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delve into at the time. Something about the sound of her answer had immediately had his stomach clenching. Not in dread, but in an impending … something that still didn’t make sense. What did make sense? He was dying for her.
    And he had no idea how to fix any of it.
    “Hey, Casey, you look down.” Sarah Foxe Cooper, God love her heart, his boss’s wife. Trust her to get right to the point and thankfully to keep her voice down while doing so.
    A charming, shy little thing, he’d once believed. Until she came out of her shell, stole Cooper’s heart, and became a regular at one of the most dangerous watering holes in the state. She was like a breath of fresh air in a trash dump. Pretty as a picture she was, and from the look on her face, determined to get an answer to her question. Determined and firm, she moved through the crowd as though it were a family reunion.
    Cooper was never far behind her, either. And if not Cooper, then at least two of his most trusted bouncers were planted on her ass. Cooper never, at any time, took his wife’s safety for granted.
    Tonight, as on most nights, it was Cooper following his wife. With an indulgent smile on his face, he kept a steady eye on the woman who had stolen his heart the summer before.
    “I’m tired, Sarah,” he answered. “Your husband is a slave driver.”
    He was tired of waiting and watching for a woman who hadn’t arrived. She had five more minutes, then he was going after her. Five minutes, that was it.
    “Yeah, but such a damned sexy one,” Sarah replied, her smile infectious and filled with warmth as she cast her husband a flirty look over her shoulder.
    “I guess it takes a feminine eye to see the sexy part,” Casey snorted as he glanced toward the entrance again and caught himself glaring at it.
    “Hmm, that could be possible.” Sarah shrugged as she lifted herself onto the bar stool beside him, drawing his gaze from the door. “But that doesn’t tell me why you’re looking such a grump this early in the week. I thought you reserved the bad moods for the weekend?”
    Not lately he hadn’t. Weekends had meant Sheila too. It had meant wild, hot, explicit sex, earthy feminine moans, and sharp little nails clawing at his back.
    Fuck, he was hard. His dick pulsed and throbbed in his jeans.
    That fast. His erection was all but pushing past the zipper of his jeans and drawing his balls tight against the base of the shaft. It felt as though it had been years rather than days since he had fucked her.
    Damn.
    He glanced at his watch again. Two minutes and he was going after her.
    He couldn’t handle this. He wanted her to the point his back teeth ached with it.
    For three nights in a row, he’d existed in a state of miserable arousal and confused anger. There was nothing worse than caring that he’d fucked up and being unable to figure out how.
    “I’m fine, Sarah,” he promised as he realized she was watching him expectantly.
    He glanced at the door again, then his watch.
    One and a half minutes and he was going after her.
    “She slipped in the back entrance about three hours ago, collected the reports, and ran,” Sarah leaned forward and informed him quickly, her voice low. “Ran as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.”
    Sarah straightened in her seat then and cast her husband a teasing look as he shook his head at her. Sarah was known to matchmake. Or at least, to attempt to. It had been making all of them crazy. They indulged her, were amused by her, but seriously, she made them crazy with it.
    Well, all of them except the new guy, Morgan Keane. One of the six new bouncers Cooper had been forced to hire in the past year. He was a former special forces soldier referred by one of the U.S. Marshals who were protecting Sarah’s father. A former Italian Mafia boss who had immigrated to America, now known as Giovanni Fredric.
    Morgan was a brooding, grouchy son of a bitch with an attitude that managed to keep even the most