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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Emma…

My worries are easily forgotten when my eyes meet Jax’s as laughter fades into heat, something that’s becoming familiar between us. I run my hand down the lapel of his jacket, and my God, his suit makes him look like walking sex. I have a momentary flashback of his lips on my belly, my fingers tangling in that dirty blond hair.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he warns, “we’ll go back into the room.”

He takes my briefcase, slides his arm around me and the two of us start the walk to the elevator. Slowly. Like we both dread letting the rest of the world into our world. At least, I know I do. The Jax North playground is a good playground.

A few minutes later, we step off the car into the lobby and a tall, brutal-looking man with a scar down his cheek greets us. “Howdy there, ma’am,” he says, giving me a nod. “I’m Savage, Rick Savage, but everyone calls me Savage because I’m so nice and all that fun stuff.” His gaze shifts to Jax. “I have men following you both. You won’t see them unless you need them. I’ll be locked into them and you both.”

I don’t have to ask who Savage is. I know Jax hired protection. With York in town, I’m not fighting that idea either. “Do you know how York got into my apartment? I assume Jax told you what happened?”

“He did,” Savage says. “And whoever helped him was good enough to stay off our radar, and that’s really damn good.”

“That’s not comforting, but then, York has money. He’ll pay for the best.”

“Jax paid for the best,” he assures me. “Us.” He shifts his attention back to Jax. “There’s a black SUV waiting for you out front.” He looks at me. “Don’t leave your offices without our ride or our support.” He hands me a card. “Put my number in your phone.”

I accept the card. “Thank you, Savage.”

He narrows his eyes on me. “No pushback? I’m used to pushback from pretty ladies.”

“Not from me,” I say.

“Interesting,” he says. “Then you believe there’s real trouble.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“What kind of trouble?” he challenges, and I don’t like the way his tone seems to spell guilt of some type. I’m not guilty of anything, but being in the middle and being stupid enough to stay with York as long as I did.

“The kind that has York Waters walking into my apartment and Jax hiring you to protect us both.” I turn and look at Jax. “I need to get to work.”

His eyes soften with understanding, not accusation, and when Jax waves Savage off, I allow him to pull me back under his arm and set us into motion once again. But Savage follows. I can feel his big bear of a presence behind us, pressing on my shoulders. He’s protecting us. He’s looking for answers, but he doesn’t trust me. It’s the kind of negativity I don’t need right now. We exit the hotel and just before I climb into the SUV, Savage is standing right there with us again.

“Sometimes even the people I protect have secrets,” he says.

That sets me off. “I do have secrets,” I snap. “But not ones that serve your cause. They aren’t yours to know. I’ve told Jax everything I know.”

“Understood,” he says and offers me his jaw. “Punch me. I can take it. It’ll mix things up and get us working well together. And as a plus, you get to let off some steam.”

“You tempted the wrong person,” I warn, stepping to him. “I’ll do it.”

“Bring it.”

Jax catches my arms from behind and pulls me against his chest. I look up at him and he casts me in an amused stare. “Beat him up later. You have a meeting and we have travel plans to make.” He kisses me, and it’s such a relationship-like kiss that it curls my toes right there in front of Savage.

“I suppose I should save my frustrations for Marion.” I look at Savage. “You got off the hook. Stop being an asshole.”

“No promise there,” Savage says, tracing his goatee. “But I’m a work in progress. I might get there. The driver’s name is Smith. He’s the quiet type.” He gives me a mock salute and eyes Jax, giving him a nod.

I turn out of Jax’s arms and climb inside the SUV with him following. He shuts us inside and the SUV starts moving. My cellphone rings and I settle my purse on the seat, pull the phone from my purse to find York’s assistant calling me, which must mean it’s really York calling me. Jax shuts us inside and greets the driver as I decline the call. My phone starts ringing again. I grimace. “You know who it is,” I say.

“York,” Jax supplies. “I thought you blocked his number?”

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