Dane
As soon as the door closed behind her, he slumped, dropped his guard, let his face rest in his hands. His heart pounded against his ribs and he was so damn sick of feeling like something was about to tear out of his chest. But here they were. It was happening again. And there was nothing he could do but walk through it.
She was so proud. So certain of herself. And he was chipping away at her. He hated himself for it. But he had no choice. She was walking into a world of darkness—dark men, dark deeds—like she'd never seen or experienced before. If something happened to her…
Possibilities swam through Dane's head. All the ways he'd seen women hurt. Killed—in spirit, or in truth. All the things that could happen to her now, or any one of his staff if these men perceived that they'd become important . . . and it would be his fault.
