die first.” He saw the tension leave her shoulders, and he smiled slightly. “What were you thinking?”
She squirmed in indecision.
“Natalie.” He put his hands by her hips and leaned over her. “You can ask me anything.”
“All right.” Her gaze dropped to his thigh but then flickered away. “That scar on your leg…”
Though it still ached at times, Jett rarely paid it any mind these days. “An old bullet wound. What about it?”
Her eyes flared wide. Hesitant, she licked her lips.
Damn, but he felt that lick everywhere. “You are so fucking beautiful.” He had to hurry this along so he could get inside her. “Now tell me, what about the scar?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Jett had to shake his head at her indecision. She was so damn vulnerable and so defensive of her privacy. She shared her body without reserve but feared sharing anything more. “But you did, so tell me, does it bother you?”
“No!”
He looked at the scar and shrugged. “I’m used to it. To me it’s just a mark, but I suppose it’s ugly.”
“Oh no, Jett.” Pure reaction tightened her thighs around him. “Nothing about your body is ugly. I didn’t mean anything like that.”
“Then what?”
She gave another small tug on her restraints. “This hardly seems the time to chitchat.”
It was exactly the time to chitchat. “Why not now? We’re neither one going anywhere, so we have plenty of time on our hands.”
After a few seconds more, she got her backbone and met his gaze with an exasperated expression of daring. “It looked like a bullet wound to me, so I’ve sometimes wondered what type of dangerous man you might be.”
His mouth twitched. She thought him dangerous? Perceptive of her.
“Is that funny?”
Given his background and his capability, it really wasn’t much of a stretch. When necessary he could be deadly. “I guess not.” He hoped she wouldn’t be too put off by the life he’d led.
“So why are you smiling?”
Jett tried to look more serious. “I’m only a little dangerous, I promise.” Encouraging her toward more conversation, he explained, “I do security work now, mostly domestic investigation.”
“Security work?” Her expression sharpened. “What does that mean?”
“Means I’m a private eye.” Jett watched her and saw her eyes widen with understanding. “It makes it pretty easy for me to uncover secrets.” Your secrets.
Aghast, her brows came down and her mouth firmed. “Have you been snooping into my life?”
He gave a noncommittal roll of one shoulder. “Can’t help myself. I’m the cautious type. See, I’m also ex-military and ex-FBI. Being well-informed is the name of the game, and I’m afraid old habits die hard.”
She absorbed all that with a frown. “So that bullet wound…?”
“Is why I’m not still FBI. Other injuries I could brush off, but that one caused more damage and got me grounded, stuck on desk duty.”
“You don’t have the body of a desk jockey.”
One brow lifted. “I guess not. That’s because shuffling papers is not my thing, which is why I became a P.I. At least having my own setup, I can pick and choose the cases I want to take.”
“Is it physically challenging?”
“It can be. I stay in shape because I need to.” In an effort at full disclosure with her, Jett admitted, “I get most of my business from a surveillance firm that deals with divorce.”
Even more aghast, Natalie said, “You spy on people having marital problems?”
He didn’t like her tone. “It’s not that simple, but if you want to go bare-bones, then yeah.” To make sure she got a clear picture, he shared details. “A few months ago, some bozo who’d been cheating on his wife and got busted for it decided he didn’t want a divorce. He wanted her to give him another chance, and it didn’t matter to him that she preferred to move on. Thing is, he was acting so weird, she didn’t trust him, so she hired me to keep an eye on him.”
Natalie frowned, but it seemed more out of concern than censure.
“I started checking up on him, learning his routine, his habits. A week later when the asshole bought a gun, I knew he had something planned.”
Her lips parted. “A gun?”
Jett nodded. “That same day, he checked out an old barn at an abandoned farm out in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t like it, so I followed him the rest of the day.”
As if forgetting her naked pose beneath him, Natalie shifted then asked, almost breathless, “What happened?”
“He pulled the gun on his wife.” Remembering it made Jett tense all over again. Abuse of any kind sickened him, but abuse against a woman, a wife, left him rigid with fury. “His plan was to force her into the car and take her to the barn.”
Attention rapt, Natalie whispered, “Why?”
“He said he was going to do a murder-suicide.”
“Oh my God. You heard all that?”
“And recorded it.”
Her entire countenance softened. “What did you do, Jett?”
“I stopped him.” Jett took great pleasure in giving her that truth. It had been ugly, and he’d definitely lost control when the guy tried to stave him off by pointing the gun at his wife. More than anything, Jett had wanted to tear that guy apart. As it was, he’d done more than enough damage.
He waited for Natalie to ask him how he’d stopped the jerk and wondered just how much he ought to tell her.
Instead, she said, “You could have been killed.”
She surprised him with that observation. “Maybe.” Shots were fired that day. Luckily they’d only struck a tree, a car and the side of the house. “But I wasn’t. Instead, the guy is now in jail on a string of charges, and the woman is free to live without always looking over her shoulder.”
“I’m glad you were there to help her.”
Jett felt compelled to tell her, “I’m damn good at any job I do.”
She accepted that without comment then looked down at his thigh, currently under hers, keeping her legs apart. “Does it ever pain you?”
“Not often.” He ran a hand up
