Page 23 of Ace (The Deuces Wild #4)

“Stay down,” her very own guardian angel hissed even as he raised his face from the crown of her head to glare at the backyard, now littered with burning debris.

Savannah had no choice but to lie flat, pressed to her back like she was.

Closing her eyes, she sought after the soft flutter of worried cockatoo wings and the shrill shriek of panicked parrot voices for reassurance.

The birds had been frightened by the noise, but overall, they weren’t worried.

The explosion had been noisy, but it was confined to the rear of her house, not the entire structure.

Which meant someone had planned it to go off when she and Keller entered the rear door. And that someone was still watching.

She found it hard to focus when her cup felt suddenly filled to overflowing instead of empty. But it was true. Ever since she’d met Keller, her life seemed—more. More unpredictable. More dangerous.

There was a reason they kept being thrown into each other’s arms. It was as if some cosmic energy was afoot in the universe, and they were destined to spend time together. She was his and he was hers, and she knew it. She could almost see Gran Mere’s coy smiling face.

Savannah couldn’t have let go of Keller if she’d tried.

She found herself presented with the impressive underside of Keller’s neck and chin.

Her treacherous fingertips curled against the pad of her thumb, fighting her need to stroke the tawny panther hulking over her.

Maybe scratch behind his ear. Listen to him purr. Or growl .

Yet even if this were nothing more than a deliciously dangerous wet dream, Savannah was content to lay there, pressed against the hard concrete by this stern, unyielding man. Especially now that she knew her birds were still safe and accounted for.

Everything about Keller declared king of the jungle.

He was the epitome of masculine power. Sleek, hard, and lethal.

Like a big cat on the hunt, he bristled with deadly intent, ready to pounce.

If her burning home were the sun, he was its core, hot and ready to lash out with a flare so powerful it would incinerate whoever had dared destroy her home.

But where was his gun? She turned her head enough to see the pistol clutched in his right hand, his index finger curled into the trigger guard.

Lifting one hand, she cupped Keller’s jaw to calm the rage shuddering off him. Tantalizingly aware how his hips cradled hers, of the impressively hot and solid steel spike digging into her belly, she breathed into his ear, “Do you see anyone out there?”

“No, but I can sense them. Him. There’s just one,” Keller growled as he stuck his chin toward the barns. “Can’t you hear the dogs? They’re frightened, but they know he’s out there, too.”

She honestly couldn’t hear her dogs, not with the wall of Keller’s arms bracing her head.

Certainly not after his voice turned into the sexiest baritone she’d ever heard.

It rendered her deaf and blind the second it struck her tympanic nerves, right before it cascaded over the rest of her instinctive, feminine receptors.

Her nipples stood up like tiny cheerleaders, pressed hard against the flat wall of masculine muscle, giving him a rowdy, ‘Rah! Rah! Rah!’

Adrenaline was indeed a heady aphrodisiac.

It not only blinded a woman, but it tempted Savannah to do things she wouldn’t ordinarily dream of doing.

Like ripping his clothes off. Biting him.

Everywhere. Here. Now. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly gone crazy with desire, beating to get out.

To climb all over him. Into him. While her house still burned.

Lying there inside the all-encompassing barricade of his arms, pressed beneath his slightly sweaty, testosterone-amped body, with her ear against his thundering heart, Savannah found herself bursting with ten gallons of pure lust. She was that hidden, barren cove on a lonely dark shore.

He was the crest of the incoming tide with silvery ribbons of moonlight laced on its crest. Surging over her.

Gushing into her. Drowning her in a heady, swirling sensation of—life.

She had to say something before she kissed him. “I should go to them. They’re scared.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he snapped without sparing so much as a quick glance down at her.

Keller Boniface was a magnificent sight to behold, so Savannah beheld.

He meant for her to live, and he meant to die to make it so.

How could she dismiss love like that? She couldn’t.

Savannah had never felt safer. More certain.

This was how he showed his love. He protected.

He fought for the people who meant the most to him. He’d die for her.

Closing her eyes, she let her inner sight seek out whoever had destroyed her home.

They hadn’t yet accomplished what they’d intended.

They were merely watching at this point.

She was frightened, but she’d bet they hadn’t expected to run up against a federal agent. Bullies weren’t that kind of brave.

Ah, there he is. A male. Standing in the shadow just under the eaves at the far side of the cat barn.

Thinking he was invisible. Tall. Wretchedly thin.

Dark-eyed but pale-skinned. Evil incarnate twitchy, like he needed a fix.

Or like he’d just realized who and what he was up against, and that he’d made himself a target.

Stretching her neck to see around Keller, Savannah ended up pressing her lips to the soft underside of his taut chin instead. She breathed in the luscious scent of manly sweat and bourbon and tobacco. Of him...

“Do you mind?” he bit out, ever the strait-laced federal agent just doing his job.

Yet there on her concrete patio with the heat of her burning home radiating over her like a gigantic oven, Savannah didn’t mind at all.

“Look toward the far end of the cat barn,” she told him quietly.

“See the man in the shadows? He planted the bomb and he set it off. But he’s not the one behind everything that happened today. He’s just the tool.”

Keller’s manly jaw slid forward in defiance, exposing more luscious neck. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I can see,” Savannah said as she breathed deeply, oddly aroused when she should be angry or scared or—anything besides romantic. “I have the same sight as Gran Mere. ”

“Got him.” Keller stretched his weapon forward and bellowed, “FBI. Drop your gun and— Oh no, you don’t!” His right arm flexed as he fired three deafening shots.

Wincing from the thunderous noise, Savannah cried, “Wait! Was he armed?”

“Ah-huh, twelve gauge. Long barrel.”

“A shotgun?” Why hadn’t she seen that?

But Savannah knew. She hadn’t seen because she’d been distracted by Keller.