She nodded and then paused. “What about Grams?”
“Well, I was thinking she might like to relocate to Montana for a little while.” Ryker smoothed tendrils away from Zara’s face, his touch beyond gentle. “It sounds like the kids have a few grandparents already, and I know she’d be a huge help. In case we need to run again, I’d rather she was already somewhere safe.”
“I’ll ask her what she wants to do,” Zara said, glancing down at his lips. “I’m sure she’d love Montana.”
Ryker wandered his lips over hers, sending all sorts of electric jolts through her body. “I’m tired of taking things slow and being so cautious. It’s time to jump in with both feet, baby.” His breath heated her mouth.
She breathed out and wiggled her butt to get more comfortable, rubbing against his obvious erection. “With both feet?” she asked.
“Marry me.”
She blinked. Her rambling rebel had just used forever words. “What?” she whispered.
“Marry me. Take my name, be my wife, promise eternity.” He kissed her, long and deep, so much emotion in his touch she felt him deep inside. Finally, he released her mouth. “Well?”
She blinked again. “I never thought to hear those words from you.”
“You’re the only woman I’d ever say them to,” he said, his eyes swimming. “We suddenly have family around, a lot of it, and now at least I know where I came from. The past is gone, and I have a future, and I want it with you. Only you.”
Her heart expanded until she could barely breathe. “Ryker.”
He grinned. “Well? Marry me.” It wasn’t even remotely worded as a question.
She looked into those dangerous eyes and saw her future. Her very good, surrounded by family, slightly wild…future. “Yes.”
Anya Best won’t rest until the serial killer who murdered her sister is caught. And she’ll do absolutely anything to take him down—even offer herself up as bait to lure him in.
FBI Agent Heath Jones works alone. The last thing he wants is to babysit the beautiful—and infuriating—woman who has inserted herself into his investigation, no matter how irresistible he finds her. But it’s soon clear that the Copper Killer won’t rest until Anya is his prized possession. And Heath will do anything to keep her safe—even risk his own life…
A preview of Lethal Lies follows.
Chapter
1
A flash of red caught Heath’s eye as he was about to shut down the computer. He sat back down and squinted at the center monitor on the makeshift desk. Damn it. His instincts humming, he maneuvered the jewelry store camera he’d hacked until the red bloomed into shimmering highlights beneath the weakened sun. Son of a bitch. What the hell was she doing there?
He rapidly tapped keys to scan the street with a multitude of cameras—some he’d hacked and others he’d planted. “Anya,” he muttered, shaking his head.
She drew a black wool coat tighter around her slender figure, stopping directly in front of the door to his former, short-lived detective agency. Drawing a card from her pocket, she read it and glanced at the now-scraped-clean window. Her shoulders hunched, and a winter wind lifted her hair.
“Go away, Anya,” Heath whispered to the computer monitor, his body tensing.
She frowned and looked around the quiet street before pressing her face to the glass and cupping her eyes.
“It’s empty.” Heath punched up the camera feed from above the door, which he hadn’t wanted to use, just in case others were surveying the area. It’d let out a signal they’d find at some point. But now he had no choice.
She backed away from the window and read the card again.
Heath zoomed in on her face. Delicate bone structure, green eyes, pale skin, and dark red hair. Oh yeah. And a black eye and bruises down her neck. They had faded since he’d last seen her—the only time he’d ever met her—but they were still visible.
Seeing them again pricked his temper just like last time.
A black sedan pulled to the curb, and two men jumped out, spraying snow.
Fuck. He’d known they were still watching the building. Heath reached for a Glock on the desk and tucked it into his waistband. He was three blocks down from the detective agency and could be there in minutes.
If necessary.
He turned up the volume on the camera.
“Can I help you, miss?” The first guy had brown eyes and wavy dark hair. His smile was charming, and he walked like he could handle himself. A jacket covered his large frame, and a slight bulge showed at his waist.
Anya turned and took a step backward. “Um, I’m looking for the detective agency that was here last week.” Her voice was low and tentative.
The guy looked at the blank window. “I think they moved.”
She nodded, her gaze darting down the street. “The inside is empty.”
The other man, a shorter black guy with adult acne, gave her a frown. “Do you know the detectives?”