Page 26 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
"She was in danger. I made a call." My tone makes it clear I'm not interested in discussing it further.
Jax watches me with knowing eyes. "A call? Or did Ghost finally find someone he couldn't scare away?"
I ignore him, checking my phone for updates from the team. Nothingnew.
"You know," Jax says, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "bringing her here is a big risk. If Shadow were here—"
"Well, he's not," I snap, cutting him off. The mention of my missing partner sends a fresh wave of guilt and worry through me.
Jax holds up his hands. "I'm just saying, man. This isn't like you."
He's right, and that's what bothers me the most. I've spent years building walls, keeping people at arm's length. It's safer that way. Easier. So why did I let Alina Bennett get under my skin so quickly?
"She knows too much already. Keeping her close is the safest option for now."
Jax studies me with a knowing look. "Safe for her... or for you?"
Before I can answer, a soft noise from upstairs draws my attention. I recognize the sound—someone trying a window latch.
Dammit. The little hellcat is trying to escape.
eight
Alina
"Goddamn it," I mutter, yanking on the window latch again.
It clicks open smoothly, but when I push against the glass, it might as well be concrete. Nothing budges.
I move to the next window and try the same trick. Same result—latches that open, windows that don't. These security-obsessed bastards have thought of everything.
With a frustrated sigh, I abandon my escape plan and turn my attention to the hallway stretching before me. Multiple closed doors line both sides, and my reporter's curiosity is piqued. If I can't get out, I might as well find out what I'm trapped with.
I try the first door handle—locked. A frown tugs at my lips as I move to the next one. This door swings open, revealing ahome gym that would make any fitness influencer weep with envy.
"Of course," I mutter, rolling my eyes at the gleaming equipment. "Muscle heads and their toys."
The next two doors refuse to budge under my attempts. My curiosity burns hotter with each locked door. What exactly are they hiding?
Finally, the last door yields to my touch. I step inside what appears to be a bedroom, sparsely furnished but clean. The queen-sized bed with dark bedding looks sinfully inviting after the day I've had.
Is this the one Ghost directed me to?An en-suite bathroom catches my eye, and suddenly I'm acutely aware of how grimy I am. A shower sounds like heaven right now.
The bathroom is compact but well-organized—everything perfectly aligned, not a thing out of place. Even the tiny first-aid kit sits at a perfect right angle to the edge of the shelf.
Control freaks, the lot of them.
I turn on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up. As steam fills the space, I peel off my filthy clothes, dropping them in a rebellious heap on the immaculate floor. There's something satisfying about messing up their perfect system.
Under the hot spray, my mind drifts to Ghost despite my best efforts. Those muscular arms, piercing blue eyes that see too much...what would he look like with water cascading down that broad chest? Would his hands feel as strong and commanding on my naked body as they did when he tackled me?
My own fingers trail down my stomach at the thought, and I jerk them away like I've been burned.
What the hell am I doing? This is Ghost I'm thinking about.
Yet my body betrays me, tingling at the memory of his hands on me, firm yet careful even during that tackle. I grab the soap, scrubbing harder than necessary, as if I can wash away these unwanted thoughts.
I've interviewed enough psychologists to recognize what's happening. Adrenaline, confined spaces, physical contact with an attractive man—it's textbook. Nothing more than biology and circumstance.
