"And if that doesn't work?"
"Then we draw him out."
"You mean use me as bait." It's not a question.
"As a last resort. And only with your consent, with a plan that guarantees your safety."
I appreciate that he doesn't lie to me, doesn't offer false reassurances. "Have you done this before? Protected someone from a stalker?"
"Yes," he confirms.
"How did it end?"
His eyes darken slightly. "The first time, the stalker is currently serving twenty years in a federal prison. The second time, he didn't survive the extraction."
The clinical way he delivers this information should frighten me. This man has killed to protect his clients. Probably more than once, given his background.
Instead, I find myself oddly reassured.
"I don't want anyone to die because of me," I say quietly.
"That's why we're doing this carefully. Legally. Working with the authorities."
"But if it comes down to him or me?"
"That's not a choice, Nova." His voice is hard as granite. "Not for me."
The intensity in his gaze makes it difficult to breathe. There's something primal about the way he's looking at me that hints at the kind of man he is at his core.
A protector. A guardian.
A predator protecting what he considers his.
I look away first, unsettled by my own reaction to him. I've spent my adult life surrounded by beautiful people. Actors, musicians, models. Men who make their living on their looks and charm.
None of them has affected me the way Finn McKenna does with a single look.
"You should try to sleep," he says again, his voice gentler now. "I'll wake you before we land."
This time I don't argue. The adrenaline of the morning is wearing off, leaving me hollow and exhausted. I recline my seat and close my eyes, listening to the steady hum of the jet engines.
"Finn?" I say without opening my eyes.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For coming to get me."
There's a pause, and I almost think he's not going to respond. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, "Get some rest, Nova."
I drift toward sleep, feeling safer than I have in months. Whatever is hunting me, whatever danger waits on the ground below, it can't reach me here. Not with Finn McKenna standing guard.
My last conscious thought is that I might be trading one form of danger for another. Because the way Finn looks at me is its own kind of threat.
Just not the kind I want to run from.
I wake to the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder.
"We're beginning our descent," Finn says, his voice low and close to my ear. "Time to wake up."
I blink against the light streaming through the windows.
The sun is high in the sky now, illuminating a landscape unlike any I've seen before.
Mountains stretch in every direction, massive and imposing against the horizon.
Forests of dark green cover their slopes, broken occasionally by meadows or rocky outcroppings.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, pressing my face closer to the window.
"It's home," Finn says simply, but I can hear the pride in his voice.
As we descend, I get my first glimpse of the airport. If you can call it that. It's little more than a strip of tarmac in a valley, with a single building that looks like it might house a dozen people at most.
"That's where we're landing?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice.
He nods. "Private airfield. It’s used mostly for wealthy tourists heading to ski resorts or hunting lodges. No commercial flights. Minimal staff. Perfect for our needs."
The landing is smooth, despite the small runway, a testament to the pilot's skill. As the engines power down, Finn is already on his feet, gathering our minimal luggage.
"Stay close to me," he instructs. "We'll be met by a driver I trust, but the less anyone sees of you, the better."
I nod, pulling a baseball cap low over my eyes and slipping on large sunglasses. It's not much of a disguise, but it's all I have.
Finn leads me down the stairs of the jet and across the tarmac toward a waiting SUV. The air is crisp and clean, so different from the smog of Los Angeles. I breathe deeply, savoring the scent of pine and open space.
"Finn McKenna, you old bastard." A man steps out of the SUV, grinning widely. He's older, maybe sixties, with a weathered face and sharp eyes that miss nothing. Including me. "And company."
"Joe." Finn nods, his posture relaxed but alert. "Thanks for the pickup."
"Anything for my favorite spook." Joe's eyes flick to me again, curious but not intrusive. "Ma'am."
"Joe," I reply, keeping my voice neutral.
Finn loads our bags into the back of the SUV, then opens the rear passenger door for me. "Joe's an old friend. Former Special Forces. He knows the drill."
I slide into the backseat, and Finn joins me rather than taking the front passenger seat. Keeping himself between me and any potential threat, I realize.
"Three hours to your place?" Joe asks, starting the engine.
"That's right. And Joe?"
"Yeah?"
"We were never here."
Joe's eyes meet Finn's in the rearview mirror. Some silent communication passes between them.
"Who was never where?" Joe replies with a wink and pulls away from the airfield.
As we drive away from civilization and deeper into the wilderness, I find myself stealing glances at the man beside me.
In the bright Montana sunlight, I can see details I missed on the plane.
The faint lines at the corners of his eyes.
A small nick on his chin, probably from shaving.
The way his hands rest easy but ready on his thighs.
Hands that have likely both taken lives and saved them.
Hands that are now responsible for mine.
"Stop staring," he says without looking at me. "You'll make me self-conscious."
Heat rises to my cheeks. "Sorry. Professional hazard. I've spent my life being stared at. Sometimes I forget it's not always welcome."
"I didn't say it wasn't welcome." His eyes meet mine briefly. "Just that you'll make me self-conscious."
Is he flirting with me? No, impossible. This is purely professional for him. I'm a job, a responsibility, a paycheck.
But there's something in those blue eyes that makes me wonder.
"So this is Montana," I say, changing the subject. "It's more beautiful than I expected."
"City girl surprised by nature. Film at eleven."
I laugh despite myself. "I'm allowed to appreciate beauty."
"Yes, you are."
There's something in his tone that makes me look at him sharply, but his expression gives nothing away. This man is impossible to read.
We fall into silence as Joe navigates winding mountain roads, climbing higher into the wilderness. The SUV is comfortable but built for function rather than luxury, much like the man sitting beside me.
"Tell me about your brothers," I say after a while, curious about the family he briefly mentioned.
He glances at me, considering. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything. How many? Are you close? What do they do?"
"I have five brothers. Yes, we're close in our way.
As for what they do." He pauses. "Sawyer's the sheriff in Grizzly Ridge.
Elias is a game warden. Boone's the fire chief.
Luke builds custom homes. Cade was Delta Force, now he does carpentry work.
We all ended up in jobs where we protect people or build things. "
"And you protect people."
"Yes."
"It must be nice," I say softly. "Having family so close. People you can trust completely."
"It is."
I feel his eyes on me, studying my expression. "What about your family?" he asks.
"My mother manages my career,” I explain. “My father left when I was six. No siblings."
"Close with your mother?"
I hesitate. "We work well together."
He notes my careful wording but doesn't press. Smart man.
"And friends?"
"In my position? Hard to know who's a friend and who's just there for what I can give them."
"Sounds lonely."
The simple observation hits harder than it should. "Fame usually is."
He doesn't offer empty platitudes or pretend to understand. He just nods, accepting my truth without judgment.
"We're about twenty minutes out," Joe calls from the front seat. "Want me to stop in town for supplies?"
"No," Finn answers immediately. "I've got everything we need at the cabin. We'll do a supply run later this week if necessary."
Joe nods, and we turn off the main road onto a narrower one that seems to climb straight up the mountainside. The trees thicken around us, creating a natural barrier between the road and the outside world.
"This your property?" I ask.
"Not yet. About five more miles."
The road gets rougher, and I find myself gripping the door handle as we bounce over what feels like every rock in Montana.
"Sorry about the road," Finn says, noticing my white knuckles. "I keep it this way on purpose to discourage casual visitors."
"Effective strategy," I mutter as we hit another bone-jarring rut.
He almost smiles. Almost.
Finally, we reach a gate. Heavy metal, clearly electrified, with security cameras positioned strategically around it. Finn pulls out a phone I haven't seen before and presses his thumb to the screen.
The gate swings open silently.
"Welcome to the middle of nowhere," Joe says cheerfully as we drive through.
The road improves immediately once we're past the gate, smoothing out into a well-maintained gravel drive that winds through dense forest. After about half a mile, the trees open up to reveal a large clearing with a cabin sitting in its center..
But "cabin" doesn't do it justice. This is a fortress disguised as a rustic mountain home. Two stories of massive logs and stone, with windows that I'm certain are bulletproof. A wraparound porch with strategic overhangs for cover. A metal roof that would shed snow easily in winter.
It's beautiful. Imposing. Secure.
It's exactly what I would expect from Finn McKenna.
"Home sweet home," Finn says, and I hear something in his voice I haven't heard before. Pride. Contentment. Belonging.
This is more than a safehouse to him. This is his sanctuary. And he's bringing me into it.
The SUV comes to a stop, and Finn is out and around to my door before I can reach for the handle. He opens it for me, offering his hand to help me down.
The moment my feet touch the ground, I feel it. The absolute silence of true wilderness. No traffic. No planes overhead. No distant voices or music or the constant hum of civilization.
Just mountain air, pine scent, and a silence so profound it makes my ears ring.
"It's so quiet," I whisper, afraid to break the spell.
"It is," Finn agrees. "You'll get used to it."
I'm not sure I will. I'm not sure I want to. There's something terrifying about this silence. Something that makes me feel small, exposed, and vulnerable in ways the noise of my regular life never did.
But there's also something liberating about it. Like I can finally hear myself think for the first time in years.
"Come on," Finn says, picking up our bags. "Let's get you settled."
Joe honks once as he turns the SUV around, heading back down the mountain. And then it's just me and Finn McKenna, standing in front of his fortress in the wilderness.
I take a deep breath and follow him up the steps to the porch. Whatever happens next, however long I'm here, one thing is certain.
Life as I know it is officially on pause.
And maybe, just maybe, that's not entirely a bad thing.