Page 182 of Guarding Grace
I settled forward onto him, chest to chest with Rocket still inside me. “I love you, Marine.”
He ran his hand over my back. “Love you back, Kitten. Are you looking forward to your party?”
I listened to the beat of his heart, the heart I’d somehow won. “You know the answer to that, but for you, I’ll grin and bear it.”
“I think it’ll be much better than you think.”
I lifted up on my elbows. “Wait. You’re up to something.” I saw the very slight lift of the lips that gave him away. “What is it?”
He tweaked my nipple. “Just a good time.”
I knew badgering him wouldn’t get me the answer, so I’d have to resort to other means. Duke probably knew, which meant Serena knew.
He pulled me down for a nice hug. “I think you’ll have a good time. Dinner with people supporting you, what could be better?”
“Not having a party for the sole purpose of reminding me I’m getting older would be better.”
“You’re only getting better, and think of it as a celebration of having survived shootings and kidnappings.”
What was I supposed to say to a line like that?
When dinnertime arrived,I zipped up the leather motorcycle jacket Terry had bought me. “You know, I think this jacket is a good enough birthday present.”
Terry grunted as he slid into his. “I think you deserve more special things.” He was taking this birthday thing way more seriously than I wanted.
I cringed, realizing thatthingswas the first solid clue I’d managed to get out of him. “Are you going to tell me now where it is?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” he answered in my helmet.
Serena had told me to expect Terry’s Hawk friends, but even she had clammed up when I asked her for more details.
Terry lifted his leg over the big bike and flipped up the kickstand.
I grabbed his arm as he helped me up and onto the tiny sliver of cushion behind him. Without a backrest, I would be dumped off the bike in an instant if I didn’t wrap myself tightly around him.
Terry started the beast and raised the garage door. We left the building sedately for once. Maybe that was one of my birthday presents.
Three blocks later, we stopped when the light ahead turned red. We were in the center of three lanes when a big, bearded, heavily tatted biker pulled alongside us on a louder-than-shit Harley. The woman behind him on the bike sneered at me.
Big Beard revved his engine several times, looking over at Terry.
“The idiot wants to race,” Terry said inside my helmet. “Should we embarrass him in front of his old lady?”
The other woman stuck her tongue out at me.
That was that. “Shit yeah.”
“Hold on tight.”
Big Beard revved his motor several more times.
When the light flashed green, we launched forward. A few seconds later, Terry let off the throttle.
When I looked back, we were way ahead of the Harley, and I waved.
I lost track of the route, but I recognized the restaurant we parked near. It was Cardinelli’s, the place where I’d been attacked that first night—the place where everything between us had changed. We were coming full circle.
Constance and Winston greeted us out front, and we were escorted to one of the private rooms off the side.
