He’d always wanted a dog, Nicole remembered. He hadn’t pestered his grandparents quite the same way Grant pestered her about it, but she remembered a number of Christmas lists and birthday requests. She smiled to herself as she eased into a downward dog, remembering when her boys had first come back to the cabin with the dog. The two of them, standing there, with the scruffy mutt between them and the exact same expression of hope in their eyes. She might’ve been able to stay the stern, mean mom if it had just been Grant, but when Michael had turned those pleading eyes on her, too…

  Michael jogged out from around the cabin, and stopped at the sight of her. Nicole tried to keep her balance, but immediately the muscles in her stomach started shivering, and her focus was shattered. She tried to ease into the next pose, but she couldn’t concentrate, and tumbled forward onto the mat, landing with a thud.

  Destroyer padded over, gently licking her face. Nicole felt herself smile, in spite of her sour mood. The mutt was looking a lot better after a bath and a few good meals.

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked.

  “Fine.” Nicole pushed herself up, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “Just getting in a little morning yoga. Badly.”

  “It’s early,” Michael said. He was dressed for a workout, in a thin exercise shirt that clung to the sculpted muscles of his chest. The look was entirely too distracting. Nicole tried to focus on Destroyer, giving into the impulse to scratch his cheeks and pet his velvet soft head.

  She shrugged lightly. “Couldn’t sleep. And it’s so pretty out here, I thought I’d come out and get some fresh air. I hope that was okay.”

  “I have surveillance equipment set up. You should be safe in the immediate area. You don’t need to stay in the cabin—I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner,” Michael told her. “Though if you or Grant go outside on your own, I’d ask that you take your burner.”

  Nicole nodded, pulling the elastic band from her hair. “Okay.”

  She thought he would head back to the cabin then, but Michael stood there for a moment, watching her. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” she said immediately, without thinking, just as she always did. She felt the tension building in her shoulders, her back, and tried to roll it out. “It’s just hard to sleep,” Nicole admitted. “I’m a little wound up and anxious and—I hate this,” she said in a burst of frustration. “I hate hiding away and not knowing what’s going on and not being able to do anything and feeling—” Terrified. She didn’t say that.

  But he must’ve seen it. “I can help with that,” Michael offered.

  Nicole crossed her arms over her chest, trying to push back that jittery, anxious feeling. “How?”

  “I can show you a couple of moves. How to defend yourself, if anything should happen. If you think it might help.” He gave a brief shrug. “At least you’ll feel prepared.”

  Nicole considered it for a moment, then nodded. “How do we do this?”

  She saw him snap into professional mode, the way his dark gaze focused and his posture shifted as he crossed over to her. Losing a little of the wariness he’d had when he thought something might be wrong. Michael had always been good at taking charge, Nicole thought, and ducked her head as she felt her face flush with the heat of memories.

  “The key is to get away. You’re not trying to win a fight or beat someone into submission.”

  “That’s your job,” she said dryly.

  Michael smiled, a quick flash that ran through her like fire. “Exactly. If someone comes at you, you run. If you can’t run, you create space, enough that you can run.”

  Nicole took a steadying breath, and gave him a firm nod. Already some of her nerves were settling at the idea of learning something that could help. “How do I do that?”

  Michael regarded her for a moment with respect in his eyes. “Let’s assume that your attacker is a man.” He closed the last of distance between them, and she tried to ignore the flutters in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves. He held out his hands, hesitating. “Is this all right?”

  She nodded. His hands were big and warm and nearly encompassed her shoulders. His fingers were rough and calloused against her skin.

  Michael talked her through a few simple moves. How to break out of a hold if someone had her by the wrist, or the arm. If someone came at her from the front, then behind. How to drop her weight to throw an attacker off balance. Which were the soft, vulnerable points she could go after that would cause the most pain, forcing her captor to release her, or to back away if they were crowding in on her. Walking her through the movements slowly at first, and then repeating them, again and again, until she could manage them quickly and confidently.

  He’d changed, Nicole realized, as he talked her through breaking another hold. He was patient, going over every move with her until he was satisfied she had them down. When she’d known Michael before, his passion could make him impatient. She could still see the passion there, the commitment, but it was focused now. The SEALs had clearly taught him discipline as well as patience.

  Nicole wished it wasn’t so damn attractive. That it didn’t make her wonder if he’d be just as patient and relentless in…other areas. It was hard enough to focus as it was, with his hands on her. The nearness of him made her ache.

  He still smelled amazing, too, which really wasn’t fair. He’d just gone for a jog; he should smell gross and sweaty, and not woodsy and masculine and…all Michael. It was making her head swim. It made her want to lean forward and take a nip right at the hollow of his throat, where she knew he was sensitive. Then she realized he had moved onto a different hold, and had to shake herself, force herself to pay attention.

  “You want to use your elbow, like this,” Michael was saying. He guided her arm, a hand on her side as he turned her in one smooth movement. Nicole forced herself to keep her expression calm and concentrate on what he was saying. She could feel the heat of his touch through the thin layer of her workout clothes. “You can do more damage with your elbow than your fist. If you’re not used to punching people, you can seriously damage the bones in your hand.”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  “All right, let’s try it.”

  Focus, Nicole. Focus and ignore all those long, liquid pulls deep in her belly as his arm came around her again, pinning her against him. Ignore the sheer wall of muscle pressed against her back. Remember that you’re supposed to want to get away, not nestle closer. Nicole grabbed his arm and, like he’d taught her, she shifted, then twisted hard to drive her elbow into his ribs. There was a solid oof as Michael flinched back, and his arms released. Nicole spun away, and then turned to him, grinning. “How was that?”

  “It’ll do.” Michael was rubbing his side, but there was the hint of a smile. “Feel better?”

  She considered it for a moment. “I do. Thanks.”

  There was a warmth in his eyes, the hard lines of his face softening as he nodded, and for a moment, he was the old Michael, her Michael, who’d always looked at her like that.

  Maybe that was why the words started running out before she could stop them. “I mean it. Thank you, for all of this. I know this can’t be easy for you. I know what I did to you—and you don’t want to talk about that, and I respect that,” Nicole said quickly, holding up a hand as he straightened. “I just want you to know, I appreciate it.”

  She could see a muscle working in his jaw. “It’s my job,” Michael said simply. Some of the warmth from before had faded, but his eyes didn’t look cold—just tired.

  “It’s a job well done,” Nicole told him. She clapped her hands together again. “Awkward moment over. We never have to talk about that again. Can we try that last move one more time? I don’t feel as confident about it.”

  Michael’s eyes flicked to the cabin, and for a moment she thought he was going to say no. Escape. But he stepped forward, and the space between them vanished, as his arms closed around her.

  But something was different now. Nicole looked up at him, hoping to see the professional mask, but it wasn’t there. Only Michael. Just a breath away. She wanted to close the distance. She wanted, more than anything, to wrap herself around him, to feel his hands on her the way they used to be. She missed the way he felt against her. She missed the way he tasted. The way they fit together. She’d never fit with anyone else the way she fit with him. She hadn’t realized until just now how lonely that had been.

  This had been a bad idea. She shouldn’t have done this.

  “Nicole.” Michael’s voice was low and urgent. Pressed up against him as she was, she felt the vibrations through his chest.

  “Yes?” It came out on a breath.

  “Break the hold.”

  Nicole knew she should. She also knew that she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay like this, just another moment. She felt Michael’s hands shift on her back, not restraining her any longer. Holding her close. It felt just like it used to.

  Her eyes drifted closed as she leaned forward.

  And then jolted back as Destroyer pushed his way between her and Michael and settled there, tail batting at their feet as he woofed softly. Nicole blinked, realizing just how close they were. Just how close she had been to making a stupid mistake. For a moment, she had forgotten about everything—the threats and the danger and her friends. Not to mention all the baggage in their personal history, and the unresolved problems from the past. There had been only Michael.

  It took every last ounce of Nicole’s strength to put her hand on Michael’s chest and not pull him closer. She pushed him away. Took several steps back.

  “I think—” Michael stopped and swallowed. “I think that’s enough for today.”

  Nicole nodded, desperate and aching and still dizzy. She grabbed her yoga mat and hurried back towards the cabin, before she had a chance to change her mind. Before she did something she knew she would regret.

  9

  Michael heard Nicole coming down the stairs and tensed. He was in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee, and for a brief, foolish moment he considered simply leaving the coffee pot in the sink and heading outside. Grant was out there, playing fetch with Destroyer. He could always go toss the ball around with the two of them for a bit. Keep some space between himself and Nicole, which it was clear he needed.

  But that would be cowardice. Michael wasn’t a coward, and he had no reason to hide.

  It had been two days since that moment outside. Since his mistaken impulse to show her a few defensive moves had very nearly turned into a kiss. He should’ve been smarter. He should’ve remembered that this was Nicole Zito. The only woman who’d ever held his heart. Who clearly still had her hooks in him. If Michael was going to stay professional, if he was going to protect them with a clear head and without distraction, the way he needed to, he had to be smarter.

  They’d been avoiding each other since then. Michael tried to think of it as tactical distance, and not what it was—a survival mechanism. Though there wasn’t a lot of distance they could give each other in a shared living space, especially with the kid and the dog. He was a little ashamed that he’d been using Grant and the dog as a buffer, making sure that when he couldn’t avoid Nicole entirely, he could at least avoid being alone with her. Michael was pretty sure she knew what he was doing, but thankfully she hadn’t said anything. He could only hope that they’d kept up enough of an appearance of cordiality to fool Grant—but he knew he probably wasn’t that lucky. The kid was smart, and a little too perceptive for Michael’s comfort.

  Nicole strode into the kitchen and stopped, seeing him. She was wearing a simple white T-shirt and an old faded pair of jeans that fit like a second skin. Her dark curls were twisted up into a knot on top of her head, and Michael had a sudden impulse to pull out all the pins and watch her hair tumble around her shoulders. He turned away abruptly, wrenching on the faucet to fill the coffee pot.

  “Hey.” Nicole hovered in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe as if for safety. There was a certain wariness to her eyes as she gave a quick glance around.

  “Grant’s outside,” Michael said. “With Destroyer. Coffee in a minute, if you want it.” He gestured to the coffee pot, and used that as an excuse to step away to get the grinds. Putting some distance between them.

  “Thanks.” Nicole glanced around again, and eased back a bit, as if to make her escape. “I’m just going to go check on—”

  She was interrupted as her phone rang. He caught the confusion, the quick concern, as she answered. “Angelica? Is everything okay?”

  Michael saw Nicole tense, the line of her shoulders going rigid, and had to catch himself when he instinctively started towards her, as if he could shield her from whatever caused that sudden burst of fear to flash over her face. “When was that? What did he look like? Did he leave a name? Did he say anything else?” She glanced at him, her dark eyes worried. “Angelica, can I call you back? Five minutes, I promise.” She hung up and took a deep breath. “That was the manager at the salon. She says some creep has been hanging around. That he stopped by three times. Says he was acting a little odd, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions because it’s New York. She said he stopped by again this morning, just a few minutes ago, when she was opening up, alone. Starting asking about me and Holly and Charlotte. Asking about where the three of us were, and how long we were going to be gone.” He could hear the strain in her voice, knew it was covering anxiety that she was holding firmly in check.

  “Good,” Michael said.

  Anger flashed across Nicole’s face. “Good?” she shot back.

  Michael held up a hand. “It’s something we can use. Plus, it means he hasn’t been able to find out the answers yet for himself. I assume he offered her money?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  Not surprising, but still. A lot of money meant someone was very invested in finding Nicole and her friends. “Did this creep leave any way for your employee to contact him?”

  She nodded warily. “A phone number.”

  “Have her call him back. Say she found something, that she’s willing to make a trade, but she has to talk to him at the end of the day, after everyone’s left. I’ll inform the detective investigating Bryant’s murder. She can be there waiting for him, take him in for questioning. Find out if he’s the one behind these threats, and if he’s working alone or working for someone.”

  “No.” Nicole shook her head. “Whoever these people are, they’ve already threatened my shop and my employees. I’m not going to put them in any more danger than they already are. I’m responsible for them. I won’t ask them to do something like this. What if this is the same guy that killed Zak? What if your cop doesn’t get there in time and this creep hurts Angelica?”

  “Nicole.” Michael crossed over to her, but stopped himself before putting a hand on her arm. “I know you don’t want to put your employees in danger. But this is the safest solution in the long term. Trust me. Dt. Kayode can be there, waiting, with other officers. They’ll make sure that nothing happens to your people.”

  Nicole hugged her arms tightly to her chest, her beautiful dark eyes showing her turmoil. “What if—” she started, and then swallowed. “What if I did what they wanted? What if I went to the police and took back my testimony?”

  “Is that what you want to do?” Michael asked in a low voice.

  “No,” she said fervently. “I didn’t like Zak, but they murdered him. They just shot him down like he was nothing, and they shouldn’t get away with that. But I can’t let anyone else get hurt. Especially not my staff. They’re my responsibility.”

  That was the Nicole he knew. Always trying to take care of everyone else. Before he could stop himself, Michael put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. “That doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help. Do you trust your people?”

  For a brief moment, she sagged against his hold for support. “Yes.”

  “Then let them help you. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

  She let out a ragged sigh. “I’m not good at letting others help.”

  “I noticed,” Michael remarked dryly, chest warming when that got a smile out of her and chased some of the shadows from her eyes.

  Nicole nodded. “Okay.”

  Michael dug his phone out of his pocket. The detective picked up on the first ring. “Detective? Rinaldi here. There’s been a development.”

  It was a long day. He’d expected Dt. Kayode to put up more resistance to his plan—his impression of her so far was of a strict by-the-book type who was very protective about her cases—but she seized onto Michael’s plan and quickly agreed to set several officers in place. Apparently, she was just as impatient for a break in the case as he was—or maybe she really was sick of Ken’s phone calls. And Angelica jumped at the chance to help, assuring him that she taken several improv classes and that she was sure she could talk to the man who’d approached her without giving anything away. Within twenty minutes they had everything arranged, and less than an hour after that Angelica confirmed that the creep had texted her back, agreeing to come by the salon later that evening.

  There was nothing to do after that but wait, as patiently as they could.

  It occurred to Michael that the phrase easier said than done was made for a moment like this. They both knew that there was nothing they could do to make this happen faster or better or safer for the people involved. They also knew that if anything was going to happen, it wouldn’t happen for hours—and that it would take place miles and miles away, with no chance for them to do anything to alter it. But none of this knowledge could keep Nicole from pacing back and forth restlessly, or stop Michael from watching the phone like a hawk. He realized after a bit that the coffee he’d made had long since gone cold and made another pot. Once it was ready, he poured out cups for him and Nicole, so they’d have something other than their phones to stare at as that batch of coffee went cold in front of them as well.