Page 91 of When He Hunts

Jeans, t-shirt, underwear, tennis shoes. She threw them all on and then grabbed for the sliding glass door in the bedroom that led out to the beach. A beachfront view that had been killer. She slid that door open soundlessly. Barreled forward.

And screamed when she hit an immovable object.

Tyler’s hands closed around her upper arms. “I told you,” he sighed. “Ronan warned me you were a runner.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The club ownerknew who he was.

The boat slowly inched toward the dock. The crew members threw off the lines, securing the vessel as it bobbed in the rough water. Raindrops fell, pelting down on Ronan as he waited for the all clear to be given to the passengers.

Harris Croft twisted his hands in front of his body. He’d already lined up to get off the vessel. He kept casting nervous glances Ronan’s way.

Whenever he caught one of those glances, Ronan just stared back. He’d ditched his sunglasses. Not really a point in wearing them in the rain. So he laser-locked his stare on the other man.

“All clear!”

The passengers began to disembark. Harris nearly busted his ass as he jumped on the slippery dock and hurried away. Ronan followed. Much slower, but he didn’t let his prey out of his sight. He tracked Harris to the nearby parking lot as the guy headed straight for a G-Wagon. Harris fumbled with his keys.

Ronan closed in behind him. “Do we have a problem?”

Harris jumped. He spun around. “N-no!” Wide eyes. Shaking voice.

In other words, definite problem.

Ronan inclined his head. “You seem very nervous, Harris.” Understatement.

“I just want to get back to my wife,” Harris assured him. “Storm came in too fast. I-I might have to fly to her.”

Lightning flashed overhead. “You really want to be in a little seaplane, in this kind of weather?”

“I just want to get back to my w-wife.” A pause. “I’m sure you know how that feels.”

The jerk knows who I am.Or maybe,whatRonan was. “You liked my tat. I noticed you staring at it.”

Harris bumped into the side of the G-Wagon. “I don’t know that ‘like’ is the right word…”

Fair enough. He’d seemed terrified of the tat. “You’ve seen one of these tats before, haven’t you, Harris?” A very distinctive snake design.

“I just want to get back to my wife.” Adamant. And not exactly a yes or a no.

Voices rose around them. Other passengers. Random visitors to Key West. The lot was too busy. Not like Ronan could knock the guy out and shove him into a vehicle with all of those people around. And they both knew that truth. Harris was safe, for the moment.

He smiled and backed away from Harris. “I’ll be seeing you again,” he assured Harris.

“Please don’t,” Harris whispered. “Please don’t see me again.” He yanked open his door. Jumped inside. A few moments later, the G-Wagon fishtailed out of the lot. Ronan watched the vehicle go.

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He didn’t turn around. Why bother? This time, the tricky bastard had not snuck up on him. Ronan had been fully aware of his approach.

“You’re scaring the locals,” Kane Harte informed him.

“I certainly hope so.”

“Want to tell me why?”

Sure. “Because that man is going to sell me out and deliver me for an up close and personal kill to Marcus Aeros.” He watched the taillights as they bobbed and weaved in the distance.

“You don’t say.” Kane didn’t seem particularly alarmed. “In that case, maybe we should follow him?”

---