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suit that fits his long, broad frame like nothing off the rack ever could. Walking with a brisk, confident stride, he doesn’t appear to be in a rush, but he’s steadily closing the distance between him and Red, and there’s no doubt she’s the reason he jogs to get across the street seconds before a taxi roars around the corner, nearly mowing him down.
    I can’t see his eyes behind his glasses, but I can tell he’s looking at her. It’s like there are laser beams shooting out of his forehead to dance between her shoulder blades. He’s got a bead on her, and she’s hauling ass away from him as fast as she can without breaking into a run.
    Which means that this fuck in the thousand-dollar suit must be Nico, the man who won’t take for no for an answer, the man who insists that he and Red are in it to win it, and who experiences temporary hearing loss every time she tells him the thrill is gone. The man who has scared the shit out of a woman I know for a fact doesn’t scare easily.
    I was there at the Death Valley marathon when Red kicked a rattlesnake out of the trail and then, when the thing had the poor judgment to slither back for round two, took it out with a rock to the head. I was there when a section of our usual trail gave way after a week of hard rain, and Red and another freshman went sliding down into a ravine. By the time we got a crew down to drag them out of the mud, the other newbie was hyperventilating and had to be carried back to his dorm room.
    Not Red. She was pale and filthy, but after a drink of water and a minute to squeeze the mud out of her hair, she ran the trail and stayed up until midnight drinking beer with the rest of us. If she hadn’t already been dubbed Polka Dot Panties, on that day she would have earned a much more badass trail name.
    She’s a tough cookie, but this arrogant, entitled, stalking sociopath has her on the run. He’s the one responsible for the fear in her eyes, and he’s so fucking crazy he’s tailed her to a brunch meeting she insisted she would do her best to keep top secret.
    The second I make the connection, everything changes. Now that I’ve laid eyes on Nico, there’s no way I can turn Cat’s case over to Bash.
    Even from a block away, I can tell this guy is more than Bash can handle. My best friend thinks he’s a stone cold bad ass, but deep down he believes that most of the people in the world are on the better side of okay. He expects a certain baseline of common decency and would be unprepared for a man like Nico. A man who thinks it’s acceptable to treat an independent, intelligent, accomplished woman like an animal he bought at a pet store.
    Or worse. I’ve known men like Nico before. They’ll backhand their wives without a second thought, but most of them wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on one of their dogs.
    The thought of this douchebag laying a hand on Red makes me see the same color. Before I’ve had time to think it through, I move into her path, stopping her with an arm around her waist and pulling her against me.
    Her lips part, and her palms press against my chest, but when she sees my face she stops fighting.
    “Look at me, nowhere else,” I say, driving a hand into her silky hair. “Let’s give that sack of amputated goat anuses a show he won’t forget.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Bracing my free hand against the side of a long, black car parked by the curb, I lean Cat back against the sun-warmed metal and bend my face closer to hers.
    “That’s right,” I whisper inches from her lips as I leverage one leg between hers, forcing her skirt higher on her thighs. I run a hand from her hip to mold around her ribs, just beneath her breast, feeling the heavy beat of her heart beneath my fingers. “Look at me. Focus on the sound of my voice while I tell you a story about all the things I’m going to do you as soon as we’re alone.”
    “What kinds of things?” she asks, chest rising and falling faster.
    I’m pretty sure it’s fear