He shrugged. “To tell the truth, I have absolutely no idea. But let’s talk anyway.”
The answer was so unexpected—and so honest—that she couldn’t help but believe him. She knew it was stupid, yet something told her the big SWAT cop really wasn’t there to bust her. But just because she thought he wasn’t planning to slap cuffs on her in the next five seconds, that didn’t mean she was going to be friendly.
She folded her arms. “Okay. So talk.”
He looked around at the surrounding buildings with their broken windows and boarded-up doors, and she knew he was thinking this was a crappy place to talk. But it wasn’t like she could invite him back to the loft with her. That would go over so well with her alpha. And she was sure the Albanians would just be delighted.
This is one of the alpha SWAT cops I mentioned. He wants to chat, so could you give us some privacy?
Officer Hunky turned his blue eyes on her. “My bike is parked just a few blocks from here. I was hoping we could go for a ride and find another coffee shop.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Just to talk, Jayna. I promise.”
Her heart stopped. “How do you know my name?”
He winced, as if realizing he’d let something out of the bag, then ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “Um, yeah. I know your name—at least the name on the debit card you use to buy your lattes. But no one else knows. Not even my pack.”
Again, she didn’t know why, but she believed him. Still, it freaked her out that a man she’d known for all of thirty seconds knew her name—and her debit card number. She was about to ask how the hell he knew when he interrupted her with that charming dimpled grin of his.
“By the way, my name is Eric Becker. And I can give you my credit card number if it makes you feel better.”
She suddenly found herself forgetting her anger and instead thinking about how nice his name was. He looked like an Eric—big, strong, and handsome. And let’s not forget that great smile. Suddenly, Jayna couldn’t remember what it was she’d been concerned about just a few moments earlier.
“So, you okay with the coffee shop idea?” he asked.
If she said no, then what? He obviously knew where she lived, so even if she could get away from him, he’d only go to the loft and wait for her to show up.
She nodded, gesturing for him to walk ahead of her, then followed as he turned and led her back in the direction they’d come. She kept her distance, still cautious he might try something, though she wasn’t sure what. And as fast as he could move, she wasn’t sure she could stop him if he did try something.
She was surprised when he turned in a public parking lot after a few blocks. But the bigger surprise came when they stopped in front of an expensive-looking red-and-black Harley. That’s when she remembered him saying something about having a bike. She’d been so freaked over him knowing her name, she must have missed that little detail.
He undid the chin straps on the helmet attached to the small square of leather-covered cushion that constituted a backseat. How did he expect her to sit on that? It would be like balancing her butt on a piece of two-by-four. She was just realizing the small seat probably meant she was going to have to put her arms around him if she wanted to stay on the bike when another thought popped into her head.
“Did you park here knowing I’d run this way or is it just coincidence?”
She hoped it was the latter. If this guy was so good that he could figure out which way she was going to run before she even decided herself, she was completely screwed.
He handed her the helmet, then got on the bike. “A little bit of both actually. I was hoping you wouldn’t run, but if you did, I figured it’d be down this way.”
“But how did you know I’d stop?” she asked.
He tilted the bike to the side and used his heel to shove up the kickstand, then turned that devastating smile on her. “Honestly, I expected you to get tired and stop well before we got here. But you’re in better shape than I gave you credit for, and a hell of a lot faster.” He motioned with his chin toward the back of the bike. “Get on. I promise not to bite—unless you ask nicely.”
As she eyed the small backseat, she realized she should have probably been insulted by that comment about being in better shape than he thought. But she got the feeling he was trying to give her a compliment. Strangely, she found herself liking the silly idea that he thought she was fast. But just because she appreciated his compliment, that didn’t mean she was ready to jump on the bike with him yet.
“How do I know you won’t just take me to the nearest police station?” she asked.
He pushed a switch, making the bike rumble and vibrate. She’d never been on a motorcycle before, hadn’t even stood this close to one while it was running. It felt powerful.