“Don’t move,” a low voice growled.

Blood rushed from her head to her feet. How could he be here if he was in jail? Don’t panic. If you lose your head, your attacker will win. She’d practiced this a thousand times, playing soldiers and spies. In the seconds that stretched like droplets of frozen time, Shay forced her body to move, spinning quickly to clear his weapon. She struck with the candlestick, and something clattered to the floor. The gun?

A hard hand grabbed her wrist, and the candlestick fell. She lifted her knee and heard a grunt. Lunging, she tried to get past him. His foot shot out, and she crashed to the floor. What little breath she had left exploded from her lungs as a muscular body landed on top of her. A startled exclamation hissed next to her ear. She shoved against broad shoulders, but the weight didn’t budge. Lifting her head, she took a bite of T-shirt and flesh.

He leaned back, swearing as he grabbed both wrists. He held them over her head with one hand, crushing her knuckles against the hardwood floor. His other hand clamped over her mouth. She twisted and jerked her wrists, freeing one, but he moved his hand from her mouth and recaptured the arm. She tried to use her teeth again, but he countered every attempt she made to free herself, as if he were inside her head. She went limp. If she didn’t struggle, maybe she could reason with him.

His face was so close she could feel his breath, warm against her ear. They spoke at the same time.

“What do you want?”

“Who are you?” His voice was soft, deadly.

Shay drew in a sharp breath that echoed close to her ear.

“Shay?”

“Cody?”

She lay on the floor, pinned under him, as her mind spun back to a time of warmth and laughter, betrayal and pain, and above it all, the agony of love. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. In spite of the darkness she closed her eyes and tried to pull in his scent. She’d always loved how he smelled, like mountains and air, but all she could smell now was bourbon.