Page 26 of The Right to Remain Mine

Just as he opened his mouth to demand answers, the kitchen light came on, blinding him. Raith cursed and lifted a hand to shade his eyes. When his prisoner squirmed under him, he twisted his arm back behind him at an odd angle to subdue him again.

"What in the world is going on?" Willow's breathless voice demanded.

Raith squinted at her poised in the doorway, wearing a forest green bathrobe. He didn't much care for the relief he felt seeing her alive and unharmed.

"Call the station," he panted, out of breath. "You've got a trespasser."

"I... what?" Willow padded barefoot into the room so she could see the man under him.

Turning his head her way, her intruder frowned up at her and snapped, "Willow!" Short of breath, mostly because Raith was sitting on his ribcage a

nd squashing his lungs, it took him another moment to add, "Get this… jackass… off me!"

Raith glanced down in surprise, not expecting the trespasser to actually know her.

Willow's eyes widened. "Dylan!" she said in the exact moment Raith realized he recognized the face as well.

Oh, hell. "Taggart," he growled. It had been a long time since he'd arrested Dylan Taggart.

Actually, he figured Dylan Taggart had left town or died because Raith hadn't seen him in so long.

He unconsciously tightened his hold until Taggart let out a grunt of pain, wondering what in the Sam Hell this shit bag was doing in DeVane's kitchen at three in the morning on a Wednesday. Because if Taggert was sharing her bed, too—

Willow sighed and shot Raith a short look. "Malloy. Stop picking on poor Dylan. Let him up."

Raith looked up at her, his jaw set in disgust. "You know him?"

"Well... yeah. Of course."

Snorting, Raith didn't realize he only tightened his grip. "What? Did you take care of his divorce too?" Just like good ol' Theo Franklin.

His question seemed to surprise her. "No," she said, not catching his sarcasm. Then she grinned. "Actually, I helped set him up with his wife."

Relieved to hear Taggart was married and, therefore, might not be looking for a spot in her bed, Raith finally eased his hold.

Dylan immediately pushed away from him and scurried to the opposite side of the kitchen. Dragging himself to his feet, he straightened and dusted off his jeans, sending Raith a dirty look as he did.

Raith's brows lowered, meeting and returning the glare. Finally, unable to take his anger and disappointment a second longer, he spun to Willow. "What is this piece of trash doing in your house after dark?"

"I could ask her the same question about you," Taggart drawled.

Both men focused on Willow for an answer. She sighed and decided to answer Raith first. "He's my cousin's husband."

Her cousin's husband? Sure. Whatever.

Raith gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. "How many damn cousins do you have?"

When Willow actually responded, "Nine," he rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't answer why he's here at three in the freaking morning. With a knife."

Willow blinked. Obviously realizing Raith had a point, she glanced toward Taggart.

The trespasser's face turned a dull, blushing red. He cleared his throat. "Camille was craving your homemade bread," he said and bent down to retrieve the bread knife.

Together, Raith and Willow noticed he'd already pulled a loaf out of her bread cabinet and had it sitting exposed on her counter.

"She told me not to wake you," Dylan added. "And that you wouldn't mind if I came in and helped myself."

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