Chapter 9
Jordan
Natalie is in the bedroom getting dressed for breakfast when my phone rings. One look at the screen kills whatever softness the morning left in me.
Ghost.
I answer and move to the windows. “Richmond.”
“Need rooms.”
That is Ghost on a chatty day.
He is the enforcer for the Damned Saints MC, a man I crossed paths with in the military and never once mistook for harmless.
The Saints have blood on their hands, rules of their own, and a reputation that makes smart men step aside.
But when women need pulling out of hell before the rest of the world finishes paperwork, they are usually the ones kicking in the door.
“How many?” I ask.
“Six young girls, rescued from a trafficking house.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “Medical?”
“Handled. Need safe and quiet.”
“You’ll have the north lodge cabins.”
A pause follows. “Locks on the inside? They asked.”
Something cold moves through my chest. “In every room.”
“Good.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone and stare out at the mountains for one second longer than I need to, because six young girls asking about locks is the kind of thing that stays under a man’s skin.
Natalie steps out of the bedroom in a soft blue dress from the wardrobe delivery, her hair loose around her shoulders, cheeks still pink from the shower.
The sight of her hits hard after a call like that.
Warm skin, soft mouth, and eyes that have not learned every ugly thing men can do when they decide women are things.
I want her untouched by all of it.
Her smile fades. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
She comes closer. “Jordan?”
“Something I need to handle.” I touch her chin, tilting her face up because I cannot help myself. “Go down to breakfast. I’ll be there soon.”
“I can wait.”
“I don’t want you waiting hungry.”
Her mouth softens. “Bossy before breakfast. Brave choice.”
I brush my thumb along her lower lip. “Careful.”
There is the blush I wanted.
“Go,” I say.
She searches my face for another second, then nods. She does not push. She trusts me to tell her when I can, and that does something dangerous to my chest.
After she leaves, I make the calls Ghost needs me to make and put the north lodge cabins at his disposal. Then my phone rings again.
Mother.
I close my eyes before answering. “What?”
“Well,” my mother says, far too pleased with herself, “that is no way to speak to the woman who gave you life.”
“You gave me life so you could micromanage it and interrupt me.”
“And I did a beautiful job.” Her voice brightens. “The Everpine presidential suite, Jordan?”
My jaw tightens. “Who told you?”
“My darling boy, I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Mother.”
“Do not take that tone with me. Tina, the manager’s wife, called me this morning.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“You are with a woman.”
“I said I’m hanging up.”
“Is she pretty?”
I say nothing.
Mother gasps. “She is pretty.”
“I’m busy.”
“You are at a hotel with a woman you refuse to discuss. That is work of the highest spiritual importance.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bring her to dinner.”
“No.”
“Brunch?”
“No.”
“Coffee?”
“Mother.”
She laughs, soft and smug. “I am happy for you.”
I do not answer.
“I mean it,” she says. “You sound different.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know my son booked the presidential suite in the middle of the workweek. That tells me plenty.”
My gaze shifts toward the door Natalie used.
Mother’s voice lowers. “Be kind to her.”
She means it. That is the problem. My mother has believed in love through too many men who did not deserve the word, but she knows what careless hands can do to a soft heart. She knows what damage looks like after the romance is stripped off it.
“I am,” I say.
“Good. Then I will wait patiently.”
“You have never waited patiently in your life. Do not come here.”
“We’ll see.”
I hang up before she can get worse.
By the time I reach the dining room, I am already carrying too much temper.
Then I see Natalie at a table near the windows with Lydia sitting across from her in a pale dress and a fake smile with poison underneath.
Wesley stands beside Natalie’s chair with one hand on the back of it, too close to her shoulder.
My body goes quiet. That is when men should start worrying.
Natalie’s chin is lifted, but her face is pale. Her hands are folded in her lap, and she is trying to look calm for people who do not deserve the effort.
I start toward them.
Lydia sees me first. Her smile brightens. “There he is. We were beginning to wonder if Natalie had been abandoned before breakfast.”
Natalie’s mouth tightens. Wesley turns, sees my face, and looks away.
Smart.
I stop beside Natalie’s chair and glance at his hand. He removes it.
“Natalie,” I say.
She looks up at me, and the relief in her eyes almost finishes what my temper started.
“Hi,” she says.
Too soft.
I bend and kiss her, lingering long enough to remind everyone at that table she is not alone. Lydia’s smile slips. Wesley’s jaw hardens. Color comes back into Natalie’s cheeks.
When I straighten, my hand settles at the back of her neck. She leans into me before she remembers they are watching.
Good girl.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
Lydia laughs lightly. “We were only chatting.”
I keep my attention on Natalie. “What happened?”
Her throat moves. “They were surprised we were here already.”
“Mm.”
Wesley clears his throat. “I was making sure she was okay.”
Now I look at him. He does not like it.
“She is sitting at breakfast,” I say. “What confused you?”
His face colors. “Honestly, your entire relationship.”
Natalie flinches, and my thumb presses once at her shoulder to steady her, claim her, and remind her without a word that I am right here.
“You lost the right to comment on Natalie’s life.”
Wesley’s mouth opens, but Lydia cuts in with a thin smile. “That’s harsh.”
“No.”
Natalie’s fingers rise to mine where my hand rests at her shoulder, and when she reaches first, I close my hand around hers.
Lydia notices. Her gaze sharpens. “I only think it’s interesting. A few days ago, Natalie didn’t have a plus one. Today she’s checked into the hotel with her boss.”
“Careful,” I say.
The word lands exactly where I put it, and Lydia’s smile falters.
Natalie squeezes my hand. “Jordan.”
I look down at her and see embarrassment, anger, and hurt moving across her face, but beneath all of it, something steadier is starting to take root. She is tired of shrinking, so I wait.
Her shoulders lift with one slow breath, and then she looks at her sister. “You don’t need to worry about me, Lydia.”
Lydia blinks, insulted by the loss of control. “I’m your sister. You didn’t answer any of my texts.”
“I know. Because they were ridiculous.” Natalie’s voice trembles once, then steadies. “You asked how I bagged someone like Jordan Richmond, then asked if I was blackmailing him.”
Something inside me turns very still.
Natalie keeps going before I can decide how much damage I am allowed to do at breakfast. “And then you sent three question marks, a bride emoji, and a warning that workplace scandals are tacky.”
Lydia’s color rises. “I was joking.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Pride moves through me, dark and sharp.
There she is.
Wesley shifts. “Nat, I really think we should talk alone.”
My hand tightens.
Natalie looks at him. “It’s Natalie for you.”
Silence moves across the table. Wesley’s face changes, and so does mine.
Lydia gives a brittle little laugh. “Oh, please. Since when?”
“Since now.”
“You never cared before.”
Natalie’s fingers tremble in mine, but her voice holds. “I care now.”
That is when I sit beside her.
A server approaches, eyes bouncing between us.
“Coffee for her,” I say. “Cream, two sugars. Eggs, toast, fruit.” I look at Lydia and Wesley. “And find these two another table.”
Natalie turns toward me, blinking.
Lydia’s mouth opens. “You can’t make us leave.”
I look at her. “Can’t I?”
Wesley makes a sound under his breath.
My gaze moves to him. “Still here?”
Lydia rises, color high. “Come on, Wesley.”
He hesitates, looking at Natalie like he expects her to stop him. She does not, and that is the best thing I have seen all morning.
They leave.
Natalie exhales like she has been holding the air in her chest since before I entered the room.
I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. “You handled that.”
Her eyes are too bright. “I thought I might throw up.”
“You didn’t.”
“Heroic of me.”
“Very.” I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. “That’s my girl.”
Her breath catches.
The words hit both of us.
I do not take them back.