Chapter 23
Freya
It was frustrating as hell. Confusing, too.
I couldn’t understand Jed’s behavior. Last night, I’d helped him. Demonstrably, measurably, materially, not just with sexual favors. Real help. A new lead, a new line of inquiry, a big step forward. At least, I hoped it would be. Please, God.
I suppose I’d thought that would automatically change my status, but it hadn’t. If anything, Jed was behaving worse than he had before. More rude and grumpy, more scowling, more uncommunicative.
And I was getting my feelings hurt, which I had sworn I would not do. But damn it, the sex last night had been so intense. I thought that we’d turned a corner together. That our souls had touched, and nothing could ever be the same again.
I was embarrassed at my own foolishness. This had been a disaster begging to happen, and surprise, surprise, it had happened sooner, rather than later.
Clearly, last night hadn’t meant anything to him. So I needed to grit my teeth and grow up. Right freaking now.
It was a good thing we were only about a seven-hour drive away from Portland. He’d shaken me awake at four to tell me to get ready. On the long, silent drive, he’d been even more cold and unreachable than yesterday, which was saying a great deal.
We were on the outskirts of Portland slightly before noon. Jed stopped at a coffee shop, ordering sandwiches and coffee at the drive-thru without asking my preferences. He glared over at me as he pulled up to the window to pay.
“Get your head down,” he said sharply. “Pull down the hat. And slump.”
I oozed downward on my seat with bad grace as he paid, waiting again when we picked up the food. He passed the bags to me and pulled back out onto the freeway.
“Where are we headed?” I asked him.
“Our hotel,” he said.
“I’ve seen a bunch of them already,” I said. “They’re everywhere, right off the highway.”
“I already picked one out last night,” he said.
“Oh, really? Which one? And where? And why not tell me?”
“I didn’t feel like discussing it.”
I tried not to grind my teeth. There was no point even trying to be civil to that man. I pulled out one of the coffees, popped a hole in the plastic lid, and sipped.
Oh, God. Tongue-scalding, black as night, bitter as gall. Jed hadn’t asked for sugar or cream, or anything contemptible and frivolous like that. I had nailed his vibe. The beverage was meant to be both bracing and punishing. A drink to kick your ass.
Dickhead. I let out a breath and braced myself. “So. What’s the plan today?”
“What part of ‘I don’t feel like discussing it’ did you not understand?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe the part where you fuck me until I can barely walk and then treat me like total shit the next day.” There was no way to keep that one under wraps. It had to burst out, or it would eat me up from the inside.
Jed didn’t look at me, but his jaw tightened under the beard. “That was a mistake,” he said.
Oh, wow. That hurt more than it should have. I’d been trying to grind through all the inconvenient feelings provoked by this rude, oversexed dipshit for the last four hours, and he had just undone all that hard work in a hot instant.
“Yeah, that’s clear,” I said. “All ten times, or however many times we did it. I lost count. That was a whole lot of mistakes, Jed. One might actually start questioning your judgment. Maybe even your sanity.”
“I’m sorry if you’ve decided to get your feelings hurt, but that can’t be my focus right now,” he said. “I’m working.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said. “Like, the plan.”
“Just shut up, Freya. I’m concentrating.”
Oh, man. I clenched my fists, imagining my fingers wrapped around his throat, but looking at that thick, sinewy, corded neck of his, I could probably do my absolute worst and he would barely notice the pressure. Shooting him would be more efficient.
I abandoned my attempts at conversation as we took a smaller highway which led us out into an industrial district, full of factories and warehouses, the occasional forest and field still scattered between them.
He slowed down and pulled into a parking lot, with a run-down motel.
“Houlihan’s Motel the motion detectors, the cameras, his grim, purposeful ritual.
Then he pulled out a power drill, and swiftly installed two new and much larger, more powerful locks onto the front door of the cabin.
He tested the hinges with a grunt of disgust. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.
“I might as well not have bothered.” He proceeded to get to work on the windows.
“You can drill holes in a hotel?” I said. “Won’t the management be pissed?”
“I’ll give them money,” he said brusquely. “They’ll be fine.”
Fair enough. Money did smooth over a lot of rough places.
Since Ethan started making serious money in his mid-twenties, back when I was still a teenager, our lives had gotten a whole lot easier.
Then Shane followed suit after he retired from the military, with Ready Line Security.
Both my brothers had done very well for themselves financially, and both of them had expected to support me. Insisted on it, even.
But I had other plans. Other people’s money had too many strings attached. No matter how generous my brothers were, I needed my own fonts of income. Which is why I got the engineering degrees, and developed all my many side hustles.
Jed put his tools away, and tore open the sack of food which I had left on the table in the kitchen. He pulled out the two paper-wrapped sandwiches and tossed one at me. “Eat,” he said brusquely. “You need to keep your strength up.”
I caught the thing, looking down at it with hostile eyes. The unchosen, un-asked-for turkey sandwich from the coffee shop. I was tempted to tell him to stick it up his ass, but that would be childish, emotional Freya talking.
Tough, calculating, grown-up Freya thought about staying strong, keeping her wits about her. That required food, so I bit back the diatribe and unwrapped it.
It pissed me off how freaking delicious it was.
Right-out-of-the-oven sourdough bread, soft Havarti cheese, herbed mayonnaise, thick-sliced, fresh-baked turkey, slabs of juicy, tangy red tomato, and leaves of frilly, crunchy lettuce.
I was betraying myself by enjoying it as much as I did.
I ate every bite and licked my fingers. But I kept my back turned, since I’d die before giving him the satisfaction of seeing me like it.
Jed ignored me, anyway, so it hardly mattered. He ate his sandwich quickly, then ended up in the bathroom. He set the shower running. There had been no time for a shower at the crack of dawn, not with Jed hurrying me to get going.
I got an eyeful of his gorgeous naked body as he came out, running the towel over his broad, damp chest, lifting thickly muscled arms to dry thick tufts of hair under his pits.
When he saw me look, he got half-hard instantly, and the usual alchemy ignited the air between us. But goddamnit, I didn’t want it to.
It made me so angry. At my own body, principally. Just looking at him made me instantly wet, which of course made him go completely hard. Because he sensed it. I don’t know how, but he did. He got right inside my mind. The bastard.
Then he picked up the phone, dialed. “Could you put me in touch with housekeeping? Yeah, thanks. I’m Jay Warren, staying in Cabin 34. I want to request someone come and service the cabin tomorrow morning early, at seven AM.”
That was weird. I turned around to gape, and got an eyeful of his stunning, muscular ass. His broad, powerful back. Always a fresh shock to my overloaded system.
“…yes, I know…but no, we’re not leaving early.
I need someone there no later than seven.
I need the room serviced at that hour…yeah, I know, but I’ll leave a hundred-dollar tip under the lamp on the dresser for whoever gets there by that time.
If no one comes by seven, no tip…yeah, exactly.
So can I expect someone?…excellent. I appreciate your collaboration.
So, I’ll be seeing one of your staff tomorrow morning, then?
Great…thank you very much. Have a great day. ”