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“Does it hurt?” he snaps.
“Yes!” I snap back.
“Then go the fuck back to bed and I’ll get what you need,” he says as he points toward the door.
“You’re so bossy sometimes,” I snipe like a sulky teenager.
“You have no idea.”
It’s been over twenty minutes since Shane ordered me back to bed and I’m beginning to wonder if he’s forgotten about bringing me some Advil. As I’m about to go back to the kitchen and get some for myself, he appears in the doorway—complete with tray and white towel. The smell isn’t as offensive as it was last night, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve got used to it, or because Shane doesn’t know how to make it properly.
He walks over to the bed and places the tray down. “Lift your shirt,” he says as he picks up the white towel filled with the healing poultice.
“I didn’t realize you knew how to make this too?” I say as I open the buttons of my shirt and lift it to expose my midriff.
He frowns. “Of course I can. Who do you think Conor learned it from?”
He places the towel on my stomach and presses lightly. His fingers brush over my skin as he positions the fabric correctly, and I experience that familiar fluttering in my abdomen. There is no doubt that Shane Ryan is hotter than hell itself, but his general moodiness ensures that I’m always kept at arm’s length. I’ve never seen this caring, nurturing side of him before, though, and I’m not sure I like it. I know exactly where I stand with asshole Shane. This one makes me feel things I don’t want to—not about him, anyway.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I lift my hands to fix my clothes, but he’s already pulling down my shirt and fastening the buttons with his deft fingers. I can’t stop the image of him unbuttoning my clothes instead from popping into my head and it makes me clench my thighs together to stop the throbbing sensation that’s starting to build.
“You’re welcome,” he says smoothly in that low gravelly voice he has, which does nothing to quell my growing need. He picks up the TV remote and flicks it on and I swallow.
Dear God, please don’t let him offer to sit in here with me. I couldn’t take it. Before I can protest, he hands me the remote. “The twins told me you love watching TV in bed,” he says as he picks up the now empty tray. “Get some rest today, Hacker. I have a job for you tomorrow.” He flashes one eyebrow at me and then he disappears out of the door.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
SHANE
My plane landed in L.A. an hour ago. There was a car waiting for me at the airport, and now I’m sitting in the air-conditioned office of Alejandro Montoya. He’s the King of L.A. and an old friend of mine.
I look at the photographs on his desk. One of a young dark haired woman and a little boy, who I know to be his adopted daughter, and her son. I pick up the one next to it. This one is a picture of a woman with brown curly hair holding two chubby babies—his wife, Alana and their twin boys. They all smile for the camera, and I wonder if Alejandro took the photograph.
“Hey, amigo,” a voice behind me says and I put the frame back on the desk and stand, pulling my buddy, Jackson Decker into a hug.
“Hey, Jax. Thanks for the car.”
“Only the best for you, Shane. You know that,” he says with a smile. “Alejandro will be here shortly. He’s just dealing with someone real quick.”
“Oh?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Nothing like that. At least not today.”
“So, what did you find out about my house guest?”
Jax takes a seat on the edge of the desk. “Well, you were right about her. She’s not who she claims to be. But it blew my mind when I figured out who she really is. No wonder it took me four weeks to get to the bottom of it. I have never seen anyone cover their tracks this well, Shane. You can tell her from me that I’m impressed.”
I nod at him while the blood thunders through my veins. I knew Jessie was lying to me. “So, who the hell is she, Jax?”
An hour later, Jax puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s been great catching up, Shane, but I have work to do. I hope we can do this again soon.”
I put my hand over his. “Yeah, you too. And I appreciate you looking into the hacker for me. Thanks, buddy.”
“Any time. Although I think I’ve left you with more questions than answers,” he says with a smile before he turns to his boss, who sits across from us behind his desk. “I’ll catch you later, amigo.”
“Don’t forget. Dinner starts at eight,” Alejandro calls out to Jax’s retreating back.
