Page 7 of When He Fights (Protector & Defender #3)

“He trusts you completely. Have I been living in your house all this time? Have I been paying rent to you ?”

He’d actually been keeping her rent in a savings account for her. “Told Gray that you didn’t need to pay a damn thing,” he groused.

“Screw that. I pay my own way.” She spun away and bounded up the porch steps.

He followed, after making sure that the perimeter appeared secure. When he crossed the threshold and entered the house…

Home.

His gaze swept over the rooms as he trailed her through the place.

She’d painted the walls. Refinished the wood floors.

Brought in all kinds of furniture pieces that were just—interesting.

They didn’t match, but yet, somehow, they did.

As if that made sense. Some antique pieces. Some modern. All felt warm. Welcoming.

All felt like…

Ana.

“I knew it was too good to be true. I mean, first off…the view is killer.” She gestured toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the house. A view that showcased the sandy shores that waited right across East Beach Boulevard.

The house was on a corner lot. Not on stilts.

Not that house and not the others near it.

They all sported giant yards dotted with massive oak trees that had twisted and bent, but never broken during the previous storms. The house was on a slab, elevated by the terrain, above the flood zone and far enough back that it should be safe from rising waters.

All the houses on this stretch should be safe.

Provided a too-powerful storm didn’t sweep into the area.

Should be. Should be safe.

Because wasn’t that the way life worked? You should be safe. As in…Ana should have been living her perfect dream. With her killer view. She should have never needed to know fear again. Except her bastard ex had managed a full-on Houdini routine.

He must have had help. Gray’s suspicion. Kane’s, too. They both wanted to track down that help. Especially with the leak at the FBI about her location. Hacking? Nah. Full-on leak.

“The view is killer,” she repeated, “and the rent should have been astronomical. But I got a great deal.” A snort.

A kinda adorable one. Or maybe he just found way too much about her to be appealing and adorable.

“I was desperate, so I didn’t question fate.

I was suspicious, though, when Grayson said the owner didn’t care if I painted the place.

If I refinished the floors. When he said I could do anything I wanted, I thought—well, that’s unusual.

Not typical at all with a rental, but, hey, I went with it.

” She huffed out a breath. Braced her legs apart and faced him.

“It’s your house. You’ve known I was here all along. And you never once reached out to me.”

He stepped toward her. Caught himself before he rushed at her. “You left your old life behind.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” An accusation.

She’d been whisked away in an ambulance. Taken to a hospital.

“You didn’t even look back,” Ana muttered.

Those words cut him to the bone. He’d looked back.

He’d freaking traveled to Gulfport over and over and stayed in the shadows.

Watched her as she jogged along the sidewalk in front of the beach.

As she did yoga at sunset. As she went to the ice cream shop that served the colossal milkshakes that she loved.

Fucking stalker, that’s me. As if that truth wouldn’t send her screaming from him. Kane sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I wasn’t part of your new life.”

“Yet here you are.” A nod. “Because…what? Surprise, surprise, my old life is trying to drag me under again.”

Yes. His gaze swept over her. Mostly because he was desperate to drink her in.

Ana. Delicate but determined. Golden skin.

Brown hair with faint, red highlights. Shorter hair.

Barely brushing over her shoulders. Cut in layers that framed her face perfectly.

Her eyes were still big and wide and soul-stealing.

Unpainted but full lips. Soft. Tempting. Cute little nose.

Toned body. High breasts. Legs that he knew—from personal experience—would feel great wrapped around him. They were only wrapped around me once, but they felt great.

“Grayson told me that he was sending me a guard. I might have hung up on him before he got to explain exactly who that guard would be.” A negative shake of her head.

“I have no idea why you drew the short straw and got assigned to me again. I’m sure there are dozens of agents or marshals or—or whatever—that he could send to me.

We will just ask him for a replacement.”

Yes, there probably had been plenty of other individuals who could have been assigned to her protection. But, they wouldn’t have done the job the same way Kane would.

Because, for him, it was personal. And Gray—tricky bastard that he was—knew that important fact. “Other agents aren’t me.” The other agents wouldn’t protect her the way he would. “I’m familiar with you. I know your secrets.”

She rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. “You knew me two years ago. You don’t know me now.”

His gaze slid away from her. Again, this was probably not the time to confess that he was kept updated on her life.

An emailed update arrived from Gray like clockwork every month.

To buy himself a bit of time as he tried to figure out how best to handle Ana, Kane strolled toward the large harp positioned near the left, front window.

“Switched to the harp, huh?” Something he’d actually already known.

He’d known exactly when the harp had been delivered.

He’d arranged for the delivery guys because he’d wanted to make sure that not just anyone got in her house.

His fingers trailed over the long strings, and music filled the air.

“Do you like it better than the violin?” Because, once upon a time, she’d been a violin virtuoso.

Performing routinely with the New York Philharmonic.

Not that he’d seen her on the stage. By the time he’d come into her life, she’d given up performing for avid audiences.

Correction, she’d been forced to give it up. Because her ex had been determined to kill her.

“It’s not that I like it better.” Her fingers sort of fluttered at her side. It was a move he didn’t even know if Ana realized she’d just made. Like a phantom stroking of her fingers over harp strings. “Just different.”

“I’m glad you’re playing music again.”

She swallowed. “There are some things you can’t give up. For me, it’s music.” She looked down and frowned at her hand, as if she’d just caught the movement. Her fingers fisted.

He knew Ana could play pretty much any instrument. Back when he’d been protecting her and taking her in and out of shady motels, she’d told him that, as a child, she’d been able to perform nearly any song after just listening to it once.

Since he couldn’t even play Jingle Bells on a piano if his life depended on the task, Kane had been more than impressed by her skills. She was truly phenomenal, and walking away from music? He’d often feared that it must have ripped out her heart.

But…

“I teach music therapy,” she suddenly told him.

“I mean, I do music therapy or I…” Another clearing of her throat.

The hand she’d fisted released as she crept toward him.

“I help people who need a way of communicating. Work with lots of different groups and ages in the community. Music is transcendent, you know?” A bright smile lit her face.

And he couldn’t breathe. Because he’d forgotten just how truly beautiful she was.

But her smile faded all too fast. “The harp is different from my violin.” Now she was brisk. “But different is good, and I enjoy playing it.” A sigh. “I also enjoy teaching yoga classes. I started yoga to help calm my mind, and now it’s pretty much an addiction for me.”

“I figure there are worse things out there that a person can be addicted to in this world.”

Her stare held his. “Yes.” Softer. “There are.” She’d taken a few more steps toward him. Now she stopped. Tilted her head back. “I think we agreed on a twenty-minute discussion.”

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to just twenty minutes.

“You were going to tell me why I shouldn’t run, when my demented ex is on my trail. A man who killed for the mob. Who routinely made bodies disappear. And to think, I once thought he was Mr. Perfect.”

“No one is perfect.”

“Why can’t I run?”

His gaze got locked on her mouth. Those soft lips.

“Kane?” Husky. “Why can’t I run?”

A sharp knock sounded on her back door. She jumped at the sound, and her hands immediately flew out and locked around his arms. Her eyes had gone very, very wide.

“You expecting company?” he demanded.

A quick, negative shake of her head.

The knock sounded again. More demanding this time.

“Stay here,” he ordered her as he spun away and headed toward the rear of the house. He automatically reached back and hauled up the gun he’d tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

“This is why I should have run!” Her steps rushed behind him. “And you came into my house with a gun? I didn’t even notice it until now!”

Not noticing it had been the point. Thus, the reason he’d hidden it at the base of his back and pulled down his shirt to cover it up.

“Kane…”

He rounded on her.

“Kane, what if it’s a neighbor?” She grabbed his arm. Her fingers darted over him, and he felt the fluttering touch charge through his body. Every single cell. He was suddenly honed in and one hundred percent focused on her. Ana licked her lips. “You can’t greet my neighbor with a gun!”

The knocking came again. Even harder than before. Almost like the person was trying to beat down the door.

“That doesn’t sound like a neighbor,” she whispered. Fear flashed on her face.

And then?—

He heard the back door opening. Flying inward. A door that he’d locked, and hell, no, it wasn’t a neighbor. Whoever had just entered the back of her house had broken in. Without another word, Kane took off running for the back door.

A man had already hurried inside the house. His back was to Kane as the guy quickly shut the door, flipped the lock, and then he?—

“Bastard,” Kane growled as he slammed to a stop. The gun was still gripped in his hand.

The man turned toward him. Slowly. With his hands up. A smart move. But the guy flashed a cocky grin his way. “Hi, there, Kane.” His gaze flickered to the gun. “How many times do I have to tell you, friends don’t point weapons at friends?”

Kane’s teeth snapped together.

“I knocked.” A shrug from the man. “No one answered. Figured I’d better let myself in with the spare key I happen to possess, just in case something bad might be happening.

” Keys dangled from his fingers. His head cocked to the left as he peered to the side of Kane.

“Hello, Ana. You hung up on me before I could say?—”

“Grayson,” Ana snapped the FBI agent’s name like the curse that it was.

“Before I could say,” Gray continued determinedly, “I am in the area. Right in Gulfport.” He smiled at her. Then at Kane. “The gang is all back together, how about that?”

Kane growled at him. Then, he lowered his gun and, biting off each word, he gritted, “Ana wants to know why she can’t leave town.”

“Oh.” A grimace from Gray. “Sorry but…I’m afraid it’s because you’re going to be bait.”

“What?” Utter shock and horror from Ana.

Kane put the gun down on the gleaming, white marble countertop in the kitchen.

Then, when Ana tried to lunge past him and attack Gray, Kane wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her back against him.

He held her easily in the air. Her legs kicked, and her hands fought at his unbreakable grip.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, meaning both the apology and the endearment. “But I can’t let you kill him.”