"You touched her," comes a voice like gravel being crushed underfoot. Deep, dangerous, more growl than words.
What happens next blurs into violence. The massive shadow—a man, I realize, though he moves like something not entirely human—slams the bounty hunter against the opposite wall. I catch glimpses of him in the dim light: tall, broad-shouldered,with a dark beard and eyes that reflect the meager light like an animal's.
The bounty hunter fights back, but it's like watching a mouse struggle against a mountain lion. Brutal. Efficient. The crack of bone makes me flinch.
When it's over, the hunter slides down the wall, moaning but alive. The mountain of a man turns to me, and I press myself harder against the brick, as if I could somehow melt through it.
He steps closer, and God help me, he's even bigger up close. Six and a half feet at least, shoulders straining the seams of his jacket, thick arms corded with muscle. His face is all sharp angles softened only by the dark beard streaked with silver. Rain drips from his hair, running down his face.
"You're Beck." Not a question.
I nod, unable to form words. The pie bag is crushed against my chest.
In a move so quick I barely register it, he scoops me up against his chest like I weigh nothing. One massive arm under my thighs, the other supporting my back. My hands instinctively grip his shoulders—hard as stone beneath the wet leather jacket.
"W-what are you doing?" I finally stammer.
His eyes—dark, so dark—lock onto mine. "Taking you somewhere safe, little girl."
My entire body shivers at the way he says those two words.Little girl."Put me down," I protest weakly. "I don't know you."
He starts walking, carrying me through the rain like I'm precious cargo. The bounty hunter's moans fade behind us.
"Name's Gray," he rumbles, his chest vibrating against my side. "And you're safe now, little girl." His grip tightens possessively, and his next words send electricity down my spine. “Because I’m not letting anyone touch you.”
Little girl.The term echoes in my head as he carries me into the fog, away from the life I've been barely living. I should be terrified. I should be fighting.
Instead, for the first time in months, I feel something dangerously close to safe.
two
. . .
Gray
The first timeI saw Beck Monroe's picture, it was like taking a bullet to the chest. The bounty file slid across my desk—standard job, decent payout—but the photo stopped my breath. Those wide hazel eyes. That soft mouth. The way she looked straight at the camera like she was seeing into me. Sixteen years hunting the worst scum across state lines, and suddenly I didn't give a shit about the money. I had to find her first—not to cash in, but to claim.
I glance at her now, curled into herself in my passenger seat, still trembling. Rain hammers the roof of my truck as we climb higher into the mountains. She hasn't spoken since I put her there, just keeps her eyes fixed on the dark road ahead, occasionally darting glances my way like a cornered animal.
Good. Let her be afraid. Fear keeps her close. Fear keeps her alive.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice is small but steady.
"Somewhere safe." My knuckles are still bloody from the prick who tried to cuff her. Should've broken more than his nose. "My cabin. No one knows about it."
No one but me and the deer that sometimes wander through the clearing. It's been my sanctuary for years. Now it'll be her prison. For her own good.
"Are you..." She swallows hard. "Are you a bounty hunter too?"
I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Yeah, baby girl. I am."
Her soft gasp at the pet name goes straight to my cock. Christ, she's so fucking innocent. Been watching her for weeks now—the way she jumps at loud noises in the diner, the way she double-checks locks, the way she walks with her keys between her fingers. Prey behavior. She has no idea what a real predator looks like.
She's looking at one now.
The truck's headlights cut through the pounding rain as we turn onto the unmarked dirt road that leads to my place. Trees close in on both sides, branches scraping the roof. Her breathing quickens.
"I'm not who they think I am," she whispers. "There's been a mistake."