Page 73 of When He Defends

“You’re fucking beautiful, and you know it.”

She smiled at him. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

No, it wasn’t sweet. Maybe it would have been sweet if he’d left out the “fucking” part, but he hadn’t. Because he was gruff and rude, and he felt too big as he towered over her. Too big,too…wrong.Everything in his life seemed to have been about violence and pain, and Emerson—she needed something good. Something to light the shadows that came so often to her eyes. But he wasn’t light. He wasn’t good.

He also damn well wasn’t going to give her up. So, yeah, he was a bastard. He’d never claimed to be otherwise.

Emerson studied him. “Would you like for me to tell you that I think you’re fucking handsome?”

Her words caught him by surprise.

“Because you are.”

“Emerson.”

“Gray.” Her hand rose. Pressed over his heart.

Back away. Back. Away.He started to retreat.

Her hand fisted in his shirtfront. “So we’re going to stay here all night? Pretend to be newlyweds who can’t keep their hands off each other as we wreck this suite?”

That was one option. But… “When things quiet down at the resort, probably after midnight, we’re sneaking out. We’ll investigate the entire property. We’ll start by assessing all of the locations that River documented on her honeymoon trip.”

“Oh, Gray, you have the best honeymoon ideas.”

She wasn’t mocking him. She was dead serious. Excitement gleamed in her eyes. That was the thing about Emerson. She loved the hunt just as much as he did.

And he loved that about her.

Fucking hell.Gray’s breath hissed out. His hands clenched around the covers.

“Gray?” Worry crinkled her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

He shot away from the bed. Away from her. “Time to review the case files.” He backed up. Fast. A couple more extra steps.

“Now?”

“Now.” A thousand times now. “You need to become more familiar with the couples. Their backgrounds. Theirrelationships. You heard our friendly concierge manager. Over forty thousand honeymooners have swept into this place over the years. Why were our victims chosen from among them? What made them stand out? I want your take on their lives. You profile the victims. See what’s made them stand out.” He glanced at his watch. “We have a good four hours for review before I want to start searching the grounds. We have a job to do. Time to do it.” His head turned back toward her.

She sat straight up on the bed. “A job. Right. That’s what we have.”

Aw, hell. Now that was not what he’d meant. At least, not exactly. “Emerson…”

She rose. A whole lot slower than he had. “Something scared you.”

Yeah, you scared me.Not what he would admit. Ever.

“Want to tell me about it?”

He did not. Time for distraction. “Want to tell me how the rest of the conversation went with the senator once I left the limo?”

She hesitated near the bed. “Pretty much how you’d imagine. She told me I was wasting my time. That you were using me. That I’d be in danger if I went into the field with you. That this was not the life I needed.” A pause. “And that you were not the man I needed.”

That was just annoying. “And why not?”

“You’re too dangerous. Too unpredictable.”

So a guy had a few character quirks. Was that the end of the world?