Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Eleanor
Perceptive men make dangerous adversaries.
I stamp on his stupid big feet, and he chuckles as he loosens his grip enough for me to spin in the circle of his arms.
“Why are you here?” I snap. “Didn’t I make myself clear the last time you tried to get me into your bed?”
Hunter smirks. “I was sent to rescue you from whatever disaster you’ve walked into.”
“Fox.” Can the man not understand time? It’s barely been an hour, let alone two.
“Fox,” he confirms as his assessing gaze trails over my face. “You aren’t hurt?”
“Of course not.”
The door bangs open behind me, and I jerk my head over my shoulder. My muscles tense, ready to fight or flee. Hunter goes still next to me. You can take the man out of the military…
“Friend or foe?” he mutters as a guy drags a girl deeper into the shadows of the alley, neither of them realizing they aren’t alone, but it’s not anyone I recognize. Doesn’t mean I’m not on borrowed time. The longer I linger, the more likely it is we are found.
“Neither.”
“Come on,” Hunter says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the alley and onto the main street.
“Wait.” I dig my heels into the scarred concrete, yanking back.
He pauses and raises a brow. “You have a coat to collect to put over that sinful dress?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; it’s hotter than Hades. Why would I wear a coat?”
“Then what? You want to wait for whomever made you turn on that tracker to come find you?”
“I need your phone.” I hold my hand out and wait, ignoring his ridiculous question.
He frowns. “You don’t have your own?”
“As you rightly pointed out, my dress isn’t made for concealing anything.”
He sighs and unzips his leather jacket before pulling his phone out of the internal pocket. My eyes drop to his chest. A couple of buttons on his white shirt are open, revealing his tanned and tattooed chest. I blink as he opens the lock on his phone with his pretty face and presses it into my hand. Pretty face? Did I drink the champagne?
“Can’t this wait?” he asks, glancing up and down the street.
I shake my head. My fingers work fast as I pull up the search engine and log in to my system. I execute scenario three with a small smirk. My phone in Christopher’s possession will now mirror the false woman I claimed to be, leading him on a merry chase around the country. Nothing of Eleanor exists. Like it should be.
“All done.” I pass him back his phone, and he whips his coat off and drapes it around me. Leather, sandalwood, something deeply male and all Hunter envelops me. It does funny things low in my belly. “What are you doing?”
“Arms in,” he instructs.
“I already told you, I’m too hot.”
“Indeed,” he grumbles as he pulls my arms inside the sleeves. “But you are about to ride the wind, Ghost, and I can’t have my rescue thwarted by the elements.”
“Ride the wind? I don’t understand.”
His lips twitch as he grabs a helmet from the motorcycle I hadn’t spotted. Great powers of observation, Ellie. Let’s blame my brush with the devil for my lack of common fucking sense.
“I’m not getting on that death trap with you.”
“Something tells me staying here is worse than any death trap I can concoct.”
I swallow and glance back at the entrance to the club, my heart unsteady in my chest. I know I’m on borrowed time. Fuck it. I shove the helmet over my skull and hope Hunter is a careful driver.
He makes sure it’s on correctly, then pulls his own on before swinging his leg over the beast. Why does he have two helmets? Was he expecting to rescue a damsel today? “Hop on, princess. Your chariot awaits.”
I sigh as I hitch up the hem of my dress, thanking the clothing manufacturer they made it a little stretchy. He smirks as his gaze lowers to take in the expanse of flesh on show. I roll my eyes as I swing my leg over and hold on to Hunter’s waist. He grabs my hands and yanks hard, dragging me against him and pushing the air from my lungs. This dress does nothing to protect my core, which is pressed up against his jean-covered ass. Wonderful.
The engine rumbles to life. Oh my god. My trusty vibrators don’t have shit on this beast.
The front door to the club flies open and Christopher, Jonathan, and James spill out onto the sidewalk. James’s eyes tighten in the corners as Christopher’s gaze immediately finds me. He storms over, his body rigid.
“Go, go, go!” I shout.
Hunter flies onto the road, burned rubber following our path. Christopher’s fingers graze my arm but slide off the buttery leather.
“I will find you,” he growls loud enough for me to hear over the roaring engine.
I grip Hunter like he’s my lifeline as we speed along the street. He weaves between slower moving cars, putting much-needed distance between us and the wolves at our back.
My hands thread together over his stomach, and I curl around him tighter as he hits the open road. Wait. Where is he going? I tap his stomach with my hand, knowing trying to talk through two helmets and the rumble of the engine would be pointless. He ignores me for another ten minutes, taking us out of the city before pulling over at a gas station and rolling the motorcycle to a stop. He yanks his helmet off, and I do the same but stay on the bike.
“I need to go to the airport,” I tell him.
“Why? I can ride you out of here faster than you can buy a ticket, go through security, and get on a plane.”
“I don’t doubt that, but my passport, laptop, and personal things are in a storage locker.”
He huffs. “Airport is twenty minutes from here.”
“I can grab an Uber if you are busy.”
“Not busy, just not sure of the level of threat you’ve attracted.”
Calling the threat level enormous would be an understatement. Military men are far too perceptive, which is why I avoid them.
“I created a false trail on my phone. But if he’s as well connected as I believe him to be, he will be able to trace me coming into the airport earlier today, then assume what I did with my carry-on.”
“Which means he will also trace you out of it,” he volleys.
My mouth snaps closed. He has me there. “I need to collect my bag as there is sensitive information in there he can’t get his hands on.”
“Fine. We get the bag, then you’re coming with me.”
“I can fly out and lose them in another state.”
“Why are you fighting me on this?”
“I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”
He narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to choose for me, Ghost. Tell me what the mess is, and let me make an informed decision.”
He’s already made the decision. My lips thin as I sink deeper into his jacket. He has a savior complex that will get him killed if he hangs around with me.
“Fine.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Once I have the bag and we are in a different state.”
“Fine.” He sinks a boatload of hidden meaning into that one word.
“Fine.”
We push our helmets back on, and he powers down the roads, getting to the airport in half the time it would take me in a car. Bonus of being on a traffic weaving machine, I guess. I only curse him three times before he pulls to a stop in a parking zone and helps me off the bike. I wobble a little from the disorientation as I walk toward the door, noticing the looming shadow following me. I freeze, and he bumps into my back with a curse.
I spin on my heel. “What are you doing?”
He gives me a lopsided smile. It’s unguarded, genuine, and disarming. I don’t like it.
“I assume you’ll need my phone for the storage place? Unless you plan on using your assets to sweet talk the person into handing it over.”
Shit. I’m not thinking straight. I battle the tidal wave of emotion battering my defenses. Later, behind closed doors, when I’m alone and safe, I can break down. Now, I need my brain cells to behave and start acting like this is a team sport, not a one neuron race.
“Also, I’m not stupid, Ghost. I know you were about to run onto the next flight out of here.”
See? Perceptive. Not good.
I huff and storm into the airport. I look through my lashes, spotting every piece of equipment I noticed when I arrived. There are cameras everywhere. I could wipe them, concealing the fact I’ve been here, but they might need that footage for actual threats, and it’s not in my nature to help criminals. I head directly to the storage desk. A woman with a no-nonsense blonde bun sweeps her gaze over my white bandage dress and leather jacket swamping my small frame, before lifting her chin at Hunter and narrowing her eyes. For that reason, I like her. Most people see the bad boy biker and swoon at his feet. Not Frances, as her name tag declares. She’s not fooled by long eyelashes and a smug smile suggesting he knows exactly how to make a woman scream his name. Wait, screaming his name? What is wrong with my brain right now?
Hunter hands me his phone as we reach the desk, the screen already unlocked.
“Hi. How can I help?” Frances asks.
“Picking up my bag. Give me a sec, and I’ll have the receipt for you,” I mutter as I log into my email and pull up the confirmation. I show her the confirmation number, tapping against the counter without realizing.
“ID?” she asks.
“It’s in my suitcase. I can show you once you retrieve it.”
“Okay, let me grab it for you.”
She disappears into the room behind her. Hunter turns to survey the airport, leaning against the desk and folding his arms. Panic worms its way through me as my thoughts flit through hundreds of possibilities, all of them leading me to one immediate destination. I have things in Chicago that would tip off anyone connected to Jonathan, proving I was hunting them. Best case scenario, Christopher loses interest and chalks me up as the one that got away. But if he gains access to my home, questions will be raised.
“Where would you go?” he asks, interrupting my doom spiral.
“What?”
“On a flight. Where would you go?”
“I need to make a pit stop at my apartment in Chicago before disappearing.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?” I snap. I don’t have the energy to unpick people’s subtle cues.
“We can drive up to Jacksonville tonight. I have somewhere I can drop my bike, then we can get a flight to Chicago. Should be enough to put a little distance between them and us.”
“No.”
He cocks a brow. “No?”
“No, I don’t need you to hold my hand on a flight home. No, I don’t need protection to get to my apartment. Just no.”
“We can discuss it on the way to the airport.”
“We are already at an airport.”
“You’re funny.”
“Not intentionally.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as Frances appears with my bag, side-eyeing Hunter like she’s debating on alerting airport security to orchestrate some kind of epic take down. Alas, she chooses option B, a mean stare that conveys her displeasure that he’s in her space. I can understand. I unzip the front pocket and show her my passport. She nods, then Hunter swipes the bag and leads the way into the muggy night, knowing I will follow as he holds my possessions hostage.
“Are you attached to the bag itself? I need to repack the contents into the bike’s storage.”
I flinch as he unzips my case and pulls out my belongings, stuffing them inside the tail box. He arches a brow at my black lace panties before making a show of folding them and tucking them in his jeans pocket with a wink.
“Hey, those aren’t yours.”
He snorts as he tucks my electronics into another zip pouch. “Call it payment.”
“What for? They won’t fit you.” I blink as he transfers my chargers from my bag to his. My electronics—oh shit. I lurch forward. “I’ll do the rest.”
I catch the edge of the bag, and it jerks to the side. As if in slow motion, the contents spill onto the concrete in a tumble of fabric and...
A wide wicked grin splits his face as he picks up my bright pink vibrator. “Planning on some fun alone time?”
Why is it more embarrassing that he’s holding it than it was talking about it with a bunch of strangers in first class?
“A lady should never travel without her favorite toy.”
“This is your favorite?” He glances back at the toy, surprise and intrigue morphing his face. “Why?”
“Are you kidding me right now? We need to put miles between us and this city.”
He tilts his head as I kneel to pick up the other items from the ground. His gaze darkens, and I roll my eyes. Not happening in a million fucking years, buddy.
“Tell me why it’s your favorite, and I’ll drop it.”
I dart my hand out to grab it, but he’s faster and taller. And now he’s waving my vibrator around in the air like he’s hailing a cab. Fuck my life.
“Speed? Strength? Outside? Inside?” He winks like this is a secret between the two of us. It might be if he wasn’t hailing the heavens with a sex toy. “Tell me, Ghost, what about this particular toy makes it worthy of its crown?”
A young couple stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the bright pink silicone before hopping into an Uber.
“You are insufferable,” I grit out.
He tilts his head and licks his lips. His very full lips. Soft, welcoming lips that look like they could do a million and one things to my body and make it sing. But I’ve learned from experience that fantasy is always better than reality. Hunter doesn’t realize it, but he’s better off living in my imagination. That way, he can’t disappoint me.
I huff. “Speed setting two. Start on the clit, then finish inside. That toy can make me come in under five minutes, making it my favorite.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“There’s something to be said for the surety of getting off in under five minutes with a tried and tested method, but you are one hundred percent missing out.” He tucks the toy in the box and closes it before leaning down to stare into my eyes. I fight the urge to take a step back from the raw heat burning in his gaze. Carnal. That’s the look he’s wearing. And it’s directed at me.
“I’ll survive,” I whisper as I swallow.
His eyes drop to my throat. “Surviving isn’t living, Ghost. Perhaps if you stopped running from everyone and everything you think might be capable of getting under that thick skin of yours, you might be surprised.”
“People never surprise me, Hunter. They only disappoint.”
“You don’t give them the chance.” He hands me a helmet. “Let’s go. We have miles to eat and a flight to catch.”
I have a flight to Chicago. Not we . This is a path I have to walk alone.