“I’m a little afraid of her,” Susan admitted.

“She wanted you to be afraid. That way you would never go to your father because you didn’t want to know if he’d believe you or not. She destroyed your trust in him, that’s what people like her do. There’s no reason. I’ll deal with her. Go change into your riding clothes.” He reached out and caught Emma’s wrist, preventing her from leaving the room while Susan headed for the door. “Susan.” He stopped her, waited until she turned back toward him. “If you’re ever put in a position you’re uncomfortable with again—any situation, including when you go on a date—you call me. I’ll give you my private number, which you won’t give out to anyone at all. Understood?”

Susan’s smile blossomed across her face. “Understood.”

Jake waited until Susan’s footsteps had faded down the hall and her door had closed before he swung Emma around in front of him and cupped her chin. His mouth was gentle, tender even, when he brushed his lips over hers. “Did she hurt you?”

“Calling me a slut? Or calling the kids bastards?”

“The children have a father. Me. My last name is on their birth certificates. And not just a slut—you’re my slut. Let’s remember the difference, Emma.” He kissed her again, a teasing smile on his face. “You’re my everything, so screw her.”

“She didn’t hurt me, Jake,” Emma said, knowing it was true. “Do you think Senator Hindman will believe you? I think Dana will try to cause trouble for you—for Susan—maybe even for all of us.”

“Don’t you worry about that traitor,” Jake said, his voice so low it terrified her. “She’ll find out what it’s like to lose everything and live on the streets, servicing anyone who can buy her for a nickel.”

“Jake.”

“She fucking called you a whore, Emma. She called my children bastards. She tried to spy on us. But worst of all, she abused her position of power over a sixteen-year-old kid. I’m going to take her down.”

He kissed her again and she tasted his anger. He tasted wild, primitive and all male. She opened her mouth to try to soothe him, but he rained kisses all over her face.

“I’m more furious that I couldn’t protect you from someone like her in our own house.”

“What do you think she was after, planting the microchip?”

“I think my enemies want one or both of our children. I’ve locked down the house and you’re a complete mystery to them. They needed a way to collect information.”

Emma frowned up at him. “Do you think Senator Hindman is involved?”

“No.” Jake picked up his phone. “The senator has a viper in his home. Trent and the Bannaconnis have been trying to find a way to blackmail him for years. He’s never been controlled by them. They obviously planted Dana Anderson in his home.”

Maybe it was obvious to Jake, but it wasn’t so obvious to her. “I’m glad I don’t have to be the one to figure out what’s going on,” she said.

Jake kissed her again. “Go have fun riding with the kids and Susan, and don’t worry about anything.”

He watched her turn away and then turn back toward him, shyness in her usually confident eyes. “What is it, honey?” he asked gently. He loved her like this, soft and so vulnerable to him.

“I just wanted to make certain you were all right. You’re always so busy taking care of us, but did she hurt you with the things she said?”

He stepped close to her, to her warmth, drawing her slowly into his arms, pressing her soft body against his. He just held her, his chin on top of her head, his hand cupping the nape of her neck as he nuzzled the silky waterfall of red hair cascading down her back. Emma slid her arms around him and held him tightly, as if she were trying to comfort him.

Perhaps the memory of his childhood was too close, having witnessed Susan being made to feel so small and helpless, but he held Emma even closer, knowing this moment was another first for him—his first genuine offer of comfort from another human being. He wasn’t in need of consoling, not because of the likes of Dana Anderson, but for all those lost childhood years, for all of his long, empty years isolated and alone as an adult.

She was tearing down his walls too fast, and he had to stop her before it was too late for him. His heart raced, adrenaline pouring in, flooding his veins. Hard knots formed in his belly. It was frightening to know a part of him wanted to strike at her, push her away, take back the control she didn’t even know she had stolen from him. Already his fingers fisted in her hair, tight, close to her skull, deliberately pulling on her tender scalp as he forced her head back. He was breathing hard, great, ragged breaths, as he stared down into her face.

Emma felt the difference in him immediately. He went from Jake to a cornered beast, his eyes that slashing gold that indicated a fight for survival. She stayed pliant and unresisting, wanting to cry for him, for the feral animal trapped in those eyes. “I love you, Jake,” she said softly, knowing it was true.

The eyes glittered at her, lips drew back in a snarl, baring white teeth as they snapped together. “Don’t say that to me.”

“I love you,” she repeated, unafraid. His face was a mask of burning fury, but she felt his body shudder against hers in a kind of surrender.

The fingers tightened to the point of pain, bringing tears to her eyes. “Don’t say it,” he hissed, his heart already gone. Panic set in. She was so fragile. He could break her neck with one movement. He could tear out her heart. He could destroy her so easily, yet she looked at him without fear, her expression radiant. Absolute. “Like in the damned pictures,” he whispered, and brought his mouth down on hers, afraid she would see—would know—about the burning in his eyes and the lump clogging his throat.