FEARLESS by Helen Kay Dimon

apocalypse. She ran a hand through her hair and gave up when she snagged knot after wet knot. Add in the blanket and what she feared was a pound of mud caked to her face and you got one scary-looking woman.
    A terrific first impression.
    The man who had spoken used a remote to turn down the volume. He stood like they all did, feet slightly apart and hands deceptively hanging by his sides but more likely just within inches of a weapon. It was as if all these guys had taken a class in appearing formidable and in charge.
    Davis waved the concern off. “We’re fine.”
    She thought he should speak for himself. She was not fine.
    Pax scoffed. “I’m not.”
    “You have insurance,” Davis said.
    With all respect to the discussion about “things,” she had something bigger in mind. “Then there’s the part where we almost died. Again.”
    Pax smacked his lips together. “Sorry.”
    The man with the remote stepped up. All six foot three or so of him. The dark hair and blue eyes combination worked for this one. A smile opened his handsome face and the scruffy beard gave him a bit of an edge.
    Something about the way he held his body, shoulders back and sure of his place in the room, made her think he filled the leadership role of the group. He was muscular but not as filled out as Davis. Still, it was as if these Corcoran men all came off the same shelf. They had the lethal look down.
    “I’m Connor Bowen.” He pointed to the fourth guy in the room. “The tired one with his head in the pot of coffee is Joel Kidd.”
    Yep, a matching set. The last one looked younger than the rest of them, probably in his twenties. And he took the scruff thing a little more seriously. The grungy look matched the black hair and near-black eyes.
    Then he nodded to her, and she saw a touch of scoundrel in him. “Ma’am.”
    Because Davis didn’t bother introducing her, she took over. “I’m Lara Bart and, honestly, I’ve had better days.”
    Connor nodded. “We know.”
    “What?”
    “Your name. We know who you are.” His smile grew even wider. “What can we do to help? Tell us what you need.”
    A bed and something to make me sleep for about a month. She was tired enough to drop but feared what she’d see when she closed her eyes.
    She’d experienced horrifying trauma before. It had taken months for the memory of the pain and terror to dull. This time she wanted to race through it and put all the death behind her.
    “In addition to the promise that I can get through the next twelve hours without being shot at?” Because, really, she’d pay good money for that promise at this point.
    Joel shrugged. “That’s asking a lot.”
    Connor talked right over him. “We’ll certainly try.”
    She glanced at Davis but he just stood there. His shoulders were stiff and the strain showed across his cheekbones. He likely wanted to launch into work mode and she was messing up his schedule.
    She was more than happy to duck out. “Then I’ll settle for a shower and a change of clothes.”
    “I can run out and get you something.” Pax’s keys jangled as he grabbed them out of his pocket.
    “Don’t bother,” Connor said. “Jana has something Lara can wear until we can get her something else.”
    That explained the look of the kitchen. Lara wondered if the upstairs had the high-tech industrial look of this space or if it more mirrored the kitchen’s feminine style. She was hoping for the latter. “Jana is?”
    Connor’s smile turned a little sad. “My wife. She’s out of town.”
    It didn’t take years of training to know there was something else at work there, but Lara was too tired to ask. Besides that, she refused to judge relationships. Some of her friends had done that to her with Davis, questioning if his work trips were really about work, and she’d hated it. “You sure your wife won’t mind?”
    “If I didn’t offer she’d kick my...” Connor cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
    Davis nodded to her. “Go