“I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” he said. “Besides, if I wanted to arrest you, I would have done it already.”
Jayna couldn’t argue with that. She put on the helmet, then cinched the chin strap and climbed on the bike.
“Why aren’t you wearing a helmet too?” she asked as she tried to figure out how to position her feet on the metal pegs below her and where to put her hands. She finally reached around and twisted her hands into the material of his hoodie, just above his hips. She couldn’t help but notice the rippling of his abs and hip flexors as he pushed the heavy bike backward out of the parking space.
He grinned at her over his shoulder. “I only have one helmet and I figure it’s more important to protect your pretty face than my ugly mug.”
She found herself smiling back at him. It had been a long time since any guy had thrown so many compliments her way, even ones so cheesy. But cheesy or not, she appreciated them.
Eric pulled the bike out onto the road, heading back toward Canton Street and the center of the city. She almost fell off as he sped up, and she had no choice but to lean in closer and wrap her arms more firmly around his waist. Not only did it press her breasts tightly against his muscular back, but it also put her hands really close to a part of his body she refused to let herself think about. She focused on his scent instead. He smelled even better than he had in the warehouse, and it wasn’t long before she had to lick her lips to keep from drooling. What was going on? She’d never felt like this around a guy before, not even another werewolf.
After a few minutes of zipping in and out of traffic, she had to admit this motorcycle thing was more fun than she’d expected. Being able to see the road racing by under her feet while the wind whipped across her face and through her hair was pretty cool. It was a lot like the sensation of freedom she felt when she got out in the country and could run as fast as she wanted. It made her feel like she could outrun all the problems waiting for her back at the loft.
She was almost disappointed when the bike slowed and Eric turned into the parking lot of another Starbucks. They were less than two miles from the loft, but it was far enough off the main road that there wasn’t much chance of anyone she knew stumbling on them.
By the time Eric ordered their drinks, she’d gotten most of his scent out of her nose and cleared her head enough to think straight. The ride had been nice, but there were some things she needed to know—now.
“So, Cop. How did you find me?” she asked the moment they sat down at a table in the corner.
He took a sip of his boring black coffee before answering. Why go to a Starbucks and order plain coffee? That was like going to a pizza place and ordering a cheese sandwich.
“Like I said, the name’s Eric,” he said as he set down his cup. “But my friends call me Becker.”
“Okay, how did you find me…Eric?”
He didn’t seem bothered by her snarky jab. Instead, he motioned toward her drink. “That.”
“My cinnamon dolce latte?”
“I found a partial Starbucks receipt with your scent on it in that crate at the warehouse. It had the name of that drink and a time stamp on it.”
She stared at him, trying to understand how he’d gotten from a scrap of paper with a few meaningless bits of data on it to actually sitting in front of her in a single day.
“You had a receipt with a time stamp and you found me just like that?”
He gave her what could only be a sheepish look. “Not exactly. It took a bit more work than that. First, I hacked into the credit card processing company that handles the Starbucks stores in the Dallas area, then dug through hundreds of card swipes until I came up with a list of stores that made a credit sale matching the cost of your drink and the time stamp. Then I slipped into the traffic and online security cameras around each of those stores and spent a few more hours watching grainy surveillance videos until I saw you walking down Canton Street a few minutes after buying your coffee.”
She couldn’t believe he’d spent all that time tracking her down just so he could talk to her. “But…how did you find out my name?”
He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. It was crazy seeing a guy as big as Eric looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Once I confirmed which Starbucks you went to, I was able to dig a little deeper into your credit history. It’s not hard to get a name when you do that. Though I had no way of knowing if it was fake or not. Is Jayna Winston your real name?”
She nodded. There was no reason to lie. He could obviously verify her name if he wanted to. He was good with a computer, and she’d never made an effort to hide her identity in the years since leaving Detroit. She hadn’t left much of a footprint before joining the pack, and afterward, they didn’t hang around any place long enough to leave an indelible mark.