Gage

Except, he wasn’t really back. He was just here to save her.

“All right,” he said, and repeated it. “I need you to get on that plane and leave. I’ll try to figure out who’s after you and how to stop it.”

That seemed like the goodbye she’d been expecting, and Lynette wanted to hang on to this moment just a little longer. “I could stay and help you.”

“No deal.” Another of Gage’s sayings. In this case, he delivered it with a stubbornness that she had no trouble hearing.

Lynette opened her mouth to argue. She didn’t want Gage shouldering all the danger. But then she thought of her unborn child. Their baby. If she stayed, the baby would also be in danger.

And that scenario was out of the question.

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Gage.

Lynette Herrington’s eyes flew open, and she jack-knifed to a sitting position in her bed.

Something had caused her to wake up.

But what?

With her breath gusting, her heart racing, Lynette glanced round her bedroom and then at the clock on the nightstand. Just past four in the morning.

Outside, a bad storm was playing havoc with the massive oaks on the side of her country house. The wind slapped at the branches, fanning them over the security lights mounted on the eaves. Rain slithered down the windows and made snaky shadows in the room.

“It’s just the storm,” she mumbled. That’s what had pulled her from a deep sleep.

But something about that explanation didn’t feel right.

She reached for the lamp switch, but the sound stopped her cold. It was hardly a sound at all, and the storm practically drowned it out, but Lynette was positive she heard something she didn’t want to hear.

A single footstep.

“Don’t scream,” someone warned her. It was a man. And he was right next to her bed concealed in all those rainy shadows. “I won’t hurt you.”

Lynette’s heart jumped to her throat, and she did exactly what he’d warned her not to do. She screamed. Or rather that’s what she tried to do, but he muffled it by clamping his hand over her mouth.

“I said I won’t hurt you,” he repeated.

Lynette didn’t believe him. She clawed at his hand and reached for the drawer of her nightstand where she kept a loaded .38. And by God, she knew how to use it. She wouldn’t just let this man attack her or do heaven knows what else without her fighting back.

But the man fought back, too. He didn’t let go of her, and whichever way Lynette turned and twisted to break free of him, he seemed to anticipate her every move. She couldn’t reach the gun, and he was a lot stronger than she was.

Oh, God.

Was this how her life would end? With an intruder killing her in her own bed?

The fear of that caused her to freeze. But only for a moment. That’s because she remembered she had a very big reason why she had to keep fighting. And why she had to win. She drew back her fist so she could punch him in the face.

“Gage sent me,” the man growled.

It took her a moment to hear what he’d just told her. It was another moment before those words sank in. That was the only thing on earth he could have said to make her stop. Lynette quit struggling, and her gaze rifled to the man.

Gage.

Just the sound of his name put Lynette’s heart in her throat again. It warmed her. And cut her to shreds all at the same time.

“Gage is dead,” she whispered when he eased back his hand. “How could he have sent you?”

Unless …

Oh, mercy. She wanted to believe Gage was alive—especially since she’d never seen his dead body. Was that what this man was here to tell her? That Gage wasn’t dead after all?

She was too afraid to hope, but she did anyway.

“No,” he mumbled as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he stepped several inches away from her. “Before Gage died, he asked me to keep an eye on you. He made me promise.”

His voice was like gravel, husky and raw, and Lynette studied what she could see of him. Tall. Lanky. He wore dark jeans, a black shirt and a black leather jacket.

There was a cowboy hat, also black, slung low on his forehead so that it was hard to see his face. He’d probably done that on purpose, since he was obviously trying to prevent her from getting a good look at him.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He stepped deeper into the shadows. “It’s best if you don’t know my name.”

“I disagree with that,” Lynette snapped. “You’re in my bedroom at four in the morning. How did you get in? All the doors and windows were locked, and I have a security system.”