She had decided the destination-she had to give him some room, let him set the pace.

“You should go,” she said. “It’s a long drive back.”

Not entirely sure whether or not she wanted him to refuse, she held her breath. The ball was in his court. Not about the case-no way was he going to shake her off that, if there was any chance she could help. But as far as what happened between them personally, his had to be the next move.

He made it. With a sigh that said he had no idea whether he was doing the right thing, he finally ended the suspense.

“You’re right. I need to go. Good night, Sam.”

As Samantha and the stranger sat in the car outside her building, Darwin struggled to get his anger under control. A difficult feat, considering how furious he had been to see her arrive home in the company of that man.

That man.

He had made such an effort to hurry to her tonight. Racing to put away his telescope, he had left the hotel and driven as fast as he safely could. His blood had been hot and thick in his veins after he’d watched the operator in flight. The excitement had filled him until he’d been able to think of nothing else but sharing the moment with someone. With Samantha.

Even knowing he shouldn’t visit her two nights in a row, for fear he would be noticed, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to watch her move around inside and had been denied that pleasure last night. More, he needed to be there for the moment when, sitting at her desk, she would receive his delayed response, never suspecting its sender was less than fifty yards away.

So, arriving on her street and seeing her car parked outside, but her apartment completely dark again, had been disappointing. Watching her pull up a few minutes ago in an unfamiliar vehicle, driven by an unknown man, pushed him from disappointed to fucking outraged.

Bitch. He had been out doing the world a service, proving the point he had been trying to make to her. And she had been whoring herself to another man.

It took all his willpower to remain in his SUV, two spaces back, and observe through the windows of the truck that separated their vehicles. Especially when what he most wanted was to wait for the interloper to open his door and step outside so he could run him down right in the middle of the goddamn street.

Restraint. Impulsivity was an excuse for the weak minded.

He managed to remain in place, taking no action. Hunched down in his seat, he watched their silhouettes inside the dark sedan. The car’s engine was running and they remained inside where it was warm, the low lighting making them easy to watch.

He idly considered shooting them both in the backs of their heads.

The man for his interference. Samantha for her betrayal. City violence. Drive-by shooting.

He refrained. He had never killed a person in his life. Watched them kill themselves, yes. But he had never pulled a trigger. And there had been a way out for the sheep every single time. Even the boys could have made it if they had kept their heads and worked together to move to the frozen shore. But ending a life with his own hand had never occurred to him.

Funny, then, how much he suddenly wanted to pull the trigger. It said something about how deeply Samantha had invaded him, mind and soul.

No. He was not ready to give up on her yet. “It isn’t a betrayal if she doesn’t know she’s yours.” He kept his voice low. Though no one was close enough to hear, he believed Samantha must be able to sense him. How could she not feel the magnetic pull as strongly as he did? Especially now, when he was so close he could almost reach out and take her?

“I can forgive you,” he told her.

He meant it. It wasn’t entirely her fault. He had been remiss, not acting sooner. A woman as beautiful as Samantha would, of course, draw male attention. He’d assumed her unhappiness over her divorce would keep her locked up at home, licking her wounds, until he was ready to come for her. That was a mistake Darwin intended to rectify very soon.

Not yet. Do nothing for now. Just observe. Wise idea, and he followed his own instincts, wondering, as the minutes ticked by, why the pair had not gone up to Samantha’s apartment.

He began to feel hopeful. Perhaps this was not a romantic date. The driver could be a casual acquaintance giving her a lift home.

Then the two of them turned and looked at each other. The exchange was thick with expectation; they stared at each other with raw intensity. He knew the moment to be a critical one when Samantha lifted her hand, appearing poised to reach for the stranger, to draw him close enough to kiss her lush mouth.

Darwin nearly vomited. Unwilling to witness such a thing, he furiously pounded his hand on the steering wheel, hitting, by accident, the horn.

Her hand dropped. The moment had ended.

Good thing for them. His remarkable self-control might not have lasted if he was actually forced to witness the only woman he had ever wanted in the arms of another man. He could possibly withstand knowing it was happening, but he could not be expected to watch.

So drive away.

He reached into the glove compartment instead. Retrieving his silencer-equipped Beretta nine-millimeter handgun, he dropped it on his lap. Just in case.

Leaning forward, over the steering wheel, he craned to see more of the stranger’s car, desperately wanting a glimpse of the license tag. But from here, blocked by the truck, he couldn’t see any lower than the lid of the trunk.

Suddenly, the passenger door ahead of him opened. He sank farther, watching as Samantha stepped out, her beautiful profile washed with illumination from the streetlight.

The driver’s door remained closed. Tsking, he whispered, “Not a gentleman, are you? Not seeing a lady to the door. Who knows what dangers might be lurking in the night?”

A good thing he was here to see to Samantha’s well-being.

Darwin ’s spirits-lifted by the thought that his Sam had not invited the driver in-were dashed when the other door opened as well. Watching in dismay, he saw the tall stranger exit and join her on the sidewalk. The man was young, good-looking.

Darwin lifted the gun. Flicked off the safety.

Instead of curling an arm around her slim waist, leading her up the stairs to a night of carnal pleasure, however, the driver bent into the backseat of the car. When he stood, he held a large cardboard box. It appeared hefty; he had to shift it around to ensure a good grip before turning to follow Samantha to her apartment.

“What are you up to?”

There were any number of possibilities. Perhaps this was merely a friend, helping Samantha with a heavy purchase.

At midnight? Doubtful.

A lover, then, bringing sexual devices, toys with which to play, pornographic images to share in her soft bed?

His bile rose again. Holding his breath, Darwin watched as the two of them reached her floor, releasing it with an angry hiss when she beckoned her visitor inside her home, closing the door behind him. Shutting him, and the rest of the world, out.

“One. Two. Three,” he whispered.

In one minute, he would drive away. Staying here, knowing another would be spending the night in Samantha’s arms, was too much for even him.

“Four. Five. Six.”

He fingered the trigger of his Beretta. Maybe he would drive away. Maybe he wouldn’t.

“Seven. Eight. Nine.”

The tension dragged out with every second. By the time he reached forty, one hand was clenched around the grip of the gun. The other clung to the steering wheel. Which way he would go when he said the word sixty, he honestly couldn’t say. It was as undetermined as the random flip of a coin.

At fifty-five, the apartment door opened. His rival stepped out, no longer holding the box. Samantha remained within. They exchanged a few words. No kiss good night. No warm smile. No intimacy. Then the man walked toward the stairs, and Samantha shut the door.