"Don't know yet." Should he still go to the house? Yvette had been clear on her preferences. She didn't want him there.

"You get challenged a lot?"

"That wasn't a challenge. That was just drunken stupidity."

"I guess other guys have enough self-preservation not to go there, huh?"

Cannon shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a nice guy." And maybe Yvette truly didn't need him anymore- Laughing, Rowdy nudged him. "Yeah, you're nice enough. So here's some well-meaning advice-when in doubt, go with your gut."

"Meaning?"

"You want to go to her. I can see it. h.e.l.l, everyone in here can see it."

That prompted Cannon to look around, and he found the room ripe with speculation. He drew in a deep breath...and caved.

With new determination, he pushed off the wall. "Yeah." He'd go to her, and if she was already in bed- probably avoiding him-well, then, at least he'd be there, close by. And in the morning he'd catch her for a nice long chat, and more. "Thanks."

"Cannon?"

He paused.

"Go easy on her, too, okay? I think she's probably more fragile than she's letting on."

d.a.m.n it, since he'd always trusted Rowdy's insight, a new urgency gripped him. "See you tomorrow."

Turbulent thoughts pushed him to drive too fast. When he reached the house, he found it lit up like Christmas with every outdoor light on. It was by far the most illuminated house on the block. Bright lamps decorated either side of the front door and over the driveway, and floodlights shone over each side of the yard.

Yvette had parked in the driveway, so he pulled in behind her. If she had thoughts of leaving before him in the morning, he'd know, because she'd need him to move his car.

He felt manipulative, but what the h.e.l.l. For now, it worked.

He tried the doork.n.o.b, found it locked, and dug out the key to get in. Would she be curled up on the couch watching TV? Maybe in the shower? Or would she be tucked into bed? Each visual was nice, but he preferred the shower scene.

Unfortunately, when he stepped in, silence greeted him. So she had turned in? Hard to tell with so many lights on, but yeah, one glance down the hallway and he saw her closed bedroom door.

Disappointed, he dropped his overnight bag and looked around. The house was different, but how he felt about it wasn't. The open dining room drew his gaze. It took only a nanosecond for him to recall exactly how Yvette had looked caught up against the thug's body- and how her helplessness had turned him inside out. Thinking of how differently that day could have gone stirred his rage anew.

Yvette might not need him to be here with her now, but he needed it.

Doing his best to block the black thoughts, he roamed the house, first going down the hall to the room he'd use. Not her grandfather's room, but the spare room-the one closest to Yvette. He set his overnight bag beside the bed and emptied his pockets on the nightstand. The bed was only a twin, but he'd manage.

Turning to the wall, he thought of Yvette on the other side. Did she sleep on her side, snuggled into her pillow? Or on her back, her legs open and relaxed? Heat crept up the back of his neck; he placed his palm on the wall, thought of touching her and had to fight the urge to knock on her door.

Leaving his shoes by the bed, he made no sound as he reentered the hall. At Yvette's door he paused to listen, but it was so quiet that he imagined her holding her breath. Hard as it might be, he wouldn't disturb her.

Not tonight.

Instead he went into the kitchen, where a low light shone over the stove. If she kept this up, the electric bill would be through the roof. But he wouldn't complain.

Not with the proof of her difficulty there on the kitchen table.

Dead bolts, bars for the doors and alarms filled the tabletop. Seeing a few empty packages, he went to the window over the sink and found a narrow bar wedged into place, giving the lock a little backup on the off chance someone tried to get in. He checked the other windows and found the same. Striding to the bas.e.m.e.nt door, he located the lock bar wedged under the doork.n.o.b, ensuring no one could sneak in-as they had three years ago.

She'd taken security measures to extremes. For her peace of mind, he could make a few more improvements.

And he'd stick close. For the foreseeable future, he'd protect her, whether she liked it or not.

w earing onlY jeans, not yet shaved or showered, Cannon stood in the middle of the kitchen the next morning and cursed. Where the h.e.l.l was she?

If he'd had any doubts about her dodging him, they were now confirmed.

The coffeepot remained half-full, and her car was still in the driveway. But her open bedroom door and the empty house told him she'd taken off.

On foot?

To where?

He'd be more concerned except for the note she'd left in front of the coffeepot that read, "Help yourself," signed with a feminine, curly Y.

At only a few minutes after 7:00 a.m., morning sunshine poured in the kitchen window, spilling warm amber light over the counter and floor. Today would be a scorcher.

He always woke early, usually to work out, often to jog.

After a near-sleepless night where he'd pondered a dozen different scenarios, he'd planned a confrontation with Yvette. He'd expected to be there in the kitchen, alert and ready to sort out the confusion, when she emerged from her bed.

Still edgy with carnal need, he'd imagined catching her half-awake, maybe in a nightgown, her hair tumbled, her defenses down, warm and drowsy, sensual and sweet...

Instead she'd gotten up before dawn, made coffee for him and then skipped out.

The idea that she might be running from him ramped up the raw, basic urge to claim her. Filled with the predatory need to chase-and catch-her, he paced the floor, cursing himself for not getting her phone number. But he hadn't expected her to bolt last night, and he sure as h.e.l.l hadn't expected to find the house empty this morning.

Maybe where it concerned Yvette Sweeny, he should stop making a.s.sumptions and come up with a strategy instead.

Where to start? Confused ideas clamored in his brain, impossible to sort out. Drawn by the scent, he decided a little coffee wouldn't hurt. He wasn't a caffeine junkie, and in fact avoided it while training. But it was one of those small treats he allowed himself between preparing for fights.

One taste and he groaned. Perfection. Strong enough without being bitter.

If Yvette ever returned, he'd thank her for it.

While waiting for her, he finished his mug off and poured another. Eight o'clock came and went. Frustration mounting, Cannon went about checking all facets of security concerning the house. He wanted to know what was needed before he made some calls.

As he'd already noticed, the lighting was over-the-top, so he would suggest motion sensors. With the occasional stray cat or critter, they could be bothersome, but it was better than lighting up the whole neighborhood.

Before the sun set again, he'd install the additional dead bolts for her. Trotting down the bas.e.m.e.nt steps, he checked out the window that had been used to break in so long ago. It was now secured with a metal grate that locked from the inside. Barefoot, Cannon crossed the cold concrete floor and touched the st.u.r.dy bars.

Anger intruded, settling in his gut like molten lead. In pure reaction, he curled his hands into powerful fists. If he could fight the past, he would. If he could go back and somehow do it all differently, the miserable f.u.c.ks would never make it to prison.

Instead Yvette had to deal with the memories, same as he did. If he lived to be a hundred, it would still enrage him to think about it.

She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew it'd be the same for Yvette. Or worse. Much worse.

Trying to ease the strain, Cannon rolled his shoulders and looked around the open area of the bas.e.m.e.nt. Without a.n.a.lyzing his decision, he configured a floor plan in his mind, knowing right where he'd put each piece of workout equipment. The overhead beams could easily support a heavy bag if he used the right hardware.

Back upstairs, he gave Armie a call. The phone rang six times before his friend answered with rushing breath. "You're late."

"And you sound winded."

"I'm working out my frustrations."

Huh. Did that mean the lady hadn't waited for him after all? Ready to rib him, Cannon said, "I take it you didn't get laid?"

"Actually, smart-a.s.s, I had a three-way."

"Yeah?" Nothing new for Armie. Sounding as serious as he could, Cannon asked, "What's the other guy's name?"

"Funny-not." He could hear Armie guzzling water before he explained, "This time it was Beth and her friend Carly."

Ah, so Beth with the many piercings and tats had not only waited, she'd brought along added enticement. He already knew it wasn't Armie's first menage, but if he'd just indulged, why was he frustrated?

"Actually," Armie said, "they asked about you."

Him? He had to wonder how that conversation had gone-and when. But he said only, "Of course they did."

"I told them no-go. Said you were a virgin."

Cannon couldn't help but laugh. "Bulls.h.i.t."

"Okay, I told them you were a lousy lay. Whatever. They settled for me."

Glad that Armie knew him well enough not to bother trying to draw him into an orgy, he said, "Gee, thanks."

"So is there a reason for this call? 'Cause you're interrupting my routine."

Cannon grinned. Didn't matter how late Armie stayed out at night-sometimes all night-he still hit the rec center bright and early, and always jumped right into his workout. He was fanatical about staying in shape, about being healthy.

And about getting laid.

"Yeah, sorry. Just wanted you to know that I won't make it in for a few more hours."

"Dodging me? d.a.m.n, Cannon, I know I scare the average man, but you don't need to worry." Tone going suggestive, Armie asked, "Or is that sweet little thing you drooled over last night keeping you otherwise occupied?"

"Yeah, but not the way you mean." Hard to sleep with Yvette when he couldn't get her to stay in one place long enough to even kiss her. Maybe next time he saw her, he'd take care of that right off, then figure out the rest. "Got any free time this week?"

"Changing the subject, huh? Must mean you struck out in a big way, you poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Are you busy or not?"

With new humor, Armie said, "I have a date every night, but I can rearrange things. What's up?"

Cannon shook his head at the ready accommodation; Armie canceled dates as easily as he got them. "I want to set up some workout equipment."

"Sticking around awhile, huh?"

"I think so." But either way, he'd make himself at home here so that Yvette couldn't easily boot him out.

With forced indifference, Armie said, "I thought your little sister turned the downstairs into a separate area for her roomie."

Since Armie had helped him expand the outdated bath for that very reason, he already knew the answer. Was he interested in the roommate? Cannon had met her on a few occasions, each brief, so all he really remembered was medium blond hair, dark eyes and a cute bod.

Yeah, Armie was probably interested.

But that'd put him too close to Merissa, and Cannon didn't like that idea, so he issued another warning, this one more direct. "I don't want you messing around with the roommate."

Armie snorted. "Don't sweat it. She's not my type."

"What type is that?"

"Same as your sister-a nice girl."

Cannon laughed at how Armie inferred being "nice" made a female unacceptable. In the case of his sister, he was glad. It'd be way too uncomfortable to think about Armie, with his over-the-top s.e.xuality, anywhere near his little sis. "Rissy's got her own life going on and I see no reason to move in on her." He took a breath and admitted, "I'm staying with Yvette."

Silence-and then, "That was fast."

"Again, not the way you're thinking."

"d.a.m.n, man, I'm thinking she's hot, you're male and you're arranging a lot of alone time with her. Don't tell me it's so you can hold her hand and watch old movies, because I just might puke."

"It's complicated, that's all." Cannon took a minute to explain the situation to Armie.

"f.u.c.k," Armie said with feeling. "I thought she was the girl, but I wasn't sure. Must be rough for her."

"Not as much as you'd think." Or else Yvette did a great job hiding it. "Anyway, I plan to stay with her until the place sells-or until I'm sure she's comfortable being alone."

"Uh-huh."

At that mocking tone, Cannon's shoulders tightened. "What?"

"You're all n.o.ble and s.h.i.t, I don't doubt it. That's just you. But you're also looking to get boned in the bargain, so just admit it."

If it was any woman other than Yvette, Cannon might have just agreed and let it go. But with Yvette, the protectiveness smothering him was far too powerful for him to joke about it with anyone, even his best friend. "Armie-"

"Give it a rest, buddy. I know what I know. After seeing her, I'd think it was weird if you didn't. But don't sweat it. I'll be all circ.u.mspect and s.h.i.t whenever I'm around her."

Defensive as well as protective, he warned, "I don't want her ha.s.sled. By anyone."

"Noted." Armie moved right on past the topic, saving Cannon from more awkwardness. "How about you order in a pizza and I'll come by after work on Friday? That soon enough for you?"

"Yeah, sure." To be fair, he added, "Thanks. I owe you."