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“What did you do?” I snapped.

With a heavy sigh, Jaxon turned. “I kidnapped you.”

My breathing turned short and stilted. I looked wildly about, not seeing the quaint cabin decor that hung about the rustic interior. Instead, I searched for an exit.

“Isabella—”

“No!” I held up my hand.

The blanket fell off my shoulder.

“No, don’t talk to me,” I stammered, clutching at the woolen curtain as if it could protect me.

“Okay.” Jaxon stood there, watching.

There were two doors. One near where he stood at the sink, and the other across the living room. I tripped forward, rounding the green couch, and ripped open the door. Sheets of rain attacked the earth. They splashed up the front porch, pooling on the wooden planks and crawling toward the cabin.

I felt more than heard his approach.

The familiar, masculine scent tickled my senses. “You’re safe here, Donna Isabella.”

At the title, my body quaked.

He knew. He freaking knew!

He’d said as much on the roof, but we never got around to sorting out the details and figuring out just how much he did, in fact, know.

I rounded on him. The movement put me too close, my body grazing his. I took a healthy step back, bare feet connecting with the threshold.

“Don’t come any closer.” I stabbed an accusatory finger at his chest.

He simply extended his arm. Heat curled from the off-white ceramic mug. He wore a fitted black tee with sleeves that extended to his wrists. His long hair was down, a first, curled in soft waves past his shoulders. While his beard seemed combed and neat, his eyes were tired. Haunted.

“It’s just coffee,” he murmured quietly.

I gathered the blanket around me. Betrayal, deep and painful, overwhelmed every other emotion.

“How do you know who I am?” I demanded.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s impossible to live in your neighborhood and not hear the whispers.”

I glared at him. “What whispers?”

The other corner tipped up. “The ruthless, clever widow who moved heaven and hell to take over her late husband’s empire.” Jaxon took a step forward. “The kind soul who cares about her people.” Another step. “The angel of mercy, defying the scavengers who want to bring her down.”

Each declaration was a stab. A few in my gut, but most in my chest.

My next inhale was stilted by emotion.

Jaxon pulled back the blanket, uncurled my hand, and placed the mug there. “But I know who you are, Isabella,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “And I don’t let anyone hurt what’s mine.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb over the skin on my elbow. Dried blood crumbled and brushed away. Seeming satisfied, he turned and went back to his post at the kitchen sink. Funny, my elbow didn’t hurt, but my shoulder ached like a monster.

Thunder crashed overhead.

Lightning burst across the sky and caused a second boom right on the heels of the first.

“That’s it?” I screamed. “That’s all you have to say for yourself.”