Prologue For Her Nick “Nick.” He was sweating. His wrists torn raw. His muscles strained well beyond pain. The gag in his mouth filthy, and not just with his blood and saliva. His eyes were locked to hers. “Nick.” As the asshole made his approach, his gun aimed to her head, he didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her. Didn’t take off her gag and let her say a thing. She was speaking, though. To Nick. Her eyes were filled. With love, as usual. And fear. “Nick!” He jolted awake. Instantly gripping the wrist at his shoulder, his body knifed up and twisted off the couch. Yanking the wrist up a man’s back, Nick forced him forward with the intent of shoving him against the wall. “Nick,” the voice was soft now. “Brother.” That voice hit him, the fact the man wasn’t struggling hit him, he let him go and stepped back. His brother, Knight, turned to face him. Bending slightly, Knight switched on a light by the couch. Through the now-illuminated room, he caught Nick’s eyes. “You’re not sleeping well,” Knight told him quietly. “Heard you all the way down the hall.” This wasn’t good. He was sleeping on his brother’s and his woman, Anya’s couch. They had two little girls. Little girls needed their sleep. What they never needed was their uncle losing it down the hall