Page 11 of The Wrangler

He looked different like this—his usual iron control stripped away by exhaustion. The sharp lines of his face had softened, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

She should have gone to bed immediately. She should have just left him there. But instead, she hesitated, eyes lingering longer than they should. Jesse was always tense, always ready for a fight. But now? He was just a man. A very dangerous, ridiculously attractive man, but a man nonetheless.

With a quiet sigh, she grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and carefully laid it over him, her fingers grazing the solid strength of his shoulder. Jesse stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake. She let out a slow breath.

Keely had spent years pushing him, flirting with him just to see him grit his teeth and hold the line. But this? This was the first time she had ever seen him completely unguarded.

A small, ridiculous part of her wanted to press her lips to his forehead, to smooth a hand over his chest like some lovesick idiot. Instead, she shook her head, turning away quickly before she did something she couldn’t take back.

“Goodnight, cowboy,” she murmured, stepping away.

Jesse didn’t stir.

NICO

Outside, Nico Alvarez watched.

The French doors leading in from the patio were his way in.

Keely Malone had been stupidly predictable, assuming the white stucco walls that surrounded her home would keepsomeone out and keep them from peering through her windows. He’d thought this would be a quick break, enter and grab. He’d been doing those since he was a child. And if she heard him or got in the way? That was easy too, just a quick slit across her throat—although given what he’d learned about her, he might stay awhile and indulge himself.

But looking through the window, he spotted a big problem sprawled on the couch. Jesse Bryant.

The name alone was enough to piss him off. Silver Spur Security had interfered with his business before, but this? This was personal. Because she had his suitcase, and he wanted it back, needed it back.

Nico didn’t hesitate. He moved like a shadow, his boots silent as he slipped toward the patio doors, a thin blade glinting in his hand.

Keely didn’t even know what she was sitting on, but he sure as hell did. And if he couldn’t get away clean, then neither she nor Jesse Bryant would be alive to remember it.

JESSE

Jesse’s brain yanked him from sleep at the first sound, as if someone had flipped an internal switch inside him.

A creak. Soft. Barely there. But wrong.

His eyes snapped open instantly, instincts firing before his mind had even fully caught up. His pulse was already steady, his muscles awake and ready. And then… the scream. Keely.

Jesse launched off the couch like a missile, grabbing his gun as the blanket fell away as he moved, his mind already calculating threats before he even had eyes on her.

She’d rolled off her bed and pushed past the intruder and was now standing outside her bedroom door, her wild hair a mess around her face, hands gripping the door frame of her bedroom, her chest heaving. She stared at the shadowy figure in the middle of the bedroom.

Intruder. Jesse’s gun was already in his hand, safety flicked off in one smooth motion. “Move, Keely!”

She bolted sideways just as the man lunged. Jesse fired, the bullet slicing through the air, barely missing the bastard’s shoulder as he pivoted. Damn it. He’d hesitated—just for a split second—because of Keely’s too-close proximity. The lowlife didn’t hesitate.

He rushed Jesse in a burst of speed and adrenaline, and suddenly, they were colliding—the force sending them both crashing into the wall.

Jesse barely absorbed the impact before he spun, using the intruder’s own momentum against him, throwing a hard elbow into the guy’s ribs. The man grunted, but he didn’t go down, which told Jesse exactly what he needed to know. Professional—not just some random thief.

Was this planned? Had they known customs would wave Keely through? Hers was a high-end suitcase, and it seemed odd that two of the same brand and color had been on that flight. The scumbag hadn’t been here just to retrieve the diamonds, he’d been here to eradicate a problem.

Jesse saw red. He surged forward, gripping the guy’s shirt and slamming him backward, driving punch after punch into his ribs, his stomach. Anything he could reach. The man gritted his teeth, absorbing the blows before twisting violently, slamming Jesse into the counter. Jesse’s skull rang for half a second, but he gritted through the pain, catching the assailant’s wrist before he could reach for a knife strapped to his belt.

Oh, hell no. Jesse let out a feral sound, catching the guy’s wrist and twisting until the knife clattered to the floor. Before he could deliver the knockout punch, the man suddenly lurched back, slipping away so fast Jesse nearly lost his grip.

A pro, through and through.

The guy snatched the knife off the ground, moving like a blur, pivoting hard and diving toward the patio door. Running. Jesse lunged after him, but it was too late. The French doors leading out to the patio burst open, glass shattering, wood splintering as the guy vanished into the dark.

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