D.I was a broke waitress with an eviction notice in my purse when a dying six-year-old handed me her phone in a deserted Detroit garage. Minutes later, the city’s most feared man arrived with three black SUVs—and instead of asking who had hurt his daughter, Harlan Voss looked straight at me and demanded to know who had saved her.

The night Harlan went to Pier 4 was the longest night of my life.

Rain and sleet pounded against the windows of the estate. I sat in the grand living room with Belle sleeping in my arms, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the front doors.

Mrs. Gable stood near the window, holding a rosary, her lips moving in silent prayer. Armed guards in black tactical gear were stationed every ten feet along the interior halls, their radios clicking with static every few minutes.

At 3:15 AM, a heavy burst of static broke through Vance's radio channel in the foyer.

"...perimeter clear... target neutralized... Boss is returning..."

I let out a ragged breath I felt like I had been holding for hours.

Twenty minutes later, the front doors swept open.

Harlan stepped inside. His black coat was wet with rain and stained with dark mud. His knuckles were bruised, and a small cut near his hairline was bleeding down his cheek. But his eyes were clear, fierce, and triumphant.

He handed his coat to a guard and walked straight toward me.

When he reached the sofa where I was sitting with Belle, he stopped. He looked down at us—at his sleeping daughter, and at me, sitting there waiting for him in the middle of the night.

"They're done," Harlan said quietly, his voice raspy from smoke and cold. "The O’Malley faction is gone from Detroit. The docks are secure."

I set Belle gently down on the sofa cushions, stood up, and stepped right up to him. Without thinking, without caring about the blood or the rain, I reached up and pressed my palm gently over the cut on his cheek, wiping the blood away with my thumb.

"You're bleeding," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

Harlan grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand tight against his face. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of my scent, leaning into my touch like a drowning man reaching for air.

"I’m fine," he murmured, opening his eyes to look deep into mine. "Because I knew what was waiting for me at home."

He didn't hesitate. Harlan wrapped his broad arms around my waist, pulling me flushed against his chest, and lowered his lips to mine.

The kiss was hard, deep, and filled with a desperate, overwhelming passion that consumed everything in its path. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking into his heat, holding onto him as if the world outside were burning to the ground.