Page 78 of Jingle Belle's Biker

LC Hastings.

Lance Hastings.

I know he’s bad in so many ways. But this?

“He wants to build a resort,” I whisper. I’m not stupid and I’m sure without he’d tear this place down.

Probably build something exclusive, a getaway with a rich little city in spitting distance is the very thing that’ll appeal to his set, to the well-heeled.

It makes more sense now that he wants Secret Gardens empty. I’m betting he’ll turn that into either luxury apartments or build a Super Hanks.

“The Sweetwood facelift, I’ve heard him say that before,” I say. “And I think I’m beginning to understand it.”

“What do you mean?” Saint asks.

I take a breath, still staring at the sign. “He wanted the city library gone, reimagined as something very much not the library. He’s talked of cleaning up crime, emptying out and redoing the poorer areas, a mega Hanks where it’s a mecca of fine food, wine, and little eateries.”

“Fuck.”

“This isn’t a place most people come. It’s pretty, a little jewel that overlooks the city, and if he puts something in here . . .”

“Rich fucks will feel both like they’re away from it all while close to it?”

I nod. “But where my little home is—yours too—” I close my eyes “—temporarilyit’s in the way. It takes up land. He could put the mega Hanks there, and some small luxury apartments where people could either stay or live and have it all at their fingertips.”

“Maybe he just?—”

“Are you defending him?” I ask.

Nomad meows sharply.

Saint holds up his hands, fierce in the light of his headlights. “Now, hold on. I think he’s a cunt. No offense.” He drops his hands and comes and pulls me to him, into his warmth, the beat of his heart. His strength. “I don’t like the fucker, and you being engaged to him is what I’m calling a moment of insanity, but where will people go?”

“The other side? He can’t get rid of all the poor neighborhoods, but if he can maneuver people into one area, it’ll be easier for him to sell the place on luxury and riches and whatever else is in his materialistic soul.”

He sighs and drops his mouth to my neck, just above the shoulder, and sucks lightly. “This shit happens.”

“It shouldn’t.” My heart’s throbbing, and I’m wound tight inside, hot and cold warring it out. I’m restless. I want to take action. I hurt. I want to burrow into this man and have him pretend to soothe away the problems of the world.

He kisses a path up along my throat to my skin, and I shudder from the sweetness of it.

It’s unexpected.

Saint’s unexpected.

I’m glad.

“I thought . . . no . . . knew he was greedy, but this is heartless. And Lance, I didn’t think he was heartless. Not at the start, not for all the time we were together.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but he also doesn’t let me go.

“Why Lance?” Saint strokes a hand on my back, and I slide mine inside his jacket, against that hard, hot flesh. “I can see it, as in outside looking in. But fuck, Belle. You’re world’s better than him. For a start, you care.”

“It wasn’t the money. Actually, I said no longer than I might have because of the money. My parents have money, and I don’t like the way it comes with hidden clauses and traps, the way those who have it try and control those who don’t. But I guess he wore me down. Or I was an idiot. I made a mistake.”

“Everyone makes fucking mistakes. That’s how the world turns, stays interesting.”

I laugh, but he’s right. Just . . . I don’t want to be the one making the mistakes.

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