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but alabaster against the mess of wavy hair so black it held a tint of blue to it, like raven wings. A strong chin and carved jaw made complete by broad cheekbones. He had to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. Full, sensual lips were turned up on one corner, as if he knew some private joke.
    There was something exotic about the way his face pieced together. Maybe it was the slight tilt to the outer corners of his eyes , or the fact that I’d never, ever seen anyone who looked like him before. He reminded me of one of those male models on the cover of vampire romances. He could’ve easily been any number of them except…
    “Miss Cross?” His voice was like whiskey, deep and smooth, but there was something about the hard line of his jaw that said the man didn’t smile a lot. Two eyes such a pale blue they seemed to lack color stared back into mine. The thick and sooty lashes framing those startling eyes made them appear even more unnaturally pale. For a moment I wondered if he was blind. They were raw—beautiful. And I realized then that I was staring at him and he was…he was smirking at me .
    I snapped out of it, bristling. “Who are you?”
    One single brow rose. “Is that typically how you greet people?”
    I was usually indecently polite. Oddly, my heart hadn’t slowed even though I no longer really detected imminent danger. “Do you usually sneak up on women in a parking garage—?”
    “—that someone was blown up in a few short days ago?”
    I sucked in a sharp breath at the harsh reminder of what had occurred. “Excuse me,” I said, turning toward my car before I burst into tears.
    The man sighed loudly. “What I meant is that you had a point. I should’ve said something earlier. You have been through a very…”
    He trailed off as I stared at him. A confused look marred his striking face, as if he was mentally going through a word list but couldn’t find the right thing to say.
    I folded my arms, waited for what I felt was an acceptable time limit, and finally ran out of patience. “Traumatic? Stressful? Upsetting?”
    The man nodded. “Yeah, those things.”
    My brows furrowed as my lips puckered. “What can I help you with?”
    “My name is Hunter. I’m with the Department of Defense.”
    “Department of Defense? Why are they involved? I mean , I know what I saw was some—”
    “Okay. Let’s not talk about what you saw.” He folded his arms, stretching the material of his shirt.
    My gaze dropped over him again. Strange attire for the Department of Defense. I frowned, casting my eyes to where his forearms crossed. Geez, this guy must have a wicked workout regimen. “Are you with those officers I spoke to Monday night?”
    “If one of them acted like he was constipated, then yes, I’m with Officer Zombro and Richards.”
    My lips started to loosen. “Well, yes, one of them did look uncomfortable…” I peeked up and found him watching me with eerie pale eyes. “I thought they were with Homeland Security?”
    “Is that what they said?”
    That wasn’t an answer, but as I waited for more detail, I realized that was all I was going to get. “Do you have a last name?”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    Hunter nodded.
    “Are you here to ask questions about what happened?” I asked, my palms starting to sweat. Something wasn’t right.
    His expression remained the same. “No.”
    I was thinking it was time to ask for some sort of identification, but before I could, Hunter stepped forward, crowding me. My back hit the side of the car and there was nowhere else for me to go. My heart tripped up as I inhaled sharply. The scent of masculine spice and soap swamped me. “Then why are you here?”
    He cocked his head to the side as his pale eyes drifted around me before settling back on my face. The intensity in his gaze was unnerving. “You.”
    “Me?” I squeaked out.
    “I’m here because of you,” he said. Unfolding his arms, he leaned forward, placing his hand on the car beside