He could no longer avoid the terrifying truth. No one measured up to Madison and the way she made him feel. The picture of the suite they’d shared that infamous weekend, bed wrecked and champagne bottle empty, was proof. He still stared at that image nearly every fucking day.

  Dude, she isn’t coming back. Move the fuck on.

  Good advice, especially since he was pretty sure that, any day now, he’d be hearing about Madison being knocked up by that stuffy blue blood. God, Matt felt like a stupid ass, because the thought of her in bed with the entitled prick made him homicidal. He really should get laid.

  He just didn’t want to, not by Casey. Not by anyone else he could think of.

  Only Madison.

  How the fuck had she ruined him in a mere forty-eight hours and made it last three goddamn years?

  Unfortunately, Matt knew the answer. He shouldn’t risk tempting fate again.

  Sighing, he grabbed a beer, downed half of it, then headed back to the window. She was out there, somewhere. Probably at some pompous, thirty-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser, rubbing elbows with people who would look down on him for making a living by his gun.

  Fuck them. And fuck her. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to fuck Casey tonight.

  Retrieving his phone, he started to type out a response when he suddenly heard a tap at his window that startled the hell out of him. He reared back, then saw a face on the other side of the glass. Ball cap, sunglasses, baggy T-shirt plastered to a slight frame. No distinguishing features or tattoos. At first glance, it looked like a teenage boy. But the face had a softness… Smooth, fair skin, gracefully arched brows, a delicately sloped jaw, and huge eyes.

  Why the fuck would this kid be out in the pouring rain after ten o’clock at night? Hell, why would he avoid the covered porch, choosing to tap on the window instead of knocking on the front door?

  No kid would…unless there was trouble.

  Matt unlocked the window and raised it a fraction, aware of his gun a mere split second from his grasp.

  “Yeah?”

  “Matt?”

  That trembling voice. Not a boy at all. Definitely a woman.

  One he knew.

  No, that was impossible. It couldn’t be… But a second glance had him reconsidering his assessment.

  Holy shit.

  His heart crashed inside his chest. “Madison?”

  She gave him a shaky nod, then looked behind her as if she expected the bogeyman to jump her. “I’m sorry to barge in—”

  “You’re not.” He threw the window wide open, cursing the screen between them. If she was here, hiding in his bushes and disguising herself to approach his house late at night in the rain, something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

  “I-I need help, and I didn’t know anyone else I could trust.” She swallowed, and he saw the abject terror on her face. “My husband is trying to kill me.”

  She meant that figuratively, right? Like he was pissed off and struggling to keep his mouth in check?

  If they were merely having a spat, why would a woman who hasn’t spoken to you in three years be at your window hours after nightfall, looking terrified?

  So her husband was literally trying to off her. Every muscle in Matt’s body tensed as he scanned the dark street around her. It looked empty, but he didn’t like it. “I’m going to kill the porch light. Once I do, shimmy through the bushes, close to the door.”

  She gave him a shaky nod, and he backed away from the window, loath to take his stare off of her. But her safety was way more important than his anxiety.

  Cursing, Matt wrenched his phone from his pocket, launched the app that controlled the house lights, then darkened the porch and front rooms. He yanked open the door and found Madison in shadow, tucked between the bushes and his house. Despite the July heat, she trembled like a leaf. A wretched relief that she hadn’t slipped through his fingers again filled him.

  When he stepped onto the porch, warm rain pelted his back as he pretended to retrieve his mail from the box affixed to the house. “Slip in front of me.”

  She did, looking up at him with scared blue eyes. Despite the time, distance, and betrayal, she still captivated him. One glance, and his whole body pinged, lighting up in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d last touched her.

  “Get inside.” He nudged Madison into the house, then locked the door behind him and armed his security system before facing her. How fucking surreal that, after nearly three years of total silence between them, she stood in his entryway looking at him like he was her savior. “Did you see anyone follow you?”

  “No. But I’m still worried.”

  Obviously. Madison was pale and twitchy, her eyes dilated, her body tense. Her survival instinct had kicked in, flooding her with a fuck-ton of adrenaline.

  “And I-I know this is unexpected,” she whispered. “You’re probably shocked I’m here.”

  A huge understatement, but first things first. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Matt eyed the wide straps of her backpack with their dangling charms weighing down her slender shoulders. When he reached out to take the heavy load from her, she did the one thing guaranteed to make him back away.

  She flinched.

  Slowly, he drew his hands back. “I just wanted to take your backpack before you fall over.”

  “Good thought.” She shrugged out of it, grimacing when it dripped all over his tile floor. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head as he took the pack from her and set it aside. “This place is a rental, and the floor will dry. You going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Madison hesitated. “I hate to drag you into my problem—”

  Since she’d come here, her apology was moot—not that he wanted it. “You’re in danger. What happened?”

  “L-last night, Todd chased me through an apartment building with a knife.”

  Matt clenched his fingers into fists and tried to hold in his rage. He was known for being calm, easy-tempered, even affable. Right now, if Todd Pershing were here, he’d kill the motherfucker—no questions asked. “Why?”

  She hesitated. “If you can’t help me, I shouldn’t tell you. I don’t want to put you at risk any more than I have. Point me in another direction and—”

  “I’m going to help you.” Did she fucking think he was too bitter to save her life? Yeah, probably. He’d been hurt as fuck when she’d left him behind and traded up three years ago. Hell, deep down he still hurt. A part of him would love to say I told you so about Todd Pershing. On the other hand, Matt wasn’t good for her, either.

  “Are you sure? It’s going to get dangerous.”

  He snorted. “You know what I do for a living.”

  “This won’t be a normal bodyguarding situation. The Pershings have resources and friends in very high places. They’re capable of almost anything.”

  And she was terrified. That enraged him even more. “They have to get to me first.”

  Madison curled her arms around herself, rubbing them as if she was freezing in ninety-degree weather. Goose bumps raised all across her skin. She was no longer wearing her wedding rock. He filed that factoid away and focused on what was important, like the fact her backpack hadn’t been the only thing dripping; she was, too.

  “Let’s get you a warm shower and some dry clothes. When was the last time you ate?”

  “I had a protein bar this afternoon. I’m okay.”

  Bullshit. “Come with me.”

  He ushered her down the hall to the guest bathroom and flipped on a light. “Shampoo and soap are in the stall. Clean towels are under the sink. Need anything else?”

  She asked for the plastic bag containing her toiletries, and he brought it to her, wondering why she’d stashed a USB drive in with her toothpaste and mascara. “Thanks. I’ll be out in ten.”

  “I’ll set something clean to wear on the counter.” He’d bet everything else in her backpack was somewhere between damp and drenched. “Once you’re dressed, come to the kitchen. I’ll feed you. We’ll talk.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured before closing the door between them.

  He listened on the other side, the rustling of fabric telling him when she slipped out of her wet-as-hell jeans and that black T-shirt that clung like a second skin. Next, she’d take off her bra and her panties…and be completely naked. Fuck. He didn’t need to be hard now; he needed to be focused.

  Matt sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to walk away as she started the shower. He had to keep her safe, and he needed to think with the head on his shoulders, not the one aching for her between his legs.

  After setting a soft, button-down flannel and a pair of sweat shorts with a drawstring on the counter of the steamy bathroom, he stopped imagining her bare and dripping, tossed on a T-shirt, slapped on his holster, and veered to the kitchen. There, he grabbed eggs and bacon from his fridge, turned on the stove, then got everything sizzling before he scrolled through the contacts on his phone.

  He could keep her here tonight. After that…the situation would be safer for them both if he offloaded her to someone who wasn’t on the Pershings’ radar, a man who didn’t want to fuck her endlessly. But who, One-Mile Walker? No. They were tight. Best friends, really. But Pierce and Brea nearly had more babies than they had arms. And this situation didn’t call for a sniper. Trees Scott was a possibility. He and Madison had been friends once upon a time, and the guy cared about her. But his wife, Laila, had given birth to their third child not long ago. He couldn’t impose. Trees’s younger brother, Nash? Since he’d joined EM Security a few years back, the guy had been solid and an all-around good team member. Or maybe the newest addition, Ethan Garrison? He might be the Vegas-bred son of a reported mafia assassin and cocky-as-hell sometimes, but he was also damn good at his job.

  Muttering a curse, Matt flipped the bacon and pressed the button to dial Nash.

  “What’s up, buddy? I was just going to call you.”

  Matt scowled. “Yeah?”

  “Um…when Casey didn’t hear from you, she reached out to ask if I wanted to, you know, come over.”

  And fuck her brains out. Good to know his latest lay thought men were interchangeable. “She’s all yours.”

  “You done with that? I don’t want to poach.”

  “I appreciate you asking, but this isn’t an I-licked-it-so-she’s-mine situation.”

  “Cool.” Something metallic—a key ring?—clanged over the line, followed by the sound of his big-ass truck starting. “Then I’ll just mosey over there and—”

  “Hold up. I wasn’t calling you about Casey.”

  “Oh. Sorry, man. I assumed… What’s going on?”

  Matt didn’t want to mention anything over the phone. Who knew if the Pershings had been tracking Madison or if they had the kind of long arms to demand the NSA monitor everyone she knew. Plus…he was a selfish bastard. He wanted a night alone with her, even if it led nowhere and did nothing but torture him with what he couldn’t have. “Can you stop here in the morning before you head into the office?”

  “Sure. Do you need me to bring something?”

  Your balls, because you’re going to need them. Everything in Matt’s gut told him that what Madison was running from was big. “Just be here.”

  “You got it. I’ll stop by before seven. Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Have a good one.” Nash hung up.

  Since Matt could still hear the shower running and the bacon sizzling, he took the opportunity to rifle through Madison’s backpack. He’d wash her clothes, but first he had to ensure she hadn’t foolishly brought along anything traceable. All he found was four thousand dollars in cash tucked deep in one pocket and a burner phone. No ID, no wallet. Good. She’d been smart. More than likely, she’d paid attention to the time she’d spent with Trees, who swore up and down that he’d never fucked her…unlike the guy’s bestie, Zy. Sure, whatever she’d done with his teammates was old news and water under the bridge and whatever other clichés existed for something that shouldn’t matter anymore.

  Matt hated how much everything she did still mattered to him.

  Gritting his teeth, he shoved all her clothes into the washer, tossed in a pod, and slammed the lid shut. As he returned to the kitchen to plate her bacon and pour her scrambled eggs into the hot pan, the bathroom door opened. He swiveled around to find Madison padding toward him on bare feet in the twenty-sizes-too-big clothes he’d provided, her nipples poking the front of his shirt. She clutched the plastic bag filled with her things tightly.

  He swallowed back a tsunami of hot lust. “Food’s almost ready.”

  After setting the bag on the nearby island, she wound her wet, shoulder-length hair into a disheveled bun and secured it with a clip. “You didn’t have to cook for me.”

  He huffed as he whipped up her eggs. “I’m not going to let you starve. Sit.”

  When she settled onto the nearest barstool, he set a steaming plate, a napkin, and a fork in front of her. “Sorry there’s no toast.”

  “You probably don’t keep bread in the house since you don’t usually eat carbs. I remember.”

  Because she retained random information…or because he’d actually mattered to her three years ago? “Black coffee, water, or light beer? That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Water, please.” She lifted her fork and picked at her eggs as he fetched a glass and set it in front of her. “Matt—”

  “Eat. While you do, I’ll ask the questions. All you have to do is nod or shake your head.”

  “Okay.” She bit into her bacon.

  “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

  Madison nodded.

  “More than one person?”

  She shook her head, forking in some eggs.

  “Good. The fewer who know the better. Is this someone you trust?”

  A quick nod.

  “With your life?” he clarified.

  After a split-second’s hesitation, she nodded again.

  “Anyone in your husband’s family?”

  She shook her head emphatically, nose wrinkled like she had zero allegiance to those people.

  “That’s wise. Anyone your husband would think to ask?”

  Madison cocked her head as she swallowed a healthy bite of egg. Then she shook her head.

  “Even better. Are you supposed to have more contact with this person?”

  She nodded, nibbling on more bacon.

  He cursed. “Don’t. I’m sure you’d rather not worry whoever this is, so I’ll have someone reach out to…him?”

  “Her,” she corrected between bites.

  Matt shouldn’t have felt relief. Madison’s sex life was no longer any of his concern. It never really had been. He’d just been kidding himself.

  He plucked a pad of paper and a pen off a nearby counter. “Write her name and number. I’ll make sure she knows you’re safe.” She wrote a first name he wasn’t at all familiar with. The last rang a bell. “Sadie Wilson. Any relation to the Pershings’ housekeeper, Willa?”

  Madison swallowed the last of her bacon and chased it with a swig of water. “You know her name?”

  Did she think that when they’d stopped talking, he had stopped caring? “You know what I do for a living, and you’re asking me that?”

  She flushed under the stove’s anemic light. “I forgot, you EM Security boys are all-seeing, all-powerful, and totally suspicious.”

  He repressed a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Sadie is Willa’s daughter. She’s a junior at Georgetown. She doesn’t come by the Pershings’ place much anymore.”

  “Does the family know you two are close?”

  “No.” Madison pushed her mostly empty plate aside. “They…discouraged our friendship not long after I married. We talk when we can. I have the occasional volunteer committee or ladies’ league luncheon not too far from campus, so we make time for coffee, but as far as the Pershings know, Sadie and I don’t speak beyond a superficial hello.”

  There were so many things wrong with that statement. The Madison Matt had known three years ago had been full of life and just a little bit wild. But autonomy was one of those things people lost when they sold out. He’d bet she’d learned that the hard way since saying “I do.” Then again, she’d always had a compliant streak. He ought to know.

  “Between here and DC, have you used an ATM card, credit card, or—”

  “No. I scattered those, hoping random people would use them all over and confuse Todd. In fact, everything else except cash, my clothes, and a few…incidentals, I left behind.” She swallowed. “Do you want to know what happened, or do I still not matter to you?”

  He resisted the urge to correct her dig. Now wasn’t the time to revisit the past. And what was the point? “Tell me.”

  She did, beginning with visiting her husband for reasons she didn’t specify at an apartment he kept in town for “convenience’s sake” and ending with her filming Brent Westbrook’s murder, then running for her life. When she was finished, Matt sat back, sifting through everything she’d said. Either her statement proved she hadn’t lost her naiveté or…suggested she was spoon-feeding him half-truths and playing games.

  He tapped his thumb on the island, watching her. “He cheated on you.”

  To her credit, she barely blanched. “Yes.”

  “A lot.”

  “Constantly.”

  Jesus… “Have you always known that?”

  “We went to Nice for our honeymoon. I was excited, because I’d never been to France, and he promised to show me everything. He did, especially things I didn’t expect…like him banging a high-class prostitute four days into our marriage.”

  What a bastard. “Why didn’t you leave him then?”

  Madison shook her head. “Does it matter anymore? I can’t undo the past. The future is what’s unwritten. All I can do now is focus on staying alive. And keeping my father safe. He’s got cancer.”

  Matt hadn’t heard that…and he had a feeling she’d intentionally changed the subject to dodge his question. He left it alone—for now. “I’m sorry. Where is he?”