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stress, no personal involvement, and no big commitments. He’d wanted a security job at a larger and more normal company. It was too soon to form serious connections and care about people. He’d lost too many friends overseas and never got to say goodbye. More pain would be too much to handle. But hiring was still tight. He didn’t want to go anywhere else; he felt at home here and loved the desert. After the action in the desert overseas, he needed to be able to walk out into the peaceful world of cacti and lizards. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t want to leave Vegas.
    How his life had changed. A year ago, he was fighting for his life and serving his country. Now, he was bodyguard to a ballet-dancing stripper. Nash felt as if he were in a dream that made no real sense but felt right. He actually liked his job, and Peter’s tight body and flirtatious manner tempted Nash deeply.
    There were only two cars left in the parking lot. Nash’s beat up Jeep was a space farther away than Peter’s little Nissan sedan. Nash watched for any movement. Robbery was a chronic problem near the Strip. People lost money in a casino and got desperate. The odds of that customer sticking around were slim, but, this late, anything could happen.
    “Why don’t you follow me home, I can feed you at least.” Peter smiled.
    Nash wanted more than food, but he just shook his head. “That’s not necessary. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    As Peter opened his car door, Nash saw a figure move in the shadows right behind the building. There was nothing but dumpsters back there. Nash stepped in front of Peter, and a dark-haired creep slammed into him.
    Something gleamed under the motion sensor lights. Nash focused on the knife in Terry’s hand as he tried to bring the attacker down.
    “Nash! Oh God!”
    Nash twisted the attacker’s wrist until he dropped the knife, then kneed him in the groin. The man fell, but when Nash went to pin him, the guy wiggled free and ran back to the dumpsters. The sound of a motorcycle made Nash curse. The asshole sped off into the night.
    “You okay?” Nash asked.
    “I’m fine. Are you okay?” Peter dusted Nash off.
    “We should call the police.” Nash reached for his phone in his back pocket.
    “No, come on he’s gone. They already reported him once tonight. We can’t even prove it’s him. The security cameras are inside and at the doors, not on the dumpsters.” Peter sighed.
    “They need to add one. I’ll call Carl.” Nash nodded.
    “No, please. I just want to go home. We’ll bring him up to speed tomorrow. Can you just follow me?” Peter asked.
    Nash frowned at the illogical reaction. “This man is after you.”
    “I know, but they won’t catch him tonight. He’s probably pissed they called the cops. If it calms down, he might go away. Then again, he may have followed me home some other night. He might know where I live.”
    His options limited, Nash reviewed them. He could file a police report because he was attacked, but he didn’t have a scratch on him. Nor was there video footage or proof beyond the knife. Nash picked up the weapon and shook his head. “I’ll follow you home, but I’m telling Carl all of it tomorrow.”

 
    Chapter Four
     
     
    The sight of Nash in his Jeep parked next to Peter was a relief as he exited his sedan in the parking lot of his apartment building. Peter hadn’t seen any motorcycles on the ride home, but he hated the fact that he’d been looking for them. Terry had crossed lines, and while Peter didn’t want to make a big deal about it, he appreciated that Nash got out of the Jeep and followed him into the building and up the stairs.
    Peter hated the conflicting feelings about Nash. As much as he wanted any excuse to spend more time with the sexy bouncer, Peter had to believe Nash was only doing his job. The attraction was clearly mutual, but Nash might not be interested in more than sex. Regardless of the rest, Peter wanted to be safe, and Nash was