MAGGIE didn’t realize until she pulled into her drive that she had been on autopilot. She couldn’t remember winding along Highway 6 with its sharp curves and steep ditches. It was a wonder she had found her way.

Now she was glad Rosen had convinced her to wait until morning. How could she have thought to go hunting for Stucky in strange, dark woods in the middle of the night? Yet it had made plenty of sense only an hour ago. She had been prepared to stage a sneak attack, forgetting so quickly that she had lost the last one to Stucky. Why was it so easy for him to destroy all her common sense with a sweep of a hand, or rather a cut of his knife?

She knew the liquor store clerk must have pleaded with Stucky. Maggie could hear it in her head—when Hannah realized Stucky didn’t care, she must have begged for her unborn baby’s life. He would have laughed at her. Was that why he started cutting while she was still alive? Had he attempted to show her the unborn fetus? It would have been a new challenge to add to his repertoire of horror. It seemed grotesquely inconceivable, but, for Stucky, she knew it was not.

Maggie tried to shut out the images. She unlocked her door, and tried to be as quiet as possible. It had been a long time since she had come home to anyone or anything other than a dark, empty house. In the past several years she and Greg had become nothing more than roommates who left notes for each other. Or at least there had been notes in the beginning. Gradually, the only signs of double occupancy had been the unrecognizable underwear in the laundry room and the empty milk cartons.

The alarm system beeped only once before Maggie punched in the correct code. Immediately, she felt Harvey’s cold nose sniffing her. She reached out a hand, and his tongue found it.

Though the foyer was dark, the living room was bathed in moonlight. She saw Nick stretched out on the floor, only halfway encased in the sleeping bag. He was bare-chested and the sight of his tight stomach brought a flutter to her stomach.

She set down her forensic kit, took off her jacket and began peeling off her holster, when she heard the sleeping bag rustle. Harvey had returned to Nick’s side, laying his head on his legs.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she told Harvey.

“Too late,” Nick said, lifting himself up onto one elbow.

“I meant Harvey.” She smiled.

“Ah. Good. How are you holding up?” Even in the blue light, she could see the concern in his eyes.

“I honestly don’t know, Nick. Maybe not so good.” She didn’t want to remember the dead clerk’s eyes. She didn’t want to see the shriveled-up fetus still clinging to the wall of its mother’s uterus.

“Hey,” Nick said quietly, “why don’t you join Harvey and me?” He pulled back the top of the sleeping bag, inviting her inside.

Again, the stirrings of arousal surprised her. She was embarrassed by her reaction, because she knew Nick didn’t mean the invitation as anything more than to curl up next to him.

“I promise I’ll let you have as much control as you want.” His eyes were serious, and she knew he had managed to zoom in on her feelings. Was she that transparent?

Without a word, she started undoing her jeans. She met his eyes and saw a bit of surprise mixed with anticipation. He looked as though he wasn’t sure what to expect. She had no idea herself.

She left on her shirt. Her underpants were already damp before she climbed in next to him. Harvey stood up, turned around three times and flopped down with his back up against Nick. They both laughed, and Maggie was grateful for the release of tension.

They lay facing each other, but he kept his hands away. She realized he was serious about letting her have control. She touched his face with her fingertips, stroking his cheek, his bristled jaw and lingering at his lips. He kissed her fingers, his mouth warm and inviting.

She moved down to the scar, the slight pucker of white on his chin. Then, to his throat, watching him swallow hard as though trying to contain his emotions. Her eyes stayed with his as her fingers traced a path over his hard, flat stomach. His breathing was already uneven by the time her fingers made it to the bulge in his jockey shorts.

“Jesus, Maggie,” he said breathlessly. “If I’d known this was what it would be like to give you control—”

She didn’t let him finish. She kissed him lightly on the lips while her hand slipped into his waistband. His entire body quivered. Then his mouth urged her on. She knew she had him close to the edge, but he was holding back. She brought the length of her body against his. The kisses had become deep and urgent, but she moved her lips to his ear. She let her tongue run along his outer ear and then slip inside. She whispered, “Don’t hold back, Nick.”

It didn’t take long and his breathing came in gasps through clenched teeth. Moments later, her hand was wet and sticky. Nick collapsed onto his back, eyes closed, waiting to gain control over his body again. Maggie’s own body was still a live wire, tingling without any stimulation other than in reaction to Nick. As she watched him she realized she had never before felt so sensual or so completely satisfied.

He put his hands behind his neck. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He was looking up at her now, maybe wondering what was next. He glanced over at Harvey, who had moved to the sunroom.

“Is he giving us some privacy, or is he tired of us waking him up?”

She smiled but didn’t answer. Nick reached up and touched her hair, pushing back a strand and letting his fingers caress her cheek. She closed her eyes and absorbed the lovely sensation being sent through her body. He kept their bodies from touching while his hand gently made its way down her neck. He unbuttoned her shirt, hesitating at each button to give her time to protest. Instead, she lay back, inviting his touch.

He sensed her urgency and let his mouth replace his fingers, gently kissing her. He tugged open the rest of her shirt and his mouth wandered, taking his time moving down her body. Suddenly he stopped. Then she felt his fingertips on her stomach, lightly tracing the scar that ran across her abdomen. The hideous scar that Albert Stucky had left. How could she have forgotten it?

She sat up abruptly and disentangled herself from the sleeping bag, escaping before Nick could react. In her rush, she almost tripped over poor Harvey. Now, she stood looking out over the backyard, the front of her shirt gathered into a fist. She heard him come up behind her. She realized she was shivering though she wasn’t cold. Nick wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into his warm body, resting her head back against his chest.

“You gotta know by now, Maggie,” he whispered into her hair, “there isn’t anything you can say or show me that’s gonna scare me away.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“It’s just that he’s with me all the time, Nick. I should have known that there would be some way for him to ruin even this.”

He tightened his hug. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to contradict her just to make her feel better. Instead, he just held her.