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Freya’s world had imploded, and now she was trapped in a car with the most insufferable man in the Northern hemisphere. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the band of pain that circled her head with little success.

The search for the thief at Hellisheidi had been exhaustive, but ultimately fruitless. The theft of the laptop had been surgically precise. Hellisheidi’s firewalls were state-of-the-art, supposedly impenetrable, but all communication systems had been disabled remotely. Emergency protocols had failed to engage, and backup systems had remained stubbornly silent. Every inch of the power plant had been combed, from the labyrinthine ventilation system to the sprawling grounds, but the intruder had vanished, taking the laptop and the data with him.

With the laptop gone and no immediate leads to pursue, there was nothing left for her to do. Despite her vehement protests, Abe had insisted on escorting her home.

She sat as far away from Abe as the car seat would allow. It wasn’t far enough. She could still see the dark hairs on the back of his hand, the way sinew and muscle flexed as he drove to her rented house.

They rode in tense silence. Alone.

Fox had stayed behind at Hellisheidi, dealing with the boxed archival data, while Abe played a reluctant chauffeur. Home, shower, pack, then Norway tomorrow. The trip she’d anticipated for weeks now felt hollow.

Where was the laptop now? Across borders already? The thought twisted her gut. Even with military-grade encryption, the risk was unbearable. What if they cracked it? The most dangerous military research in years, in the wrong hands. Lives at stake. All her fault.

She stared at the landscape rushing by—stark volcanic rock, ashen dirt. Here and there, stubborn vegetation fought through the unforgiving ground.

Survivors.

Fighters.

Like me.

Hot tears threatened. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let Abe see her crack. But the truth bore down on her. She’d failed to protect research that could destroy countless lives.

Encrypted or not, the danger was real. And it was out there, slipping further away with each passing second. She tugged her coat cuffs down, covering her hands. A futile gesture against the chill inside her.

“Cold?” Abe’s glance was brief, but the concern in his dark eyes lingered. “I can turn up the heat.”

She blinked, surprised. Most men would have written her off by now, fed up with the increasingly complicated situation. But Abe was different. Steady. Unwavering. A trait that probably made him excel at his job.

“No, I’m fine.” She sniffed, tasting salt. And then because rudeness wouldn’t change anything, “Thank you.”

The engine’s soothing purr filled the silence between them. Maybe she should use this time together to understand the man so determined to keep her safe. “Einar says your team is the best for this situation. I’m trying to trust the process.”

A slow smile crept onto his face. She looked away, not wanting it to thaw the anger in her bones. Not yet.

“Well,” he drawled, “I guess Einar must be right.”

“You’ve dealt with Raptor before.” She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“That we have.” His mellow accent played over her frayed nerve endings. There was a hint of something Southern she hadn’t noticed before. “Lucky us.”

She took a guess. “Texas?”

“You talking to me now?”

“There’s not a lot else to do in this rolling fortress.” She made a wild wave at the car he’d bundled her into with some spiel about bulletproof glass and Run-flat tires. The inside was plush, luxurious and despite herself, she wanted to sink into the butter-soft charcoal-gray leather and sleep for a week.

“Not big on social niceties, are you?”

His words pricked her conscience, needling a vulnerability she’d rather keep hidden. She shifted uncomfortably. “They’re overrated. In my experience, they impede doing a job well.”

“Is that right?” His voice remained maddeningly neutral.

She pressed her tongue behind her front teeth, swallowing a retort. She was used to being the collected one, the voice of reason. But something about Abe threw her off-balance, like walking on shifting sand.

“Maybe you need a little more practice?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps we can focus on the job you’re being paid to do?” Stay in your own lane.

Abe rolled his hands on the steering wheel, then tugged the indicator stalk as they turned into her road. “Just as well you’re nearly home, huh?”

He pulled up in her driveway. The house she had rented was a modest but sturdy one-story building. Its corrugated metal siding was painted a soft blue-gray that mirrored the often turbulent sky. Right now, the triple-glazed windows reflected the last golden rays of the setting sun. A small porch housed a bench where she’d sat on several bitterly cold evenings to watch the Northern Lights dance across the sky.

Abe killed the engine. “Nice place.” He was out and at her door before she could unclip the heavy-duty seatbelt.

“That belt sticks.” He reached across her. “Here, let me help you.”

“No. I’m f—” Her protest died as he gently nudged her hand aside and popped the belt free. A tingle raced across her skin where his fingers had grazed hers.

She reached for her bag, but Abe was just quicker. He scooped it up, offering it while extending his other hand to help her from the car.

She stared at his free hand, her cheeks igniting. “I can?—”

“It’s a big step. Humor me.” The quirk of his lips softened his words.

Impossible man. Freya slid her hand into his, adrenaline spiking through her system. His hand engulfed hers, heat radiating from him like a furnace.

Her feet hit the ground and for a beat, his hand remained locked on hers. The contact was unnerving.

The few relationships she’d had with men in the past had been purely physical—she’d long resigned herself to her inability to connect on any deeper level. Affection had never been on the cards and she’d made her peace with that.

But Abe’s touch, one of simple comfort, stirred something unfamiliar.

She tugged her hand free, fumbling in her bag for her keys, desperate for distraction. “Just let me find my keys…”

Abe strode toward her front door. “ Freya .”

The warning in his voice made her look up.

“Did you leave your porch door open?”

Her hand clenched around her keys, cold metal biting into her palm. “No. I didn’t.”