She was still talking, something about medical insurance and hoping I had a good policy, so I kissed her to hush her. And also because I needed to. I needed to know she was safe, whole, unharmed. I needed to feel her body, her heartbeat against my chest.
I missed her. Oh, how I’d missed her.
After a stunned second, she kissed me back. My fingers slipped under her nightshirt—another silk button-up that fell to her thighs—and hers fisted in my sweater.
I loved her petal soft skin, her curves, how hot she felt beneath my hands. She burned up everyplace I touched. I needed to touch her everywhere.
I loved her taste, and how responsive she was, like she couldn’t think past what we were doing.
But then she stiffened and pushed me away, maybe just realizing what was happening. She turned and darted to the other side of the room, placing the bed between us. The back of her hand came to her mouth and Jess stared at me with big eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, shifting from foot to foot like she was ready to bolt.
My mind wasn’t prepared for talking, so I said stupidly, “We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.”
“When?”
“Before now.”
“When before now? You mean when you walked out on me at the cabin?” Her chin lifted, like my walking out was a sore spot for her. “Or when we were trapped at the biker compound?”
Being reminded of the cabin made my chest hurt, but being reminded of the danger I’d put her in at the compound made my blood pump cold and furious.
“Both,” I managed through my self-loathing, hating she’d been in danger because of me.
“Now? In the middle of the night? At my parents’ house? You know my daddy is the Sheriff, right?”
“Yes. I know.”
“So, what’s the plan, Duane? Do you think it’s a good idea getting caught sneaking into the house of a man who shoots people for a living?”
I flattened my lips into a straight line so I wouldn’t smile, because she sounded so serious. “Your daddy doesn’t shoot people for a living.”
“Well, it’s in his job description.”
I ignored her irrelevant, but funny statement and put the conversation back on track. “The truth is, I have no plan. I came here with no plan. And I know you can scream bloody murder at any moment and your brother and daddy will come flying in here, maybe with their guns, shooting first and asking questions later. But I need to talk to you—not later, right now—and I’m asking you to listen.”
She was frowning at me like she was concentrating, or torn, or both; abruptly she blurted, “Tina showed me her phone over Thanksgiving. She implied you were calling and texting her because you wanted her back, were still in love with her.”
“I was never in love with Tina. She was…convenient and willing…and a headache. When I found out you were coming back to town I called things off with her, and I haven’t looked back. And you were right. I should have done it years ago.”
“I believe you. I told her on Thanksgiving to go to hell, that I trusted you,” she said, but she was frowning. “But I don’t understand, why’d you go to the Pink Pony last Friday? Did you really want her to spy on the Order?”
I stiffened. “Where did you hear that?”
“When Claire and I were downstairs in that room with her father, Claire’s daddy told Repo that you and Beau had visited Tina at the Pink Pony last week, asked her to spy on the Order. She was the reason I was even there tonight. She’d called me and pretended to be in trouble.”
“Tina called you tonight?”
“Yes. Well, she called late this afternoon while I was with Claire. Tina acted like she was in trouble and asked me to come to the bar to pick her up. But Claire’s father said it was a set up. Tina set me up so you would go to the bar.”
Jess then proceeded to fill in the blanks, explaining that she’d called Sheriff James before approaching the bar, and that Claire had insisted on bringing the guns. She also told me Repo didn’t seem to have any idea that Jess was being used as bait.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and biting my tongue. What I wanted to say was, If I ever see your cousin again, I’m going to kill that bitch.
“For what?”
“For getting you involved. For putting you in danger.”
“That wasn’t you. That was my shitty cousin.” She waved away my apology. “But I’d like to know what this was all about. I couldn’t follow most of the conversation. Something about traps and drugs?”
I gathered a deep breath and returned her frown with one of my own. I needed to tell her the truth, but couldn’t tell her the whole story.
“You don’t want to tell me,” she said, her tone held a sharp edge of disappointment. “You still don’t trust me.”
“No. I trust you. But part of this story isn’t mine to share. I can tell you that the Iron Order was blackmailing Beau and me for the last month or so, trying to get us to do something illegal. We’ve been stalling and I thought maybe Tina could help. She wouldn’t return our calls or text messages, so Beau and I went to see her. I asked her for a favor and she said yes.”