Page 44 of Dead Bled Ringer

“Come out, brother,” he said as the light suddenly dimmed in the truck too. “Usually you’re so eager to get right in my face. What’s changed?”

He motioned me to stay against the motorcycle, then moved forward.

I knew what had changed as I watched this big man stalk silently toward the truck. He had been suppressing every inch of his power out of love for me.

And now it was unleashed.

There was a clattering noise from the other end of the yard, and Hunter walked silently, so silently with those massive boots.

“I’m here,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “You seemed upset. Come tell me all about it.”

Hunter was being too cocky, way too cocky, because Henry wasn’t beaten yet. . .

I clutched the hammer tighter in my slick hands, and my heart was in my throat when I saw Hunter bend over and peer in the window of his truck, like he thought Henry was in the back seat or something.

But Henry wasn’t there.

He was sneaking up behind his brother, massive pit stains shining in the moonlight, the wrench raised high.

“Hunter!” I shrieked, darting forward and flinging myself desperately in front of Henry and that heavy wrench he was aiming directly at his brother’s head, because apparently it was absolutely necessary to me that Hunter not die. . .

I jerked wildly at Henry’s arms and he shook me off with a snarl as I swung my hammer. But I was too late andthe wrench was heading directly for the back of Hunter’s skull!

Then Hunter twisted around and blocked Henry with one big tattooed forearm, knocking the wrench away as I connected the hammer with my husband’s ribs.

“I could see him in the car window, baby girl,” Hunter said exultingly as Henry staggered away, moaning in pain.

He pulled me into his arms, kissing me thoroughly and well, tasting like sin and me. “I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Asshole!” I cried, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shirt.

“I’m very flattered you want me alive,” he said, “even though I look like Henry.”

Tears began to fill my eyes.

“I could never confuse the two of you ever again! I’ve been in love with you without even knowing it,” I murmured. “All the moments that made me cling to my marriage with Henry—you. All the moments that made the rest of the time worth it—you. My heart bursting with love when he sat with me for hours in the hospital playing games while my grandma recovered—you. It was you all along. I love you, Hunter.”

He crowed with triumphant laughter and kissed me again, pulling me into his arms so my breasts and belly and hips were squashed tightly against his hard, powerful length, and I felt breathless with hope.

This man loved me.

“Look at this sorry asshole,” Hunter said thoughtfully, pulling his twin up by the scruff of his neck. “I don’t know if I have enough self-control to not kill him.”

“No!” I cried. “Take his balls if you want. But I don’t want you going to jail. Besides, after what we did last night, I’m going to need to take a pregnancy test soon, and I’ll bedamnedif you’re an absent dad.”

Henry yowled unhappily, but Hunter’s grin was triumphant, as he kissed me again.

“I love you,” he murmured against my mouth. “My Angel.”

“I love you too,” I gasped back. “I love you, Hunter.”

And then, hand-in-hand, we dragged my husband over to the workbench, then Hunter held him down by the throat and separated his balls from his body with a neat, elegant chop.