Suspicions (The Battling McGuire Boys Book 3) by Cynthia Eden

get me here.”
    If he saw an attack coming, Mark would be striking back with all the power that he had.
    Davis paced toward him. He leaned in close. His voice no more than a breath of sound, he warned Mark, “And you keep your hands off my sister, got it?”
    No, he didn’t. Mark grabbed Davis’s arm, stopping him before he could leave. Keeping his voice just as low as Davis’s had been, Mark said, “Ava’s an adult. What happens between us...it’s just between
us.
” If Ava wanted him, the last thing he’d do would be to turn away from her.
    Davis could get angry. The guy could try to take a swing at Mark, but there was no way Mark was staying away from Ava. Not now.
    Davis’s expression was unreadable in the darkness. But when he said, “You hurt her, and I’ll break you,” Mark understood his threat.
    Then Davis was heading back to the car.
    Ava had opened the door to her cottage. Mark rushed forward, not wanting her to go in alone. He caught her hand. “Let me check it out.”
    “The...the alarm’s still on. The place should be safe.”
    It should be, but he still wanted to check in there. Mark hurried inside and did a sweep of the guest house. The den was clear. So was the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom and—
    He opened another door. The room there was mostly empty except for about a dozen canvases that had been stacked near the walls.
    “No one here but us,” Ava said, her voice still sounding brittle. Sharp. Not at all like Ava. “I told you the place was safe.”
    He turned to look at her, but Ava’s eyes were on the canvases. “I store them here because I don’t want anyone else to see them.” She seemed to hesitate. Then she said, “Maybe I should just throw them out.”
    He’d never seen Ava’s paintings before. He didn’t think anyone had. He took a step toward those canvases.
    This time, she was the one to reach out to him.
    “We all have...secrets, don’t we?”
    Yes.
    Her gaze rose to hold his. “Who are you?”
    Mark shook his head, not understanding.
    “Are you the man who kept me sane all those years ago? The white knight, riding to my rescue?” She swallowed. The faint click of sound was almost painful to hear. “Or are you the guy who talks about killing a man in a way...in a way that makes me think you’d really do it? That you wouldn’t hesitate at all?”
    Her fingers were so soft against his skin. Like silk. “If your life was on the line, I wouldn’t hesitate.” He would do anything for her.
    Who are you?
    “I’m both men.” Good and bad tangled together.
    Ava was so close to him. Her gaze searched his. “Should I be afraid of you?”
    He shook his head. “I won’t hurt you.” It was a vow he’d made to himself long ago.
    “Can I trust you?”
    There were things she didn’t know, but when it came to her safety... “Yes.”
    Ava glanced back toward the canvases. He couldn’t see what she’d painted on them, and he wanted to stride forward.
    But he also wanted her to keep touching him.
    “You told the police that the man who attacked you said I was his.”
    His back teeth clenched. “Yes.”
    “What do you think he’ll do...to me?”
    If he had the chance... The image flashed in Mark’s mind, and rage burned inside him.
    “That’s what I think, too,” Ava said, seeming to read Mark’s thoughts. “Why? Why does he want to hurt me? I don’t even know him.”
    He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Because he’s sick, Ava. You didn’t do anything. It’s this guy. He’s just—”
    “If he started making plans when I was sixteen, then do you think... Was he one of the men who killed my parents?”
    Mark was afraid that he just might be.
    “Why?” Her head titled back as she stared up at him. “Why is he doing this? Why is he focusing on me?”
    “I don’t know.” He wished he had words to comfort her.
    Her gaze slid over his face, then up to his forehead. The docs had put in a few stitches there,