Becca held the can of stain in front of her. Adam, instead of taking the can, found himself just standing there staring down at the too thin, formerly pale young woman who was now flushed red to her eyebrows.

“I’m really mad now,” she said, and he believed her, and smiled. “He shot up Jacob Marley’s damned door. That’s beyond the line.” He couldn’t cut off his smile, because her eyes were glowing. Her soft blue eyes were hard and pulsing with rage. Her dyed hair was nearly standing on end. “I heard the two of you talking. He tried to kill you, Adam, to get to me. That’s beyond the line, too.” She was panting now. She was major-league pissed, and she wanted to protect him. He took her face between his big hands. His mouth was nearly touching hers. He immediately straightened and took the damned can of stain. He didn’t want this, but he couldn’t help it. An enraged Becca Matlock who still wanted to protect him did something to him, something strange and wonderful that seared him to the soles of his scuffed boots.

He looked at her mouth again, but instead of kissing her, he started to laugh. And he kept on laughing, he wanted to kiss her that bad.

She blinked at him and then took a step back. “Don’t get stain on your clothes. I’m not going to wash them for you.”

“When it’s necessary, I’ll wash my own clothes,” Adam said, then added on a grin, “if you’ll show me how to work the washing machine.”

“Mechanical things defeat you, do they? No, don’t say it, only mechanical things that involve work could defeat a guy.”

Adam eyed Savich’s outstretched hand, grunted, and handed him the stain. His arm burned and ached and Savich knew it, the damned interloper. He said to him, “You know something? I’d really like to rearrange your pretty face when this is all over.”

Savich stared at him, then laughed. “If you think my face is pretty, then you’ve got a big problem, because that’s what I think about yours.”

“Bullshit.”

Savich shook his head. “You want to play at the gym? Fine by me.”

Becca stood by the front window as Savich stained the front door, her Coonan held loosely in her right hand, looking all around, just like a pro. After a bit, Adam couldn’t stand it and took the brush from Savich.

Savich grinned at him. Sherlock said, “I love to see a real macho guy in action.”

Adam brushed on the stain, slowly, carefully, gritting his teeth because his arm hurt. But he wasn’t about to whine. He whistled low, between his teeth, hoping Savich heard it.

Tyler showed up with Sam an hour later. “Hey, what’s that smell? Who are these people?”

Becca went blank for a moment, then said, “I didn’t like the stain on the front door. It was looking tatty and old. I just finished re-staining it.” She waited to see if Tyler would say anything about hearing bullets, but he didn’t.

Sam stared up at her, sniffing, but as usual he didn’t say anything.

“Smells weird, huh, Sam? Hey, here are some friends of Adam’s. This is Sherlock and her husband, Savich.”

Sherlock went down on her knees in front of the little boy. She made no move at all toward him, just said after he’d studied her for a bit, “Hi, do you like my name?”

Sam didn’t step back, but he did lean his head back a bit. He gave Sherlock a bit of a smile and eyed her hair. He reached out two fingers and patted the top of her head.

Savich came down beside her. “We’ve got a little kid, Sam, a lot younger than you are. His name is Sean and he’s only six months old. He can’t pat the top of his mama’s head yet. He doesn’t even talk yet. But he is growing teeth.”

“Teeth are good,” Sherlock said, “but all that drool is a pain.”

That drew Adam up really fast. These two had a kid? Well, why was he so surprised? Most men his age were married and had children. He’d been married once, and he’d wanted a kid, lots of them as a matter of fact, but Vivie hadn’t been ready yet. A long time ago now, five years, nearly long enough to forget her damned name, if it hadn’t sounded like a song out of Cabaret.

Becca said easily, “Sam doesn’t talk much, Sherlock. I think it’s because he’s always thinking so hard.”

“I like a kid who thinks a lot,” Savich said. “Do you want to come to the kitchen with me and we’ll find you a goody to eat?”

Sam didn’t hesitate, just lifted his arms. Savich scooped him up and carried him away on his shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll even have to burp you, Sam. I’m really good at that. Sean likes to burp a lot.”

Sam grabbed Savich’s hair, and Becca saw the smile on his face. Then he turned his head and looked at Adam, at his bandaged arm. He shook his head, frowning, looking confused, then afraid.

Adam said, “It’s okay, Sam. I didn’t hurt my arm bad, just a little bit. Becca fixed me right up.”

“Yep, and I did a good job, Sam, don’t worry.” Then Sam and Savich were gone, and Tyler said, “What the hell happened here? No, Becca, don’t try to lie to me.”

She thought of Tyler and Sam and the two of them accidentally being in the line of that madman’s fire, and said, “The stalker found me. He fired at me and Adam. I shot him, but he got away. We’re okay, but I’m worried about you and Sam coming here. It’s not a good idea, Tyler.”

He shook his head at her and said, “He shot the door?”

“He fired through it a couple of times, really messed it up. I don’t want the sheriff to see it. He’d ask too many questions.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. McBride,” Sherlock said. “Things will be under control, but you know Becca’s right. It’s best if you keep Sam away from here until we bring this guy down. It could be dangerous until we catch him.”

Tyler looked both angry and determined. “Yeah, I’ll go but I want Becca to come with me and Sam, either to my house or away, maybe to California. I want her kept safe.”

“No, Tyler,” Becca said, lightly touching her fingertips to his arm. “We’ve got to clean it up. There are lots of people here now to help me.”

Tyler turned to Adam. “Who the hell are you, really? And you?” he added to Sherlock.

“Savich and I are FBI, Mr. McBride. Adam here is on special assignment to protect Becca.” That sounded like he was with the Bureau as well, Adam thought, which was probably for the best. An independent security consultant didn’t sound like he’d know what to do with a madman. FBI did.

“You never told me,” Tyler said to Becca, his voice low. “You didn’t trust me. You let me think he was your cousin. Why the hell did you do that?”

Becca couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t make everything worse. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, to keep him in the dark, to make him feel unimportant to her, but-

“Get over it, Tyler,” Adam said. “This isn’t fun and games. It’s serious business. You’re not trained to do this sort of thing. We are. Besides, you’ve got Sam. He’s got to be your first priority.”

“You bastard,” Tyler said, his hands fisted at his sides. “You’re not gay, are you?”

“No, not any more than you are.”

“You want to seduce her, to take advantage of her. She’s scared and you just want her to depend only on you. You’re afraid to have me here.”

“Look, McBride-”

But Adam didn’t have time to calm the man down. Tyler leapt at him, knocking him over on his back in the entryway. Adam landed on his hurt arm, grunted, then bounded back up. He wasn’t seeing red this time, he was seeing a very sharp and clear target-right in the middle of Tyler’s kidney. Hellfire, no, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. He could seriously hurt the guy. Well, damn.

Tyler, breathing hard, out of control, was about to jump at him again when Sherlock calmly tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and when he turned, distracted, she clipped his jaw. His head flew back and he stumbled. He regained his balance and stood there, feeling his jaw. He looked at her, stupefied, as Sherlock said, “I’m sorry, Mr. McBride, but that’s enough. Listen to me. Becca’s life is what’s important, not your wounded feelings. Adam didn’t even know Becca until a couple of days ago. He’s here to protect her. Now, get a grip on yourself or I’ll flip you over my shoulder and lay you out.”