“Makes me wonder if the shots were silenced.”

“Like a sniper or something?” He frowned. “I thought the cops said it looked like scattershot.”

“Or someone wanted it to look random.” She felt Paxton’s probing gaze and knew she’d said too much. “But what do I know?”

“More than you’re letting on, that’s for damn sure.”

Don’t look at him.

“Is Devin freaked out? In addition to all the protestor shit, I heard rumblings that he’s dealt with some stalker-type things.”

She shrugged. “He’s not too freaked out. He’s sound asleep in the room.”

“And you’re not. You’re in the fitness room, and judging by the sweat and exhaustion, you’ve been here at least an hour.” He paused. “Interesting.”

Liberty faced him. “Why’s that interesting?”

Paxton tipped up his water bottle and drank, keeping those assessing eyes on hers. “Because if I ask for the truth, you’ll lie. And if I hazard a guess on why there’s a stun gun in your duffel bag, you’ll hedge. So I won’t insult my intelligence or yours by saying anything other than I find it . . . interesting.”

“I knew you were smarter than you looked.”

He smirked. “I’ll sidestep that. Anything I can do?”

She eyed his workout clothes—a long-sleeved T-shirt and baggy cotton pants—martial arts pants if she wasn’t mistaken. “I don’t suppose you grapple?”

“Mostly I concentrate on tai chi these days and not the combat side of martial arts.”

“Pity. I’m in the mood for some ground and pound.”

“You any good?”

“Only one way to find out.” Then, because she’d obviously lost her mind, she taunted him with “Unless you’re scared to fight a girl?”

Paxton set his water bottle aside. “Them’s fightin’ words. Bring it on. But I’ve got a couple of rules. Grappling only, no kicks or strikes. And no choke holds. I can’t take the chance on f**king up my voice.”

“Deal.” She rooted around in her bag until she found a long-sleeved shirt and slipped it on.

As they faced each other on the mat, Paxton casually asked, “What discipline do you study?”

“Mostly Muay Thai. You?”

“Formerly aikido.”

Liberty rushed him.

Obviously, he wasn’t expecting it. He hit the ground hard but bounced back. “Why aren’t I surprised you’re the strike-first type?” he complained.

“Gotta take my openings when I see them.” Then she faked a grab, and when he went to counter the move, she dodged, knocking him to the ground. Her takedown netted her zero gain when he rolled out of it.

She’d missed this physical test of her skills against an opponent’s. Chances were slim she’d score a victory; Paxton Wright was lumberjack sized. Six foot five with biceps the size of her head and massive shoulders and thighs. Plus he had a keen eye for detail, so chances were he’d already cataloged her few moves and come up with countermoves.

“You sure we can’t kick and strike?”

“No need to.” He swept her legs out from under her; then she found herself in guard with no way to escape.

Shit. She tapped.

They went another round, with her managing to get the jump on him just one time. She figured he was just about to flip her on her back again when the door slammed open.

Devin demanded, “What the f**k is goin’ on?”

Paxton released her and offered a hand to help her up.

She was flushed and breathing hard when Devin approached her. “We were grappling.”

“Why are you even in here?”

“Paxton has experience with a different martial arts discipline, so we wanted to test our skill against each other.”

“Awesome. Not only do I wake up at four thirty in the f**kin’ morning and find your side of the bed empty—no note, no nothin’—then I find you rolling around on the floor with another guy who’s damn near twice your size.”

Liberty studied him, matching his icy stance and tone. “What are you insinuating?”

“Nothin’. I’m asking why’re you’re here.”

“And I answered.” She looked at Paxton. “Maybe he’ll believe you. Tell him this wasn’t foreplay.”

“Liberty—”

“Tell him.”

“She was working out when I got here. We decided to grapple. Probably not the best idea at four in the morning. But I’d never disrespect you by making a move on her.”

Devin inhaled. Exhaled. Rubbed the furrow between his brows. “I know that.” He looked at Liberty. “Just because we’re”—he gestured distractedly—“whatever. Your life is your own. But after what happened tonight, when I woke up alone, I was worried about you. But now that I know where you are, I’ll leave you to your grappling.” He walked out the door.

Paxton said, “So you just going to stand there, or are you going after him?”

“Shit.” Liberty followed Devin and caught him just as he turned the corner to the elevator.

The elevator? What the f**k?

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The security guard discreetly walked down the hall, away from the impending explosion.

Devin jammed his hands through his thick, unruly curls. Even sleep deprived and pissed off he looked like a damn rockstar. “Downstairs for a drink.”