He’d cautiously entered the cabin, but once inside he’d realized Rafael’s drugs had put the women to sleep. Gianna Trask was passed out on a sofa, and he’d assumed the daughter was above in the loft. He’d been fully prepared to shoot if confronted by one of the women. The need had never arisen.

He’d touched Gianna’s hair and considered taking advantage of her drugged state, but the thought of taking her in the same room as a dead man repulsed him.

He’d regretted passing up that chance a dozen times.

He’d set the fire and left, believing he’d solved his problems.

The fire had been another wrong decision.

When he’d returned the next day, he’d gone to a window and peered in, hesitant to enter the smoking, crumbling cabin. The couch where Gianna had lain was empty. Tracks went between the cabin and her Suburban. He’d checked the vehicle and found it empty, smashing the driver’s door glass in his fury.

Where had they gone?

Then he’d heard the snowmobile and dashed back into the woods.

Hidden, he’d watched her and the other man, his mind unable to plan his next move.

He’d fired, simply wanting them both dead.

So many mistakes.

All his life he’d reacted before thinking.

It was one of the reasons he’d been sent to the States.

But he was still in the clear. When someone asked what happened to Rafael, he would play innocent and claim he had failed to show up one day. As long as he was able to get the thumb drive to his father, everything would work out.

He took a deep breath.

I can make this work.

The old man had claimed he hadn’t given it to Gianna. He didn’t believe that now; he’d searched every place the old man could have hidden it. The woman had it somewhere, and what was on it could destroy his father.

Should I ask for more money once I have it?

He let his thoughts go down that path, imagining dangling the precious information over his father’s head. He didn’t know what the information was; he knew only that his father wanted it desperately.

Could it be worth millions?

His father had expected him to climb the company ladder. He’d seen it as a waste of time. Why should he have to work when his father had already done all the work? He should be able to enjoy the perks of his father’s success. I am the only son. Why do I have to prove anything?

But now he was in a situation where he had access to something his father desperately wanted.

How much would he pay to have the thumb drive returned?

He backed away from that train of thought. His father would send other men to take the thumb drive away. And they wouldn’t be gentle about it. His best chance to redeem himself was to hand it over as soon as he had it.

He swallowed hard, noticing his lower back had started to sweat, stunned that he’d even considered going against his father. At least I thought that idea through first.

He eyed Gianna’s tracker on his cell phone. He’d watched from the home behind hers as she discovered the break-in, and wasn’t surprised that she’d refused to sleep in the house the last two nights. That’s where he’d first seen the scarred man; he’d soon discovered he’d rescued the women from the fire. Some sort of self-appointed protector. Now he went everywhere Gianna went, hovering at her side, studying her surroundings like he expected an assassin to leap out.

Chris Jacobs.

He didn’t know where Jacobs stood in relation to Gianna, but he knew he didn’t like it. Not only did the man create a barrier he had to cross to get the thumb drive, he was pissing him off. Jacobs kept touching Gianna. The small of her back. Her upper arm. Her hand, to get her attention. It was setting him on edge.

He wanted to touch her. She’d consumed most of his thoughts during the night. Her long dark hair, her eyes, her hands. He loved her hands. Some men were into feet, but he liked hands, and Gianna’s were spectacular. She talked with her hands, looking extremely Italian when she passionately discussed something. They arched and fluttered, and he imagined them stroking his chest and shoulders. Would there be an opportunity for him to see her in the lingerie he’d grabbed in her home? I must make that happen.

She and Jacobs didn’t appear to be a couple. There was no apparent intimacy between them. But he knew the look of a man who felt possessive about a woman, and Jacobs was dead serious when he stood next to Gianna.

Stay back.

Either they didn’t care to demonstrate their relationship in public or Gianna wasn’t aware of how Jacobs felt.

To him Jacobs might as well be wearing a sign staking his claim.

He knew how to tell when a man had claimed a woman. He’d picked up the skill in the nightclubs of South Africa. The men were like sentinels standing next to the women they’d chosen for the night. The women would chatter with their girlfriends, often ignoring the man at their side, but the men were always looking around them, making eye contact with the other men. Hunt somewhere else.

He’d been bored in the nightclubs, their novelty having worn off within months. His father’s business didn’t hold his interest and his father had given up hope that he would take over one day. He’d tried attending the university and failed. He’d worked a half-dozen different jobs for his father’s huge corporation, seeking a position or division he found interesting. It didn’t exist. He shared a last name with one of the biggest businesses in the country, and he hated it. So he’d looked for entertainment, hanging out with his peers. Other bored young men. Some of them had successful careers, while others preferred to live on their fathers’ dime. Like him.