38
Greta was lounging on Cutter’s chest, dozing in front of the TV as a game played. Amid the sounds of roaring crowds emanating from the TV, she heard a loud rap at her door.
Rat-tat-tat.
A short pause.
Rat-tat-tat.
And a third time. Rat-tat-tat.
Her heart stalled. The rhythm of the knock belonged to one man, and one man only.
Shadow.
The muscles bracketing her spine locked up. Unwrapping herself from Cutter’s embrace, she strode toward the door. She flung it open and blocked Cutter’s view of the entrance, praying to get rid of him before all hell broke loose. She cast a glance over her shoulder and groaned inwardly when Cutter got to his feet. Face carefully blank, she acknowledged her visitor, “Shadow.”
“Greta,” he replied soberly. His gaze took her in, pausing at her chest and
