Page 93 of When He Protects

Esme edged forward. “Yet you pointed a gun at him.”

“Becausemyjob is to protect Tyler. And you. That is the job of a best fucking friend, and I hold the title with Tyler for a reason.” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “There’s a motorcycle behind your room. The keys to it are in your nightstand drawer. After you get changed and you eat some of the food, hit the road. There are two burner phones you can use in the bags you’ll find waiting in your room. We’ll plan a meetup.”

“A motorcycle, too?” Esme whistled. “I am impressed and frightened by your skills.”

“Same, lady, same.” He waved them back. “You know that warning I gave Clay about his feet? Watch yourselves.”

Tyler hauled Esme back right before Kane drove away.

“He’s a really good best fucking friend,” she murmured.

Yeah, he was.

Tyler curled an arm around Esme’s shoulders and led her to the small office. Sure enough, Roger was waiting. He barely glanced their way before tossing them the key.

“Friendly fellow,” Esme commented.

“You don’t make friends in places like this one.” You worked hard to forget faces. A short walk, and they were standing in front of lucky motel room number seven. He put the key in the lock, opened the door, and stared at the paradise that waited for them.

No way could he not wince. This place had to be far, far below Esme’s normal standards.

“Please tell me that bed vibrates.” Esme rushed across the room and hopped on the bed. She spread-eagled and frowned. “After the hell of that hospital chair, I could use a vibrating bed.”

One eyebrow rose. “You usually have to start the vibration.”

Her head turned toward him. A frown pulled at her brows. She had—quite obviously—not spent a lot of time in no-tell motels.

Despite everything, a smile tugged at his lips. “Sweetheart, that bed won’t vibrate on its own.”But I can sure as hell help.

She pushed up onto one elbow and studied him. “You didn’t tell me that you suspected Clay.”

A very sore spot for him. “I don’t like thinking that one of my friends might betray me.”

“But seven million dollars can buy a lot of things.” A delicate pause. “Including a new friend?”

Maybe. “He knows ballistics. He knew the house, inside and out. But I just…” Tyler turned away from the sight of Esme on the bed—such a tempting sight when he needed to stay focused—and made his way to the small table near the left wall. Two bags were on that table. He opened them. Saw the weapons inside. Two guns. Three knives. Nice. Clothing—for him and Esme. Two burner phones.

Sometimes, Kane’s skills and connectionswerescary. Even to him.

“You just didn’t want to admit you might have been wrong to trust him? Is that why you didn’t tell me sooner?”

He put one of the guns down on the table. “I didn’t want a friend to have tried to kill me.” His head turned, and, once more, his eyes were on her.

She remained on the bed.

Way too sexy. “Esme…” Where to start?

“I should go shower. I’m pretty stiff from that hospital chair.”

The chair she’d stayed in all night so she could be close to him.

“I’d tell you to join me, but I know you’re supposed to be careful with those stitches of yours.”

He’d almost forgotten them. Turned out he’d cut open his side and his arm during the blast. He barely felt the pull of the stitches. His attention was centered somewhere else.

Esme had swung her legs to the side of the bed. But she hadn’t stood yet. Her bedroom eyes were completely on him. “Where are we going next?”

He knew where he wanted to go.

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