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Hell, I was meant to be cold and in control. This is getting harder every goddamn second.
“What if I said I was?” I snap.
She keeps her feet planted and folds her arms, so sassy it’s like she wants me to touch her again. It’s as if she knows how insane she makes me. I’m like a bike with a broken throttle, stuttering and jolting around as I try to hold myself back. But when I finally let go, I’m aching just looking at her.
“I don’t care if I’m scaring anyone,” I growl, taking her arm.
* * *
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmurs from the bed.
I’m lying on the floor, my arm tucked under my head, staring at the ceiling and listening for any noises in the hallway. There are so many ugly thoughts in my head, whispers of violence, hints at the terrible things that could happen to her.
“I’m doing it,” I tell her.
“No need for the asshat tone, either.”
I smirk. “Asshat?”
“Yes, you, with your tone.”
“My tone makes me sound like I’m wearing an ass like a hat, does it?”
“Stop being a smartass.”
“Never known how an ass could be smart,” I tell her.
“Ha, ha, ha,” she mutters with adorable sarcasm.
“Try to get some sleep. We’ll be riding again soon.”
“To deliver the mysterious package,” she says softly.
My stomach tightens. She’s been in the life long enough not to ask, though she knows that Ryan and I have never been into that druggy crap. It could be a firearm to another MC involved in a war, a hard drive containing cryptocurrency, or compromising videos to blackmail those who deserve it—stuff like that.
It’s none of those things. It’s another sign of what a good brother Ryan is, and here I am, fighting the urge to climb into bed with his kid sister, resisting the urge to touch her all over again.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable down there?”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” I tell her, “and my mattress won’t fit through the door.”
“Uh, okay.”
The pause when she saysuhmakes me wonder if she will suggest something. Maybe she’s thinking of inviting me up there with her. Perhaps she wants to taste me again, just as badly as I want her.
We’re silent for a while. Part of me hopes she’s sleeping. I know I won’t be able to. Not until I know she’s safe. The hotel has security, but that can be circumvented—a bribe, a contact within the hotel, or a good alibi. If anybody kicks this door down, I’ll have my gun in my hand in a couple of seconds. I’ll kill…
She huffs and sighs. She’s not asleep.
“Settle down.”
She huffs again. “I can’t sleep.”
“Why? What are you thinking about?”
“Dad,” she says softly. “And Ryan. And that man from earlier. And a poem I’ve been trying to write. And…”
I wait.
