Prologue

“Dead. They are all dead.” Officer Jonah Campbell doubled over, and his hands went to his mouth because he could feel vomit rising. “I’m gonna be sick. So much blood. So much⁠—”

“Help!”

The voice was weak. Faint.

Most of the first responders at the scene didn’t hear it. People were too busy running in and out of the large sorority house. But that weak voice reached Jonah even as he doubled over. His head lifted, and he took in the chaos around him through bleary eyes. His first big case. And it was a slaughter. Like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Something he’d never expected. But Jonah knew the blood-soaked images would live in his mind forever.

And now that voice, that voice… His head whipped to the right.

A woman walked from the darkness. With shuffling steps. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see her better.

“Help!” Her cry.

Jonah’s hands fell from his mouth as he stared at her. Is she real? Or have I gone off the deep end?

Another cop caught sight of her, a grizzled veteran who’d just been giving Jonah hell about vomiting at the crime scene. But the veteran cop didn’t move toward the female figure who crept from the darkness.

She shuffled closer, moving more into the light. Bright light that shone from the nearby sorority house. Light that spilled from all the cop cars in the yard. The light hit her white gown. Only it wasn’t completely white. Big sections were stained red. Blood red.

So much blood.

“Help…”

An EMT rushed toward the woman. The grizzled veteran broke from his stupor. They swarmed on her while Jonah gaped. Shock held him immobile.

Blood soaked her skin. Blood poured from the right side of her head, drenching her dark hair.

Jonah realized his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it closed even as he lunged toward her. “We’ve got a vic!” Jonah yelled. “Alive!” He reached her just as her knees seemed to give way. But she didn’t hit the ground. He and the EMT caught her.

“Ma’am, ma’am, you are going to be all right,” the EMT assured but his voice broke. “I’ve got you, and I’m going to take care of you.”

Her head turned toward the EMT. The lights from the house fell down on her, allowing Jonah to glimpse her face and her eyes as she squinted in confusion. Pain. Fear.

“You are safe,” the grizzled cop told her as he crowded close. Harvey Wyle. He’d been on the force for ages. “We’ve got you.”

A tremble shook her body.

“Stabbed,” the EMT muttered. “Multiple stab wounds. Including a wound to the head.” He angled his upper body toward a nearby ambulance and shouted, “I need a gurney over here, now! Now!”

Jonah touched her shoulder.

She jerked, and her bloody head whipped in his direction.

“Who did this to you?” he asked her.

She frowned. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

There was so much blood on the right side of her head. That could not be good. Hell, nothing about this scene was good. But this woman—she was alive. Jonah could not say the same for the six other women he’d found inside that house. “Who?” Jonah repeated.

A shudder shook her. And…her hand lifted. She pointed back toward the darkness where she’d been. The darkness away from the house.

Oh, shit. Is she telling us that the perp is out there? “Get her on that gurney. Get her the hell away from this place.” Determination filled Jonah. He straightened, backed away, and reached for his weapon. Yes, his fingers were trembling, but that woman—that woman was hurt. She was covered in blood and shaking and she’d survived, and she’d just told him that the monster who’d done this to her…

She pointed. He’s in the darkness. Gone from the house and the bloodbath he left inside. He is hiding in in the dark.

Determined not to let the jerk get away, Jonah ran in the direction she’d pointed. His breath seemed to burn in his body. Branches hit him when he shoved into the tree line. His feet sank into the mud in those woods. There’d been a terrible storm earlier that night. So much lightning. Thunder. Sheets of rain that fell and fell.

The mud tried to drag his feet down and…

He almost tripped on the body. Jonah whipped back just in time. He grabbed for his flashlight with his left hand—he should have gotten the flashlight out sooner, rookie mistake—and his right hand remained tight on his gun. He shone the flashlight down on the body. Thinking maybe it was another victim, another woman who’d been slashed and left to die. But a woman wasn’t on the rain-soaked ground.

A man. All in black. On his back. With a knife in his chest.

Jonah’s breath shuddered out.

“Jonah!” Harvey’s roar. Close by. “Wait for me, wait for—” Harvey staggered to a stop beside him. Looked down at the man.

Jonah’s light was on the guy’s face. The man appeared to be around his own age, twenty-two. Wet hair. Closed eyes. Tan skin. And⁠—

The guy’s eyes flew open. “Help me!” Blood slid from his mouth.

Harvey immediately dropped to his knees beside the man. Harvey grabbed his radio and called for more backup. He tried to stop the blood flow near that knife.

But Jonah just stared down at the man. The guy’s wild eyes tried to find him, but Jonah knew his flashlight would blind him. He wouldn’t be able to see past the light.

Jonah kept that light shining even as unease filled him.

This man…

Jonah’s light swept down the guy’s body and to the right. He realized that there was something in the man’s hand. Looked like…part of a nightgown. A white nightgown. A white nightgown gripped in fingers covered by a black glove.

Black clothes. Black glove.

“Got another victim!” Harvey was saying into his radio. Then, to the injured man, “Son, you’re gonna be all right. Stay with me, understand? Stay. With. Me.”

Jonah shook his head. He wasn’t so sure they were staring at a victim. “Uh, sir⁠—”

The man yanked the knife from his own chest. He drove it at Harvey. A fast, brutal move. Harvey didn’t even have a chance to cry out. The knife sank into his stomach, and then the cop was on the ground, and Jonah was stumbling back as fear burst inside of his heart.

“Stop!” Jonah yelled. “Drop the weapon! Stop!” He didn’t want to shoot. He’d never fired his gun at a perp before.

Harvey was groaning, gurgling, and⁠—

Jonah slipped in the mud. In the stupid, freaking mud. He went down hard and landed on his back, and the gun flew from his fingers. The man with the knife lunged over him, preparing to plunge it into Jonah’s chest.

He’s not a victim. Not a victim at all. This is the perp. He did it. He killed those women.

My first big case, and he’s going to kill me. He’s going to⁠—

Gunfire blasted. It caught the man in the shoulder. Another hit slammed into his side, and the perp fell back, body twitching and blood spattering.

Jonah shoved up and automatically glanced back to see who’d just fired and saved his life. He still gripped the flashlight—he’d kept the damn flashlight but not his gun—and the light landed on the person who’d just saved him. Only it wasn’t a cop. A cop hadn’t just saved his ass. The woman in the bloody gown had saved him. She’d fired. An EMT stood steps behind her, seemingly frozen. The woman in the gown gripped a gun and didn’t even blink. Shit, it was his gun. The damn gun he’d just lost.

Jonah’s breath shuddered in and out.

In and out.

Harvey gurgled.

Dammit. Jonah lurched for Harvey. Slapped his hands on the man’s stomach and had blood pouring through his fingers. “Give me some help!”

The EMT dropped beside him.

“He killed my friends.” Her voice held no emotion. Seemed soft. Broken. She shuffled closer to the man she’d just shot. “So now I have to kill him.”

Uh, oh. Jonah’s head snapped toward her.

But more cops had burst out of the darkness. EMTs were there, too. Hell, even three firefighters erupted from the trees, and he didn’t know when they’d arrived on scene.

“Drop the weapon!” A roar from one of the cops.

But she didn’t drop the weapon. She lifted it and took aim at the man on the ground. The man she’d shot twice already. The man who was not dead yet. Instead, he was…

Laughing.

“Drop the weapon!” Another roar from a cop.

“Don’t shoot her!” Jonah yelled back. “She’s the vic!” But she was about to fire. He could see it. Shit, shit, shit. She’d saved him. No way could he let her die now. Jonah threw his body at her.

They hit the ground.

And the perp’s laughter drifted in the air around him.

“He has to die.” Her voice. So soft. So broken. But determined. “Kill him.”

He levered up. Frowned at her. “I’m a cop. I’m arresting him. Not killing him.”

“Someone has to kill him.” Her lips trembled. “Please.”

“Ma’am—”

She went limp. Her eyes closed. She barely seemed to breathe. Jonah heard himself shouting for help over and over again.

Over.

And over.

Chatper One

“I need you to be normal.”

Hunter McQueen glanced up from the files on his desk, his brows arching as he stared at his best friend. Declan Flynn had come by to check out Hunter’s new office and to deliver a ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne as he celebrated Hunter’s new, uh, venture.

My PI business. Hunter had decided to hang up his own shingle. To get his hands dirty and bloody and to start taking cases that mattered to him. Why the hell not? He was good at investigation. At finding predators and tracking down those bastards. Ever since he’d started working with the Ice Breakers, he’d realized that he should be putting his particular skill set to use.

So…

The new digs. The big office in New Orleans. The agency that was his baby.

“Normal shall be our keyword,” Declan continued as he shut the door.

Ha. As if Declan had ever been normal a day in his life. Who was his buddy to judge?

“It’s going to be hard,” Declan warned him in the direst of tones. “Because you will be excited, and your first instinct will be to freak out.”

A sharp bark of laughter escaped Hunter. “When the hell have I ever freaked out?” He’d been in some of the most dangerous places on earth. He’d faced off against twisted perps. And, no matter what, he remained calm. He remained cool. He remained lethal. Freaking out was not in his nature.

But Declan appeared worried. And Declan never worried. “I want you to take a deep breath for me.”

Uh, sure. He’d play along. Hunter leaned back in his new leather chair, and he took a deep breath. A big inhale, then a long exhale. “Happy?”

“Your dream woman is waiting in your fancy, new lobby.” Declan plunked down the champagne on Hunter’s desk.

He squinted at Declan. “Are you drunk?” Not likely. Declan tended to never drink to⁠—

“Humor me.” A pause. “Who is your dream woman, Hunter?”

A name and a face immediately flashed in his mind, but Hunter didn’t speak. Instead, he clamped his lips together. Not like he was in the mood to play games with Declan.

“I was with you during your recovery,” Declan reminded him.

Not like Hunter needed that reminder. He could never forget the months of physical therapy that he’d had to endure as he fought to get his life back after a mission gone horribly wrong. Brutal. Violent. Betrayal.

“I saw your fascination with her story.” Declan eyed him with the focus of a snake preparing to strike. “You watched her, you learned every bit of information you could get on her. You followed the trial. You followed every moment.”

Okay, this was one weird-ass visit. Hunter stopped leaning back and straightened in his seat. “Look, buddy, I appreciate the champagne.” He did. Hunter stood to his full height. He ignored the champagne. “But I don’t need a walk down memory lane. In fact, I try to put the memory of those particular months as far behind me as I possibly can.” Besides, it had been years, and he was not in the mood for⁠—

“Shelby Carter is waiting in your lobby.”

Every single muscle locked down. Hunter actually felt the impact of Declan’s words roll through him.

“Do you need me to say that again?” Declan asked politely. “Because you seem to be having trouble processing my words. Here. Let me help. The woman of your dreams—Shelby Carter—is waiting in your lobby. The new, shiny lobby of your just opened PI business.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Hunter lurched away from the desk.

Declan sighed. Pretty dramatically. “This is the part where you need to be normal. See? That’s why I led with that part. Be normal.”

Declan was in his path.

And Shelby Carter is in my lobby? Shelby. Carter. Hunter shook his head. No way.

“I get that you’re a super fan.” Declan appeared even more worried. “But don’t come off as obsessive. Really, seriously, don’t. With her past, obsessive is not going to work well. In fact, obsessive will send her fleeing from you at full speed. So, try to be more chill.”

Hunter’s teeth snapped together. “Is this some joke?” Because he was not laughing.

But Declan wasn’t laughing, either. “No, no joke. It’s me, giving you real-life, helpful advice. You can’t come off as obsessive from the first moment you see her. You can build up to that part, but you don’t lead with it. You’ll probably terrify her if you don’t act normal.”

His heart pounded too fast. His damn palms were sweaty. “Why in the hell is Shelby Carter in my waiting area?” That made zero sense to him. He didn’t even have a receptionist, an assistant—hell, he had nothing so far. Just the building. The supplies. The PI business—his baby—had just opened.

“How in the hell would I know why she’s here?” Declan fired back. He drove his hands into the pockets of his obscenely expensive, tailored pants. “But she is. I entered the downstairs lobby first, and she was steps behind me. Pretty hard for me to mistake her since you made me watch those stories about her, too.”

Hunter swallowed, twice.

“I waited and held the door for her, like the gentleman that I am. Even rode the elevator up to the top floor with the woman. The top floor—your office floor.” He stroked a hand across his chin. “She stood as far away from me as possible in the elevator. Put her back to the wall. Her eyes weren’t on the numbers as the elevator rose. Pretty sure she never took her gaze off me.”

Shelby Carter is in my waiting area.

“That’s a woman who is seriously on guard. Then again, with her past, how could she not be?”

Shelby Carter is in my waiting area.

“Ah, man. I’ve already lost you, haven’t I?” Another sigh from Declan. Though this one was a lot less dramatic. “A PI gets his first client, and then he forgets everything else in the world. Typical.”

Whoa. Back up. “You think she wants to be a client?”

Declan shot him a pitying look. “Hunter. Dude. She’s in your PI office. I don’t think she’s showing up because she’s some secret, obsessed fan of yours.” A deliberate pause. “That would be you, being the obsessed fan of hers⁠—”

“I get it,” Hunter gritted.

“How about you don’t tell her all that info, hmm? Keep it close to the vest.” He waved back toward the desk. “You sit down. Act calm and in charge, and I’ll send her in for you while I head out. You and I can have that celebratory champagne another time.”

He…yes. Yes. Fine. Hunter nodded briskly and returned to his desk.

He could feel Declan’s eyes on him with every step.

“Congrats on the business,” Declan told him. “Knew as soon as you started working those cases with the Ice Breakers that you’d found a new calling.”

The Ice Breakers. A group of cold case solvers who’d pulled Hunter into their web. Declan’s wife Marley had been the one to first introduce Hunter to the crime-solving, Ice Breaker world. Hell, she’d been the one to convince him to open his PI business, too. Mostly because Marley was also a PI. She’d taken him under her wing, so to speak. Gone through the ins and outs of the business, and, well, maybe he’d gotten a bit addicted to the job.

So…

He’d made a new life plan. He’d decided it was time to break out on his own. Declan had a life now—a wife. A kid on the way. His old friend was good. Hunter didn’t need to protect the billionaire tycoon these days. Marley covered the job.

So…

So Hunter had stopped being in charge of Declan’s security. He’d headed down to New Orleans. The Big Easy. Why? Because he liked to hear jazz music drift in the breeze, he liked to eat beignets at midnight, and the city had felt like home to him from the first moment he’d stepped foot there.

I don’t want to keep Shelby waiting.

“Remember, stay calm, cool, and in charge.” With that final warning, Declan headed out. He left the door open.

Shit, the champagne bottle was still just sitting on Hunter’s desk. Not like he wanted the giant bottle to be the first thing Shelby saw when she entered his office. He grabbed for it.

“Hello?”

And, sure, of course, that would be the moment when Shelby Carter appeared in his doorway. When his fingers were fisted around the long neck of the champagne bottle.

His head whipped toward the doorway. Toward her.

Maybe he forgot to breathe. Because Declan had been right.

She was his dream woman.

A woman who’d gotten him through hell, though Shelby certainly could not know that fact. She didn’t know that he’d been trapped in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life, wondering if there even was a reason to keep going, when he’d looked up at a TV screen and seen her.

A fighter.

She survived. She fought like hell.

So will I.

Her dark hair—a shade between brown and black—skimmed past her shoulders. A light dusting of bangs feathered over her forehead. Her eyes were emerald green. Deep and pure. She had a delicate jaw, slightly angled, and a small, straight nose. Sharp cheekbones gave her an elegant air but her full, unpainted lips gave that elegance a sharp edge of sexiness. Small hoop earrings dangled from her ears, peeking out from the curtain of her hair.

She cleared her throat.

And he wondered just how long he’d been staring at her. Staring at her and gripping the champagne bottle. Sonofabitch. What a crappy way to make a first impression.

Hunter’s left hand wrenched open one of the empty drawers in his massive desk, and he shoved the bottle inside.

“Are you Hunter McQueen?” Shelby’s voice was low, husky, but smooth.

Sexy.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. He had to stop thinking that everything about her was sexy.

“Yes.” Why had his answer come out like a hiss? What was wrong with him?

She took a step inside his office, moving over the door’s threshold.

Black pants. Black sweater. Black flats on her little feet.

“My name is Shelby,” she told him.

Right. He knew that. His hands flattened on the top of his desk.

She bit her lower lip. Glanced back over her shoulder. For a moment, he was afraid that she might turn and walk away. Not like he could allow that to happen. “Tell me what you want me to do,” Hunter heard himself growl. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Her head whipped toward him. Her dark eyes had gone even wider. “What?”

So much for being chill. He swallowed. Tried to smile.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. She inhaled.

Not good. How desperate had his smile looked? Time to take control. Fast. “Welcome to my PI office,” he said. Surely that was less growly? It felt less growly. “I take my work very seriously.” Damn straight, he did. “I like to believe that I go above and beyond for my clients.” There. Had that smoothed over his slip? Though, technically, she was his first client. But he definitely intended to go above and beyond for her.

Some of the tension seemed to ease from her shoulders. “I was referred to you.”

She had his complete and total focus. “Oh?”

Shelby crept into his office. She didn’t shut the door. “Where is your receptionist?”

“Haven’t hired one yet.” But that item was on his agenda. “The office here in New Orleans is just getting off the ground. I’ve been in security for years but decided it was time to branch out and try something new recently.”

Another gentle glide forward. “Because you’d been working for the Ice Breakers and you enjoyed the work so much.”

“Yes.” How did she know that?

A slight nod from Shelby. “As I said, I was referred to you. I…” Her attention darted around his office. Toward the window that looked out over the Mississippi River. Her hands remained loose at her sides. There were no nervous movements from her. No stressful flutters of her fingers. “Memphis Camden.” Her stare returned to Hunter. “I know his wife, Eliza. Memphis and Eliza told me that you were here in town and would be open to new clients. Memphis spoke highly of you. Said you were the kind of man I could trust.”

He and Memphis had worked a few cases together in the past. Ice Breaker cases. The Ice Breakers focused on old, unsolved cases. The ones that the authorities had given up hope of solving. “Why don’t you have a seat?” Hunter motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. Dark brown leather. “Then you can tell me why you’re interested in acquiring my services.” And I can convince you that you absolutely need me in your life. Hunter also made a mental note to send Memphis a giant gift basket as a thank you. Maybe a fruit basket?

She took the seat on the left. Crossed one leg over the other. Kept her back ramrod straight. His gaze wanted to dart over her. He wanted to take in every single bit of her.

But he held her stare.

“You said that you’d just opened your office here.” One delicate eyebrow quirked. “That means you probably don’t have a lot of clients, yet, right?”

Technically, he had zero clients. But it seemed like a poor decision to blurt out that bit of honesty, so he just made a hmm sound.

“So if I wanted to hire you, if I wanted to offer you a position that would require you to be my companion on a twenty-four, seven basis, you’d be available?”

He was still standing. Towering over the desk and looking down at her. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. Hard. “Could you run that by me again?” Because there was no way that Shelby had just asked him to be with her twenty-four, seven. He’d misheard, obviously, because he’d been distracted by trying to figure out how to ask the woman on a date.

Don’t do it. She’s a potential client. You don’t ask potential clients out on dates. Super bad form.

Her chin lifted. “I need a PI who can make me his priority.”

You are the priority for me. One hundred percent.

“I will need someone who can stay with me day and night on this case.”

Dreams do come true. His heart raced a bit faster.

“I am concerned that there will be great danger.”

I can handle any kind of danger. Truth be told, he enjoyed the rush that came from facing off against a bit of danger.

“And with your particular background, Memphis assured me that you would be up for the task.”

Okay, now things were getting dicey. Instead of sitting down in his chair, Hunter strolled around his desk. He stopped when he was in front of her, and Shelby’s light scent teased his nose. Warm vanilla. She smelled like delicious vanilla and…

Temptation.

He drank in that scent, then propped a hip on his desk as he studied her. He also crossed his arms over his chest because he didn’t want to do something stupid like reach out and tuck a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Touch her cheek. Just touch her to make sure she wasn’t some kind of fantasy.

But…

Back to his background. “What do you know about my background?” Just what had Memphis and his big mouth told her? Forget the fruit basket. Not happening.

“I’ve…made myself a bit of an expert on you.”

Same, lady. Same. Only he didn’t say those words. “Tell me more.” Hunter could not be more fascinated.

“You’re a former Ranger. You spent years in the military working covert assignments.”

He had. Until he’d been battered to hell and back and wound up fighting to live.

“You are Delcan Flynn’s right-hand man. Or you were, until recently. That was Declan who left a few moments ago. Hard not to recognize him because he’s in the news so often.” A careful clearing of her throat. “He, uh, doesn’t have the best reputation.”

Nope, he didn’t. “You don’t need to be afraid of Declan.” Though most people were terrified of his friend.

“I’m not.” She stared straight at him. “He’s not one of the things I fear in this world.”

What do you fear?

“His wife Marley also works for the Ice Breakers. I figure if Marley trusts him, then Declan can’t be as bad as the stories claim.”

Oh, Declan could be. But Marley tended to look for the good in people.

“You have worked as his security chief for years. You only recently left. I figure the timing is perfect. As you said, your business here is still new, so that means you’ll have flexibility that other PIs won’t possess. You’ll be able to make me your priority.”

Done.

“If you take my case,” she amended. “If you take my case, then I can be your priority.” Her long lashes swept down as she stared at the floor for just a moment. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well, you did tell me that you name is Shelby.”

Her lashes lifted. Her gaze collided with his. “I saw the recognition in your eyes when you looked at me for the first time. It’s been years since I was on TV every other moment, so plenty of people have forgotten, but…not you. You know who I am.” This time, her words were a statement, not a question.

“I know who you are.” Low. Then, “Your face is pretty unforgettable.”

“It’s not my face that people remember.” Her lips twisted into a humorless smile. “It’s the fact that six of my friends were brutally murdered. That I was attacked, too. That I was the only one to survive the Sorority Seven Killer.”

Because there had been seven college girls in the sorority house on that long ago night. The killer had gone through the house, attacking them one at a time with his knife, until he’d come to Shelby.

He’d attacked her, too. According to the press, Shelby had been stabbed five times. Yet she’d managed to escape from the killer. To run into the night and hide until the local cops had shown up. Then she’d run out of the darkness…

“You shot him,” Hunter said, aware that the silence in the room had stretched too far. “Saved the cop that the perp had been about to kill.”

“I shot him.” Quiet. Soft. “Then I helped send him to prison.”

Right. Because the bastard hadn’t died. He’d survived his wounds. He’d gone to trial. Got his ass sent to death row because the murders had all occurred in Florida.

Nate Shiloh was currently still sitting on death row as he ran through his appeals and waited for his execution.

Her hands twisted in her lap. It was the first sign of nerves that he’d seen from her. Otherwise, Shelby seemed controlled. Far too calm as she discussed what had to be the worst period of her life.

She bit her lower lip. That plump lip.

Focus, asshole!

He kept his arms folded across his chest. “I’m not quite sure I understand why you need a PI.”

He could hear the faint ticking of the clock that he’d put up on the wall. It kept ticking and ticking as the moments drifted past. Shelby didn’t speak. Should he prompt her? Wait her out? Scoop her into his arm and vow to protect her until the day that he died?

Jeez. Okay, yeah, now he got why Declan had been so worried. He really needed to chill the hell out. Also, he should probably get back to the dating scene because being alone too long had clearly pushed him to the edge. Hunter cleared his throat. “Uh, you⁠—”

“I’m scared.” A stark admission.

“You do not need to be.” His immediate vow. “I will protect you from every threat.” So…that had been guttural. A bit savage.

She blinked those hypnotizing eyes of hers at him.

Time to dial things back a bit. “What are you afraid of?” There. Better. He probably should have posed that question before. His bad.

She rose from the chair.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Was she leaving? Had he screwed up his first official case before it had even started? One minute, Shelby was talking about him being her twenty-four, seven guard, and now…

She turned away from him.

“Don’t leave.” Still guttural. Dammit. He heaved from the desk. Put a hand on her shoulder. Then immediately realized his mistake as a surge of heat seemed to travel from her body to his fingers and straight to his soul.

Oh, shit.

Shelby glanced back at him. Had she just felt that surge, too?

Her gaze was guarded. Her expression emotionless. “I’m not leaving.”

Excellent to know. He should probably let go of her shoulder. He should. He should.

He did. With a maximum amount of effort.

A determined exhale escaped Shelby. “I’m not leaving,” she repeated. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say this next part without sounding completely crazy.”

“I happen to like crazy. One of my favorite things. Give me your crazy. I can handle it.”

A flutter of her lashes. “You’re unusual. Not at all what I expected.”

Yeah, he should let this go but… “What did you expect?”

Her gaze cut from his. A faint red flush came and went in her cheeks.

Interesting. They’d revisit his question later.

She turned to fully face him. They were about a foot apart. She was small. Five-foot-six and a half. Yes, he knew her exact height. He knew her birth date. He knew her childhood home. He was a Shelby Carter expert.

Her hand lifted, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear.

His gaze followed that graceful movement of her hand.

He also knew that Shelby had lost most of the hearing in her right ear. At some point during her fight with her attacker, Shelby had been stabbed in her ear. The blade had pierced her ear drum. One of the docs at the trial had talked about how the tiny bones in her middle ear had been broken.

Shelby had spent two weeks in the hospital. She’d had brain trauma, knife wounds, blood loss. She’d flatlined at least one time, only to come back.

Because she was a fighter.

When she brushed back her hair, he saw the faint glint of a white device that perched on the shell of her ear. A small tube—looked like a little piece of plastic—led into her ear.

His jaw hardened as he gazed at that device.

“I know it’s not the prettiest thing,” she said, “but it gets the job done.” And she pulled her hair forward again, untucking it and hiding her ear. “Without it, I can barely hear anything in my right ear. With it, I get along just fine.”

Wait, back up, did she think he had some kind of problem with her hearing aid? No way. “I hate that you were hurt.” There was nothing to do about the deep rumble of his voice. Apparently, he’d just be guttural and growly when he talked to her. “I am sorry for any pain that you suffered, and the bastard who hurt you deserves the hell that’s coming for him.” Done. And⁠—

“What if he doesn’t?”

What?

She licked her lips. “What if Nate Shiloh doesn’t deserve the punishment that is coming? What if he doesn’t deserve to be on death row at all?”

Hunter just shook his head, utterly lost.

Her chin notched up, and Shelby asked, “What if I sent the wrong man to prison? And what if he’s going to die because of me?”