Talking to him about Rafe would do that, and Ridley Cromer needed to be alive and well somewhere in the world in order for her to keep going. Now she had a reason for being alone and lonely. Now she had a reason to stay in the shadows. And that reason was stretched out beside her, tough as nails, as sweet as the beignets she loved from her home state.

“So talk to me.”

“I need more time. I can’t just make a decision without considering all the ramifications. And I’m tired. I don’t make decisions when I’m tired.” She had to let him go before she did do something like talk to him about Rafe. That was how far gone she was. That was how much she wanted him. But even halfway in love, or maybe because of it, she wasn’t going to risk his life.

He sighed, but the resignation was in his voice and on his face. “I’ll give you a few hours to sleep and then I’m coming back, Cat, and whether you like it or not, we’re going to talk.”

“Kiss me again.”

He shifted his body to half cover hers, his hands framing her face, and he brought his mouth down hard on hers. This was a different kiss entirely. This one said no way was she leaving him. He’d never let her go. This one said she belonged to him and no one else and there were so many more firsts he could give her.

Catarina kissed him back as best she could, following his lead, all the while committing every detail to memory. He stayed beside her while she drifted off, feeling warm and safe. She barely woke when he extricated himself from her and brushed his mouth across hers.

“I’ll see you tonight, Cat.”

She murmured a soft response and turned over to let sleep and her dreams of him take her away.

She woke sometime later with her heart pounding. She knew instantly she wasn’t alone. Someone was in her warehouse and it wasn’t Ridley. He had brushed another kiss across her forehead and left her already drifting off. She’d been wrapped in a cocoon of safety, of something close to love, and now she felt threatened on every level.

Her hand went under her pillow to get the gun just as she turned toward the monitor to check the cameras. The monitor was dark. There was no gun. Cursing softly, she slipped off the bed and felt around on the floor for her weapon. She’d more than once knocked it off the bed when she was moving around in her sleep. Before she could find it, lights burst through the warehouse, nearly every bulb turned on.

She leapt to her feet as men poured into her room. Guns pointed. Vests on. Grim faces. She was caught by the lead man and thrown facedown on her bed. She fought, trying to turn over, but he jammed a knee into her back and dragged first one and then the other hand behind her. She felt the bite of the handcuffs. He put them on tight. Still, the adrenaline coursed through her body and that monster inside of her woke.

Catarina lay facedown as the men went through her warehouse, tearing it apart, throwing her things, tossing clothes from her drawers.

“Catarina Benoit? We have a search warrant for this warehouse and your car. We’re taking you downtown for questioning.”

She recognized the voice. Frank Tuttle. Of course. She’d made him as a cop. They couldn’t have anything on her.

“What am I being charged with?” Her voice was muffled against the mattress. Her hair was everywhere. She couldn’t see him through the masses of strands falling into her eyes so she forced herself to lie still. Her skin itched horribly and panic was close. She couldn’t stop the movement of her hands, trying to find a way out of the cuffs.

Tuttle caught her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Were you going somewhere?”

“To visit my mother,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Your mother’s dead,” he snapped back, and shoved her toward the door.

Catarina deliberately stumbled and went down. She didn’t have hands to break her fall and she landed hard. The side of her face hit so hard that for a moment she saw stars and her cheek felt like she broke something. But her handcuffed hand found the small pen lying on the floor beside her overturned bag. She closed her fist around it.

“Damn it,” Tuttle said. He crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t deign to answer. Silence was a powerful weapon, she’d learned that lesson early, and she closed her mouth, refusing to look at him even when he helped her up. His hands were much gentler, but the horrible monster inside her detested his touch and clawed and raked at her belly, demanding she retaliate.

Catarina kept her eyes on the floor as Tuttle helped her to stand. Retaining possession of her arm, he walked her right out of her safety zone into broad daylight. She could see the police cars around her warehouse. There was no way this wasn’t going to make the papers in one way or the other. Her heart started pounding hard and her mouth went dry. She wasn’t in the least afraid of the police. But the police had drawn attention to her. And attention was bad. Very, very bad.

5

CATARINA rubbed at her wrists under the table, keeping her eyes down. Her wrists hurt horribly, as did her face from when she had fallen. The cuffs were off, but she kept the pen hidden for two reasons. It was a weapon if she needed one and she could use it to get out of the cuffs if they put them on her again.

She’d been patient, not tipping her hand that she could get loose. She was bruised because she couldn’t keep her hands still with her wrists locked so tightly in the metal. Tuttle had deliberately left her sitting alone in the interrogation room for some time. She knew he thought she would become more agitated and frightened. Unfortunately for Tuttle, he didn’t scare her. She knew monsters, and he wasn’t one.