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A bottle of ginger ale and a box of saltines rested on the nightstand next to me. My heart fluttered when I saw the handwritten note.
Didn’t want to wake you and I had a few things to take care of this morning. The window has been fixed. Stay in bed, watch some TV, and I’ll be back in a few hours.
I settled back down and drank the ginger ale. My phone buzzed. With a sigh, I hauled myself out of bed and searched for my purse. It was on the floor in the suite living room. I dug through it and answered it before it rolled to voicemail.
“I can’t get into the bakery,” Jazz said. “My key doesn’t work.”
“It doesn’t?” I asked in surprise. “Why are you at the bakery? I thought we were meeting tomorrow about the Bennington’s engagement party.”
“We are. But I think I left my wallet in the office.”
“Ah.”
“Where’s your car? It’s not in its spot.”
A key card sinking into the electronic lock on the hotel room door pulled my attention, and then a moment later, Slash strode into the bedroom.
I shivered from the heated look he was giving me.
“Brooklyn? Are you there?”
“Sorry, Jazz, I’m here. Give me a second.” I put her on mute and said to Slash, “Jazz is at the bakery and her key doesn’t work.”
He nodded. “I had the boys change the locks. The shit you had on there, even a kid could’ve picked.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “She can’t get in.”
Slash reached into his leather cut pocket and pulled out a set of keys and held them up.
I smiled at him. “Is that what you were doing this morning? Getting a set of keys for me?”
He nodded.
I unmuted her and put the phone back to my ear. “Jazz? You still there?”
“Yep.”
“Slash had the locks changed.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Long story.”
“You still haven’t told me why your car isn’t here. Come down and let me in and tell me what’s going on.”
“Jazz, I’m not there.”
Slash plucked the phone from my hand and put it to his ear. “Jazz,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “It’s Slash. We’re at a hotel because someone chucked a brick through the bakery window last night.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I was sleeping at her place. No, we’re not headed back to the bakery anytime soon. I’ll have one of my boys drop off a set of keys to your place. It’s no trouble, I promise. Brooklyn will see you tomorrow.” He paused again. “I will.”
The line went dead, and he handed the phone back to me.
“That’s it?” I demanded.
“That’s it,” he said. A rogue smile splashed across his face.
“You will what?”
“She asked me to take care of you. She’s protective of you.”
