Behind them, a lamp was switched on. “All clear, sir.” That was young Paul. His men were all staring, yet trying not to stare. The woman was in a long nightgown. See-through. One of those diaphanous, filmy things that clung to every curve and sent a jackhammer through the middle of a man’s skull. Her gown had pulled up her thigh, revealing a more than generous expanse of gleaming skin.

She had tousled hair, a riot of curls, and large, haunting, sapphire-colored eyes. He would know her anywhere, anyplace.

Jaimie. He said her name, at least he thought he said it, but no sound emerged. Maybe he’d just breathed her name. He touched her thick mane of silky, midnight black hair, his fingers sliding into one of the curls and tugging, letting the strands slide through the pads of his fingers, trying to regain the breath she’d stolen.

“Get off me, McKinley.” The fear was in her voice, but she was striving for control.

“What are you doing here? Hi, boys. I missed-most of you,” she greeted from the floor.

“Hey, Jaimie,” Kane said.

“Man, Jaimie,” Javier added. “Sweet damn security system. I should have recognized your work.”

“Great to see you, Jaimie,” Brian Hutton added with a little grin. “Although we’re seeing more of you than brothers are comfortable with.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Mack demanded. Lust punched hard and mean, his entire body tightening, his cock hard as a rock. He was furious with her, scared for her. Shocked at seeing her. What was going on? She had fucking left him. Left him. Disappeared without a trace.

His hand gripped her throat and he trapped her there on the floor, letting her feel the strength of his anger-of his need. He leaned close. “Did you find yourself, Jaimie? Did you find everything you were looking for?” Did you miss me the way I missed you? Did you bring my heart back, because I have a damn big hole where it should be.