Chapter
Three
Fox
What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t. But I’ve never been so grateful Bear got food poisoning.
What am I doing? I could’ve taken off the helmet, shown her my face … but that means she would meet Ryan. And she needs Fox right now. He’s confident and compassionate. She needed to be saved by someone cool, and Ryan would be a letdown.
When I walk back into the office, I’m greeted by Dimitri. “What the hell is happening?”
“She was about to be attacked. Probably worse.” I swallow down bile as I open the aftercare med kit looking for Arnicare and grab some aspirin as well. “Three against one. We came here to put some distance between her and the guys. I think they knew her.”
“Do you know her?” Dimitri asks. Reasonable question.
“Sort of.” Around him, I use my real voice. I've been trying to lose my Southern accent for years, but it slips out from time to time.
I open the mini fridge, shove his lunch aside, and grab ice packs from the freezer. She got hurt so fast. God, what if I hadn’t made it on time? No. Don’t go there. Focus on the logistics.
Dimitri gives me the side-eye. “Let me get this straight, you rescued a woman you sort of know from a possibly violent attack and thought, ‘Gee, a sex club owned and operated by the mob seems like the safest possible option.’ What the hell?” I kinda hate that a former Bratva is this logical and levelheaded.
“Where was I supposed to take her?”
“The police, a hospital, her place, your place? The options are endless. But no, you brought her here.” Dimitri waves his giant hands around the room.
He’s right, so I change the subject. “If I give you the address of the garage, can you send someone to check it out? See if those guys are hanging around, and maybe move her car?”
Dimitri cracks his knuckles, watching me from the desk. “I’ll send someone, but it’s gonna cost you.”
“I saved the Four Families from an IRS inquiry this week. We’re good.” I toss him my phone with the GPS pulled up so he can see where she left the car behind.
He leans back in his chair analyzing every movement I make. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I snap, which is a dead giveaway I’m not. Dimitri doesn’t push. Instead, he lets me sit on the floor, breathing in and out, centering, lowering my stress. One, two, three, four. I need to get back to her. Five, six, seven. “I’m good.”
I gather the supplies and return to Room five, my stomach tightening as I reach for the door. She’s standing in the middle of the room, wide-eyed, staring at the table. The pink blanket is oversized, swallowing her delicate frame. Everything about her screams feminine: frills, skirts, soft colors. Her dress is flowywith printed cherries, and she’s wearing a necklace shaped like a cat’s head.
She says, “I didn't know where to sit.” She frowns. “What if it's sticky?”
“The room hasn’t been used yet.”
Her frown deepens. “I hope they pay the cleaning crew enough so they can vacation in Hawaii.”
I say nothing. That earns me a glare.
“I’m funny. You’re allowed to laugh.”
“I’m wearing a mask. How do you know I’m not smiling?”
“Because you’re not.”
She’s right. Her little jokes aren’t enough to distract me from the swelling on her wrist or the red mark darkening on her neck. I point to the couch. “Sit.” I get another grumpy face, but she does as she’s told. She looks like a fluffy mountain as the blanket wraps around her body and over her head. Damn. She’s cute—her brown ringlets tucked over her shoulder, her big green eyes, and those soft pink lips. It makes me wonder what they taste like. Whoa. No. Rules.
She offers me her wrist, and I wrap the ice pack around it. She hisses at first, her body tensing, but after a few deep breaths, she relaxes. “Good girl.” It comes out reflexively. Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn the same shade as the blanket. Interesting.
