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Britt's first indication that he wasn’t alone inside the small barn was the hairs on the back of his neck lifting in warning.

And in that moment, it was less about training and more about instinct—ancestral knowledge lodged deep in the very nuclei of his cells told him to get ready to act.

His eyesight sharpened in the stygian gloom. His nose twitched with the smells of rusting metal and molding hay. His ears heard every sound as if blasted through a megaphone—the creak of the wood on the siding as a breeze blew by, the squeak of a field mouse in the back corner, and his breathing going slow and steady.

Before he’d begun his furtive trip across the field, he’d unzipped his jacket to give himself easy access to the sidearm strapped tight against his rib cage. But he didn’t have time to slip it from his holster before the air shifted around him. Before he felt the cold steel kiss of a gun barrel on the back of his head.

If there had been a mirror in front of him, it would’ve reflected the quick upward twitch of his lips.

Rookie mistake , he thought as his training took over.

In one lightning-quick move, he spun. His hands made contact with the weapon, twisting so it snapped around at one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. If his assailant had had his finger on the trigger, it would’ve easily hyper-extended the digit and then just as easily snapped it in two.

He realized two things as he gained control of the pistol and pointed it between the eyes of the guy who’d tried to sneak up on him. The first was that his attacker hadn’t had their finger on the trigger. There was no added resistance as the weapon changed hands, no bark of pain as bones broke. The second was that his would-be assailant wasn’t a man but a woman.

Not just any woman.

The woman.

Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking her diminutive stature or the way two locks of hair had escaped her messy, windblown bun to hang next to her cheeks and softly frame her face. The whites of her eyes stood out in the gloom. And the defiant tilt of her chin had him fighting a responding smile.

He may have caught her off guard but hadn’t bested her. She wasn’t beaten. Quite the contrary, her stiff posture and glittering gaze challenged him to do his worst.

He lowered the pistol…er… her pistol, pointing the deadly end at the ground. Her eyes followed the movement, and he thought he detected the muscles in her jaws twitching a second before she lifted her chin, her gaze slicing through the dark to clash with his.

And there it is , he thought. That undeniable… something.

He could feel it stretching between them . Pulling at them.

She wore her rage as easily and clearly as he’d once worn a military uniform, and he imagined he could see the waves of challenge rolling out of her.

In contrast, he adopted a casual tone. “Fancy seeing you here, Agent O’Toole.”

He had assumed she’d hopped on the chopper with the others. He hadn’t seen her do it because he’d ducked deep inside the log when two searchers shined their flashlights all over his hidey-hole. Now, he chastised himself for not waiting to ensure no one other than the two tactical team guys had stayed behind.

“I thought you’d be on that helicopter with the others. Reckoned the bloodhound in you wouldn’t let you give up the chase for the bad guys.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say in response, but it certainly wasn’t, “You kissed me, you motherfucker.”

Ah, yes. The deepest depths of my betrayal.

He understood. It would have been one thing if he’d simply lied to her. But it was something else entirely to have used her desire against her.

To his chagrin, her mere mention of that kiss had his blood warming and running south of the border. But, for the time being, he ignored the little head in his pants to fully utilize the big one hanging off the end of his neck.

The way he saw it, he had two options. He could beg for forgiveness. Which would likely prove futile even though he actually was sorry he’d taken advantage of her. Or he could play the role she’d already assigned him. That of an unscrupulous asshole.

He went with option number two.

“I did kiss you,” he admitted with a blasé shrug. “And if I were more of a gentleman, I might apologize for that. But since we both enjoyed ourselves immensely?—”

When she opened her mouth to argue, he shook his head. “Don’t do yourself the disservice of claiming otherwise.” He stepped forward, invading her space. He wasn’t surprised she didn’t take a step back. Instead, she tilted her piquant little chin and shot daggers at him through her narrowed eyes.

God, she’s glorious , he admitted as her subtle perfume invaded his nostrils and had his jaw hardening along with…other parts of his body.

“Because I remember how hungry you were,” he continued relentlessly, his gaze dropping to her generous mouth. “How… hot you were.” He intentionally added the pause and the emphasis.

They both knew he wasn’t talking in generalities. One very specific part of her had been flaming hot…and sopping wet.

His words made her nostrils flare. Made her jaw set at a sharp angle. If rage had a physical form, it would be Julia O’Toole.

Fine. Good. She can hate me , he told himself. If she hated him, she’d stop him from pulling her into his arms and attempting a repeat of what they’d shared in the kitchen.

It was taking everything he had not to give it a try.

“If I were fifty pounds heavier, I’d kick your ass up between your shoulder blades and then rip off your dick and make you eat it,” she snarled, her chest rising and falling in angry huffs that drew his eyes to the delicate hollow at the base of her throat.

He wanted to press his lips there. Taste the warmth of her skin until the flavor was imprinted on his brain. Drag his tongue over the little divot to hear her gasp and whisper his name.

“You’re welcome to try, sugar pants.”

Her right eye twitched. “Did you just call me sugar pants?”

“It was my second choice.”

Her chin jerked back. “What was your first choice?”

“Sexiest woman on the planet.”

She snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I’m onto you. This thing…” She waved a hand between them. “It’s smoke and mirrors. Just an act that I was dumb enough to fall for.”

“Bullshit,” he spat, offended she’d discount what was so clearly obvious between them.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a smart woman. You know better than to peddle bullshit.” He took that last step, stopping when the tips of his biker boots kissed the toes of her duty shoes. “This thing?” He touched his chest before placing his palm flat over her chest. He wasn’t a mammoth like Graham or Hew. But his hand looked huge against her small frame. His fingers rested on one side of her slim throat while his thumb rested on the other. He could feel the brutal hammer of her pulse. Feel the delicate warmth of her skin that beckoned…no, it absolutely begged to be explored. “Ain’t no way to fake it. Everything else may be a lie. But this ?” He ducked his chin so they were on eye level. So she could see the absolute truth glittering in his gaze. “This is real.”

The light of battle shining in her eyes melted into longing. Her mouth fell open slightly, giving him a ball-tightening glimpse of her delectable pink tongue.

For a split second, he thought she might go up on tiptoe and kiss him. Might give in to that… something that seemed to be constantly pulling them together like opposite ends of a magnet.

He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved when she turned away instead.

The hand he’d placed on her chest fell to his side, and he shoved it into his jacket pocket. Her body heat had branded his palm, and the softness of her skin lingered on the calluses of his fingertips. He wanted to hold onto both sensations. Protect them. Savor them.

Why does this woman have such a hold on me? he marveled.

It wasn’t because she was beautiful. He’d known plenty of beautiful women. It wasn’t because she was brilliant—although he’d always been attracted to brains. And it wasn’t even because she was frisky and funny and fabulously sexy.

It was because he couldn’t have her and because, for the first time in his life, he wished things were different. Wished he were different.

When she moved toward the door, alarm bells rang in his head and drowned out his shouting thoughts. He didn’t know where the remaining tactical team members were, but he sure as shit couldn’t have her alerting them to his presence.

“Don’t take another step,” he warned, his fingers curling tightly around the grip of her gun.

It was a large weapon for such a small woman. But he wasn’t surprised. Julia was one of the most capable individuals he’d ever met. The kind of woman who’d grown up in a man’s world and, through grit and determination, had clawed her way to the top.

Of course she’d carry a pistol that’d put a grown man flat on his ass with one shot.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head until she was staring at him over her shoulder. Even in the darkness, he could see how her eyes tracked down to the weapon in his hand.

He hadn’t raised it, but the threat was there nonetheless.

“Or what?” she challenged. “You’ll shoot me?”

“Never.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He saw surprise briefly flash in her eyes before she shuttered her expression. “But I can’t say the same thing for the men still out there searching for me. If it comes down to them or me, I won’t hesitate.”

He didn’t include that he’d go for shots that maimed rather than killed. Admitting as much would lessen the strength of his threat.

Turning toward him fully, he watched as she tucked all her anger and betrayal into the corner of her heart. Her clenched fingers unfurled, and the righteous light of fury dimmed in her eyes, leaving only cool calculation.

Gone was the hotheaded, red-blooded woman.

In her place stood the calm, collected federal agent.

“Where is your brother?” The question was so direct that he was momentarily taken aback.

Before the idea fully formed—and certainly before he’d thought through all the repercussions—he blurted, “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

“Wh-what?” she blinked.

“I’ll take you to my brother,” he reiterated.

Her eyebrows pinched together over her nose, emphasizing her disbelief and making him think how damned adorable she looked when she was in FBI agent mode. Then again, she looked damned adorable in family picnic day mode and wrestling with her dogs on the front lawn mode and clipping her cat’s nails mode and…well… any mode, really. Because she was damned adorable. From the tips of her delicate toes to the top of her old-money blond head, she was the most delightful creature he’d ever crossed paths with and?—

His thoughts had spiraled wildly, but her question had him crash-landing back into the conversation. “Why would you do that after everything you’ve done to keep him away from me?”

“I wasn’t trying to keep him away from you . It’s the organization you represent. There’s more going on here than you realize. My brother is innocent.” He frowned when it dawned on him that wasn’t entirely true. And he was done misleading Julia. “Well…” He offered her a weary shrug. “As innocent as an ex-con can ever be. And I can prove it to you.”

He saw the light of curiosity spark in her eyes. But her face remained expressionless. “If that’s true, he would’ve gone to his handlers the moment Cooper Greenlee died. Instead, he ran halfway across the country. Innocent men don’t run.”

“They do when they can’t trust their handlers,” he countered easily. “They do when someone inside the joint task force gives them up and reveals their covers to the cartel.”

The emotionless mask she’d donned slipped. “Who?” she demanded. “Who outed them?”

Taking a deep breath— there’s no going back now, Rollins —he let her weapon dangle from his finger by the trigger guard. Holding it out to her as a peace offering, he said enticingly, “That’s what I’m hoping you’ll help me figure out.”

She took a hesitant step forward. She eyed him like a mouse watching a snake when she lifted a hand toward the weapon he offered.

“Take it,” he said softly. “It’s yours.”

In a flash, she snatched the weapon and spun it around so that the deadly hollow eye aimed center mass. She was smarter than she’d been before. This time, she kept more than an arm’s length of distance between them.

“Why should I believe anything you say?” Her nostrils flared. “You had no problem lying to me this morning.”

He watched her closely for the span of a dozen heartbeats. Noted the lovely way her breasts stretched tight the top button on her blouse. And decided he would give it to her straight and risk pissing her off further because he needed her to know. Needed her to realize this one fundamental truth.

“Now’s probably not the time to split hairs.” He shrugged. “But I never lied to you.”

“The hell you didn’t.” Her grip on the pistol was rock steady.

“You asked me when Knox called me the last time,” he explained, keeping his tone even. “I told you the truth when I said it’d been months since I talked to him on the phone.”

“You’re playing the semantics game with me?” Her jaw sawed back and forth. “Seriously?”

“I’m hoping to make you understand that, yes, I may have taken advantage of your wording and answered in a way that, while truthful, was also misleading. But, Julia…” Her lips parted oh-so-delicately when he said her name. “I never lied to you. I will never lie to you. That’s a promise.”

Her mouth snapped shut as she narrowed her eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he said simply. “But regardless of whether or not you believe me, the way I see it, you have two choices. You can arrest me, hold me, and miss out on the chance to figure out the truth about my brother. Or you can trust me, come with me, and help me blow this entire case wide open.”

He reached for the sidearm concealed beneath his jacket to sweeten the deal.

“I will shoot you,” she warned, instinctively putting more distance between them.

He lifted his hands, palm out. “You certainly weren’t of a mind to do that when you pressed that there bang stick against the back of my head.” He hitched his chin toward the gun in her hand. When she frowned, he clarified. “Your finger wasn’t even on the trigger. If it had been, your lovely little digit would be pointing ninety degrees in the wrong direction.”

Why did he feel so smug about that? About knowing she hadn’t wanted to kill him?

“Yeah, well.” She snorted. “I learned my lesson. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“If you humor me, I’m about to give you a second weapon that you can use to end me,” he assured her. “You know, if you decide you’re of a mind to.”

The creak of the barn’s siding sounded particularly loud as she watched him, debating. Then, she nodded. “Pull your jacket wide so I can see your every move.”

It was too dark for her to see his every move. But he refrained from pointing that out. Instead, he used one hand to pull the flap of his jacket wide, revealing his shoulder holster and the Berretta M9 it held.

Using only his thumb and forefinger, he carefully unsnapped the safety strap and slowly pulled out the sidearm that had seen him through the Black Knights’s hairiest missions.

This is my gun. There are many like it. But this one is mine.

The rifleman’s creed shouted through his head—that iconic little ditty made famous by the Marines. It went against the grain, every soldier’s instinct, to give up his weapon. But the situation called for a sacrifice. And for Julia’s sake, he was happy to make it.

Holding the butt of the gun gingerly between two fingers, he offered it to her.

Her gaze flicked from his pistol to his face. He hated the distrust he saw in her eyes. Hated that he’d given her any reason to think he’d double-cross her. And he wasn’t surprised when she snatched the weapon from his grip only to point it straight at his chest.

Now he had two pistols aimed center mass.

Lucky me.

“It has an ambidextrous external safety lever,” he explained calmly. “So you can disengage it from either side.”

“I am a trained agent,” she snarled. “I know how to use a handgun.”

“Okay.” Once again, he lifted his hands, palms out. “It’s just that I noticed you carry a Glock 19, which has the double trigger safety instead of the external lever, so?—”

“I might shoot you just for being a condescending asshole.”

His lips twitched, but he wisely shut his mouth.

For a couple of seconds, they simply stood there, staring at each other through the darkness. He watched her seesaw with indecision, and she watched him for any false move.

He didn’t make any.

When her shoulders finally relaxed, he figured it was time to put the cherry on top of the sundae. “It’ll be one hell of a feather in your cap if you’re the one to uncover the rat inside that joint operation. And since you’re in the business of putting bad guys behind bars, think how good it’ll feel to pull a reverse Uno card and keep an innocent man outside of them.”

He breathed a secret sigh of relief when she finally lowered both weapons. “You’re lucky my natural curiosity always gets the best of me.”

Warmth spread through his chest. He offered her a wide grin. “In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.”

She didn’t disappoint. She immediately picked up on the quote from A New Hope . But she didn’t come back with a quote of her own. Instead, she said, “Okay, Obi-Wan. So you’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”

“Now we ride out of here so I can introduce you to my brother.” He looked expectantly at the rusting truck.

Her gaze followed his. Skepticism colored her face. “There’s no way that thing’s engine works. I’ll be surprised if it even has an engine.”

He hadn’t been sure either. But he’d ducked his head under the front bumper to get a look at the truck’s condition in the seconds before she’d pushed her pistol into the back of his head. To his delight, instead of seeing rusting metal and frayed wires, he’d spied a recently replaced crankshaft and a brand-spanking-new battery.

He gently patted the hood. “Don’t be so sure. The Millennium Falcon wasn’t much to look at. But she made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”

Annoyed by his continued effort to make her smile, she shot him a dirty look.

Hey, that was better than shooting him in the chest. He’d take it.

After opening the passenger door—and wincing slightly when the rusty hinges groaned—he motioned for her to climb inside. She hesitated, just for a moment. Then she holstered her weapon, slipped his pistol into the pocket of her suit jacket, and slid easily onto the threadbare bench seat.

Had it not threatened to draw the tactical guys' attention, he would have whooped in victory. Instead, he quickly skirted the hood, climbed into the driver’s side, and pulled down the visor.

No keys.

He next tried the glove box, the ashtray, and the top of the dash and came up empty-handed each time.

“Guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way,” he muttered as he popped off the plastic casing around the steering column.

Thumbing on the flashlight still taped around his forearm, he shone the beam onto the exposed wires before slipping his multitool from his pocket. When he flicked open the knife, Julia edged closer to the door, her hand automatically going for the weapon she’d stowed in her holster.

“Easy,” he told her, doing his best to concentrate on the scents of aged metal and spilled oil so he wouldn’t get distracted by the faint smell of her perfume. “I’ll give you my multitool after I finish.”

She didn’t say anything, but he heard the breath she released. He took that as his cue to proceed.

After finding the correct wires, he quickly stripped their insulation. True to his word, as soon as he was finished, he folded the knife back into the casing and handed it over.

A part of him thought she might wave him off. After all, what was a multitool against two pistols? But she didn’t hesitate to snatch the gadget from his hand and slip it into her jacket pocket.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Then he sobered and said, “And now it’s time for some quid pro quo.”

Her expression hardened. “I should’ve known this deal was too good to be true.”

He refrained from thinking too long about how easy it would be to slide across that bench seat, take her in his arms, and prove she’d been a fool when she’d so easily dismissed the electric connection that sparked between them.

“You need to toss your phone.” When she balked at the idea, he pressed on. “I can’t have your colleagues tracking you before I show you my proof.”

Her jaw sawed back and forth in indecision.

He made one last promise. “If you want me to drive you to the nearest phone after you’ve talked to Knox, I will. You can call in the cavalry to come get you. And I’m hoping, by that point, you’ll be willing to keep our location a secret until we can clear Knox’s name. But that’ll be up to you.” He offered her his most charming grin. “See? I’m willing to take a chance on you. How about you take a chance on me too?”

Her voice was rough when she said, “You’re asking me to give up my one tether to the outside world while I let you take me to god knows where.”

“You’re the one with all the weapons,” he countered.

She searched his eyes. She must’ve found something to convince her he was telling her the truth because she blew out a windy breath and slipped her phone from her fanny pack. She used the old-fashioned lever to roll down the window, then slid her cell phone through the breach. He heard it hit the dry dirt floor of the barn with a soft thud .

“Not that we’re likely to be going anywhere,” she said after she rolled up the window. “This bucket of bolts?—”

Her sentence died in her throat when he sparked two wires together and the truck’s engine turned over with a well-tuned purr.

“Gotta love country boys.” He patted the dashboard affectionately. “Their equipment might look like shit on a shingle, but it usually runs like a racehorse.”

She glanced at the exposed steering column and the dangling wires now illuminated by the light from the dash. “The Army Rangers teach you how to do that?”

He winced and admitted, “When your older brother gets his criminal start by boosting cars, you pick up a thing or two.”

And then, before the remaining tactical team members could give chase, he slammed his foot on the gas and burst from the barn. The truck’s nubby tires skipped across the gravel of the drive, forcing Julia to cling to the oh-shit bar bolted onto her door.

He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the two remaining tactical team members racing across the field in their direction. Their flashlights blazed through the night to meet the red glare of his taillights.

Fortunately, they were too far away to take shots. And it wasn’t long before the dust kicked up from the tires swallowed their images.

When he flew out of the driveway and onto the lane on two wheels, Julia screeched, “Where did you learn to drive?”

The laugh that burst from him was genuine. Despite how shitty his situation was, despite the danger to himself and his brother and the Black Knights, he had Julia O’Toole in the truck, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy.

“You’re one to talk, Miss Hasn’t Met a Curb She Doesn’t Like.”

“How would you know that?”

Shit.

He’d given himself away. Had broadcast the fact he’d been stalking her.

Thinking quickly, he turned the question back to her. “Am I wrong? Are you actually Dale Earnhardt in a dress?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when his distraction worked. “I rarely wear a dress. And isn’t Earnhardt widely recognized as a world-class asshole? I think I’m offended.”

He slid her a sly glance as he hung a right onto a county road. “That’s too bad. I bet you look amazing in a dress.”

She scowled at him. “Do us both a favor and keep your eyes on the road, Sergeant.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was grinning ear to ear.