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  “Fine,” she huffs when she lifts her hair off her neck. I quickly go over to her and first let my fingertips glide over the soft skin on the side of her throat, making her shiver before I finally start on the top button.

  “Your body is a traitor, wanting the touch of a man who doesn’t deserve to lay a finger on you. Keep denying it, but you want me. I bet that one little touch was all it took to make your panties wet.”

  Libby spins around and slaps me across my cheek, then raises her hand like she’s going to do it again. I catch her right wrist and then the left before pinning her to the window with her arms above her head.

  “Get away from me,” she warns.

  “You want me to get away, but you didn’t tell me to get my hands off of you,” I point out. “Because that would be a lie, wouldn’t it, Libby?”

  Leaning forward, I slant my mouth over hers. When I try to part her lips with my tongue, she bites down on the damn thing.

  “Ouch,” I say when I pull back. “Good thing I don’t mind it a little rough. In fact, I prefer it. If I remember correctly, you didn’t mind it either when I had you strung up. What was it you begged me for down in the basement? Harder? Deeper?”

  “S-so this was your plan?” she asks. “Kidnap me from my wedding and then force me to sleep with you?”

  “No, I won’t have to force you to do anything,” I reply. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re begging me to fuck you again, Libby.”

  “Never,” she spits out, seething.

  “I can wait, however long it takes.”

  Her eyes cut over to the gun still laying on the floor where it landed after she threw it. “That Glock is looking better and better.”

  “You won’t do it,” I say confidently.

  “You better hope not,” she responds. “Now get the hell away from me.”

  I finally release her and take a step back, hoping that I’m right and she’ll eventually come around.

  Chapter 24

  Libby

  “I’m going to bed,” I tell Hendrix when he finally lets go of me. I hate that he was right. Having his hands on me brought back way too many memories I wasn’t prepared for. We may have only been together twice, but those are two times I could never forget.

  “Don’t you want to eat something first?” he asks.

  “No,” I say as I head down the hall in search of a bedroom. When I find it, I slam the door shut behind me and then push in the button lock.

  Today has been too much for me to even begin to wrap my head around.

  And the worst part is, I’m a little relieved I didn’t ever make it to the church to marry Carter.

  God, I’m an awful person.

  He’s probably worried sick about me and has no idea where I am. Does he think I ran away?

  I would’ve married him if not for Hendrix. So what if Hendrix was right and I wouldn’t ever be completely happy with Carter? Abigail and I would have a good life with him. He would bend over backwards to take care of us, and to love us, even if I can’t love him the same way.

  For months, he’s been excited about the wedding and made most of the plans. Now, even though he’s probably angry and pissed at me for disappearing, I bet he’ll still go home tonight and rock Abigail to sleep.

  And here I am, in a cabin in the mountains, with a wanted criminal, stuck in my wedding dress because I can’t reach all the damn little buttons in the back. The stupid thing is too tight to try to pull off over my head.

  I’ve just flopped down on the middle of the bed when there’s a jiggling sound on the door knob, right before it opens, and Hendrix is filling the space.

  “Jeez! I locked you out for a reason!” I yell at him while throwing an arm over my eyes to block him from view. He’s too…everything.

  How is it possible that he got better-looking over the last few years while I spent nine months swelling up with his child, then had to spend the next year working my ass off at the gym to try and get back down to my pre-pregnancy weight. Not that Carter minded the extra padding. He told me I was beautiful even when I was in the delivery room, sweating and larger than a beluga whale. I was also in agony, and Carter was the one who reminded me to keep pushing, to not give up so that we could finally meet our little girl. Our little girl, he had called her.

  When Hendrix doesn’t say a word, I lower my arm to peek and see if he’s still in the room.

  He is.

  He’s still wearing the black pants and white button-down shirt from his fake chauffeur uniform with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, reminding me of the days he used to sit in his booth at the bar…

  “How did you get in here?” I ask him.

  “I have a key, and for good reason, apparently,” he responds while leaning one muscular shoulder against the doorframe. “Now stop crying and get over that fucker. I made you some soup.”

  “I’m not crying,” I say, even though my cheeks are damp and contradict that statement. “And I told you that I’m not hungry.”

  “If you’re not crying over him, then what’s wrong?” Hendrix asks. “You miss the kid?”

  A puff of non-humorous laughter escapes me when I reach up to wipe the tears from my eyes. “Yeah, the ‘kid.’ Our daughter.”

  “You’ll see her again,” he says. “Just as soon as you stop being so stubborn.”

  “I’m not ever going to change my mind about you, Hendrix. You’re wasting your time kidnapping me and holding me hostage.”

  Shrugging, he says, “There’s nowhere else I need to be.”

  “You need to be behind bars,” I mutter.

  “Have you forgotten, sweetheart? They’ll never catch me, and even if they do, they’ll never take me alive.”

  “How long are you going to keep me here?” I ask.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “As long as what takes, Hendrix?” I shout, popping up in bed.

  “As long as it takes for you to admit that you missed me, and that you still love me.”

  “I did love you, and we could have been together,” I tell him honestly. “But you left me here when I was willing to give up everything to be with you, and that’s not something I can ever forgive you for!”

  Hendrix

  Convincing Libby to give me another chance may be harder than I expected.

  It looks like I may have to go to my Plan B already, which is risky for me but safer for her.

  Leaving Libby in the bedroom, looking gorgeous but still wearing her wedding dress that she was supposed to marry another man in, I turn and walk away. Grabbing up my suit jacket from the floor, I throw it on and head out the front door, then pull my cell phone out of my pocket to make a call in the frozen night.

  Of course, my phone can only be unlocked with my thumbprint in case Libby tries to snag it while I’m sleeping. I don’t think she’ll be stupid enough to try and run, not with the snow and woods surrounding us for miles. Being stuck with me may not be her first choice, but I’m sure dying of frostbite or a bear mauling would be even worse for her, especially since she has her daughter to think about.

  Our daughter.

  Pulling up the right contact, I hit the button to make the call I was hoping to avoid at all costs.

  “Yeah?” he answers.

  “I need your help,” I tell him. “And you fucking owe me.”

  “I know,” my father responds.

  I still haven’t forgiven him completely for turning us into the feds, but I get it. He did what he had to do to be free, just like I will. And he tried to warn me not to trust anyone, even him…Besides, we didn’t get caught. He still got out for time served because me and the guys went missing the day after the robbery, which was enough corroborating evidence for them to put up wanted posters of us all over the country.

  “You sure you want to go through with this?” he asks.

  “Yes. Bring me the girl.”

  “It’s dangerous, Hendrix. Is she really worth it?”

  “Yes,
she is,” I respond without hesitation. “I’m going to send you a text with a few other things I need you to bring up here too.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure,” he agrees. “When?”

  “Give me two days, and be careful with the kid,” I warn him. “Apparently, she’s mine.”

  “Yours? Really?” he asks. “I’ll be damned!”

  “Yeah,” I respond with a grin. “Congrats, it looks like you’re a grandfather.”

  Chapter 25

  Libby

  “You’re not sleeping in here,” I warn Hendrix later that night when he peels back the covers on the other side of the bed.

  “Yes, I am,” he responds. “And you can either stay or sleep on the pullout sofa.”

  “Why can’t you sleep on the sofa?” I ask.

  “Have you ever slept on a pullout? The mattresses are thin and awful,” Hendrix replies as he climbs into bed. At least he’s still wearing some of his clothes. In the dark room, I can tell he has on pants but no shirt. I’m guessing the pants stay on to keep me from getting his keys or phone.

  “Just stay on your side of the bed,” I warn him.

  “I will, after you let me undo all of your buttons so you can take that damn dress off.”

  No, I don’t want him to lay a finger on me.

  “Stop being stubborn for five fucking seconds,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Roll over, Libby, so that you can change.”

  Finally giving up the fight because the dress is tight and makes me feel sad and guilty, I do as he says because I want to take it off. All it’s doing is reminding me of who I was supposed to be with.

  Instead of walking down the aisle though, I got into a limousine without even a second thought, and now, here we are. Good thing I’m no longer a cop. My instincts are shot to hell, thanks to Hendrix fucking Blake.

  “Don’t touch anything but the buttons,” I warn him over my shoulder.

  Hendrix is a perfect gentleman for once. And I don’t know if I’m glad or a little disappointed.

  “There are some pajamas in the top dresser drawer,” he tells me.

  “Thanks,” I reply before I get up. Holding the front of my dress in place, I go over and reach into the top drawer to grab the first thing I find that’s warm and flannel. Taking the armful of clothes into the bathroom with me, I remove the wedding gown and redress, unsure what to do with the white lace now that it’s tainted. I can’t ever wear it again because it will remind me of today, being here with Hendrix, instead of the man I was supposed to marry.

  For now, I fold it up and place it on an empty shelf in the bathroom closet.

  Back in the bedroom, I lie down and cover up to try and get warm, and get some sleep, but it’s fitful, especially knowing Hendrix is less than an arm’s length away from me.

  There are so many emotions going through my mind—anger, annoyance, sadness. Oh, and I’m also really freaking hungry because I refused to eat his soup, so I’m miserable. My stomach seems to growl loudly all night long.

  In the silences, my thoughts unfortunately stray back to the first night Hendrix and I were together after the robbery. All the walls came crumbling down between us and nothing else mattered except being together, giving everything to each other in that moment in time. We made love and it was incredible to feel so deeply for him all the way down to my soul, and know he felt the same way about me. At least until the next morning when everything fell apart…

  I give up on sleep when the first ray of sunshine through the window lights up the room, unable to take another minute of the memories, or the tossing and turning, listening to Hendrix’s soft, rhythmic breaths. I quietly try to slip out without jarring the mattress.

  “It’s morning already?” his deep, gravelly voice asks.

  “Yeah.” I twist around my neck and find his dark eyes open, watching me.

  His muscular arms stretch above his head, causing the sheet to slide lower on his sculpted torso. Forcing myself to look away, I get up and head into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.

  I’m pouring the batter for pancakes when I hear the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on. That’ll be my next stop as soon as I put something in my stomach.

  The pancakes smell so good that I scarf them down while still standing at the kitchen counter.

  I’ve just put on a pot coffee to help with my exhaustion when I hear Hendrix’s footsteps approaching.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks. “Because I didn’t get much, thanks to your tossing and turning.”

  I turn to snap at him, to remind him he’s the reason I couldn’t sleep, and find myself at a loss for words. Hendrix, the jackass, is only wearing a white towel around his hips. There are water droplets still clinging to his shoulders and a few trailing down his abs and lower, to his dark happy trail.

  “Put…go put some clothes on!” I say before I turn around. Not that I could ever wipe that image of him from my mind, even if I wanted to.

  “What?” he asks when he comes up beside me and grabs a mug from the cabinet to fill it with coffee from the pot. “It’s not like you’ve never seen it before.”

  “Only once. And it was dark,” I mutter aloud without thinking. “Just, go get dressed!”

  “Why? Does my nudity bother you?”

  “It’s cold and inappropriate,” I tell him.

  “It’s at least seventy degrees in here now. And you may have only seen me naked once, but your mouth was on every inch—”

  “Fine, if you won’t leave, I will,” I huff before I take off to the bathroom, telling myself that I’m taking a cold shower to wake myself up and not because of that asshole.

  I’ve just spotted his abandoned pants puddled on the floor and am reaching for them to steal his keys and phone when Hendrix bursts in.

  “Whoops, forgot these,” he says as he jerks them out of my hands. “Don’t mind me. Go ahead and undress.”

  “Get out!” I shout at him, pushing him out and slamming the door shut in his annoyingly handsome face.

  Hendrix

  “Can I make a call? Please?” Libby asks a few hours after breakfast. She went and hid in the bedroom after her shower, so I gave her some space and didn’t bother her. Now she’s standing right in front of the television I was only half-watching, her arms crossed over her chest, still wearing the flannel pajamas from last night, with her blonde hair thick and flowing down her shoulders after drying it. Even though she probably wants to call the asshole, I still count it as a win since she actually came to me.

  “Maybe,” I reply.

  “Maybe?” she repeats, her green eyes widening in surprise because I’m sure she was certain I would refuse but had to ask anyways.

  “I’ll let you make one short phone call if you’ll answer all of my questions honestly.”

  “How many questions?”

  “As many as it takes,” I answer. “It’s not like you have any better options, right?”

  “Fine,” she grumbles.

  “Good. Sit,” I tell her, patting the sofa cushion beside me.

  With a huff of annoyance, she lowers her fine ass down and sitting stiffly mutters, “Let’s get this over with.”

  “The waitressing, it was all part of the setup?” I ask, getting right to it.

  “Yes.”

  “And turning me down, that was part of Carter and the feds’ plan, my father’s idea to lure me to my demise?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you actually met my father in prison?” I question.

  “I did.”

  “How many times?” I want all the specifics, but couldn’t ever bring myself to ask him for them.

  “Twice.”

  “And you were a street cop before?”

  “Yes,” she answers. “No one at the Bureau fit the profile, so they broadened the search to local law enforcement agencies.”

  “The profile?” I repeat before it hits me. “Oh, you mean young, pretty, and blonde?”

  “That’s
right.”

  “So, they offered you a deal and you took it. What was in it for you?” I question.

  “A job with the Bureau. They were going to make me an agent,” Libby tells me while she chews nervously on her thumbnail.

  “Weren’t you ambitious,” I gripe. “And you played me well, made me chase after you when I never chased anyone.”

  “That’s your own fault, not mine,” she replies.

  “I think it is your fault,” I tell her. “You made me want you so much that I was willing to do anything to have you, even almost calling off the heist.”

  Surprised green eyes lift to meet mine. “You almost cancelled it? For me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t,” she points out. “I tried to stop you.”

  “But you didn’t,” I echo. “Besides, the guys were all set and wanted it.”

  “Right, peer pressure. That’s the stupidest reason ever to rob a bank.”

  “It didn’t start out that way,” I tell her.

  “Why didn’t you just call off the last one?” she asks. “You were making good money with the heating and air business and had plenty of money from the other bank robberies. You didn’t need that last one.”

  “I’m the one asking the questions here,” I remind her. “Just one left.”

  “Good,” she huffs.

  “Why did you save my ass that night? You could’ve warned that cop instead of sending him away, and got the job you wanted. So why, Libby? Why did you help me instead of stop me?”

  Chapter 26

  Libby

  Oh, great. We’ve finally reached the “let’s talk about our feelings” portion of this torture.

  “Answer me,” Hendrix says. “Honestly. Why did you help us?”

  “Fine. I didn’t want you to die,” I tell him. “I knew you wouldn’t surrender unless they killed you.”