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“So what’s the plan?” she asks brightly, too brightly, a sharp edge to her expression that looks like desperation.
Hell, why? She didn’t seem upset with me last night.
“The plan,” Rook says, scratching at the bristles on his chin, “is to sit tight for a while, until the police arrest Sandivar and as many of the other people Hawk reported to them as possible. Until we are told that it’s safe to come out of hiding. Hawk did the hard work. Well, Hawk and Layla. Now we keep out of sight.”
“For how long?” Layla asks, paling.
I don’t like that she’s pale.
“As long as it takes,” Storm says, linking his hand with Raylin’s. “This place is well stocked, from food to movies, video games and books, a gym and a pool, a tennis court and a track. Anything you need I can have flown in quickly.”
“Oh God,” Layla whispers. “I’m stranded here?”
“You have free run of the whole property,” Storm says. “My employees will help you with whatever you need. I told them that when my guests request something, they won’t question it, but do it.”
She doesn’t look reassured.
“What have you done to her, dude?” Rook asks me with a smirk. “She barely arrived and already she wants to leave.”
Jesus fuck. “Screw you, dude. Stay out of this.”
“And this?” She lifts a cell phone. “Can I call my friends? My mom?”
“It’s a prepaid cell phone,” Rook says. “For emergencies. Don’t call anyone unless strictly necessary.”
“What Rook means by that is he’s giving you a phone, which you’re never allowed to use, unless you’re being kidnapped,” Storm quips, “in which case, kindly ask your kidnapper for your phone call to your lawyer.”
“Shut up, Storm.” Rook is gazing levelly at Layla who seems to be barely holding back a major freak out. “Is everything okay?”
Layla gives a jerky nod, but she’s still pale, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Then let’s go back to our room.” I reach again for her hand and she lets me hold it. Small victories, right? “We can rest a bit more.”
I meant that innocently, okay? But I can’t help the way I’m drawn to her, so of course my eyes dip to her tits, and it’s hard not to when it’s obvious she’s wearing no bra and her nipples are poking through the thin fabric of her tee.
I doubt she noticed, but hey, I’m a guy. I’m the guy who wants her in every way, so I noticed, and my dick noticed, too, pushing against the seam of my draw-string pants.
She says nothing, a flush spreading over her cheeks, and the need to kiss her is overwhelming. I dip my head, breathing hard like I was running and brush my mouth over her soft lips.
A gasp escapes her, and it’s so damn sexy my dick twitches. We definitely need to go back to our room. Right the hell now.
“Wait up,” Storm says before I can drag Layla up and carry her, caveman-style, back to the room, my vision gone tunnel-like and my mind hazy as all my blood’s heading south to my dick, “there’s something I wanted to tell you before you go.”
Layla’s hand tenses in mine, and she starts pulling it away. The fuck? I’m having none of that and give her what I hope is a reassuring squeeze.
Why would she need reassurance for whatever Storm’s about to tell us?
Raylin smiles at Storm. She’s a pretty girl, and being with Storm seems to sit well with her. She was more of a ragamuffin when I first met her, and fear always lurked in her dark eyes, but now she looks relaxed and happy, despite the mess we’re in.
Storm also looks happy.
I glance at Layla, wanting to tell her she makes me fucking happy, too, but she’s not paying attention to me. She’s staring at Storm as if expecting him to draw a gun or a knife, and what the hell’s up with that, huh?
“So Raylin and I have some news.” Storm is serious again. “We’re getting married, and decided to expand our family just—”
Layla wrenches her hand from mine, shoots to her feet and runs out of the room.
I gape after her, then frown. Then scowl. What’s this about?
