8. Eric #2
“You’re the one who asked a question.”
“A rhetorical question.”
“What the hell are you doing out here? That’s a real question.”
“Reconnaissance. What did you think?”
I started to speak, and he once again pressed his hand to my mouth. This time, I inhaled his scent—sweat and spice and an earthy, woodsy smell. I wanted to lick his palm, but I had at least that much self-control.
“I found your friend’s grandson. He’s on his way to a safe house now, and we’ll return him when our operation is over. Now do your best not to make a sound.”
He turned around and I could only assume he expected me to follow him.
I wanted to stand there unmoving and see what he did, but he looked right on the edge, too close to losing control.
I didn’t want to witness that. I could feel the tension inside him and knew it was too close to the surface.
Would I be safe if he lost it? I wasn’t going to find out if I could help it.
I followed him, moving as quietly as I could. I used to think I was damn good, but Ambrose was absolutely soundless.
All the questions I wanted to ask buzzed in my head.
How had he found the boy, and how the hell did he already have him on his way to safety?
Several times, I had to press my lips together to stop myself from speaking.
Had I forgotten everything I’d learned? There was no telling who else was out there watching.
Ambrose was right. We needed to be quiet, even though he was making me crazy in far too many ways.
Ambrose led me out of the woods to where a motorcycle stood next to a tree on what couldn’t really be called the road but probably was accepted as one by the locals.
Without saying a word, he took a helmet from the storage compartment and held it out to me.
I took it from him, and he threw his leg over the bike and started the engine.
When I didn’t move, he raised his chin, signaling for me to get on behind him. I knew I didn’t have a choice, but before I moved, I tapped my helmet and pointed to him. He shook his head. Apparently he was too cool to wear one.
I glanced back toward the woods, and Ambrose grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him. I climbed on the damn bike behind him and had no choice but to grab hold of his waist as he rocketed off. We flew down the dirt path, moving much too fast, but he drove beautifully.
I was actually starting to enjoy the ride when he left the road, zooming between trees. If he was following a path, I sure as hell couldn’t see it. I had to duck as limbs nearly hit me and we went airborne several times as he hit huge roots.
What the fuck was he doing? I’d glanced behind us several times and never saw any sign of pursuit.
Finally, we came out of the woods onto another dirt road similar to the one we had left. How had he known about this shortcut?
We kept going, flying down the road at an insane speed. If he hadn’t been the skilled rider he was, we would surely have wiped out on one of the turns.
I’d never been so thankful Louisiana was as flat as it was. If we’d been flying over hills and down steep inclines, I wasn’t sure we would have survived.
I knew Ambrose would scoff at my fear, but while I may have faced a lot of dangerous situations, those were risks I chose to take. They were planned and calculated for the most part, and I had contingencies. This ride was as wild and chaotic as Ambrose.
After what felt like at least half an hour of riding to God knows where, Ambrose pulled over onto the side of the road in a small dirt lot likely used by hunters.
He dismounted the bike with impressive agility. I did the same as I pulled off my helmet, but he shook his head. “Don’t move. I’ve got to take a piss.”
I watched as he stomped off into the trees, unable to keep my gaze from falling to his ass, which was perfectly cupped by his worn jeans. He was one beautiful man. His rough edges only made him more attractive to me.
I took the opportunity to relieve myself too since I had no idea when I’d have another chance. I pulled my phone from my pocket when I was done. I needed to check in with Janice, but I had no signal.
Ambrose was nearly back to the bike when I walked out of the woods. He grabbed my arm, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “I told you to stay put.”
“I’m just supposed to hold it when you’re not?”
“I would’ve showed you where to go when I got back. You can’t just wander off in bayou country. You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Snakes, bugs, and all kinds of nastiness I assume, but I only stepped a few feet in.”
“Don’t do that again,” he snarled.
“How did you find Ellen’s grandson?”
“When you have the right connections, you can find anybody. Fortunately, he’d realized what a big mistake he’d made getting involved with Carlotti’s operation.”
“Who is he with now?”
“A man I trust. Someone who works for Remington. Don’t worry. He’s safe.”
Ambrose might be completely crazy, but I did trust him to keep the boy safe. “Where are you taking me? I’m on duty today. I need to be back in St. Claireville.”
“We’re going to my house.”
He had to be kidding. “That’s got to be at least another?—”
“Twenty-eight minutes from here by my calculations.”
Surely he was making that up, but I refused to comment. “I can’t do that, not today.” Even though I was dying to see where he lived.
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
“You’re kidnapping me?”
He shrugged. “Call it what you want.”
“What if I put up a fight. I could refuse to get back on your bike.”
Ambrose gave a put-upon sigh. “Then I’ll have to knock you out and tie your unconscious body to me.”
With almost anyone else, I would’ve thought they were kidding. With Ambrose, I knew he would do just that if it suited his purposes.
“Why do we need to go to your house?”
“Because that’s the best place for me to shake some fucking sense into you.”
“Take me back to St. Claireville now.”