5. The H-Word
Chapter 5
The H-Word
Whitney
I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket, but Mensa waved a hand at me. “Just give me a minute. I’ll have Block swing by your place and see if everything’s good.”
My gut told me it wouldn’t be good, not in the slightest.
A few minutes later, Mensa tucked his phone away. “Block’s gonna call me back when he’s checked out the parking lot at your complex and the area surrounding it.”
I did a slow nod. “That’s great, but what’s the plan right now? I haven’t had dinner, and the adrenaline is wearing off, which means I really need to pee.”
Mensa twisted his head to the side for a moment, then focused on me. “Let’s not talk about adrenaline. For now, we wait. If we get the all-clear, I’ll take you back to your place. If they got the drop on where you live…I’m not—”
I should have kept my trap shut, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You could take me to your studio apartment.”
He opened his mouth and closed it. I had never seen him speechless before. It gave me a delicious, even if perverse, thrill.
Finally he muttered, “Lease ran out on that place two months ago.”
My head cocked to the side. “That’s the second time you let me down tonight. Asked if you had another gun, you sold it. Asked about your studio apartment, you dropped the lease.”
He narrowed an eye at me. “You assume I’d let you stay with me.”
My eyes widened. “You are the reason I’m in this mess.”
“How the fuck do you figure that?”
I scoffed. “If you hadn’t kept me from running to Aurora’s car, I’d be just fine.”
“Yeah. Aurora left while you first chit-chatted with Dontrell, so you’d have run out into an ambush. Maybe you’d be ‘just fine’ being held at the Corrupt Chrome compound in Ocean Springs.”
My mouth clamped shut at that because to my knowledge the Bureau wasn’t aware of another MC in the Biloxi area, let alone that they had a compound so close by.
Before I could ask anything else, Mensa’s phone rang and he took the call.
“Block,” he answered.
Mensa’s eyes cut to me. “What’s your unit number?”
I gave him my apartment number.
There was a pause while Mensa listened.
“Hang on a minute, Block.” He looked at me. “You got a neighbor who can check on your place?”
My lower lip stretched out and down with my grimace. “No.”
Mensa nodded. “She doesn’t. Did you see anyone suspicious? If Corrupt Chrome took her car, they’ll be listening for a Harley, expecting me to drop her off.”
After a pause, his chin dipped. “Yeah, walk around the complex and call me back.”
He ended the call and tucked his phone into a holster on his hip.
“Thanks for having him do that,” I said.
He lifted his chin and turned to watch the traffic outside the truck stop.
After a few minutes, he paced back and forth on the sidewalk and ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell did this shit happen?”
“Well, gee, if you hadn’t put me on the back of your bike back at Twisted Talons, we wouldn’t be in this mess, handsome.”
He glared at me.
My words replayed in my mind.
Shit.
“Did I use the h-word?”
With a scoff he nodded. “But don’t worry, I’m not and even if I were handsome, I know you didn’t mean it.”
Oh my God . A man who didn’t realize how good looking he was – that was rare indeed.
My heart melted a little bit, but I had to keep focused. No doubt about it, I was cramping his style. My every instinct said if I hadn’t been in the vicinity when Rod threatened Dontrell, Mensa would have taken matters into his own hands.
His phone rang. “Yeah, Block.”
Mensa stared at me while Block spoke. After a beat, he squinted one eye. “You know everything looking okay from the outside doesn’t mean shit, Block.”
“It probably is okay,” I muttered.
Mensa gave a short head shake. “Block has a feeling the building is being watched.”
Mensa’s eyes shifted to the side, and he said to Block, “She isn’t going to the clubhouse.”
“I’ve been there before,” I muttered.
“Don’t remind me,” Mensa muttered back.
Anger suddenly washed over his face at whatever Block said.
“That is the last damn time anyone says that to me.”
I didn’t know what that was all about, so I ignored it.
Mensa ended his call.
I crossed my arms. “Here’s an idea, drop me at Aunt Nadia’s, and I’ll get a girlfriend to take me to my place in the morning.”
“It’s late. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shoot you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ll chance it, Mensa.”
“Maybe I can’t.”
My head tilted. “Like you care about me.”
He cocked a brow. “No, but I’ll feel guilty about Nadia blaming herself for shooting you. Besides, I’m gonna have to walk you up, make sure it’s safe.”
I tossed an arm out to my side. “For crying out loud, they wouldn’t know anything about Aunt Nadia.”
“You don’t know that. Rod came off like a trigger-happy idiot, but—”
“But you’re paranoid.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t.”
I sighed. “Let me call Aunt Nadia, then we don’t have to worry about freaking her out.”
“There’s no need to worry her right now.”
My gaze wandered to the property across the street and I spied a fast food restaurant. A Holiday Inn Express was nestled behind it.
Mensa blew out a sigh and tucked his phone away.
I met his gaze. “This truck stop makes me feel like we’re sitting ducks. Since taking me back to my place isn’t an option, we could see if that Holiday Inn Express has rooms. Then in the morning, I’ll get a ride home from someone.”
Mensa turned his head in the direction of the hotel, then I watched his lips bulge as he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Might be the best idea you’ve had all day, Blume.”
I let that go. “Seriously, though, before we head over there, I’m raiding this convenience store. I’m hungry enough, roller food won’t bother me tonight.”
“There’s only one room available? You’re kidding, right? The parking lot isn’t even that full,” Mensa groused.
“Sir, there are three tour buses in the back lot,” Rose, the front desk clerk, said.
My earlier raid of the convenience store had been thorough, and I shifted the two cellophane bags to my other hand and leaned on the counter. “He’s doesn’t mean to be rude, but is this last room a double? Or better yet a suite for some privacy?”
Rose looked at me, her expression dry. “The suites were all taken by the guests on the tour bus, miss.”
I tugged Mensa toward the double doors. “I appreciate you getting me to safety, but how about you leave me here and someone else can get me in the morning?”
He raked a hand through his wavy hair. “I should say yes to that, but I got a bad feeling you’re gonna be cornered at your place tomorrow. So if the person picking you up isn’t an FBI agent or someone with some street smarts, I’m sticking around.”
That was quite admirable of him.
“My gender doesn’t factor into your protectiveness, does it?”
He gave me a pointed look. “Your lack of a weapon is the only factor. I’d like nothing more than to ride back to the clubhouse without you, but I won’t leave you here like a sitting duck.”
I bit my lower lip. “This is overkill.”
“Overkill trumps being killed.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Do you want the room?” Rose asked.
“It’s just sleeping,” Mensa said.
Oh sure.
I wandered to the counter and pulled my card from my back pocket. “We’ll take it.”
“You aren’t paying,” Mensa bit out, sidling up next to me at the counter.
“Then I should pay for your gas.”
While I stared up at him, our eyes locked, he snatched my card off the counter and put his down in its place.
Rose made a humming noise, then said, “I could split the charge—”
“No,” Mensa said, his tone final.
Rose ran his card, clacked her nails on the keyboard, and looked up at us. Her face paled.
“What? Is the room no longer available?” I asked.
She offered a wan smile. “It’s yours, but it’s a king.”
I turned wide eyes to Mensa. “It’s just sleeping.”
If I thought Mensa had a problem with me before, I was wrong. His disdain amplified the moment the hotel room door closed. He prowled the entire space looking for non-existent threats, and avoiding eye contact.
While he made a show of being disgruntled, I emptied one of the shopping bags.
“Did you buy the whole store?” he asked.
I tossed two packages of Skittles onto the credenza. “No, just the important stuff like toothpaste, toothbrushes, and wine.”
He laughed at my mention of wine. “Those Skittles are the opposite of toothpaste.”
I shot him a grin over my shoulder. “Wine and Skittles are a winning combination. You should try it.”
“Not tonight, I won’t. One of us should stay sober.”
With a thunk, I set the bottle of pinot grigio on the credenza. “That Corrupt Chrome asshole isn’t going to come hunting for us at a roadside hotel set back from the main drag behind a fast-food joint. Your bike could be any weekend warrior on a road trip, Mensa. I highly doubt he committed your license plate to memory.”
After a lengthy stare-down, he crossed to the small closet, opened the door, and pulled out an extra pillow along with a thick flannel blanket. “I’ll take the floor.”
A little voice told me to let him make his own choices, but my inner smart-ass couldn’t be contained. “What happened to ‘it’s only sleeping’? It’s not like I have cooties. But hey, if you want the floor, have at it, buddy.”
That earned me his cold stare and strange excitement shot through me.
“I’m finally coming down off that adrenaline high, and if I’m in the same bed as you, I’m gonna have an entirely different struggle on my hands. One I’m not sure I can best, so I’m doing you a favor here by taking the floor.”
The curious side of me wanted to help him with that struggle, but my more rational side held me back. Getting physical with Mensa – even one time – wouldn’t help my reputation. Even if I was done with the FBI, my reputation meant something to me. Deep down, I still wanted to figure out a way to arrest him… though, from everything I’d seen tonight, he wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.
“You have nothing to say?” he asked.
I shrugged and turned to him. “You can suit yourself, but there’s a shower in that bathroom that might help with your struggle. After that, won’t we just be… sleeping?”
He turned his head so sharply to the side, I worried he’d strained his neck. What more could he have to argue about?