Page 67 of When He Hunts

“Thank you?” Yes, she said the words as a question because Esme had stated hers like an accusation.

“Talent should not be hidden in this world. It should be celebrated. Enjoyed by others. There is enough darkness that we all could use some light.” Her eyes assessed Luna. “Why aren’t you on a stage all the time?”

“I—”

“Back off, Esme,” Ronan ordered. “You don’t know her story. And she doesn’t have to offer it up to you on a silver platter. I get that you love digging and scheming, but she’s off-limits.”

“Is she?” Esme did not seem convinced. If anything, she just appeared intrigued. “Is that why you hold her so possessively? Because she is off-limits? Why do we always want the things that we are not supposed to have?”

Hewasholding her. His grip was tight on Luna’s hand, and his body stood right beside hers. Protective. Possessive?

“My mother was an opera singer,” Esme confided as she leaned a little closer to Luna.

“Among other things,” Ronan muttered.

Esme frowned at him. Then she focused on Luna once more. “Her talent was phenomenal. Because of her, I’ve been around my share of performers. You have something. Potential never dies. Though we can let it languish when life gets in our way. An unfortunate state of affairs.” A shrug. “I sound like a croaking frog when I sing.”

“You do not,” Tyler immediately denied.

“Love is blind, and sometimes hard of hearing.” Esme inclined her head toward Luna. “I know talent. I hope to hear you sing again soon. So do me a favor and try to stay alive, would you? Because I think I like you, Luna.”

With that parting shot, Tyler and Esme exited. Swearing, Ronan followed in their wake. He locked the door behind them and then stood there for a moment with his hand pressed to the frame and his back to Luna.

She finally took a deep breath even though her heart still raced far too fast in her chest. “Those were your friends?” Slightly scary. Seemed right that they’d be his friends.

“Yes.”

“And he’s…going to take me away?” A U.S. Marshal. Yes, yes, that tracked. The marshals handled witness protection. Her arms wrapped around her stomach. She’d wanted this outcome originally. Protection. A new life. It had been the whole reason for her New Orleans meeting with the FBI and Grayson Stone. But…

I’m not ready to leave Ronan. Not yet.

He shoved away from the door. Spun and stalked back to her. Ronan stepped over the sandals she’d dropped when Tyler grabbed her. His hand rose and curled under her chin. “Not yet,” he vowed, and his words echoed her own thoughts. “No one is taking you away from me yet.” His mouth claimed hers.

Chapter Fifteen

Tyler shutthe door to his bungalow. A bungalow that just happened to be right beside Ronan’s. Gray tended to be obsessive with organizational points like that, so the location was hardly a surprise.

“I don’t see any candles.” A pout pulled at Esme’s lips. “Or rose petals.” A forlorn sigh. “However will I cope?” She glanced back at him. Whatever she saw on his face caused all amusement to vanish. In a breath, she was in front of him. Her hands rose to press lightly against his chest. “What is it? And how can I help you?”

She helped him by breathing. By being in his world because he couldn’t imagine life without her. His deceptive and dangerous but ever-so-lovely bride.

“You’re worrying me, Tyler. You know I don’t like to worry. Worry wastes valuable energy.”

No, Esme didn’t like to worry. She liked to live in the moment. One hundred miles an hour, that was her. Living life to the fullest and usually terrifying him in the process. “He’s possessive of her.”

“I did notice that.”

“He was pissed as hell that I’d scared her.”

Her hands darted up to curl around his shoulders. “I noticed that detail, too. I like to be observant.”

“Ronan isneverpossessive.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“They’re involved.” He could see it in the way Ronan watched her.

She nodded. “I saw her face whenever she looked at him. The woman has fallen, fast and hard.”

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