Chapter Ten
The Kings surrounded my car as we drove, five ahead and five behind, both sets formed into a phalanx.
Jakob led the way. I thought we’d stick close to town, near the center of King territory, but as we wound out of Kearny and started gaining altitude in Hill Country, I began to wonder where the hell Jakob was taking us.
“Interesting friends you have,” Gran said, turning toward me in her seat.
“They’re not my friends,” I told her.
“Accomplices? Comrades? Fellow criminals?” she pressed.
“I’m not in the Kings.”
“Good. One set of lawbreakers is enough for a family.” She peered through the windshield at Jakob’s wide back. “Though I might be willing to make an exception about letting one more in.”
I sighed. “I told you it isn’t like that.”
“And I’m still calling bullshit.”
“We would kill each other within the first week if we tried to date,” I said.
Last night proved that. What happened between Jakob and me had been less like a kiss and more like a physical altercation.
Beth said he wasn’t the kind of man to hit women, and I believed her.
I wasn’t the violent type either, and yet I’d all but choked him out in my desperation to close the distance between us.
A soft chuckle filled the car, pulling me from my thoughts. “Nothing like a little friendly violence to spice things up.”
I choked and almost swerved off the road. “Gran!”
“Do mind the wheel, sweetie,” she said, patting me on the back.
“Why are you always trying to send me back to therapy?” I whined. “Why can’t you just pester me about getting married and having babies like all the other grandmothers?”
She sent me a devious look, and her lips parted on what was sure to be a traumatizing comeback.
I tried to cover her mouth and drive at the same time. “If you say anything else about you and Grandpa, I will turn this car around and let the drug dealers have you.”
Wisely, she changed course. “Did you two mend your lovers’ quarrel from yesterday?”
“It wasn’t a lovers’ quarrel,” I said. “And yes, we did.”
“How’d he make it up to you?” she asked.
By following me home and kissing me senseless. “He apologized for being a jerk.”
“And did you apologize for being a jerk?”
“Who said I was a jerk?”
She was so quiet that I risked another glance at her. Her right brow was arched, and she gave me the same look I’d received countless times during my youth, the one that said, I see right through you, missy.
“I apologized,” I muttered.
“Good. Knowing when to admit that you were wrong is half the battle. You two will be just fine.”
I managed to resist the urge to correct her again. Once Gran got something into her head, there was no persuading her to change her mind. I’d asked Dr. Perez if that was a symptom of Alzheimer’s, but she said no, it wasn’t; it was a symptom of stubbornness.
An hour into the drive, the first pair of Kings veered off, leaving us with eight guards. Five minutes later, the next set fell behind, and then the next pulled a U-turn in the middle of nowhere. Eventually only Jakob was left.
My car’s engine whined as we climbed out of an old river basin. The road carved right through the red rock of the hill, obscuring our view until we got to the top.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Gran said when we’d reached the summit.
I had to agree with her. Spread out before us was a plateau of farmland dotted with ranches and crop fields.
Jakob led us into the very heart of it before making a right-hand turn onto an unobtrusive dirt road.
Half a mile down it, we passed beneath an arch that read FRIHET RANCH, and I realized this wasn’t a road; it was a driveway.
The lane turned left, and as I followed the curve, a house came into view in the distance.
It sat a little way down the hill from us, perched close to the edge of a drop-off.
Below it, a wide, slow-moving river wound lazily past. It was an idyllic setting, especially with the small herd of longhorns grazing in a nearby pasture.
“Where has your beau brought us?” Gran asked.
“No idea,” I said. This looked too nice to belong to the Kings.
Hill Country was known for its wild, tempestuous storms, and the house was designed for that.
It was large, but instead of being tall, it sprawled along the cliff edge, built in a modern style with stucco and pale stone cladding its exterior.
The rooflines were asymmetrical, set at sharp angles so rain would sluice right off.
Large windows looked out at the surrounding views.
Jakob pulled up to the garage and slid his bike in next to two Harleys.
I parked, leaving a car length between us, and Gran and I got out.
Bugs chirped from the nearby hayfield. Birds called from overhead.
Someone had planted a willow tree in a low spot far enough away from the house that the roots wouldn’t wreck the foundation, but even at this distance, I heard the breeze sighing through its bowed branches.
Tawny red flashed in my periphery. I turned just in time to watch a golden retriever bound down the front walk toward us.
It caught sight of Jakob and started barking maniacally, changing course to barrel straight at him.
Jakob crouched down to greet the dog and was almost knocked off his feet when it hit him at full speed.
It jumped and whined all over him, trying to lick his hands, his face, wiggle as close to his big body as it possibly could—not that I could blame the thing.
The scene reminded me of one of those YouTube videos where a loyal dog is reunited with their human after being separated from them, and a sinking suspicion yawned open inside me.
The dog fell off Jakob and turned to Gran and me next. We braced ourselves for impact.
A sharp whistle cut through the air. “Molly, you get back here now!” a man called.
The dog hesitated for one second, whined at us like she’d be back, and then took off, sprinting toward a blond man as large as Jakob.
He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties and padded down the walkway in a pair of worn-out jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt.
His arms were sleeved in faded tattoos, and his feet were bare.
Just behind him was a petite redheaded woman wearing a loose, sleeveless dress over leggings.
They looked like a pair of wealthy, aging hippies.
The man’s gaze met mine, and a shock of recognition zipped through me. I knew those eyes. I’d watched them ice over a hundred times.
Gran noticed the resemblance too. “I see looks run in the family,” she said.
Jesus Christ, these were Jakob’s parents. He hadn’t brought me to a safe house; he’d brought me home.
The man I assumed was Jakob’s father reached him, grinning in an open way that his son hadn’t inherited. “Hey there, stranger.” His voice was deep and a little rough around the edges, like he’d spent his youth smoking.
Instead of hugging, the two men shook hands.
The petite woman, who I was pretty sure was Jakob’s mother, was less formal.
As soon as the men broke apart, she grabbed Jakob around the shoulders and pulled him down in a surprising show of strength, hugging him for a solid minute.
I heard the soft hint of a feminine voice, but whatever she said to him was carried away by the breeze before it reached my ears.
There was something about meeting a person’s parents that always made me nervous. Usually I didn’t get too worked up about what others thought of me, but all bets were off when it came to the loved ones of people I cared about. I nearly sweat right through my shirt the first time I met Nina’s mom.
For the past few days, I’d told myself over and over again that Jakob meant nothing to me.
That he was just a man I’d slept with. The butterflies in my stomach exposed that for the lie it was.
If I didn’t care about him in at least some small way, the imminent threat of meeting his parents wouldn’t make me feel like I was about to throw up.
Jakob and his mother pulled apart.
He turned to me and confirmed my fears. “These are my parents, Liam and Jennifer. Dad, Mom, this is Krista and her grandmother, Izzy.”
The four of us exchanged hellos.
Liam gestured toward the house. “Why don’t you come on in and tell us why your girlfriend has blood on her jeans.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I said, just as Jakob bit out, “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Liam snorted, looked between us, and turned toward the house. “Sure she’s not,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Gran cackled like this was the most fun she’d had in years, then slipped her arm through Jennifer’s as they followed Liam. Jakob and I stayed where we were, staring after them with that particular brand of long-suffering look reserved for children with embarrassing elders.
Molly chose that moment to jump on me. I nearly fell over backward.
“Yes, hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” I shot up a deflecting hand. “No, you may not lick my open mouth.”
“Down, Molly,” Jakob said.
She dropped back to all fours and weaved between us, tail wagging so fast that her whole body wiggled.
“You brought me home,” I said.
Jakob shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s the safest place I could think of.”
Oof. Nope. Not going to analyze that statement right now. “Won’t I be putting your parents at risk?”
He turned to me with his signature fuck you face. He looked pissed off, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t and that this was just how his facial features registered any strong emotion. Angry? Scowl. Confused? Scowl. Turned on? Scowl, but make it look sexy.
“You didn’t see the bikes?” he asked.
“I didn’t get a chance to look at them,” I said. I’d been a little preoccupied with the fact that he wanted me to stay with his family.