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But with Gianna it was different. She’d moved toward him when he alluded to the horrors that had been done to him. She hadn’t run. She hadn’t rejected him. For one terrifying, heart-stopping moment he’d thought she’d look away; instead she’d reached out.

He’d grabbed her offering and clamped on like a man dying of thirst.

As he kissed her, he acknowledged that he’d been closed off for years. Gianna had gently touched his surface, sending small waves across his senses. The waves had rippled over the black memories that’d risen to the surface and calmed them, buried them. He hadn’t fought his usual internal struggle to make the images vanish; they’d simply dissolved.

He wasn’t a fool. They weren’t magically gone. But they’d never fallen away into the background with such ease.

Since he’d first seen her, Gianna had soothed his environment. Usually he escaped to his cabin to find that calm; yesterday he’d discovered it’d followed him back home on two legs. Two petite legs attached to one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen.

And she accepted him. She’d looked right into his nightmare and not shied away.

Her heart beat against his and he ran his hand up into her hair, cradling her skull. She felt so small under his fingertips. Her hand was still clutched in his, gripping like she was scared to let go, and he held their clasped hands against her back, feeling the soft give of her skin and the harder bumps of her spine. With her arm behind her she was open and vulnerable to him, but she didn’t seem to care. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to exhale, and she turned her lips from his, her breath brushing over his cheek. He moved his lips up her face to her cheekbones and her eyelids, to her forehead. A soft scent of coconut shampoo entered his senses, and he abruptly wished they were alone on a tropical island, not standing in her violated home in a rainy city.

He went back to her lips and her doorbell rang.

“Holy crap,” she uttered.

“We’re not done here.” He held her gaze, turning his statement into a question. Once again he placed the decision in her hands.

“Definitely not.” She pulled back; her eyes were dark, but her lips curved in a promising smile that made his heart painfully contract. In a good way.

“I’ll get the door.” He let go of her, his hands suddenly feeling empty, and stepped to a window. A white van with the name of a security business on the side sat in her driveway. “Did you call a security company?”

She groaned. “My uncle said he would.”

“Good.” A glance at the wry expression on her face told him she didn’t consider it good.

“Let’s get your place secured.” He let in the security company agent after a good look at his credentials and the van. He followed the tech through the house as the man took notes; he promised to have his supervisor call back with an estimate. Chris wished he could install the equipment immediately, but understood.

Gianna sighed after the tech left. “I still don’t want to stay here, but I don’t want to put your brother and Jamie in a bad situation.”

He ached to ask her to stay with him, but it felt too soon; he didn’t want to scare her off. And there was Violet to think of. “I think you need to check into the hotel with your uncle.” He watched her face and quickly amended his statement. “Not stay with him, but stay there with someone else’s name on the room. I really think that’s best. We’ll pick up Violet on the way. You said you need to see him at some point anyway, right?”

“I do.” Resignation filled her features. “I love him and I know he’s here because he’s worried. A hotel makes sense over staying with your brother.” She tilted her head. “Although I like the idea of an armed guard with Violet.”

Again he backed away from asking her to stay at his home. It’d been right to take her to Michael’s home the first time. He’d known Jamie would be there. He changed the topic. “Did you ask your uncle about old photos of the medallion?”

“I emailed him this morning. He forwarded it to his staff with a request for someone to get right on it, so I assume someone is digging through photos as we speak. When he asks for something, people move.” A thoughtful look crossed her face. “I’d like to take another look at the medallion. I know we just saw it at the medical examiner’s, but my mind was spinning so fast, it’s all a blur.”

“I have the photos.”

“What photos?”

“The one’s from Frisco’s camera.”

“And how did that happen?” she asked in an accusing voice.

He shrugged. “You plugged the memory card into my laptop. I copied them at that time.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared that you’re that devious.”

“Nothing devious about it. I believe in making immediate copies of everything. You’d be surprised how often things go missing or get changed.”

“We tried so hard to keep track of evidence at my old place of work, but I swear gremlins would go through our stuff.”

“People are generally dishonest.”

Gianna took a step back and gave him a pointed look. “I don’t agree with that at all. I’ve found most people to be forthright and helpful. Most have good intentions.”

“Most,” said Chris in a dry tone. “Apparently I’ve dealt with the underside of society for too long. I’ve learned to not believe a word anyone says.”