He swallowed around the knot in his throat and tried to push the words to the back of his head, where he would deal with them later, but they stubbornly refused to fade. She refused to fade. Her injured expression. The lack of sparkle in her eyes. He’d done that to her, goddammit. All along, he’d known it was inevitable, but seeing it had been devastating.

What the hell had he been thinking? She’d slid her hot curves over his body, looked up at him as if to say I need it good and hard, Matt, and he’d lost his battle with common sense. He’d been incapable of stopping himself from drilling her against that seat, even as the voice inside his head warned him something was off. Her demeanor, her distant attitude…her Lucy-ness had been missing. At first. She hadn’t been able to hold back once he pushed inside of her. What happened after that… Sweet Jesus. They way she’d writhed on his cock, thighs wide open for him as she’d pushed against him with her hands. Bit him. The contradiction of her resistance and capitulation had been mind-blowingly hot. Toward the end, he’d been heedless to anything but his body’s demands, completely consumed by her. Again that voice in his head had implored him to slow it down, kiss her, look her in the eye until he got Lucy back, but there had been no stopping at that point.

Then before he could blink, it had been too late. She’d been walking away, such finality in her tone that he’d been frozen in denial. If she could walk away after what they’d just shared, he’d done some serious damage, but he had no experience repairing his own destruction. Only causing it. He only hoped it wasn’t too late to fix it. No, he wouldn’t let it be too late. There was way too much at stake this time.

Focus. You have a job to do first.

Matt breathed deeply through his nose and focused on the target, who looked completely calm, resigned. Oddly enough, that wasn’t unusual for a man in his situation. He’d had time to come to terms with what he was attempting to do. While he was overseas, Matt had seen more than his share of this type of event, but it was rare to say the least in New York City.

Matt frowned. Also rare? The amount of time it was taking the man to detonate the bomb. If he wouldn’t open a line of communication with Daniel to state his demands, what was his goal? At this point, he would only succeed in bringing a handful of civilians with him.

Then it happened. If Matt had blinked, he would have missed it. Subtly, the man checked his watch and glanced through the window at the building across the street. The building he and hundreds of ESU officers were stationed inside. Matt’s heart began pounding loudly in his ears as he reached for the radio on his shoulder.

“Evacuate the building now. Get everyone out.”

Immediately, his chief’s harried voice responded. “Donovan? Wh—”

“He’s a decoy. Move everyone out. Now.” His own voice sounded distant. “We’re the target.”

Matt didn’t bother waiting for an order. He shouldered his rifle and moved at a fast clip toward the stairs. Before he’d made it halfway to the lobby, the ground began to shake under his feet.

…

Lucy hadn’t made it a full minute before turning on Hayden’s massive flat screen and flipping to the local news station. What she saw had made her heart stop.

Suicide Bomber Holds Bank Customers Hostage.

She hadn’t been able to fathom it. A bomb. That meant…her brother and Matt were both there? Smack in the middle of harm’s way. After having held Matt in her arms only minutes before, it had been surreal. And terrifying. His stoic expression after he’d been called to the scene came back to her, suddenly making far too much sense. From there, it had only gotten worse.

Explosion Rocks Lower Manhattan. Number of Casualties Unknown.

She had no idea how long she stood there, still as death, in front of the television, worst-case scenarios materializing in her head before she could stop them. Her brother…Matt…she replayed every minute she’d spent with them over the last few days until she realized tears were coursing down her cheeks.

A commercial break for toothpaste had finally snapped her out of her stupor. As soon as she’d lowered herself onto the couch, her cell phone started to ring. She’d fumbled to answer it, praying it was her brother. Matt didn’t even have her phone number. How ridiculous was that?

It had been Hayden calling.

“I’m home. I haven’t heard from Brent yet. Can you…come over and sit with me?”

Lucy had found herself in a cab, heading toward Queens, before she was even aware her feet were moving. Home. That was where she wanted to be. Not some giant, unfamiliar house in a neighborhood where nobody knew her name. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law had to be worried sick, much like herself. Twenty minutes later, she walked into the front door of her childhood home. The differences were startling since the last time she’d been there.

Accent walls? Sconces? When had that happened?

Hayden appeared in front of her, wringing her hands. “Brent redecorated. He said he wanted to chick-ify it for me.” She looked shell-shocked. “I’m marrying a man who dismantles bombs for a living. Am I a f**king lunatic or what?”

They both laughed, but it died just as quickly.

Lucy set her purse down. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Tequila in the cabinet.”

She nodded and went to the kitchen. “Are you partaking?”

In an absent motion, Hayden smoothed a hand over her belly, but Lucy caught it. “No, I’m fine for now. You drink mine.”

Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat. She poured half a shot’s worth into a coffee mug, then changed her mind and poured another two fingers. When she walked into the living room, Hayden stood in front of the television, watching footage of the explosion being filmed by a circling helicopter. She looked so ready to buckle from tension that Lucy knew she needed a distraction. Hell, she desperately needed one herself.

“How are the wedding plans coming?”

Hayden looked at her blankly. “What?”

“If I know my brother, he probably wants a Mets theme. Blue and orange all the way. Hot dogs and beer at the reception…” Lucy took a bracing sip. “Instead of a priest, you can have an announcer pronounce you man and wife through a loudspeaker. Then Brent can throw out the first pitch.”

Hayden burst into tears.

“Shit.” She set down her mug of tequila and led Hayden toward the couch. “He’s going to be fine. Have you seen the guy? If a meteor fell out of the sky, it would bounce right off him.”

That got a watery laugh. “He didn’t eat breakfast this morning. I don’t know why that bothers me so much. Maybe because I’m the one who distracted him.” She swiped at her eyes. “He must have been starving right before it happened. That’s all I keep thinking.”

Lucy understood more than she knew. The scene with Matt played itself out in her head nonstop, ending the same way each time. His whispered denial when she tried to leave, that now-familiar haunted expression she still didn’t fully understand. Had she put him off his game, right before he headed into a dangerous situation? The possibility continued to gnaw at her gut until she couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Why don’t we go make Brent something to eat, so it’s ready when he gets here?”