Chapter Seven
H er eyes nearly bugged out of her head the moment Jeter pulled into the circular drive of the Waldorf Astoria.
“What the fuck are we doing here?”
He grinned over at her, flashing his pearly white teeth that set her nerves on edge. “This is where we’d booked to stay. In fact, this is where the wedding would have taken place tomorrow. Obviously, that’s not happening, but my stuff is in my room. We’re going to go up and get it, then we’ll go to somewhere safe.”
She waved her hand at his bloody face. “You can’t waltz into there with blood all over you. They’ll call the police.”
Jeter pulled the visor down and grimaced. “Do you have any wipes or something I can use to clean up really quick?”
Tori shook her head. “Are you for real? You might have a bullet in your head or need stitches. You need to let me at least look at it before one of the valets comes back here and freaks the fuck out.”
“Do you know you get a heavy New York accent when you’re upset? Is that where you’re from originally?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together. At least they weren’t sitting with the Bronco idling, and he appeared to listen to her. Her breath came out in a puff, making her realize she’d been holding it in until the moment he parked along the street a block down the road.
With decisive moves, Jeter moved the seat back, then turned to look at her. “Alright, take a look.”
When he shifted so she could see better, Tori unfastened her seatbelt and moved to lean over the console. Thankfully, she’d located a small pack of wet wipes in her glove compartment. After a few gentle swipes over the area, she was sure he wouldn’t need stitches. “I think the bullet must’ve grazed you. Does it hurt?”
He didn’t make a sound the entire time she’d cleaned the blood from the wound. Pulling back, she noticed his clenched teeth.
“No,” he gritted out.
“It’s still bleeding, but not as bad as it had been. I’m pretty sure I have some Aquaphor in my bag that should make it stop. It’ll make your hair greasy,” she warned.
Jeter grabbed her hand before she could move away. “Do I look like I give two fucks how my hair looks, farfallina?”
Her heart raced. No, he didn’t look like a man who cared about his looks. But he appeared as though he could devour her as he stared at her lips. They were inches apart, close enough she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She wondered if he’d taste the same. “I need to get the ointment.”
His hand snaked around her face, brushing against her cheek. He sifted his fingers through her hair, giving a slight tug. Tori gave a little moan, loving the feel of his touch.
“Damn, you go to my head faster than any liquor ever could. I need a little taste. Can I have one?” he asked.
She had a feeling he wasn’t a man who normally needed to request. No, if she were a betting woman, she’d lay odds women threw themselves at him. Another little tug reminded her he was waiting for an answer. “Yes, please,” she sighed.
“Good girl,” he breathed against her lips.
The first brush of his mouth against hers reminded her of the butterfly he called her. Light, so soft, she wished for more.
Closing her eyes, she leaned closer, hoping he’d give her more.
He groaned, licked at her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, allowing him access inside. As soon as his tongue entered her mouth, she lost all sense of herself. This man was a master at kissing. His grip on her hair moved her head as he deepened the exchange. Their tongues flicked along one another’s, caressing, touching, exploring. He pulled back, sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and let out a growl.
“Fuck, I could lose my damn head with you.”
It took her a couple of seconds to gather her wits. Their breathing came out choppy, as if they’d run a marathon. His hand still held her head. Hers gripped the front of his suit jacket, twisting in between her fingers.
“Oh shit, you're bleeding still. Dang it. See what you made me do?”
He chuckled, using his fingers to massage her scalp. If he kept doing that, she’d be purring like a damn kitten.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t made out in a car like that since I was a teen. And for the record, if we’d have continued much longer, I’d have pulled you into my lap and probably dry humped you to completion in my slacks like a prepubescent youth as well.” His hand released her, allowing her to move back.
She looked down at his lap, unable to miss the sizeable bulge. Her gaze went back to his face to see a knowing smirk there. Tori laughed, feeling lighter, which was absurd given their situation. “Let me get you cleaned up again.”
This time, she ensured the blood was gone, and the Aquaphor was applied without focusing too much on his very kissable lips. It was hard, much harder than she’d thought possible. She blamed her crazy reaction on the life or death situation making her crazy. It had to be a form of Stockholm or something. She’d google it later.
“You’re holding up really well for someone who was involved in a near shooting. Are you sure you’re okay?”
His concern melted some of the ice around her heart. Nobody in her life truly gave a shit about her. Sure, the Hoolihan family would inquire about her when she was at work and looked upset. However, if she didn’t show up for work, Tori didn’t think they’d do much more than call her to find out why, replace her, then move on. Point in fact, her cell phone was silent. No text or voicemail from any of her employers wondering how she was after the crazy night at the bar. Being left to hold down the fort alone at her place of employment with a group of fucking mobsters surely constituted a damn phone call, or group text, something.
She blinked several times before answering, “Yeah, I’m tougher than I appear.”
Jeter brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and cupped her jaw. “I have a feeling you’re a lot more than you appear.”
His words made her gut clench. Tori wanted to blurt out the truth to him right then and there. The man was in danger because of her. Hell, it was her fault someone had shot at him. The shooter would’ve killed them both had she not pushed Jeter at the right moment. Her impulsive act had saved both of them. If she were smart, she’d give him the slip and start running again. Of course, she might be wrong, and it wasn’t her they were after. Maybe it was a coincidence. Tori let out a sigh, knowing full well she couldn’t let her guard down. For the past four years, she’d stayed safe by keeping on her toes. No matter how she felt when Jeter kissed and held her, she needed to remember her life was at stake.
JETER WATCHED TORI out of the corner of his eye as he drove them back to the hotel courtyard. He didn’t miss the way she’d shut down on him. The woman was an enigma, and she was hiding something big. He didn’t like the thought of her keeping anything from him and vowed he’d uncover all her truths, one way or another.
The valet came to his side of the Bronco, waiting for him open the door. Jeter reached for her hand, ignoring the man outside the vehicle. “No matter what happens, I promise your safety is my top priority. If shit goes down, stick with me, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to get us out of it.”
She let out another deep sigh, and then she nodded. While he wished Tori would’ve said the words, her eyes and the small movement of her head would suffice for now.
He gave her knuckles a small kiss before releasing her. “Let’s roll.”
A valet stood on each side of the vehicle, opening Tori’s door at the same time as he pushed his open. “Welcome to the Waldorf Astoria, Sir.”
“Thank you. We’re popping in for a quick change. Can you please keep my SUV close?” Jeter pulled a large bill out of his wallet, passing it to the man when he finished speaking.
“Of course, Sir. What’s your room number?” he asked.
Jeter gave the valet the number to his suite he’d reserved. The Gold Coast Terrace Suite King Bed cost him over two thousand dollars a night. Thinking back to the first time he’d entered the hotel wearing jeans and his cut, he thought the concierge might stroke out. Of course the dapper man nodded and treated Jeter like any other guest, even if his hand might’ve shook slightly making Jeter grin. The opulent space was a world away from the Royal Sons MC clubhouse in California.
In two long strides, he reached Tori’s side. She stood under the glass canopy arch, with the moon overhead, looking lost. He took her hand in his, leading them inside. Although he’d grown up within the circle of money, and yes, danger, the military had changed his outlook on life. Wearing multi-thousand dollar suits and shiny shoes didn’t fit into his daily life.
“I’m underdressed,” she muttered.
He looked at her and those around them. It was late, so there weren't too many people wandering around the lobby area. Some were in evening attire that looked straight out of magazines, but the majority looked casual but expensive.
Tori's black skinny jeans fit her like a glove, accentuating her petite yet curvy figure. The black and red T-shirt he knew was butter-soft. She had a flannel top tied around her waist when she'd been working, but she'd shrugged it on before they'd left the office of Hoolihan's. His jacket he’d given her before they’d walked outside the bar she’d taken off and given back to him, insisting he needed to cover up the blood on his shirt. Jeter wanted to insist she keep it but agreed with even though he liked having her covered in something of his.
He pushed the caveman thoughts away and appreciated the beauty of the woman before him. In a few words, he'd describe her as stacked in all the right places. Her ass would fit perfectly in his hands, nice and rounded like a woman should be, in his opinion. If asked if he was a tits or ass man, he'd say yes to all the above, especially when it came to Tori. Every dip and curve on her screamed femininity at its finest. Hell, his hands itched to see if her breasts were more than a handful.
“You look fine. Besides, we won’t be here for long. Come on, babe.” He threaded their fingers together as he led the way toward the elevator that would take him up to his suite of rooms. From years of being in the military, he didn’t let his guard down during the entire walk through the foyer or the ride up to his floor. Neither of them spoke as the silence stretched. He released her hand once to swipe his card to gain access to his floor. Jeter wanted to slide his hand over hers again but settled for placing his palm on her lower back once the doors opened.
“Wow, this is the top floor,” she whispered.
He grunted, knowing the cost and the floor went hand-in-hand. Kendrick would’ve booked all the suites on the floor for him and his people. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the others in residence yet, which gave him a chance to slip out unnoticed.
“A grunt is your answer. Come on. How the hell do you afford to stay in one of these?” she asked in a loud whisper.
Jeter stopped in front of the massive double doors and swiped the wooden card over the reader. He held his hand up the moment the lock disengaged. “Wait here for me.”
An ingrained sense within him to make sure nobody waited inside to ambush them had him moving swiftly through the large suite, scanning the rooms for signs of an intruder. Once he was sure it was safe, he went back out to where he’d left Tori to find her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, frowning.
“I was a literal sitting duck out here if someone had come out of one of the other rooms with a gun.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she spoke.
Jeter shoved the gun he’d pulled out, when he’d gone through the hotel room, back into the holster on his back. “I’m sorry if my actions scared you. My brother rented out this entire floor for his wedding, which was to take place tomorrow, for himself and his groomsmen. Nobody but him, me, and two of his trusted men have access. I know for a fact none of them are back. Security is tight, and nobody would expect you and me to show up here.”
She waved her hand toward him and the entrance. “Then why did you go all sneaky snake and search the room before allowing me to go inside? You can’t have it both ways, Jeter.”
He looked up and down the hallway on both sides, then pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind them. No way in hell did he want to have a conversation out there where they might get caught on camera. “It’s like second nature for me to do what I did, farfallina. I guess it’s a byproduct of my upbringing that got a double dose of security upgrade, thanks to Uncle Sam.”
Jeter ran his hand over his head, wincing as he hit the spot the bullet grazed.
“Shit, let’s go into the bathroom so I can clean that better and get a proper look at the damage. You might need to go to an actual doctor and possibly get an antibiotic. The last thing you want to get is an infection. Are you up to date on your shots?”
He let her pull him into the super-sized bathroom, plopping down onto the side of the bathtub while she mumbled words too low for him to make out. He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed having Tori fuss over him. She turned back toward him with a wet washcloth. He spread his legs to make room for her, placing his hands on her hips to steady her or himself. He wasn’t sure.