2. Burke
Burke
Even before she said the words out loud, I’d been picturing the sexy dark-haired woman with the caramel-colored highlights, on her knees in front of me. Submitting. And enjoying it.
Now that she’d said it out loud, and the way her entire body reacted to the words, I couldn’t think of anything else. My cock was an iron-bar in my jeans and my heart hammered uncontrollably against my ribcage.
Like a robot, I unloaded off the ferry with the rest of the passengers, and followed the stream of traffic until Google told me to turn right at the third set of lights.
The odds of any hitman or threat knowing my truck and that Evie was with me, was low, but not impossible.
So I kept my eyes on my six as best I could, watching for any vehicles that might be following too close for comfort.
I reached the hotel and made sure to park the truck myself, rather than rely on the valet.
I would come and check the vehicle myself before we got back in tomorrow morning, in case somebody had tampered with it.
The last thing I wanted was for some minimum-wage valet to climb into my truck and get blown up or something.
With our bags, we approached the front desk where I’d reserved our room under a pseudonym.
“Reservation for Kirk Longwood,” I said, approaching the front desk.
The front desk clerk’s eyes lit up, and her smile made her whole face shine.
“Of course, Mr. Longwood. So nice to have you. Let me just check on a couple of things here.” Her nude painted nails tapped away on the keyboard, the computer screen shining on her face.
“Looks like you’ve been bumped up to the presidential suite.
Courtesy of … Mrs. Scofield-Wark.” She glanced at me and I shrugged, not knowing anything about this.
We were just told to go to the Windward Pacific Seattle Hotel.
“I was also told to make sure you know all services are complimentary. Order what you like off the menu. That goes for the kitchen and the spa. Mrs. Scofield-Wark has taken care of everything.”
“I guess so,” I said, still a little dumbfounded. “Wow. Uh, thank her for us.”
“Holy crap,” Evie said, mostly under her breath.
The hotel employee produced two gold key cards. “These will take you right to your penthouse suite. Do you need help carrying your bags to your room?” Her gaze drifted over my shoulder at one of the bellhops, but I shook my head.
“We just have the two small bags; we can manage.”
I didn’t have to see her face to know Evie was rolling her eyes.
“You’re sure?” the woman asked. “I see you have an injury.”
I handed the gold keycards to Evie and picked up my carryon bag with my right hand. “Got it, thanks.” Then I nodded at Evie. “Shall we go, Mrs. Longwood?”
Her light brown eyes flew open wide for a moment at my name for her, but then she quickly recovered and flashed a big, beautiful smile. “Absolutely, darling.”
I followed her tight little ass toward the elevators where she flashed the card and the smudge-free bronze doors slid open silently. We stepped into the car; she flashed a card again, and up we went like Willy Wonka’s magical elevator. The ride was smooth, silent, and thick with tension.
The car went ding, and the doors slid open to reveal the presidential suite. There was no hallway, no corridor full of doors. Just an enormous room with a baby grand piano in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glowing city, speckled with lights.
Evie’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never been in a place like this before.” She glanced at me. “Have you?”
I shook my head. I’d never been in a place like this before either. I wasn’t sure if I could move. I didn’t want to break anything.
I knew that Barnes and Brier, the people who flew Evie up from Oregon to Seattle, were billionaires and owned a hotel chain with their family, but I had no idea they would put us up in their hotel, let alone the presidential suite.
Evie didn’t seem to have the same concerns about breaking things that I did, though, and she dropped her bags at the door before spinning into the suite, her arms wide, a gorgeous smile on her face.
I wasn’t as carefree, though. When the shock wore off, I set my bag on the ground beside hers, grabbed my nine-millimeter and began to scope out the suite. I checked for bugs; I checked for bombs; I checked for anybody hiding, even for booby traps.
Evie Sanchez was a key witness in the case Gabrielle and her team were building against Wyndham Croft and his two living sons. Taking her out would benefit the defendants greatly. It was my job—albeit one I volunteered for—to keep her safe from harm.
After I made sure there were no threats in the suite, I found Evie in the kitchen, her hands on the quartz countertop, eyes fixed out at the city. “Day or night, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
My eyes were on her. “Yeah. It is.”
Turning to me, she grinned. “Should we order something to eat? Are you hungry?”
I was always hungry. I was also very picky. I was a chef, after all, and hypercritical of any food I didn’t prepare myself. However, we were at a five-star hotel; I needed to have faith that the chefs here wouldn’t serve us soggy burgers and limp-dick fries.
Nodding, I grabbed the leather-bound menu off the counter and opened it. “Apparently, we can order whatever we want.”
She made her way toward me, leaning in close enough that I could smell her spicy, feminine scent. Her dark caramel-highlighted hair swung down like a veil across one side of her face, then she made a sexy little humming noise as she bit her lip and scanned the menu.
I shoved down the groan that bubbled deep in my chest and tried to hold my breath so I wouldn’t have to smell her.
But a person needs to breathe eventually, and even though I could hold my breath for well over two minutes because I was a marine who trained in this shit, I hadn’t practiced in a while. My lungs burned for oxygen, so I gave in.
Bad decision. She smelled even better after I deprived myself of oxygen.
Fuck.
Her finger pressed against the seafood list. “What do you think about the seared scallops? I’m such a scallop slut.
” She scoffed. “I’m a seafood slut, really.
If it comes out of the ocean and doesn’t squeak like a dolphin, I will absolutely eat it.
” Then she frowned. “Okay, well, maybe not a manatee. And I’d much rather eat a squid than an octopus.
Did you watch My Octopus Teacher? That turned me off eating octopus.
Okay, maybe not anything in the ocean, but I love seafood.
And knowing how big of assholes urchins are, made me try uni again and I don’t actually mind it.
I feel like I’m doing my part for the environment and kelp forests when I eat urchin. ”
Dear lord, the woman was a talker.
I nodded. “Scallops are good.”
“What else?” She sucked in a breath. “Ooh, they have ceviche. I definitely want that. And the prawn salad rolls. The ginger and lemongrass steamed muscles sound good too.”
“Order whatever you like,” I said, leaving her there in the kitchen. I needed to get away from that scent. From the heat of her and the way her hair fell across her face. “I’m gonna have a shower.” Then I headed off to one of the three bedrooms, shut the door and rested my forehead against it.
This woman had been through hell. I promised Wyatt I would remain respectful and keep her safe. But since meeting Evie, all I wanted to do to the woman was bury myself inside her and hear what kinds of noises she made as she came.
I couldn’t do that.
The woman was a victim of a horrific rape.
A rape that resulted in a pregnancy and then a miscarriage. Her rape kit mysteriously went missing from evidence, and now she was willing to open up about her experience in order to help all the other victims of Wyndham Croft and his sons get the justice they deserved.
I had to do this. This was not about me, my attraction to her, or my raging libido. This was about Evie being safe. About Evie putting her safety and privacy on the line to help others.
I lifted my head from the door and smacked my cheek with my good hand. “Get it together,” I grumbled before stalking off to the bathroom. I took one look at myself in the mirror and realized I wasn’t going to be able to get my shirt off by myself.
Fuck. Now I had to ask the woman I was slowly beginning to obsess over to undress me.
Just. Fucking. Perfect.
I did my best to stow my lust and frustration before I opened my bedroom door and rejoined her in the kitchen. She lit up when she saw me.
“There you are! Done already? I just ordered a bunch of food, so I think I’ll hop into the shower too.”
I shook my head. “Can’t get out of my shirt without help,” I said, embarrassed and barely able to meet her gaze.
Her brows flew northward. “Oh!” She immediately reached for the hem of my henley, but I backed away when her warm knuckles touched my skin. She frowned. “Isn’t that what you came out here for?”
Yes, it was. But I was thrown off by her instant willingness.
Grunting, I stepped forward again. “Yeah. Sorry. Need to remove the sling first, though.”
“Oh, right. Do you need my help with that?”
I nodded. “Please.”
Her movements were incredibly gentle, and every few seconds she’d check in to see if I was okay, or if she had hurt me. It was so sweet, but also getting really annoying. “I’m fine,” I finally said. “You don’t need to keep asking.”
With a weary shrug, her head bobbed. “Okay, you just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. When you need to stop, just say stop. I won’t ask again.”
Our eyes met for a moment, and amusement glittered in the soft brown of her gaze. She thought I was a bear and found it funny. Well, I was a bear at the moment. I grumpy, injured, worried bear.
With the sling off, she tucked her fingers back under the hem of my henley and helped me ease my good arm out of the hole, then when only my injured arm and shoulder were left, my torso bare, did we work together to slowly drag the soft material over the left arm.
It hurt, but I did my manliest best to keep my expression neutral.
“Do you need help with your pants too?” she asked, her tone mocking.
That made me smirk. “I got it from here, thanks.”
All she did was shrug. “Suit yourself. I’ll wait until you’re out of the shower, then I’ll have one. Holler if you need me to help you slide into a robe or something.”
I grunted and nodded before heading back to the bathroom.
It was harder than I thought, getting out of my jeans with one hand, but like hell was I going to ask for her assistance with that. Not when her touch made my cock twitch and thicken. If she saw that, I’d never forgive myself.
I showered as best I could, then struggled like an idiot to get the towel around my body when I got out.
I needed help, but fuck if I was going to holler and ask her to help me wrap a towel around my half-chub.
So, I did what any normal man in my situation would do.
I yanked on a pair of boxer briefs and sweatpants over slightly wet skin, and called it a fucking day.
Wandering into the living room, I found Evie curled up on the couch, with the gas fireplace roaring and a scrunched brow on her pretty face. She was staring at something on her phone. Unease sent a cold frisson straight up my spine. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
She glanced at me more out of the corner of her eye than anything, then huffed and turned her phone face down on the cream-colored leather couch.
“Just reading stuff about Track Croft and his death. Despite all the shit he’s done, posthumously, he’s being painted as a victim.
People should be rejoicing at his death.
I mean, some of us are. But the media are so skewed.
I’m sure his father is paying them to paint his son as a victim.
To sully Vica and the rest of us. That we preyed on him.
That we were after his money or some shit. ”
I reached for her phone. “Stop reading this garbage. We know the truth. And soon the rest of the world will too. Gabrielle is a … well, she’s icy, but I think in this case that’s going to be a good thing.
She’s not going to stop until she gets you, Vica, and all the other women the justice you deserve.
” I jerked my chin toward my bedroom. “I think I left you some hot water.”
That made her snort and pry her leg out from under her other leg, then finally stand up.
But she wobbled and toppled into me, sending us both back onto the couch, her splayed across my body, but left arm pinned between us.
A sharp stab of pain ricocheted up into my shoulder.
“My leg was asleep,” she said sheepishly.
“Sorry. Oh my god. Did I hurt your shoulder?” She started to wiggle, as if trying to climb off me, but it was only making things worse.
Swallowing and biting back the pain, my gaze drifted of its own accord to her perfect little mouth, then back up to her eyes, which blinked innocently at me. Oh, what I would give to see that look on her face as she slid my cock between that beautiful pout.
My cock jerked.
Fuck.
Like she had just told me she had leprosy, I gripped her by the biceps and gently set her back on her feet. “No biggie,” I said, standing up and showing her my back. “Go shower. I’ll grab dinner if it arrives.”
I didn’t see her leave, but only when I heard the shower in her room turn on, did I finally exhale.
Fuck.
Did she feel my cock twitch?
Growling, I shoved the fingers of my right hand into my short hair, then dragged them down my face. This was going to be the longest fucking trip off the island of my life. And we were only supposed to be gone a couple of days.