Protector's Instinct

Then she’d poked him in the chest with that tiny finger of hers, just like she had so many times in the past. And in the past it had almost always ended with them on top of each other.

He had moved out of muscle memory more than anything else. Covered her finger with his hand like he had so many times before, moving in for a kiss.

Basic instinct, a primal need for Caroline, had taken over from there. He’d been so caught up in the kiss, knew she had been too. Had felt her hands in his hair, felt her legs pull him closer when he’d set her up on the hood of her truck. It had been so long; they’d been desperate for each other.

But then she’d told him to stop and his first instinct, the only one he’d been able to hear at all, had been to keep kissing her. Keep kissing that throat. That neck. Those lips.

Then when she should’ve slapped him, she’d simply tugged at his hair and told him to stop again.

And finally reason had returned.

He scrubbed a hand over his face now, despair tugging at him. He’d been holding her in place, unwilling to let her go.

Caroline, a rape victim.

He had to give her credit; she hadn’t seemed panicked. She hadn’t cried or punched him or run screaming back into the Silver Eagle. When he’d jumped back, she’d started to say something to him.

He could think of a number of things she’d had a right to say to him. And none of them were pretty. So when Wade had yelled whatever he had to say—Zane totally hadn’t been listening—he’d gotten away from Caroline.

Because once again, as had been true for the past eighteen months, the greatest thing Zane could do for Caroline was to keep away from her. He’d made as quick an exit as he could manage.

She’d be in the middle of Big Bend State Park now, on her hike. He still didn’t like it. But she’d been right in one argument: what say did he have in her life?

None. Which was the best possible thing for her.

But the thought of her hiking alone still stuck in his craw. Maybe if he had kept his temper, used reason to discuss it with Caroline, he could’ve changed her mind.

But who was he kidding? Reason had never had anything to do with their relationship. Passion, fighting, yelling, heat. All those had. But never reason.

She’d driven him crazy from the moment they’d met in high school when her family relocated from Dallas. In both the best and worst of ways.

God, how he’d missed her the last year and a half. Missed the woman who had always stood toe-to-toe with him and refused to back down.

But now all he could picture was her broken body lying in the hospital bed eighteen months ago. Crying when she didn’t know he could see her.

She’d never be able to go toe-to-toe with anyone again.

Not that Zane hadn’t been willing to change everything about their relationship to fit her needs. Over those first few months, he’d tried. Went out of his way to be gentle, easy, light with Caroline. It had been weird, so different than what had always transpired between them. But for Caroline he’d been willing to do it. To do anything.

But it had all just seemed to make her upset. Sad, even.

Every time he’d let her win an argument, every time she’d poked him in the chest with that little finger and he’d just pulled her in for a hug, it had just made her more sad.

Finally, Zane realized that being around him at all made her sad. So he’d given her the only thing he’d had left to give: his absence. He’d quit the department, moved to the outskirts of town, made it so they never ran into each other.

And it had absolutely gutted him. His entire life became empty.

But for his Caro he’d been willing to pay that price.

And after his behavior two nights ago, obviously he needed to continue keeping himself away from her. The thought that he could’ve hurt her, scared her, brought back memories of her attack ripped a hole in him.

He started the day doing paperwork—owning your own charter flight company was perhaps the only business in the world that created more paperwork than law enforcement—but soon found he needed the release of some sort of physical activity. He decided yard work was in order. If his mother came by and saw the bushes and grass looking the way they did now, he would never hear the end of it.

And at least the hard, physical work of cutting and trimming allowed him to force the thoughts of kissing a stunning brunette—and how very good it had been before turning so bad—to the back of his mind.

He was going to have to see her in a couple of weeks from now for Jon Hatton and Sherry Mitchell’s wedding in Colorado, since Caroline was one of Sherry’s best friends and in the wedding. But Zane would be damn sure to keep his distance.

He’d kept his distance for nearly two years. He’d keep on doing it now.

When his phone rang, Zane wiped the sweat from his head before removing his glove and grabbing the device. Speak of the devil; it was Jon Hatton.

Zane hit the receive button. “Hey, Jon, I was just thinking about you.”

There was a short pause. “Well, I hope you weren’t in the shower, because that would be weird.”

Zane laughed. “No, just tackling some yard work that has been a particular pain in the ass.”

Zane had met the Omega Sector agent here in Corpus Christi when the local police had needed help with the serial rapist case. He and Jon had solved the case, but too late for Caroline.

Jon had tried multiple times to get Zane back into law enforcement since Zane had quit, even talking to him about working for Omega Sector, but Zane hadn’t budged. Although he had helped Jon with a couple of cases that had brought the man back to Texas.

“If you’re calling to get me to help you pick out china patterns, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“As scary as that thought is, no, I’m not calling with anything about the wedding. We’ve got a problem, Zane.”

Zane knew the other man well enough to know that if Jon was calling him with “a problem” it was something serious.

“What’s going on?”

“Can you get to your email right now?” Jon asked.

“Let me go inside.” Zane grabbed the nearest dish towel from the kitchen and wiped as much sweat and dirt off his face and arms as he could before heading into his office.

“All right, I’m at my computer.”

“I’m sending a picture of a Damien Freihof.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“He went to jail five years ago because he was about to blow up a bank full of people in Phoenix.”

“Okay.” Zane had no idea what this had to do with him.

“He escaped last year. Nearly killed Brandon Han and his fiancée, Andrea.”

Zane knew Brandon; the man had helped figure out who the rapist was. But he didn’t know about this Freihof guy or that he almost killed Brandon.

“That time—” it would’ve been right after Caroline’s rape “—it’s pretty fuzzy for me, Jon.”