Page 77 of The Love Bandits

“Good. She needs someone to keep her in line.”

“What’s with the bag?”

“I’ll be back in a couple of days.” She gives us a salute and turns to go, clearly not intending to explain anything.

Before Nicole can stride off, I ask, “And where, pray tell, are you going?”

“I’m going to stalk Emma Rosings Smith,” she says, turning back toward us. Then she points to each of us in turn. “Your job is to stalk Anthony and work the old lady angle.” A sly smile crosses her face. “Work her hard.”

“Sure,” I say, ignoring the innuendo. I’m a little befuddled by this sudden change. She’s leaving. Damien is God knows where. Will Jake and I be alone together?

Do I have the strength to stay here with him without pulling him into my bed?

Do Iwantto have that strength?

I clear my throat. “Where’s Damien?”

“He’s working on something else. He might be gone all week.”

She’s always appreciated the power of a good cryptic phrase, but I understand what she’s not saying. He’s following up on the watch, on Jake.

I feel a stab of guilt.

Here Jake is, giving me his time, and I’ve told some of his secrets to people who will use them to unearth more. He may have expected me to do it, but part of me feels like it was wrong.

You didn’t look in the bag,I remind myself.You could have, and you didn’t.

“I assume you don’t need any help containing the prisoner?” she asks with a smirk. Her smile shifts to Jake. “You’ve seen what she can do to a bat, and she did that to her own car. You don’t want to know what she’d do to someone who pisses her off.”

“Send them baked goods,” he says with a perfectly flat expression.

A delighted laugh escapes me, even though my heart is beating faster and my mind is a mess of thoughts. Most of them of tangled sheets and Jake’s body.

“Pole-ax them with kindness,” Nicole says, waggling her brows. Then she grins, salutes again, and is gone, leaving behind a house that’s empty other than me, Professor X, and Jake.

But I didn’t need to worry much, because before we’ve gotten through another half a dozen photos, a knock lands on the door.

I glance at him, and he shakes his head. “The people I know are more of the door kicking-in type. Plus I heard from Roark this morning. He’s been texting me this daily countdown, like an advent calendar, except my brother’s bloody hand will be in the last door.”

I scrunch my nose. “We’re not going to let that happen.” He’s got a dark, serious look, and I’ve learned humor is a tool for him, the same as it is for me, so I add, “I refuse to let you ruin advent calendars for me forever. Peanut butter cups have already been destroyed.”

He smiles at me as the knock lands again, and I reach in my bag for the pepper spray I carry around everywhere. Just in case. I’m ninety percent sure it’s Claire, and in all likelihood, everyone who lives in the house next door. Knowing Nicole, she told them to check on us the second she stepped out the door.

Nicole is protective, in her own way. She partially trusts Jake, but she also wants him to know that I’m not the only person he has to win over. There are people watching, and they may not all be equally sympathetic.

“Peanut butter cups were already destroyed for me too,” Jake says, running his hand through his hair as he moves to get up. “My brother’s one of those people who blows up if there’s a peanut in a mile radius. Which is weird because we’re—”

He cuts himself off, because the front door audibly cracks open. Relief twines through me when I hear Claire’s cautious, “Hello?”

I’m relieved it’s her and not some potentially dangerous lurker. I’m also relieved I’m not going to be alone with Jake right now, because I feel myself wanting something I know I can’t have. Wanting more than the release I know he is more than capable of giving me.

I need to believe I’ll be okay when he leaves—not like the world is dimmer and less exciting without him.

“Hi,” I call out, jumping up from my chair. I reach for Jake’s hand, and his eyes widen with surprise as he gives it to me and accepts the boost he obviously didn’t need.

You’re looking for reasons to touch him,a voice in my head informs me.

The voice is smugly correct, and I release his hand and lead the way into the wood-lined hall so I don’t have to see the look on his face.

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