Page 26 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Damn.If I were a less-controlled man, I’d put the hammer down and speed all the way there.But the main goal was to get Kate to a safe place without attracting attention.
Hours later, we stopped at a quaint little B&B along the Connecticut River.I’d taken a scenic route north to avoid all the congestion, traffic, and anything within a hundred miles of New York City.It was dark, so the red barn they’d converted to lodging looked almost black.The light outside went on as I parked.
“My ass is killing me.”Kate rubbed her back and the aforementioned body part.Mine hurt too, but ogling hers magically diminished the ache in favor of the more forward-facing one.
“Can you carry the duffle?I got the other bags.”I had a few things in the trunk that I didn’t want her prints on.
The owner, a little gray-haired man in his late fifties wearing tie-dyed overalls, met us just inside and worked through the check-in process.I pulled out cash and handed it over.
He looked at it with confusion.“Not often we get cash anymore.”
I shrugged.“I didn’t bother to check to see if you took cards, so I came prepared.Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he smiled.“It’ll save me the fees for processing.Thanks.”He pocketed the cash and showed us to the room in the second-floor loft.
“We have live bands in the main room on Fridays and open jam sessions on Wednesdays.It’s mostly a bunch of my friends and such, but you’re welcome to join in if you play.”
Kate looked at me, so I had to answer her obvious question.“I don’t have a musical bone in my body.Sorry, man.”
She smiled.“I used to play flute.”She shook her head.“That was so long ago I…”
“My wife plays flute, if you want to join along tomorrow, we’d welcome you.”
Her eyes met mine.There was panic in them.
I grimaced.We were supposed to be flying under the radar.I made up a lie that would sound convincing.“We’re supposed to be at the resort tomorrow.Sorry, babe.”
Kate’s back was to the owner, and she mouthed a little “thank you” to me before turning and putting on her best smile and schmooze.It was brilliant.I couldn’t have charmed him better myself.
“Breakfast is between six-thirty and eight.We put out a little variety.”He accepted our gratitude with a smile and exited.We were alone.
Kate stared at the queen-sized bed.“How are we doing this?”
Her arms were clenched tightly around her chest.
It wasn’t cold.
I tore the pillows from their nest at the head of the bed and flipped the covers down to expose the fitted sheet.Then I lined most of them up in a neat row down the middle of the bed.“I want you to take the wall side.I’ll be by the door in case someone is an asshole.This,” I plumped the biggest pillow in the middle, “is your fortress wall.Got it?”
Her nod wasn’t convincing.
“I’m here to protect you, even if it is from me, understand?”
Kate’s eyes flicked to mine.The seriousness and pain there hurt.Then she brightened and wiped all that anguish from my soul.She was getting better.This was helping.
And by God, she was beautiful, not just in face, but in spirit.I’d meant every word I said in the car.It wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass when I said she was gorgeous.To me, she was…
Well, putting it mildly, trouble.And Ilovedtrouble.
Chapter 8
A B&B on the Connecticut River, New Hampshire—Kate
If you told me two years ago that a biker could be kind and chivalrous, I would’ve thought you were crazy.Yet, here I was, alone with not just any biker, but one of Shock’s “brothers,” as he called anyone wearing a Destroyers’ emblem on their back, and realizing my animosity toward all Destroyers and bikers in general was unfounded.
Sure, I trusted Jackson.He’d been the one to save me, twice.The first time, I thought it had been Regina who orchestrated my rescue.After all, she’d been the one to show me the phone number.
But then Jackson stepped up again.And I had to question why?Of course, I couldn’t mistake the heated looks he swept up and down my body, but this was more than simple attraction.It feltdeeper.
