groaned heavily. The sound of Mike collapsing in the car was easily heard in
the silence of the parking lot.
"Rory said the apartment over the garage was available." His voice was guttural, low. "I'll store my gear and finish this bastard's truck myself or I can kill him now. Your choice."
And he meant it.
Sabella shook her head in confusion as the BMW started up behind her. the tires screaming on
its exit from the lot.
"Why?" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse as she tried to make sense of it all. Why this,
why now? Why had fate thrown someone in her path guaranteed to destroy her, just when she
was finally rebuilding her life?
"Choose."
She released his wrist, realizing she was still gripping it with a strength she hadn't known she
was capable of.
Finger by finger, she forced herself to let him go. She couldn't answer him, she couldn't choose,
but when she got her hands on Rory she was going to kill him.
Ignoring the shocked and surprised faces around her, she turned and moved slowly back to the
garage. She had a job to do. she couldn't, she wouldn't, let this interfere.
She didn't need this.
She sat back down on the creeper and let it roll her back beneath the car she had been working
on. A few more little tweaks and it should be finished. Just a little bit more.
She picked up the wrench on the cement floor beside her and went to work. If tears rolled from
the comers of her eyes and into her hair, then she ignored them. If the pain tightened her chest
until it felt as though her heart were being ripped apart, then she ignored it.
Today, there was work to be done. When everyone else was gone, she'd pay Noah Blake for the
day and send him on his way. It would hurt. She needed the money and the bank payment was
due next week. If she had to, if there was no other choice, then she would sell some more of the
jewelry her mother had left her to cover the rest of the payment.
One thing was for sure. Noah was going to have to go. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't
handle her instant response to him, and she couldn't handle the conflicting emotions that raged
through her at the sight of him. There was something familiar and yet something too dangerous
about him for her to get a handle on. Something about him that had made her feel again.
Something more than the regret she had resigned herself to three years before. She had finished
grieving three years ago; sometimes, now, she just regretted.
She didn't notice the sob that tore from her chest at the thought, but the man standing by the car
heard it. Heard it, and hated it.
Noah could still feel the rage coursing through him, burning through his mind like a haze of
red. The sight of Mike, the sound of him, the vicious words that had poured from his lips when
he spoke to Sabella. Noah had lost his mind. Even now, he wanted the other man dead. A
lifetime of history, of friendship, was over that quickly. As far Noah was concerned, Mike was
living on borrowed time.
He glanced down at the ground, and the sight of Sabella's legs bent, feet braced on the floor,
knees raised against the fender of the car, sent another sort of fury surging through him.
She had no business under there. No matter how damned sexy she looked with her jeans
stained with oil and a smear of it on her chin and her cheek.
She was killing herself. Noah hadn't missed the dark circles under her eyes, the weight she had
lost, the haunted depths of her misty gray eyes. This wasn't the woman he had left behind.
There was no makeup on her surprisingly youthful face, her once honey-streaked light blond
hair was a mix of burnished golds and dark blond now. He hadn't even known she colored it.
How had he not known that his wife dyed her hair?
He brought to mind the memory of her naked body. How he had loved her body, curvy and
warm, fitting against him perfectly. The bare soft flesh between her thighs had been devoid of
curls, so he'd had no idea what the natural color
the silence of the parking lot.
"Rory said the apartment over the garage was available." His voice was guttural, low. "I'll store my gear and finish this bastard's truck myself or I can kill him now. Your choice."
And he meant it.
Sabella shook her head in confusion as the BMW started up behind her. the tires screaming on
its exit from the lot.
"Why?" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse as she tried to make sense of it all. Why this,
why now? Why had fate thrown someone in her path guaranteed to destroy her, just when she
was finally rebuilding her life?
"Choose."
She released his wrist, realizing she was still gripping it with a strength she hadn't known she
was capable of.
Finger by finger, she forced herself to let him go. She couldn't answer him, she couldn't choose,
but when she got her hands on Rory she was going to kill him.
Ignoring the shocked and surprised faces around her, she turned and moved slowly back to the
garage. She had a job to do. she couldn't, she wouldn't, let this interfere.
She didn't need this.
She sat back down on the creeper and let it roll her back beneath the car she had been working
on. A few more little tweaks and it should be finished. Just a little bit more.
She picked up the wrench on the cement floor beside her and went to work. If tears rolled from
the comers of her eyes and into her hair, then she ignored them. If the pain tightened her chest
until it felt as though her heart were being ripped apart, then she ignored it.
Today, there was work to be done. When everyone else was gone, she'd pay Noah Blake for the
day and send him on his way. It would hurt. She needed the money and the bank payment was
due next week. If she had to, if there was no other choice, then she would sell some more of the
jewelry her mother had left her to cover the rest of the payment.
One thing was for sure. Noah was going to have to go. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't
handle her instant response to him, and she couldn't handle the conflicting emotions that raged
through her at the sight of him. There was something familiar and yet something too dangerous
about him for her to get a handle on. Something about him that had made her feel again.
Something more than the regret she had resigned herself to three years before. She had finished
grieving three years ago; sometimes, now, she just regretted.
She didn't notice the sob that tore from her chest at the thought, but the man standing by the car
heard it. Heard it, and hated it.
Noah could still feel the rage coursing through him, burning through his mind like a haze of
red. The sight of Mike, the sound of him, the vicious words that had poured from his lips when
he spoke to Sabella. Noah had lost his mind. Even now, he wanted the other man dead. A
lifetime of history, of friendship, was over that quickly. As far Noah was concerned, Mike was
living on borrowed time.
He glanced down at the ground, and the sight of Sabella's legs bent, feet braced on the floor,
knees raised against the fender of the car, sent another sort of fury surging through him.
She had no business under there. No matter how damned sexy she looked with her jeans
stained with oil and a smear of it on her chin and her cheek.
She was killing herself. Noah hadn't missed the dark circles under her eyes, the weight she had
lost, the haunted depths of her misty gray eyes. This wasn't the woman he had left behind.
There was no makeup on her surprisingly youthful face, her once honey-streaked light blond
hair was a mix of burnished golds and dark blond now. He hadn't even known she colored it.
How had he not known that his wife dyed her hair?
He brought to mind the memory of her naked body. How he had loved her body, curvy and
warm, fitting against him perfectly. The bare soft flesh between her thighs had been devoid of
curls, so he'd had no idea what the natural color
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