Fuck.

  Nothing was clear. She was running on a handful of hours of sleep. He’d had even less. Neither of them was firing on all cylinders. Still, he needed to keep hearing her voice. After the long, panicked hours he’d scoured the city, imagining the worst, every word she gave him was a gift.

  “How did you and Ethan wind up in that motel room?”

  “After I ran out of Nash’s apartment, I went to the first bar near campus and found a drunk girl willing to let me use her phone. First, I called 911. But since I didn’t know anyone’s number, I looked up EM Security and figured I’d leave a message.”

  With Nash out of commission, it had become Ethan’s responsibility to monitor the emergency communications over the holiday. “But he answered?”

  “First ring. I recognized his name, and I explained who I was. He came.”

  Thank fuck. “He picked you up and took you to the motel?”

  “No, I told him I was headed there and to let you know. He insisted on coming to keep me safe until he could reach you.”

  “It took him a while to call me,” Matt groused.

  “He really couldn’t. I…kind of cried all over him. He said it was an adrenaline crash. He calmed me and made me eat a snack, then kept me talking until I fell asleep. That’s when he called you.”

  Matt still didn’t like Ethan. Admittedly, his teammate had done the right thing, but he didn’t want anyone else taking care of her. And he didn’t want to question why he felt so possessive. “I’m sorry this week has been overwhelming.”

  “Not your fault.” She shrugged like she couldn’t think of a single thing that would take away her fear and despair. “I just thought by now I’d be talking to attorneys about my split from Todd, not running for my life.”

  Her entire existence had suddenly become harrowing and emotional. And he hadn’t done anything to make it easier.

  Sighing, he reached for her hand again. His heart twisted when she stared at it, then at him, debating whether to let him in. Finally, she slid her fingers onto his palm. He closed his hand around them and squeezed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Madison studied their joined hands. “Why did you threaten to quit your job?”

  “After what happened with Nash, and the way Ethan was coming onto you—”

  “Nothing would have happened between us.”

  “You don’t know that.” Ethan sweet-talked loads of women into bed. One as vulnerable as Madison would be easy prey for a player like him.

  “Yes, I do. I’m not interested. I don’t want anyone but you.”

  Same for him, but before he could tell her, he spotted an army green Jeep in the parking lot of an abandoned convenience store, now on the verge of being overtaken by Louisiana’s ever-encroaching swamp. A badass dude leaned up against the vehicle, thick arms crossed over his chest, wearing head-to-toe black, a ball cap pulled low, and an unreadable expression.

  Jack Cole.

  “We’ll finish this conversation later,” Matt vowed as he climbed from his truck, squaring the cowboy hat on his head. “Hey.”

  “Glad you finally made it.” Jack glanced at his watch. “You’re three minutes late.”

  He was, and Matt wasn’t going to bother with excuses. “Sorry.”

  The slamming of car doors had him turning to find Madison hopping out of his vehicle, her backpack slung over her shoulder. The Edgington brothers exited theirs and followed until they all stood around Jack.

  Hunter took one look at Madison, then scowled Matt’s way. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” he snapped.

  Logan didn’t look convinced, but let it go. “Give me your keys. Phone, too. You won’t need either in the swamp, and it will look more convincing if spying eyes locate the device at your house.”

  With a sigh, Matt complied.

  Logan pocketed both, then looked at Jack. “Anything else?”

  The crafty Cajun shook his head. “No. We’ll stay in touch.”

  “Roger that.”

  Jack grinned. “Despite being navy boys, you two are almost smart.”

  “Fuck you,” Logan quipped.

  Hunter cracked a smile. “Asshole. You three should head out. I don’t have to tell you to stay vigilant and watch for trouble.”

  Matt shook his head. “It’s coming.”

  It was just a matter of when and where.

  “Take care of her.” Hunter’s parting shot was as much a warning as a demand.

  Then the brothers were off, taking his truck and his phone.

  Matt turned to Jack. “We’re ready.”

  “No go-bag?”

  Matt shrugged. “No time.”

  “You’re lucky my wife thinks ahead. She packed you two some clothes, necessities, and creature comforts.”

  “Thanks. By the way, Jack, this is Madison.” He turned to her. “Madison, Jack Cole, co-owner of Oracle Security.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she murmured automatically, as if etiquette had been drummed into her.

  The Cajun studied her for a long minute across the darkened parking lot. “If you’ve lasted this long with the Pershings, you’ve got spine. That’s good. You’re going to need it. This will get worse before it gets better.”

  “They’ll never let me go quietly.” Admitting that seemed to take every ounce of her strength. “I know too much.”

  “At least you’re under no illusions. Do you know how to use a gun?”

  She nodded. “My father taught me. He took me hunting, took me to the practice range…”

  “Good. Neither of you have anything trackable? Not that there’s any cell signal that deep in the swamp…” When they both shook their heads, Jack climbed in the Jeep, and they headed out together, Matt and Madison huddled in the backseat under a big hunting blanket to avoid facial recognition cameras around town.

  Curled around Madison, Matt lost himself in thought. If she had tied the knot with Todd because he’d seemingly wanted her, and she was distressed that Matt had apologized for fucking her brains out, what did that say? Maybe the twisted, perverse things he did to Madison—the acts he’d been beating himself up for—made her feel more desired.

  “It’s safe now,” Jack said finally. “Come on out.”

  Together, they shoved off the blanket just as Jack’s phone buzzed. The seasoned operative lifted it along the deserted two-lane road thick with pea-soup mist and read. “That’s Deke. He’s in touch with an old CIA buddy who now works as a consultant in the swamp. He’s opened a line of communication to the senator’s chief of staff.”

  “Osment is a snake.” Madison shuddered. “He’s a champion liar, he loves blackmail, and he lives to hurt people.”

  “No wonder he’s been with your grandfather-in-law all these years. What parting gifts do you want?”

  Madison bit her lip, not like she had to think before she answered that question, but as if she feared she was asking for the moon. “Obviously, a divorce. He won’t agree to one until after the midterms. That’s fine. I realize I might have to make an appearance or two in DC before the election, but I will never spend another night with Todd. In fact, I refuse to ever be alone with him again.”

  “You won’t,” Matt agreed. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  Jack raised a brow, then turned his attention back to Madison. “What else? Money?”

  “I don’t care about cash. I want them to keep the proceedings quiet and contain the story until the divorce is final. There won’t be a word in the press about why we’re splitting, other than irreconcilable differences. Any smear pieces, both during or after the divorce, will be squashed immediately.”

  “Smart. Otherwise, the old man would have the press torment you on his behalf.”

  “Exactly. They also continue to pay my father’s medical expenses for the duration of his treatments. I’ll take that in lieu of money.”

  “Yep. And no following her. No keeping tabs on her. No harassing her friends,” Matt added.

  “They’ll deny doing any of that, but duly noted.” Jack dictated all the terms into his phone, then sent the message back to Deke. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks for your help,” Madison murmured.

  Jack shot them an amused stare in the rearview mirror. “I would never miss an opportunity to give a crook like Senator Pershing exactly what he deserves. I only wish we could expose him for what he really is.”

  Unfortunately, the video she’d taken of Brent’s murder only proved Todd was a killer, not that the senator was corrupt.

  “If I could, I would lose my leverage.” She sounded disheartened by that reality.

  “You’re right. At least the video gives you something of an insurance policy.”

  Matt curled his hand around hers. “Exactly. It guarantees mutually assured destruction if the family tries to take you down. I’ve made copies, given Jack a copy, who I’m sure has made his own copies… In the event of your untimely demise, someone will release it to the public immediately.”

  Jack nodded. “Deke will make it very clear to them that, if they don’t play nicely, we won’t be afraid to use this footage.”

  Madison nodded miserably. “I don’t think I have a choice. I just hate dragging anyone else into this mess. You have wives and children, friends, neighbors—”

  “Safety in numbers.” Jack pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure Matt would do nearly anything to keep you safe. If you don’t know that, you should.”

  Madison turned to him, looking almost afraid to believe it.

  “That’s why I tried to quit my job,” he admitted.

  Jack nodded. “Only a few minutes more until we arrive.”

  The Cajun made small talk and outlined the history of the cabin his grandfather had built decades before and used for fishing, hunting, and avoiding his wife.

  Finally, they pulled into a small parking lot off the shoulder of a dirt road and unloaded their bags, along with groceries in canvas sacks Jack schlepped to a pontoon boat moored at the nearby dock. In his other hand, he carried a kerosene lamp. Stars winked overhead as he hung the light on a nearby hook, stepped in, settled his bags at the bottom, then held out a hand to Madison. “In you go.”

  Around them, bullfrogs croaked. Insects sang. In the dark water, something splashed. The swamp was alive.

  She gasped and backed away. “Is that slosh…”

  “Gators? Yep. They’re restless at night. That’s when they like to hunt most. But around here, there’s never a good time to stick your feet in the water.”

  Madison paled and stepped back. “Is there another way there?”

  “I’ve done this a million times. You’ll be safe.” Jack thrust his hand out more forcefully. “Grab onto me.”

  She hesitated, glancing between the big Cajun and the water and clutching the strap of her backpack like it could save her.

  “It’s okay,” Matt promised. “You’ve got this.”

  She shook her head. Her breathing turned choppy. “I’m a local girl, but I’ve always been afraid of the swamp.”

  Matt wasn’t comfortable, either. Wyoming had hardly prepared him for this shit. But they didn’t have any more appealing options.

  “Madison,” Jack’s voice dropped to something smooth but steely, and he squared his wide shoulders. “Look at me.”

  Her stare stopped nervously bobbing over the crawling darkness around them, and she focused on Jack.

  “Good. I know this is difficult for you, but I won’t let anything happen. Trust me. Take my hand,” he commanded, oozing a power he’d never seen Jack exude. “Now.”

  Matt expected fear to get the better of her, but instead of breaking down, running away, or protesting, she dropped her gaze somewhere around Jack’s knees, swallowed audibly, then put her hand in the Cajun’s and stepped onto the boat.

  He tried not to gape.

  After Jack took the pack from Madison and set it down, he cupped her shoulder. “Good job. I know that wasn’t easy.”

  “I’m still shaking.” Her voice warbled.

  Jack sent her an understanding smile. “You’re okay. Thank you for trusting me. Have a seat.”

  When he pointed to a padded bench inside the boat, Madison sat, folding her hands in her lap.

  Jack turned to him, disapproval all over his face. “Get your ass in.”

  Matt scowled, feeling almost chastised. As he stepped on board and stowed the duffel, his confusion must have shown. Jack just shook his head like he was a dumbass, lifted the lamp, untied the boat, then pushed from the dock.

  The sun began spreading tendrils of orange light across the eastern sky as they glided down the river. The swamp was a terrifying force of nature, but it also had a stark beauty. Cypress trees rose like silhouettes in the painted sky that filtered dawn through the branches heavy with Spanish moss and rippled across the glassy water. A glance told him Madison was awed, too.

  Silent minutes passed before Jack slowed, drifting to a stop beside a small blue cabin. Steps from the dock stood a screened-in porch. Matt couldn’t see much in the dark beyond.

  Jack cut the engine, tied off the boat, then hopped onto the dock, holding the lamp again with one hand. The other he held out for Madison. “Come with me.”

  If Matt had sensed a come-on or anything sexual in the way Oracle’s co-owner talked to Madison, he’d be flamingly pissed. But all he heard in the Cajun’s voice was gently implacable demand.

  She obeyed, taking his hand and stepping onto the dock beside him.

  He smiled her way. “That was brave. Thank you.”

  The expression she sent him was almost shy. Not flirtatious, but deferential. What the hell?

  The Edgington brothers were both Dominants. Was it possible their good buddy, Jack Cole, was, too? Matt didn’t know much about it. The lifestyle had always held a lurid fascination, so he’d avoided it. Now he wondered at Madison’s response.

  Was she…submissive?

  “Out.” Jack thumbed him off the boat.

  Matt honestly didn’t know how to feel about that possibility as the Cajun juggled groceries and led them up the stairs. He unlocked the screen and ushered them onto the porch before opening the door.

  If the outside had looked like a rundown fishing cabin built fifty years ago, the inside was completely different. The air was stuffy and heavy with stifling summer humidity, but as the fresh sunlight began seeping in, everything looked clean, homey, and full of lovingly chosen antiques.

  “Here we are.” Jack shut the door behind them, then nodded toward the open space. “Living room and kitchen. Then down the hall”—he led them in that direction—“bedroom to the right. Bathroom on the left. The clawfoot tub works, Madison, if you’re like my wife, who loves her baths.”

  “I do. Thank you…sir.”

  Sir? Had that really come out of her mouth? And why did it bother him that she’d addressed another man that way?

  Jack just smiled. “No problem. You two can set your bags in the bedroom.”

  Matt dropped the duffel and watched Madison take in the mosquito-netted four-poster bed in gleaming cherrywood as she unloaded her backpack. Yeah, he hadn’t expected anything half so romantic, either. He also suspected this was the only bed in the joint. As far as he could see, that was the extent of the cabin, except for the closed door at the end of the hall.

  Together, they meandered to the kitchen to find Jack putting away canned food and tucking things into the refrigerator. “Morgan didn’t know what you’d like, so she guessed.”

  “We’ll be happy with anything. We just appreciate the place,” Matt assured.

  Jack nodded. “Madison, go into the bedroom and shut the door. Take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and remember every detail about the night of Brent’s murder. Be thorough but concise. Capture everything you can think, especially anything you saw or heard that the video might not have captured, in case corroboration becomes necessary.” He reached into a drawer and plucked out a blank pad of paper and a pen. “You’re welcome to this. If you need any other help, let me know. When you’ve got your thoughts together, I’ll come record you. Understand?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  His smile widened. “Off you go. I’m going to explain the security system, generator, and a few other things to Matt. Give us thirty minutes or so.”

  “It might take me that long just to remember everything I need to say.”

  “All right, but no more than that. I have to get back to allay any suspicion, in case we’re being watched.”

  She nodded and disappeared, shutting the door with a quiet click.

  Matt whirled on Jack. “What the—”

  “Not here. Come with me.” Jack motioned him out a side door that led to a deck with spectacular views of the sun rising over the swamp, illuminating the bayou before the day’s heat baked everything in sight.

  Matt followed, adjusting the brim of his hat against the rising sun and shutting the door behind them. “What the hell is going—”

  “On? You’re failing Madison. She’s spiraling down, and she needs a safety net to catch her when she falls. Notice I didn’t say if.” The Cajun approached a locked wooden pen, inserted the key, then swung the door wide before lifting a huge metal lid. “Generator. It’s wired into the house and runs off propane tanks, which are permanently affixed out back.”

  “I know how a generator works.”

  “I filled up both tanks after the party yesterday. To engage the unit, flip this switch—”

  “And push the red button. Got it.” Matt demonstrated before Jack locked the pen up again and handed him the keys. “How do you think I’m failing her? She’s alive. It’s been rough, but—”

  “Rough? She’s at the end of her rope. And your face tells me you know it. She needs a sense of shelter, structure, and someone who’s in fucking control. Right now, you’re none of those things. Before you object, no, I don’t know your history with Madison, just that you have one. Since we only have a handful of minutes, I’m going to be blunt.”

  “I’m doing my best to protect her.” But Jack’s words hit a nerve.