There were no words to make the situation better. It required more than that.

She knew what she needed.

He was a big, bad fighter, but maybe he needed it, too.

Unhooking her seat belt, she scooted over next to him.

"What are you doing? Get your belt back on."

"No."

His hands tightened on the wheel, squeezing it as if to crack it in half. "Yvette," he warned.

Hugging up to his arm, she sighed at the contact with his warm body. Rock-solid muscles flexed under her hands, more evidence of his anger. "I'm okay," she gently told him.

When Cannon growled, "What if he'd gotten you into his car?"

She could only admit, "I don't know." It had scared her to death, wondering what he'd do.

They would be home in another two or three minutes. She wanted a bowl of cereal, her pj's, Cannon and bed. Not necessarily in that order.

She put her head back against his shoulder. "He kept saying he loved me and just wanted to talk." Needing the contact, she slipped her fingers up under the sleeve of his T-shirt, opening her palm over all that sleek, hot strength. He had the most amazing shoulders and biceps, she wanted to bite him. Lick him.

Kiss him everywhere.

Musing aloud, she said, "Maybe I should try calling him. Let him talk-"

"h.e.l.l, no."

"Okay." She squeezed his arm, loving the feel of him despite all that had happened.

Tomorrow she'd bring it up again and suggest they ask Margaret about it. It might be a way to bring Heath out in the open. She could even give the number to one of them to try calling from her phone.

Knowing he lurked around the area, able to spring on her again, scared her more than anything else.

It seemed so quiet, being on the road this time of night with only the occasional car going past. She idly stroked the inside of Cannon's arm, where he was sleek and smooth and hard.

"Don't be mad at me, okay?" She was too tired for that.

"I'm not." He shrugged her off his shoulder, but only so he could put his arm around her. "I'm mad at...a lot of s.h.i.t. But not you."

"Do you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I do." He gave her a brief warning squeeze. "We're going to have a nice long talk."

Stifling a groan, she asked, "Not tonight, right?"

"We'll see."

Which as good as meant he planned to talk tonight. Another groan tried to get out, but she swallowed it back. If he needed to talk, she'd talk. Maybe while sitting on his lap.

In her pajamas.

And maybe under those circ.u.mstances, she'd be able to avoid the conversation until morning.

A minute later he pulled into the driveway, got out to open the garage door and pulled in to park.

Holding the hem of Armie's oversize shirt, Yvette hopped out on her own. More than anything, she wanted comfort, snuggling. s.e.x.

She wanted Cannon.

But if he wanted to lecture her instead, he could d.a.m.n well wait, at least until she'd gotten her cereal.

Cannon watChed her hustle her s.e.xy little a.s.s inside and knew he'd chased her away.

He struggled with his temper, knew it was useless and considered heading straight downstairs to the workout equipment in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Wouldn't hurt for him to work off some rage before confronting her.

Mad? h.e.l.l, mad didn't even begin to cover it. He was caught in such a gripping fury it was all he could do not to go out and find trouble. Surely someone somewhere in the neighborhood needed an old-fashioned beatdown. And if it was more than one person, that'd suit him just fine.

Right now he'd relish a brawl.

But he was respected in his self-a.s.signed role as peacekeeper, in large part because he didn't seek trouble.

He just took care of it when it happened.

It'd be unfair to leave Yvette wondering what he had to say, so he got out of the car. The light from his open door spilled out around the concrete floor and pegboard walls-and reflected off the open garage window.

Knowing he'd left it closed and locked, Cannon slowly got out. Something in the air alerted him; he scanned the garage, and then the window.

One pane was missing, broken out, the gla.s.s crunching underneath his feet.

Broken so an intruder could reach inside and open the lock.

He searched the interior and noticed only a few displaced items, the garbage can moved, tool drawers open as if someone had been searching.

Vigilant, he went to the window to pull it down- and thanks to a bright moon he saw the shadow move across the lawn.

Someone was still here.

Hoping it'd be Heath, needing it to be that p.r.i.c.k, he headed outside to investigate, his stride long and hurried. He'd just pa.s.sed through the garage door when more gla.s.s crashed-inside the house.

Followed by Yvette's screech.

h eart still lodged in her throat, flattened up to the wall, Yvette took in the broken gla.s.s glittering over the sink, across the floor. The item that had sailed through the window? There, half under the table...

A fist-size rock.

Cannon shot into the room, heaving like a marauder.

His gaze went everywhere in a nanosecond before searching over her body.

"I'm okay," she told him fast, and pointed. "A rock.

From outside."

"It didn't hit you? You aren't cut?"

"No. Just...it startled me."

His gaze narrowed on the window, frustration visibly mounted, and he started to bolt out again.

"Wait!"

Gaze locking on hers, he barked, "What?" He really wanted to take someone apart, she could tell. But she didn't want to be left alone.

Using his pause to her advantage, Yvette grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare go out there." She prepared an excuse for why he should stay, but the worry quickly became a reality.

Aghast at the possibility, she whispered, "What if someone is in the house?"

Cannon's eyes flared. "Call 911." He again started to turn away, but thought to add, "Stay in the kitchen."

Hands shaking, she put in the call, then leaned out the kitchen doorway to watch as Cannon went down the hall, this time with more stealth. He checked the bas.e.m.e.nt door, saw it was still locked and continued down to the baths and bedrooms.

When the dispatcher answered, she quickly explained the situation to the very calm lady on the other end of the line.

The dispatcher a.s.sured her that an officer was on the way, but wanted Yvette to stay on the phone until he arrived.

Giving a blow-by-blow report of Cannon's progress through the house-without finding anything-helped her recollect her calm.

When Cannon returned, Yvette explained that he hadn't found anything. Almost at the same time the flashing red-and-blue lights showed out front.

With relief, she dropped back against the wall.

Using his flashlight, the officer walked around the house. Two security lights had been shot out with a BB gun. The officer found BBs on the ground and embedded into the side of the house. He took a report, promised to update Logan and Officer Huffman-and got a picture with Cannon.

Though his patience looked strained, Cannon remained friendly and smiled for the photo.

After the officer left, she cleaned up the gla.s.s while Cannon secured the kitchen window, and when that was done, she trailed him to the garage.

"Why don't you go get your shower while I take care of this?"

She hated to admit it, but didn't see an alternative. "I'd rather wait on you."

Cannon paused in the act of closing the garage window. As if her vulnerability shaved off a layer of his rage, his shoulders eased. "All right. I'll only be a minute."

She sat on the hood of her car, knees drawn up, jumping at every sound. When Cannon hammered a plank of wood over the window, she covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

The noise ended, and his arms came around her, his big hands open on her backside. "You okay?"

She wasn't, not by a long shot, but she nodded anyway. "Tired." Forcing her head up, she met his electric-blue eyes, now volatile with indiscernible emotion. "You?"

Calm as you please, he said, "Murderous rage."

For some reason, that made her smile even as her eyes burned. "I'm sorry."

"Come on." He scooped her up against his chest and carried her into the house.

Just for a minute, Yvette thought, as she rested her cheek against his chest. Then she'd get her gumption back and stop letting him pamper her.

"What do you want to do first?" His chin brushed her forehead. "Shower? Eat? Bed?"

You, she answered silently. I want to do you. But sadly, he hadn't made that an option. Food no longer appealed, not even a bowl of cold cereal. If she tried to eat she just might barf.

"I'm beat," she said with a trumped-up smile. "I just want to wash my face, brush my teeth and go to bed." With you hugged tight around me.

"All right."

She didn't protest when he carried her into the bathroom. And when he stayed so that they brushed their teeth side by side, she was grateful not be alone.

But then he peeled off his clothes while she washed her face-which made her get soap in her eyes because, seriously, how could she not watch?

When she finished, he took her hand and, wearing only snug boxers, walked with her back into the bedroom.

With every step they took, her heart punched harder, making her breathless. Antic.i.p.ation sizzled along every nerve ending.

She needed this-she needed him.

He opened a drawer and got out another SBC shirt, then held it in his fist while facing her. "You're not sleeping in Armie's shirt."

Actually, she'd forgotten she had it on. "Okay." With Cannon near naked, she didn't need to be convinced. The idea of being skin to skin with him ramped up her excitement even more.

Being daring, thrilled with the way he watched her, she skinned out of her jeans, pulled Armie's shirt off over her head and then removed the ripped shirt. Seeing the blue of his eyes darken, she reached back for the closure of her bra.

Cannon made a rough sound of near pain and averted his gaze.

Voice quavering, she told him, "You can look." She wanted him to. She wanted him to look and touch and kiss... .

"No." A heavy load of rigidity resettled in his broad shoulders. "If I do, I won't be able to stop."

Did he not understand how badly she wanted him? "So let's not stop."

Eyes still averted, he held the shirt out to her. "Take my word on this, okay? Tonight is not the night."

Ignoring the offered shirt, she moved up against him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his naked back. "Why?"

He stiffened. "Yvette..."