“No,” she promised, trying to bank her jubilation over the text. “It’s just amusing to see how we’ve disconcerted everyone.”
“Fuck,” Brand muttered, then with a quick glance to verify what she’d said, he stood with her and made a direct line to the car, being certain every step of the way to put his body between hers and possible danger, then hoisting her in from the driver’s side and climbing in behind her. “Keep your head down.”
Trying to follow that order wasn’t easy, not in a long dress and heels. Soon as she got in the passenger seat, Sahara reached past Brand with the promised money for the valet’s friend. “You’ll give that to him?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The poor kid barely had time to get his arm out of the car before Brand slammed the door and drove off.
While she stayed ducked down as ordered, Brand sat erect in the driver’s seat. “Aren’t you worried about getting shot?”
“I’m not the one who was kidnapped or assaulted.”
“True.” Once they’d left the lot and gotten on a main street, Sahara slowly, hoping Brand wouldn’t object, straightened in her seat. She smoothed her dress and tidied her hair. “You should know, Ross promised me he wouldn’t hurt me.”
His hands locked on the wheel so tightly tension rippled up his forearms, through his biceps and into his neck and shoulders. “You’re on a fucking first-name basis?”
Her brows rose at his acerbic tone. “I wasn’t nice to him, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, I was utterly rude.” She shrugged. “It didn’t bother him. He almost seemed to admire me more for it.” Seeing Brand’s expression darken further, she scowled, too. “Do not say that F word again.”
Brand glared at her. “After all this, you’re offended by a word?”
“It’s unbecoming.” She set her purse on the seat next to her and chafed her arms, chilled now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Her wrap wasn’t sufficient to help. “However, I am offended that you had a groupie crawling all over you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’ll worry if I want to.”
Incredulous, Brand took a corner a little too sharply. “The way your mind works is—”
“Amazing? Thank you. I’m able to compartmentalize. The danger is over now—”
“You don’t know that.”
“—and I’m more than ready to explain to you how much I disliked your treatment.” Even though the Neanderthal approach had been a little thrilling, she couldn’t let it slide.
“No.”
“No?”
“We agreed that at times—especially times like this—I’d be the boss.”
“I thought you meant in bed!”
“That, too, sometimes.”
Her frown intensified.
“Tonight was dangerous, more dangerous than we expected. I did what was necessary and you don’t get to complain about it.”
Stunned by that, she half turned to face him. “That’s bull and you know it! Most of your initial reaction to Ross Moran was jealousy.”
“True.”
She gaped at him. “You admit it?”
“Sure. We’re in a relationship—we agreed on that, too, if you remember—but if it had only been jealousy, I’d have found the bastard and set him straight right then and there. Fact is, I wanted to do that. Bad.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen the strain. “I put your safety above my personal, very territorial feelings and attempted to get you out of there, away from harm.”
Huh. He’d admitted a lot there. She felt a warm glow expand. Tonight had been weird, but also somewhat magical.
Scott was likely alive and watching out for her, and Brand had just admitted to feeling territorial.
Under his breath, he added, “I didn’t know the prick would follow us out, have the balls to approach you in front of me, to dare to warn me or that someone would take a potshot at him with you standing so close by.”
Scott didn’t take potshots. He was an excellent aim. “I think Ross felt safe because he’d somehow manipulated Douglas into backing him. Having a DA on your side could be pretty good insulation against ramifications.”
“Maybe...but not this time.”
“Meaning?”
“Whatever it takes, we’re going to bury him.”
Sahara frowned. She wondered if that was jealousy speaking again. “Not until I’ve found out what he knows about Scott.” Then again, if her suspicions proved true, she wouldn’t need Ross Moran at all—and Brand could do whatever he wanted with the brute.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSS WASN’T IN the mood to hear all the nonsense. Around him, his cohorts badgered, argued and complained. It was annoying as fuck. “Enough already. What’s done is done.”
Olsen, his unofficial second in command, sat beside him. “Just because you’ve gone soft on her doesn’t mean the plan was bad. We still need our money, and she’s still the quickest, easiest way to get it.”
Ross shook his head. The bitter coffee he drank made his stomach burn. After the sleepless night he’d had, it was too early for this shit, too early to meet in an abandoned house, too early to be convinced that Sahara should still be a target.
And yet, at the same time, it was already too late for him.
He kept remembering the contempt in her beautiful blue eyes, her complete disdain when he mentioned grabbing dinner to talk. He’d thought for sure that she’d come along willingly to learn more about Scott. He’d have happily, ruthlessly, used her curiosity, and her love for her brother, against her.
But no, she was too sensible to fall for it. Even more troubling, she was already involved with a damned fighter who looked to be perpetually angry.
That burned worse than the shitty coffee.
Without inflection, hoping to discourage his nitwit cohorts, Ross said, “She’s a lost cause.” With any luck, the others would buy it.
Of course he didn’t mean it, not when it came to his personal involvement, but they didn’t know that.
“We disagree,” Terrance said. “Once we have her, she’ll pay up.”
Ross shook his head. “She’s too smart for us to catch her off guard again. She won’t be left alone, not for a single minute.”
The fighter stuck to her as if they were already married.
Except when he let Chelsea Tuttle grope him. What the hell was up with that?
Could it mean Sahara wasn’t really all that involved with him? He’d been watching her for a while and she never dated. Somehow, while he’d been growing enamored during his surveillance, she’d been hooking up without him noticing.
Hopefully, it was only a hookup—and with any luck, her angry protector wouldn’t bring more danger to her with his associations.
“So she has a man or two with her.” Olsen shrugged. “Big deal. We can handle that.”
“Those bodyguards of hers are ex-MMA fighters, not ill-trained street thugs. You saw what happened to those two.” He gestured at Andy and Terrance, whose wounds hadn’t completely faded yet from the beatings they’d received.
Terrance’s still-swollen nose sat off center on his face, framed by two black eyes. A patchwork of mottled bruising, splits and lumps covered Andy’s face. When he smiled, you couldn’t help noticing the missing tooth.
Ross shook his head. “Whoever rescued her that day worked the two of them over as if it was his job—a job he loved.” Ross was willing to bet it was her escort. That one certainly looked capable of inflicting all sorts of damage. Ross wasn’t afraid of anyone, but Sahara’s friend had given him pause.
“There are four of us,” Olsen reminded him. “And you’re the best at fighting.”
Yeah, he’d convinced them of that. Beating any one of them wouldn’t make him break a sweat, but that wasn’t saying much.
Still, he put on his macho act and nodded. “I can handle myself, but I don’t see the point in doing it. It’d be a waste of time because Sahara doesn’t know where Scott is. That means we can’t use her to make him pay.”
Andy gave a huff of disagreement. “She knows, but even if she doesn’t, so what? Body Armor is her company now, so she can damn well pay us.”