Chased by Heather Ashley

My boots squeakon the polished wood floor as I pace up and down the hall. I'm practically crawling out of my skin with the need to get back to Montana's apartment, even if she's completely unreasonable about the safety precautions we need to take so no one fucking kidnaps her.

It blows my goddamn mind that she can make me feel like I need to apologize for doing everything I can to keep her safe. We have fucking protocols for a reason.

I rake my fingers through my hair, blowing out a breath filled with frustration as I turn and complete another trip down the hall. Sebastian's putting all the surveillance video from the restaurant last night onto a thumb drive so I can take it with me and see if I can get anything off it he couldn't.

To be honest, the dude's a genius, and I'm not sure there's anything to be pulled from it if he couldn't, but I have to try. I have to do everything within my power to catch the asshole that tried to take Montana so I can take a deep breath and relax. Until I find him, I won’t be able to stop hunting. I’ve been on the hunt for years, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon—not unless the guy slips up.

My phone buzzes in my hand where I've been gripping it so tightly I'm surprised the screen hasn't cracked. I swear my heart fucking stops when I read Indy's message. Someone's been in Montana's apartment.

Someone was close enough they could've grabbed her if she was home, and I wasn't there to do shit about it.

Fuck.

This means the attack wasn't random. Someone's coming after her, and this whole thing just turned into a game I have no choice but to win. I scrub a hand over my face before I rush into Sebastian's office. "Is it ready? I need to go."

There's this overwhelming desperation inside me to get the hell out of here and see for myself that Montana's okay. This feels like Makenna all over again, only he didn’t toy with my sister. He got her on the first try, so I have to hope the training I’ve done for years, for exactly this moment, gives me the edge I need to take him down. It might be the only chance I get before he disappears again.

The protective feeling toward Montana is unsettling as fuck, and I don't really know what to make of it except my whole body is tense and ready to strike at any potential threat. My chest is so tight it's hard to suck air down into my lungs.

Sebastian leans over and yanks the little black stick out of the side of his computer, and tosses it to me. "You're wasting your time," he says in his haughty voice like he already knows everything, so I flip him off as I slip the device into my pocket.

"It's the only lead we have, so I'm not going to give up on it so easily. Thanks," I tell him as I turn and walk out. I don't need to sit here and have an argument with him about his skills; I already know he's one of the best tech guys in the country. He's also not a cop, and if I learned anything in my time on the force, it's to make sure to look at every piece of evidence from all possible angles before you set it aside.

I call an Uber as I hurry toward the front of the office and the lobby. Whoever my driver is, I'll tip that fucker all the cash in my wallet if they drive like a bat out of hell and get me to Montana as fast as they can.

Right about now, I'm kicking myself for not going by her apartment building first and grabbing my Charger. It's not ideal having to wait for a ride and then being at the mercy of whatever driver happens to show up.

It feels like an eternity waiting and then making the drive over. I have no idea how much time's passed, but whatever it is is too much. It's almost convenient how Montana only left her apartment for a couple of hours this afternoon, and the scumbag knew exactly when to make his move.

My mind spins with possibilities on the ride over, trying to make the puzzle fit together to find an answer, but I don't have enough pieces yet. I can't see the whole picture, and while this is something I usually thrive on—the chase—this time, it feels more important, like it might be the last chance I get to catch this guy.

The fact he’s turning into a hunter who stalks his prey is concerning as fuck since in the past, his MO—if he’s the same guy I tracked down in Seattle, the one who admitted to taking Makenna, and the whole reason I moved to LA—is to grab girls in the dark at night when they can’t see him coming. Montana’s the first one who’s ever gotten away and now his game’s evolving.

The guy at the front desk in the apartment lobby doesn't even bother trying to stop me, shooting a glare in my direction that's probably supposed to look threatening or at the very least intimidating, but all it does is make me give him a fuck off smirk before I board the elevator.

He really doesn't want to test me, especially today. I fold my arms over my chest, the tension in my body growing with every floor I go up. When the doors slide open, my heart is pounding, and I think my blood pressure is higher than it's ever been. I have no idea what I'm about to walk into.

My fist pounds on the door twice before I call out, "It's me." I might've swung the door open and walked in yesterday, but today someone has been inside the apartment. If I were Indy, I wouldn't hesitate to subdue any threat before I worried about who'd just come through the door.

If someone is a danger to Montana, they need to be taken care of immediately and without hesitation.

I wait until Indy pulls the door open and his usually laid-back demeanor is all business right now. Well, except his eyes. I glare at the amusement in them, wondering what the fuck he finds so funny about this situation, but I don't want to stand here and figure it out.

He leans out of the doorway and sticks his head into the hall, looking both ways before shutting and locking the door behind him as if I didn’t just check the hallway a second ago. Like I said—protocol.

"Where is she?" I ask, not wanting to waste a second being updated about anything until I see her.

"In the living room. She's been within my sight since I cleared the place, but we haven't checked to see if anything else's been messed with or is missing." Then in a lower voice, “Gotta warn you, the bed has been trashed, whatever the hell that means.”

I'm not about to wait around to hear more of what he has to say. Whatever else he might've found can wait a couple of minutes. It takes all of two seconds for me to be standing in front of Montana, and when she lifts her wide, frightened, green eyes up to mine, I nearly drop to my knees and pull her into my arms to shield her from the world.

That's not my job, though. I'm not her boyfriend; I'm her bodyguard, something I need to make sure to remember. I can’t lose anyone else I love, so it's better to keep a professional distance between the two of us.

I'm not going to ask her if she's okay because clearly, this entire situation is fucked the hell up. "Let's go see if anything's missing," I say instead, wanting to reassure her a thousand times over that I won't let anyone touch her, but then I can't promise that, can I? Not when someone got into her home—the place she should feel safest in the world—and violated her sense of security.

Montana stands up, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin like this whole thing isn't unsettling as fuck for her. She's got balls, and I'm learning that her confidence is hard to shake, two things that make her even more attractive to me. It's really starting to be a problem since it's not just how incredibly stunning she is, but it's so much more than that.

"I still can't believe that maniac was in here," she says as she moves past me and her arm brushes across my chest. My whole body tenses up, but this time it's not because of the threat I might face… or maybe it is. Not of the violent variety, but the kind of threat that could be so much more damaging if I don't heed the warning bells going off in my head.

"We'll figure out what we need to do to lock this place down even further, but in the meantime, we need to know if anything's missing or anything was left behind." I don't tell her that lunatics like the one stalking her can really go off the fucking deep end on the shit they think are gifts or the messages they send. Right now, I'm hoping this whole thing was just a play to show he can get close to her if he wants to.

More of a message in the act itself.

"Where should I start?" she asks, turning at the entrance to the hall and looking back at me.

"Probably the bedroom."

She sucks in a breath but nods, and I follow her down the hall, keeping my eyes on her back and taking a whole lot of fucking effort to not drop them to stare at her ass in the tight black pants she's got on. They cling to every curve, and I almost run into her because I lost the battle with myself, and my eyes are glued to her ass.

The muscles in my legs flex with the effort to keep from slamming into her, and I throw my hand out to stop my forward momentum. We're standing so close, I can smell the roses and warm vanilla scent she wears, and the fiery strands of her hair tickle the bottom of my chin.

It's a good thing she's not paying attention to me because I'm not in the mood to step back. I can feel the heat of her body against the front of mine, and I'm in no hurry to move away. Having her this close to me makes my whole body relax, and the tension I've been carrying since I got Indy's text earlier starts to melt away.

"Jesus," she mutters, and I tear my attention away from the things her body is doing to mine and snap back into protective mode, looking over her shoulder.

"Indy," I yell, pushing myself in front of Montana. The apartment isn't that big, so it doesn't take him long to find us.

"What's up?" he asks, with his hand on the grip of the gun in the holster at the back of his waist.

I jerk my chin into the bedroom and step aside to let him through, then I turn to face Montana. "Why don't you start in the bathroom? Then you can check the closet."

She props her hands on her hips and arches her eyebrow at me. "Do you seriously think I can't handle that?" She sweeps her hand toward the mess of her bed. "I've already seen it, for fuck's sake."

Not gonna lie, I get halfway hard from the challenging look in her eye and the snark that falls from her lips. She's not off cowering in a corner somewhere. She's not looking to hide from what's happening. In fact, the fire in her eyes says she's game to kick some ass if the opportunity presents itself.

"I'm trying to protect you," I growl, wanting her to fucking listen and do what I'm telling her for once. That shit in her bedroom is disturbing as fuck, and even if she thinks she can handle it, it might be worse up close.

At the very least, the big-ass knife sticking out of her ruined bed is sinister as hell. Once you see that shit, you can't un-see it. It's bad enough some asshole is piercing right through Montana's bubble of safety; the last thing she needs is for him to fuck with her psyche any more than he already is.

"If you want to protect me, don't try and hide shit from me," she says, poking her finger into my chest. I want to grab it and tug her closer and shut her up by smashing my lips into hers, but I don't. Instead, I clench my jaw and squeeze my fingers into fists at my sides.

Resisting her is fucking torture, and every minute I spend in her presence makes it that much worse to hold back.

"I'm never going to stop trying to save you from the darkness in this life," I say, and my words hang heavy between us. It feels like I've just confessed something I wasn't willing to admit even to myself, but she blinks and the spell's broken.

"Fine. I'll check the bathroom," she says, spinning on her heel and walking the long way around to the other entrance to her bathroom so she doesn't have to go through her bedroom. I follow her but give her a little space. I'm not about to let her out of my sight after what happened this afternoon, no matter how damn stubborn she wants to be or how much she wants to pretend that she's fine on her own.

I can be just as fucking stubborn, and I’m not going anywhere.

I lean against the doorframe and watch her look through everything she has stashed under the counter and in the drawers before she sucks in a breath. Everything in me tenses at the sound. I'm alert and ready to handle whatever new threat might be about to present itself.

"What is it?"

She turns and looks at me with wide eyes and a blush staining her cheeks. Despite how uncomfortable she seems to be, she still lifts her chin like she gives no fucks. "The piece of shit that broke in here decided to go all psycho stalker and steal my birth control pills. God, I feel like I'm living in some B-level horror movie. How is this my life?"

Montana looks more frustrated than anything and tilts her head back with her eyes closed like she's trying to compose herself. All I can do is drink in the sight of the long column of her delicate throat exposed to me. My fingers itch to wrap around it and feel her pulse racing under my grip as I make her come over and over.

She would look up at me with her eyes half-closed in pleasure, her lips parted as she gasps when I fill her, and her life and desire would be entirely in my control. When I snap out of my fantasy, I find her staring at me with her head cocked to the side. The only thing that saves me from her noticing my hard-on is Indy calling out for us from the other room.

I step back to let her pass and adjust my cock so it's not so obvious before I follow her back to her bedroom. When I walk in, Indy's snapping pictures of the destroyed bed and Montana's on her phone taking a picture, too.

Moving toward her, I pluck her phone out of her hand. "I hope you're not planning on posting this to social media."

She grabs the phone back out of my hands. "Do I look like a thirteen-year-old girl to you? For fuck's sake. Do you really think I want this shit plastered all over the place?" Montana sweeps her hand out to the side in the direction of her bed, where the mattress and sheets have been shredded by the huge butcher knife stabbed into the middle. "I need a record of it for my insurance."

"Fine, but when you're done, pack a bag. You're not sleeping here until we get the place better secured."

"And I get a new bed," she adds with a little pout. "I can't believe this whack job ruined my bed out of everything he could've wrecked. It couldn't have been my shitty desk chair or the rug I've been meaning to replace. Noooo, it had to be my custom bed."

"I'd be pissed if someone hacked my bed to shit, too," Indy unhelpfully adds, and I glare at him over the top of her head, but he acts like he didn't see it. "You see this?" he asks, pointing toward the knife.

I lean closer and notice there's a note scrawled in what looks a whole helluva lot like blood.

You may have gotten away, but now I get to play.

"Christ," I mutter. I used to work homicide. I've dealt with a lot of crazy shit, but I have a feeling this guy's going to be a fucking nightmare before we catch him. There's no way I'll be calling the police in, either. Not until I have enough evidence to be sure he'll get locked away. Even then, it's not a guarantee. When the chase comes to an end, and he's within my reach, that's when I'll decide if he goes to jail or if he goes to hell. Watching him go free once was too much; I won’t do it again.

Right now, he's fixated on my client. Every alias he used to use has gone dead, and there’s been no sign of him since the day his trial ended. Now he’s popped up in one of the biggest cities in this country with his sights set on Montana and every advantage on his side.

While I know I'd want to keep any client I have safe, what I'm about to offer goes beyond the level of duty I'm required to have, to something way over the requirements of my job. Like I'm finding is usually the case when it comes to Montana, everything tends to be more. Lines get blurred or crossed altogether, and it doesn't feel like I can stop even though I know I should.

"We're staying at my place," I announce. Indy raises his eyebrow like he wants to ask me what the fuck I'm thinking, but I pretend I don't notice he did it because I don't have an answer. I really don't know what the fuck is going through my head, other than I feel like I might lose it completely if I'm not able to keep Montana as close as possible to make sure she's protected.

The way I'm acting isn't normal, but I don't know how to stop, so I decide to go with it. I could ask Connor to let Indy take over and assign someone else, step back and away because I sure as fuck feel compromised. This case has gone beyond professional and I’m so far over the line into personal, there’s no coming back. This is everything I’ve been working for and it’s an awful coincidence that he’s set his sights on someone I regularly work with.

It almost feels like he’s toying with me through Montana, watching and wondering what I’ll do. The idea of taking myself off this case has me wanting to throw my fist through a wall, so I'm not going to. Makenna deserves justice and Montana has a right to live out her natural life without being tormented by my own personal demon.

"You've got ten minutes to pack," I tell her before looking over at Indy. "And send me copies of all those pictures after you upload them to the cloud."

Hollywood Guardians has a secure cloud server we use to upload anything case-related, so any of the guys can access it, but I like to keep copies for myself, too. Just in case.

While they're busy getting ready to go, I decide not to give Montana a chance to protest my forcing her to come stay at my place. If I know anything about her at all, it’s that, once the shock of all this wears off, she'll have a lot to say about it, so better I keep my distance for a few minutes so she's not reminded of what's about to happen.

I go to the kitchen and grab a couple of resealable storage bags to collect the knife and note. While I take Montana to my place, Indy will run them into the office so Sebastian can start working. Maybe he can work his magic and get a fingerprint or a trail for where the knife came from. He’s the best—and only—analyst we’ve got, but he’s been known to work miracles before.

My heart races at the knowledge that in less than an hour, I'm going to be alone in my apartment with Montana for the first time ever. It's not like this is a date or some romantic getaway, and yet that same anticipation that makes my skin tingle and my dick hard is there as if it were.

Montana's in her closet packing her bag when I step back into the bedroom, and I make quick work of bagging up the note and knife, passing them over to Indy. "Can you run these back to the office for Sebastian before you meet us at my place?"

His eyes dart toward the closet before fixing back on me. "Are you sure it's a good idea to take her back to your apartment? A hotel might be-"

"It'll be fine," I snap, having no tolerance for his bullshit right now. The last thing I want to do is explain myself, considering even I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's not going to be an epic cluster fuck at all."

Unleashing my irritation on my co-worker won't end well, but right now, I'm fucking tempted. In fact, burying my fist in Indy's face is looking better and better.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I tell him, wanting to end this conversation before Montana comes out of her closet with her bags packed. He's wearing this smug smile on his fucking face that makes me violent.

"Maybe not, but I do see the way you look at her, and even more than that, I see the way she looks at you. You're playing with fire, Ronin."

"How does she look at me?" I'm pretty sure I've caught her a couple of times looking at me like she thought I might destroy her for all other men if I got the chance, but I can't really be sure. If she was thinking that, she wouldn’t be wrong. Still, normally, she keeps up her mask of professionalism.

I'm not about to assume shit.

"Like she wishes you'd fuck her into next week." He raises an eyebrow. "You really never noticed it?"

I shake my head, but a buzz surges through me, and I can feel the blood in my body rushing south at the idea she wants me. I've wanted to fuck Montana for as long as I've known her, but I've never seriously considered doing anything about it.

I figured I'd be depressed as shit for a while, trying to forget how much I want her by burying myself in my work or other pussy until the feelings go away or she meets someone else and isn't an option anymore. That last thought makes a storm rage up inside me so vicious and so fast, it's hard to control letting it show on the outside, but I shouldn’t care. It’s not like I’m up for anything serious with her or any woman.

My teeth clench together as the muscles in my jaw tighten.

"Well, shit. Mind if I bring some popcorn tonight? I have a feeling this is about to get good."

My eyes narrow into slits that threaten nothing but pain and brutality, but I don't get the chance to voice every way I plan to make him suffer if he really does show up with popcorn. It's such an Indy thing to do that I wouldn't be surprised, and I hope my glare communicates exactly what I think about the idea as Montana walks back into the room.

She looks between us with her eyebrows rising toward her hairline. "You two need a minute? It looks like you're about to fight… or fuck." She gives me this smirk that makes me want to spank her, not that that's ever been something I've been into. Montana, though… she brings it out in me.

She brings out the domineering asshole that burns to make her kneel at my feet, but I don't want her to just submit. No, I want her to battle me, fight me until she has no choice but to obey. Looking at her now, picturing her naked and on her knees before me is almost too much. It's overwhelming, and my dick has never been harder in my life.

All I can do is stand there like a fucking idiot and hope she isn't reading all the dirty, wicked thoughts running through my mind.

"This guy might be tall, dark, and handsome, but he's not really my type," Indy says, breaking the tension and patting me harder than necessary on the shoulder. "Though I hear he fucks like it's his job."

This time, I turn and punch him right in the stomach, feeling immensely satisfied when he doubles over and wheezes out a laugh. Montana's face is so pink she looks like she got a sunburn, which is funny as hell considering I've heard the shit that comes out of her mouth, and there's no way she's embarrassed by what Indy just said.

And the only other thing that would have her blushing like a whore at church is being turned on, right?

I see no flaw in my logic, but she doesn't give me the opportunity to walk over to her and brush the tips of my fingers down her neck and over the exposed pinkened skin of her collarbone like I want to. If I do it, I wonder if she'll be as responsive as she is in my imagination. Will she shiver when I touch her? Will goosebumps pop up along her flesh? Will her pupils dilate, and her tongue slip out and trace a path I want to follow with my own across her plump bottom lip?

Unfortunately, she lifts her suitcase up between us and shoves it into my arms before I get the chance to do any exploring. It's almost like she wants to keep distance between us, which is smart. I should be doing the same damn thing.

"Right, well, as long as you can keep some crazed asshole from getting their hands on me, I think I'll be happy with you sticking to your day job. K? Thanks." Then she spins and hurries out of the room.

Indy's still laugh-wheezing, though it's more laugh now than wheeze, and I consider punching him again.

"The fuck was that?"

"A little push," he says, looking completely unapologetic. In fact, I think if he gets the chance, he'll do that shit again just for the fun of it.

"Yeah, well, why don't you stay in your own lane and worry about your own sex life? I'm perfectly fucking fine with you staying out of mine."

"It's not your sex life I'm worried about, dude. It's your love life."

I frown. "I don't have a love life, and I sure as fuck don't want one. Now can you focus? I want to get Montana out of here."

Indy shuts up, but while I haul Montana's suitcase out to the living room, he keeps shooting me knowing looks. What starts out as a smirk on his face turns into a full-on shit-eating grin by the time we're stepping out the front door with the girl in question wedged between us.

Once we're outside the building, Montana and I climb into my car and Indy takes the blacked-out SUV since he’s going to the office first. When I shut the door, it hits me that we're headed to my bachelor pad.

Sure, I make plenty of money, and my place is nice enough, but I never bring anyone back there. It’s definitely not as nice as Montana’s high rise. Outside of working out and the occasional night at the sports bar watching whatever game's on, I live and breathe the job. It’s been my obsession since I got out of the military when I was twenty-two. This job is the next step in a plan I’ve been working on since my sister went missing when I was seventeen.

Catch the motherfucker who took her and destroyed my family.

Making this job my whole life is what's needed to be the best at what I do. I don’t regret for one second anything I’ve done to get here—from deployments to working homicide to sitting in this car right now, closer than ever to catching the man who’s managed to elude me up until now. It’s cost me, but it’s given me purpose.

Still, when I look back at her face, all lit up as she snaps back at Indy with some comment about how tiny his dick is, I'm struck with how well she's handling all of this. I can only hope she doesn't bust my balls too bad because my apartment is built more for function and comfort than decor.

Girls like overstuffed couches and mostly bare walls, right?

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and my breath catches in my lungs while I watch her gaze darken, and excited energy pulses through my veins. I jerk my eyes back to the road before we crash, but my body is buzzing like I'm high.

"So, it's not a big deal, but I'm gonna need one of you to take me to Suga tonight," Montana says, and I cut my eyes back to hers in the mirror.

"If you need overpriced Southern food that badly, we'll order takeout," I grumble, flexing my fingers on the wheel.

"I'll take you," Indy volunteers, and I side-eye him.

"No, you won't."

"If you two assholes let me finish, you'd know that I have a date from that Mixer app I've been using, so takeout isn't going to work. Or maybe I should suggest we go to his place and order in?" She taps her finger against those pillowy lips. The only thing that distracts me from the motion is the burning sensation spreading through my stomach and chest and the ache in my knuckles from how hard I'm gripping the wheel.

"You're not going to some guy's house. You do remember someone is hunting you, right?" I snap. I'm absolutely fucking seething at her audacity. Is this all a joke to her?

Indy looks at me with this sympathetic expression on his face that I want to slice right off with my machete. "I can take her."

"No."

"Yes. We can't make her stop living her life. Unless there's some other reason you don't want her to go?" he pushes, and I bite my tongue to keep from snapping.

Fuck. I'll go insane sitting in my apartment while Montana's out on a date with some random asshat when there’s a madman with her in his sights. This isn’t jealousy; it’s concern over her goddamn well-being.

"Well, one of us has to, and if it's-"

"I'm taking her." The words taste like acid on my tongue, but I have to be there. At least then I'll know she's safe.

"This is a bad idea," Indy says under his breath while he turns to look out the window, and Montana stays suspiciously quiet in the back seat.

It's fine, though. It's all going to be fine. All I have to do is watch the girl I've been secretly into for a couple years turn that blinding smile on some other guy, laugh at his jokes, touch his skin…

Fuck, this night just might kill me, and if it doesn't, I might just kill him.