...Rob’s lips compressed. “I don’t normally talk about cases and suspicions. But I have a real good idea Bolt’s involved in something very dangerous. I couldn’t sleep nights if I let you get involved in that.” He held up a hand for silence before the hot words blocking Cameron’s throat overflowed. “Look, I’m straight but I’ve got eyes and I understand he has a bad-boy-with-a-heart-of-gold-desperado charm to go with his good looks. And you two were tight as kids. I’m not surprised you want him. But if you keep this up, you’ll just end up somewhere you don’t want to be. So stay away from him, Cameron. For your own good.” The increased empathy on the sheriff’s face altered the laugh lines around Coons’s eyes. “You can’t save him.”

The hell I can’t. Rebellion roiled hot and burning in Cameron’s stomach as he watched the sheriff walk back to a tired-looking patrol car just as Bolt came out of the diner. Bolt’s pale eyes followed the car down the street for several long seconds on his way to the truck. Cameron expected the anger or derision to continue, but Bolt just sighed. “He’s right, you know. Whatever he said, it’s most likely true and you really shouldn’t be trying to hold on so tight right now. You could get hurt and I’d never forgive myself.”

The fury blazed. That this town and all the towns and cities before had pushed Bolt to the point he believed himself as bad as they thought him turned Cameron’s vision flaming orange around the edges. The rebellion in his gut boiled up. “He’s not right. And whoever else said whatever you’re thinking wasn’t right either.” He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Coons and all those wonderfully sympathetic bastards weren’t going to take Bolt away from him. It had happened once; separating them, ripping away half Cameron’s soul. He wouldn’t live like that again.

“I won’t stay away.” Cameron glared, half furious with Bolt for giving in. “You have two and a half days. Then you’re mine and I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks about it or how damned dangerous being with you might be.”

God, Bolt looked good raking a slim-fingered hand through that curtain of hair. Confused but gloriously appealing. And he was Cameron’s, even if the concept was more than Bolt could wrap his mind around just yet.

“Okay, look. The subtle approach ain’t working, so I’m just going to lay it out. Yes, I asked for two and a half days. But, Cameron, it’s going to take a hell of a lot longer than that if I have to be watching your ass as well.” His eyes begged for understanding. “You do not want to be around the people I’m dealing with. And they sure as hell aren’t going to want you poking around. What part of real, gun-toting, knife-wielding, kill-you-as-soon-as-look-at-you, actual danger am I not getting across?”

Cameron’s teeth ground against each other, anger unabated, raging all the more that such people formed part of Bolt’s life. “I get it. Alright! You have your damned time. But when it’s done, you’re out of this, if I have to take care of it myself. I will load your extremely sexy ass on the next plane to China if I have to. Guns and knives or not. You are going to be with me, damn it.”

Bolt stared at Cameron for a long moment before setting his takeout box in the cab of the truck though the window and opening his arms. “God, you are something else. Come here and kiss me enough to get me through two and a half days. Then go home and work on your office complex before I get you fired.”

Cameron marched straight into the embrace he wanted more than he could ever articulate and did his best to brand Bolt with his kiss all over again, not caring who saw.

He’d wait, but he’d make damn sure Bolt had plenty to think on and remember for the next sixty hours. He grabbed a double handful of that nearly perfect ass and squeezed. “You go on back to Copperhead Road or wherever you need to go and get this done. I want you in my bed.”