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“Oh, I’d say about twelve hours or so,” he drawled, then leaned close, staring into her wide eyes as he whispered, “He doesn’t know, sweet pea. Want to keep it that way?”
Piper nodded. Oh, God, she really wanted to keep it that way.
“Then you’re going to cooperate, right?” he suggested softly.
Piper nodded again.
To keep Dawg in the dark?
Oh, hell, yes, she would cooperate.
At least to a point.
After all, she’d hate to mar the Mackay reputation for cooperating only when it suited their own interests.
Right now it suited every single interest she could think of, though.
“Good then. ” He straightened, his hands settling with airy gentleness just above her shoulders. “Turn around, march right back to that bed, and we’ll just wait for the doctor, shall we?”
She moved for the bed.
“That’s a good girl,” he commended her as Nurse Dade smiled with an awestruck girlishness Piper found nauseating.
Good girl, was she? she thought, sitting back on the bed carefully as she glared up at the smirking, far too self-satisfied Jedediah Booker.
Oh, she’d just show him what a good girl she wasn’t.
As soon as the doctor released her, that was.
SEVEN
Jed hadn’t prayed in years, but as he drove from the small airfield outside Louisville the next evening, he found himself praying for patience.
He’d found a chance to question Bret Jordan and his friends Matthew Grace and Olivia Camfield. From their report, they’d heard Piper screaming in the suite next door and had come to investigate. Her door had been opened and a man they described as a “mountain” had been pounding on Piper as though he intended to beat her to death.
He also had the bastard’s description. The three had been amazingly observant and were able to provide several valuable details in regard to the assailant’s appearance. One of his contacts in the city had made a visit to the hotel and questioned the staff before going to the room and doing the job it seemed the police hadn’t, collecting what evidence of the attack had been left.
And there was the reason for the prayers. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. The second he had Piper safely at home he’d launch his own investigation. God help the bastard who had dared to touch her.
Once the assailant was found, Jed prayed he could keep from attempting to kill him with his bare hands. From showing the “mountain” what it meant to really hurt.
“Why didn’t you tell Dawg where I was?” Piper finally deigned to speak to him, something she hadn’t done since they’d left the hospital unless he’d simply left her no other choice.
“I promised to keep your secrets, Piper; I meant it. ” Glancing at her, he drove the truck he’d parked at the airfield the morning before toward Somerset. “I won’t tell Dawg anything I know you’d want me to keep to myself. ”
The flight back had been short, but Jed hadn’t wanted to arrive back in Kentucky until well after midnight. He’d spent the day getting her ready to leave and ensuring someone was investigating her reason for being there and why she had been attacked.
He hoped—hell, no, he was praying—that Dawg wouldn’t be anywhere near the inn when they arrived.
She shifted against the leather seats, no doubt trying to find a comfortable position.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he fought back the anger he was determined she wouldn’t see.
“And that’s why you didn’t call Dawg?” She obviously didn’t want to believe him.
“That’s why. ”
Dawg would have charged into New York City with Rowdy, Natches, and no doubt Chaya, Natches’s wife; the chief of Somerset’s police force, Alex Jansen, and Pulaski County sheriff Zeke Mayes; as well as Special Agent Timothy Cranston and Piper’s mother, Mercedes Mackay, ready to kill.
