiming for his throat this time. She’d practiced this move dozens of times. She knew it cold, but Sebastian hindered her movement and the man was quicker than she expected, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm down before she could land the blow.

      “Enough!” he growled. “I’m just here to—”

      She threw a left hook. Her fist connected.

      She knew what he was there for. Or she could guess. He was too well trained to be anything but a government operative or a hired assassin.

      If he felt the blow at all, he didn’t let on. Instead, he raised his arm to block her next punch.

      “I said, enough,” he muttered, his foot sweeping out, catching her ankle as she dodged. She stumbled backward, managed to somehow regain her balance. He reached for her again, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and pulling her toward him.

      * * *

      Arden was small, agile and packed a surprising punch for her size. But Kane Walker had spent more than ten years in the Special Forces as part of the army’s elite Night Stalkers airborne brigade, and she was no match for him.

      Not that he planned to keep fighting her.

      He’d come to bring her home.

      She was going. Whether she liked it or not.

      “Arden, your—” he began, but she was obviously in no mood to listen.

      She yanked away, took a stance he’d seen dozens of times when he’d sparred with her brother Jace. She attacked with Jace’s signature move. It was almost indefensible.

      Almost.

      He took a calculated step forward, got his knee behind her leg and swept her toward the ground. If she’d been an enemy, he would have added a punch to the chest or nose to speed her descent; instead, he grabbed her arm as she flew backward, slowing her fall. She hit the ground with a thud anyway.

      “How about we call a truce?” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Jace didn’t have me track you down so we could spar.”

      “Jace?” She got to her feet, eyeing him through the darkness. He doubted she could see his features in the unlit yard. Even if she could, she might not be able to place his face. They’d met a few times in the past. Mostly when he’d joined Jace on home leave.

      “Your brother’s worried about you.”

      “And you know this because?” she asked, her shoulders tense, her hands fisted.

      “I’m Kane Walker. Your brother’s—”

      “Business partner,” she finished.

      “Right.”

      “So, Kane,” she said, sidling along the shed she was backed against. Unless he missed his guess, there was another door in and she was going for it. “Why’d Jace send you when he could have sent any one of my brothers?”

      “You’ve hit the FBI’s most wanted list.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      “The Feds are watching your entire family. Since you and I are barely acquaintances, I’m not on their radar.”

      “Yet.”

      “Yet,” he agreed as she shimmied to the corner of the shed, pivoted and took off.

      He snagged her pack, yanking her backward with enough force to throw her off balance. “I thought we were done sparring, Arden.”

      “You need to leave.” She spun around.

      “Not without you.”

      “Let me make this perfectly clear: I’m not going anywhere with you. Make this easy on yourself. Go back to Maryland. And tell my brothers that I’m fine.”

      “Jace told me to bring you to Grayson—you can deal with the FBI together.”

      “Jace is going to be very disappointed.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

      Actually, she crossed them over her bulging stomach. He frowned, eyeing the mound under her coat. It wiggled.

      “Carrying a passenger?”

      “My cat.”

      “Might have been a good idea to leave him home. Microchips can make it difficult to drop completely off the grid.”

      “I’m aware of that,” she said.

      “Yet you brought him to the vet anyway,” he pointed out.

      “I was worried,” she said defensively, her left hand reaching up to cradle the mound under her jacket. “Though it really was an unfortunate turn of events that the Lubec Veterinary Clinic uses microchip scanners.”

      “I guess that depends on your point of view.” For Kane, it was just the break he’d been waiting for.

      She stepped past him, acting like she was going to go ahead and do what she’d been trying to since he’d arrived—leave.

      “I hope you’re not thinking that you’re going anywhere without me.”

      “I’m not thinking it. I’m doing it.”

      After nearly six days without a lead, he’d arrived in this snowy ocean-side town under no delusion that getting her home would be simple. She knew how to hide, and she knew how to fight. According to Jace, she also had a tendency to be dogmatic in her approach to things and often unwilling to compromise.

      “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. I’m bringing you home, so we’re going to have to stick together from here on out.”

      “Sorry, that doesn’t work for me. I prefer solitude to company,” she said, tugging open the door to the shed.

      He pushed it shut again. “I prefer cooperation to animosity, but we don’t always get what we want.”

      “You’re in my personal space,” she responded, ignoring his comment. “How about you get out of it?”

      He stepped closer, tired of the wordplay and anxious to get her away from the property. “Now you’re in mine.”

      “Personal space is the variable and subjective distance at which one person feels comfortable talking to another. If you want to speak with me, you need to back away.”

      He almost cracked a smile. Almost.

      She wasn’t looking for a chat. She was looking for an escape route. He could see it in her eyes. Her body language.

      She was Jace’s sister through and through. If the black hair and blue eyes weren’t a dead giveaway, the stubborn set of her

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