Then he was in front of her again, pants still open, holding a condom. “Tell me what you need.”

Relief whooshed through her, almost dropping her to her knees. “You. Inside me.”

“Done.” Instead of ripping at her clothes, he dropped to his knees.

The jeans slid down, and her underwear went with them. When he stood again he lifted her now bare legs and wrapped them around his body, low on his hips. Tore the condom package open with his teeth then held it out to her.

“I’ve dreamed of fucking you against the wall.” The scratchy edge to his voice suggested he wasn’t kidding.

Good, because neither was she. The need swamped her, and it took all of her control not to press him against her, condom or not.

She forced her breathing to slow. She wanted to draw out every second and knew once he slid inside her the world would flip and her brain would shut down. “Make it happen.”

He smiled as he placed the condom in her palm and went to work moving her thighs as he tugged and shoved his jeans and briefs, finally getting them down far enough to release his cock. He put his hand between them and rubbed his hand up and down his length, letting her watch as he grew thicker, longer.

Forget control and common sense. She wanted this to happen. Anything to wipe out the argument of the last few minutes and the black memories of all that came before.

She removed his hand and slid the condom over him. Took her time even as her insides screamed to hurry. The pleas echoed in her head but she didn’t say them out loud. Not when he felt so good. Not when his finger slipped up inside her.

But she didn’t need foreplay. She wanted fast and hot and sweaty. Tugging on his head, she pulled him in for a kiss. Their mouths met, and light exploded behind her eyes. All the aching crescendoed and her body melted into his.

He balanced her back against the wall as a hand went to her thigh and held her legs still. When his other palm slapped against the wall, he started pushing into her. Not sweet and not gentle. No, this was a taking. He went from letting her lead to overwhelming her. His scent, his breathing. The strength of every muscle and all that attention focused on her. It all ramped up as he plunged in and out, rubbing their bodies together until the friction had her fighting for breath.

Still, he moved. In and out until her shoulders knocked against the wall. Her vision blurred, so she closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. His rhythm didn’t falter. He pounded forward, and her body took off. She met every thrust. Dug her fingernails into his back and held on for the amazing ride.

When his chest shuddered she knew he was close. In her mind she wanted the spiraling to continue. To ride out this euphoric feeling. But her body had other ideas. The pulsing started and her hips shifted forward. Right as his orgasm hit, he skimmed a hand down between them and rubbed on the spot sure to make her control implode.

One touch and she joined him. Her breathing ticked up and her chest heaved. Every muscle moved without a signal from her brain. Instinctive and freeing. She dropped her head back against the wall and let the tremors jump through her. She could hear his low moan and feel his body lean heavier against her. She knew he’d found his release. She still rode out the thumping aftermath.

Minutes passed. She opened her eyes, and slowly the room came back into focus. Her muscles had turned to liquid. His body anchored hers to the wall or she would have fallen onto the floor in a pathetic heap.

The sex didn’t erase the harsh words or violent memories, but something had changed. The air buzzed with attraction rather than anger. The aftereffects of sex left a charge running through her body but the instinct to run away, to strike back, had disappeared.

“I was in the room.” Her words slipped out. She half hoped he was too far gone to even hear her. But then she realized that’s not what she wanted. Something inside her drove her to tell him her secrets. To open the door, just a bit, and let him peek in. Not long and not forever, but for a second. So he’d understand. “When he killed her.”

Gabe exhaled and his warm breath blew across her neck. “Fuck.”

That might have been the perfect response. No pity, and he didn’t launch into a game of Twenty Questions. Instead, he lifted his head and looked down at her with clear eyes.

“He was evil and dangerous. Spent his life hurting her. Liked to do it in front of me—said it would teach me how to be an obedient wife one day.” Without even trying Natalie could call up her father’s grim voice and all those lectures.

“Sick fucker.”

“He was that.” Natalie let her legs slide down Gabe’s until her feet touched the floor. But she didn’t let go and he didn’t step back.

“You tried to protect her.”

“Yes.” She knew he’d get it. With who he was and how he stepped forward, he would have done the same thing, even as a kid. She was sure of it.

His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb traced her mouth. “And he punished her for that.”

Natalie tried to swallow, to say something, but couldn’t. She just nodded. The guilt knocked into her and her knees started to buckle, but the weight of his body resting against hers held her up.

“The police report said you were asleep upstairs,” Gabe said.

Because the officers on the scene protected her. Engaged in a conspiracy of silence meant to quiet the whispers and keep her from the torment of hours of interrogation and all the second-guessing that would follow.

She didn’t share that piece or how she’d come to understand that gift as she got older and tried to repay it once or twice in her cases. Skipped right to his ability to read between the lines of her official report when no one had ever done that before. “But you knew that wasn’t true. That I’d seen more.”

Gabe nodded. “You would have heard the noise. You would have investigated and rushed in.” He kissed her forehead then let his rest against hers. “Is the scar on your stomach from him?”

She didn’t even know he’d seen it. Time had faded the angry red to a soft white. Low on her abdomen. A slice that spilled blood and marked her forever. “From that night.”

Gabe lifted his head. His gaze searched hers. “Did you kill him?”

No judgment. He asked it like he might ask what she wanted for breakfast. The question should have shocked her. With anyone else she would have rushed to deny and change the subject. But the way he held her, looked at her, wrapped her in this cocoon of safety . . .

For the first time since that night, the words spilled out of her. “I had to make him stop.”

Memories flashed in her mind. Red splashed everywhere. Her mother’s sobbing as she tried to reach for the cord and bring the phone hanging on the wall crashing down. Her father’s shouting about how her mother deserved this. How he should let her die.

Then the knife was right there. Natalie remembered looking down and curling her fingers until the handle pressed tight against her palm. The first slash made his eyes pop open wide. The next one drove him to his knees. All while her mother begged her to stop.

She didn’t know she’d been lost in the whirl of the past until Gabe gently touched her. Placed a palm against each cheek and lifted her head so she could see directly into his eyes.

“Yes, you did,” he said, as if willing her to believe.

The words didn’t make sense at first. “What?”

“We’re the same on that score. We don’t kill lightly, but sometimes we have to.” Then he kissed her. A soft peck on the mouth, likely more for comfort than anything else.

“Yes.” Exactly that.

“But the haunting never stops.”

He would know. He’d killed. In the name of God and country, maybe, but he’d still taken lives and he wore that with a dignity she appreciated. “But the pain did.”