Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fuck if I know.
I focus on the road, clenching the wheel and remind myself to get castrated.
Rory laughs darkly as he looks over at me from the passenger seat where he’s taking up too damned much room. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Not a goddamn thing.
Jesus. The look on Aria’s face! The way her hand was around her own throat where I was touching her…
Biting the inside of my cheek, I focus on keeping the truck between the edges of the road, out of the rain-swollen ditches.
It took a damned half hour for my erection to go down and seeing her like that made the bastard start throbbing again .
I glance at the screen on the dash. Focusing on the map for a fraction of a second. Thank god we’re less than one minute away from our destination according to the GPS.
Rory picks this time to stick his crooked nose into my business. “I heard something and it sounded like?—”
Delivered with a glare, I growl, “Shut it, Rory.”
When our turn appears, I hit the gas to speed up when I should be slowing down. I’ve got to get the hell out of this truck.
The sooner this job is over the better.
Luckily, when we roll onto the secondary road near the cave entrance it’s a shit show that requires my full attention.
The feds are already on site. Trucks and SUVs are stuffed into the ditch on both sides of the road. People in tactical gear are milling around. A makeshift operational base has been set up.
“No cops as expected.” Rory half grins. “Glad we’re not dealing with Chief Willometa any more.”
“Crooked bastard,” I mutter. “I just hope the feds are on the up and up now that they’re all up in our business.”
He studies the scene through the windshield, quiet and calculating. “You think they’re not?”
“I’m just a suspicious bastard. I like all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed and I don’t know who all the players are now. I do think Agent Torres is one of the good guys.”
“He’s still a fed.”
Rory casts a glance my way, and I wonder again why a team of former Russian military guys are in Vandemora. But I won’t fault their help. They were key in helping us deal with Marianna’s trouble and cracking the illegal operations involving the local police chief wide open.
Without another word, the stone-faced bastard exits the truck and heads to the rear to start unloading gear .
I make the mistake of glancing in the rear view mirror. “I’m coming around to open your door.”
Aria, who has been tensely quiet since our eyes met in the mirror, looks royally displeased. “Why?”
“Because that’s what men do.”
She grumbles and sighs, “Oh, brother. King Scout and his rules…”
But she waits on me, and that makes me feel strangely happy. Happier than it should.
I’ve always worked to be a gentleman, not that I had a role model. Exact opposite actually, but there were enough men around to show me how a woman should be treated.
When I swing the rear passenger door open, Aria’s eyes are set, her jaw is tight. There’s a strength in her spine.
She looks at me pointedly. “Let’s get to work.”
Sexy AF. I like her in this mode.
Hell, I like her in every mode.
I keep my hands very far away from her, but I don’t let her out of the truck. Instead, I lean my forearm on the top edge of the door. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
She nods, glances beyond me. “Yes. I’m sorry for all the drama. Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready.”
She suppresses a small grin. “Alright King. Let’s get this done.”
“Memphis,” I say before I can understand why it feels important to tell her this.
She pauses. Thinks. “Is that where you’re from?”
I shove my hands into my front pockets. Why does my face feel like I got too close to a damned campfire?
A sound rumbles through my chest and I think about changing the subject. “No. That’s my name. ”
This time when she raises her gaze to mine, it’s softer. “I like it. Memphis. That’s nice”
“Well, it wasn’t an easy name as a kid. Appreciate having a nickname.”
“People are mean. It wasn’t your fault.” She slides out of the truck and stands before me. Close but not touching. “Besides, Memphis is a good name, a strong name.”
The compliment doesn’t escape me. Why is this woman so damned nice to me?
I realize I’m frowning extra hard, and that says something. This particular expression feels different.
She’s still looking at me curiously. “How did you get that nickname?”
This is not the time to be standing around talking, and here I am again. Shit. We’ve got work to do, and here I am telling her my story.
I step back. “It was a map thing. I’m good with maps, always have been. It was kind of an obsession to find my way in the woods when I didn’t want to be in my screwed up home.”
Those deep brown eyes melt. She rolls her lips inward. Holding something back.
A solid concrete lump lands at the base of my throat.
The energy between us changes, and not in a good way.
I’m equipped for conflict, not…
Tenderness.
“You were right about us.” I chew the inside of my own mouth as I look away. “We do owe each other the truth since we are about to go into a cave where we could die.”
As if she knows I’m not done, or she’s baiting me to continue, she just watches me with her brows lifted and drawn together. Curious concern.
But when I try to speak I can’t .
I’m not able to admit to her what happened on the patio or in the laundry room. Because I’m not ready to hate myself any more than I already do.
Instead, I offer an apology. “I’ve probably handled things wrong.”
Fuck. That wasn’t an apology. It was an admission of guilt. A pathetic one at that.
She stops me by lifting a delicate hand. It hovers in the air, but doesn’t touch. “You handled things the way you do. I handle things the way I do. We’re not the same person.”
Rory plows around the corner of the truck, stopping to drop his hands on his hips. “Guys, we might have a situation.”
Jesus Christ. I clench my hands inside my pockets “What now?”
He’s looking across the opening at a cluster of men standing by a truck. “Look what’s on the ground over there.”
I’m already in motion.