Chains - Softcover

It took two tries before she could manage to get her jeans on and her fingers trembled so hard, she could barely fasten the button. Renee was cold, through and through, frozen to the core.
The vicious, ugly destruction outside her house and into the foyer, all done so silently she'd never heard a sound.  That she could be in the shower while somebody came in and cut into furniture, tore up her car, messed up the meticulous flowerbeds--and she'd never known.  Never heard them.
Ugly images of those stupid B movies started flashing through her head once more.  The girl in the shower, never aware somebody was in her house, not until somebody grabs her from behind and slices her throat--
"Oh, God..." she moaned and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep the whimpers silent.
She'd been handling it, though.  She'd been handling it fine until the sheriff showed up.  Seth Salinger.  Of all people.  She hadn't heard that he had taken over the job, and it wasn't something she would have thought would happen.  Not in a million years. Right up until he opened his mouth and all his blatant dislike of her came pouring out, she'd been handling things just fine.
But the way he'd spoken to her, the way he'd looked at her, had ripped apart the shreds of her control.
Sure as hell doesn't say much about your taste in guys or the kind of person you are.
"The person I was," Renee muttered.  "And I was just a damn kid." But it didn't assuage the guilt.  She'd blamed herself for JD, for the actions of her parents, for years and she'd thought she moved past it.
Obviously, she was wrong.
There was no knock, no sound outside the door, but as she reached for the tank top, her skin broke out into goose bumps.  Her stomach went tight and her breathing went shallow.
Cutting her gaze to the door, she stared at it and swallowed.
Deacon was out there.  She didn't even have to look.
"Open the door, Renee," he said quietly.  Quiet, but firm as though he expected to be obeyed.  And Renee guessed that was exactly what he would expect.
Renee's kneejerk reaction was to ignore him.  But instead, she went to the door and opened it, stood there half naked before him, totally forgetting that there were still guys from the sheriff's department wandering through her home.
Deacon's eyes narrowed.  He stepped forward, forcing her to back up and then he closed the door behind him.  Something flashed in his eyes, something that sent a shiver running down her spine--it wasn't lust, at least not yet, but it was...something.
Possessiveness, maybe.  Another kneejerk reaction, but this one was totally unexpected.  Instead of her normal reaction, which would have been derisive amusement, she found herself liking it.
Enough that she just might have done something to bring it out a little more, tease him with, taunt him--but she was still shaking so hard, she was almost sick with it.  Glancing down, she found herself staring at her semi-exposed breasts with a little bit of dismay.
Her shirt.  Forgot her shirt.
"Here."  Deacon spoke gently, softly, reaching out and taking the shirt from her and then he pulled it over her head, dressing her like she was a doll or some small child.  He caught the long ends of her hair and eased it out from under the shirt, smoothed it down.
Then he cupped her chin in his hand, angled her face so that their eyes met.  "Are you okay?" he asked.

Shiloh Walker is the national bestselling author of many novels, including Hunting the Hunter, Hunter's Salvation, and Hunters: Heart and Soul.