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“Talon willkillyou if he catches you in here!” Cassie muttered.
The grin Lucky threw her was all cavalier nonchalance, “Then don’t let him catch me.”
Cassie chuckled, “You’re determined. I’ll give you that.”
“Can’t let my girl fall asleep without a proper goodnight,” Lucky said, settling into his usual place in the rocking chair that took up most of the corner.
Cassie snuggled deeper into the covers, “Am I your girl, Luck?”
“I think you’ve been my girl since you were about five,” Lucky answered.
Cassie couldn’t help but smile. “This could have been a text message, you know,” she pointed out.
Lucky frowned, “Where’s the romance in that?”
Cassie giggled, “Is that what this is? Romeo sneaking up onto the balcony?”
“Romeo and Juliet both died,” Lucky mused, “and we’re definitely not star-crossed lovers. But, yeah, that’s what this is. I’m courting you, Cass.”
Cassie caressed the sheet beside her, “You wanna lie down?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do,” Lucky admitted. “But I think it’s safer for both of us if I stay over here.”
Cassie sighed.
Lucky had been sneaking into her room every night for weeks.
Every night she asked the same question.
And every night Lucky gave the same answer.
“Go to sleep, pretty girl. I’m right here,” Lucky whispered through the dark.
Cassie closed her eyes, Lucky’s familiar presence wrapping around her like a blanket, easing her back into the soft cocoon of sleep.
She drifted into the comfort and peace that was Lucky, even though she knew he’d be gone in the morning.
*************************
Deuce
The inky black of night spread greedy fingers overhead while the wind whipping around Deuce’s Harley provided a welcome breath of fresh air, cleansing the heat and humidity of the day.
Thousands of pinpricks of light smiled down on his mission like tiny benedictions blessing his efforts to protect his brothers.
This close to the coast, I-16 was nothing but a flat straightaway, so Deuce kept his distance from the vehicle he followed, the growl of the Harley beneath him tempting him to open the throttle, overtake the truck, and find outwhat the fuckfor himself.
But he didn’t open the throttle. He didn’t overtake. And he didn’t find out.
He watched and observed, like he always did, and when he had enough information to be sure where the passengers of the truck were headed, he coasted to a stop on the side of the interstate in a tunnel created by pine trees and made the call.
His president answered in one.
“Yeah?”
“Gate, we’ve got a problem.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
