"How reassuring."
"I'm not here for your comfort."
We stop outside my building—converted warehouse in a neighborhood gentrification forgot. Eamon studies the street with professional disgust.
"No security. Multiple access points. Perfect for ambush." He shakes his head. "Whoever chose this place wanted you vulnerable."
"It was affordable."
"Cheap gets you killed."
He insists on escorting me upstairs, cataloging every weakness. Narrow hallway. Poor lighting. Fire escape leading to empty alley.
At my door, I hesitate. Allowing him inside crosses boundaries I can't uncross.
"Keys," he commands, extending his hand.
"What?"
"Security inspection. Keys or I pick the lock."
I surrender them, watching him move through my space with efficient authority. He checks windows, tests locks, examines potential sniper positions.
His presence transforms my sanctuary into something smaller, more intimate. Every surface he touches seems to burn with residual heat.
"You live like you're planning to run," he observes, noting sparse furnishings.
"I don't accumulate things."
"Or you don't plan on staying." He turns from the window, pinning me with intense scrutiny. "Which is it, Sorcha?"
The way he says my name—like a caress and threat combined—makes my breath catch. We stand too close in my small space, electricity crackling between us.
"I stay where I'm wanted."
"And if you're not wanted?" He steps closer, crowding me against the wall. "What then?"
His body radiates heat, masculine power that makes rational thought impossible. I should push him away, maintain boundaries, remember my mission.
Instead, I meet his stare with defiant challenge.
"Then I make myself indispensable."
His pupils dilate at my words. For a moment, the hunter's mask slips, revealing raw hunger underneath. His hand rises toward my face before he catches himself.
"Dead bolts aren't enough," he says, voice rougher than before. "You need reinforced windows. Motion sensors. Safe room."
"This isn't a fortress."
"It is now." He moves toward the door, distance returning with visible effort. "Upgrades start tomorrow. Until then, you don't go anywhere alone."
"And if I do?"
He pauses at the threshold, looking back with promise in his eyes.
"Then you'll discover what Kavanagh protection really means."
The door closes with finality, leaving me breathless and aching. His scent lingers—leather and danger and pure temptation.
