They told Jack that Elle had been adamant about getting in to see him at the hospital. She hadn’t cared about the rules, or the police. There had been no way to keep her out. Or so they’d told him.
She’d stayed with him every day while he was in critical condition. Then, the second his status had been updated from dying to conscious piece of shit in a boatload of pain, Elle had disappeared. Which sucked ass, because she was the only person he would have wanted to talk to, yet he was stuck being debriefed and questioned by the feds and several other government agencies, with Ronnie and the Bowens fussing over him. All of them carefully tiptoeing around mentioning Elle. After a couple of days, he’d stopped asking where she was and demanded his laptop. He knew how to contact her.
It hadn’t worked.
Elle knew where he lived, where his bar was. Heck, he’d been all but chained to a hospital bed for weeks, staring at the fucking ceiling, yet she hadn’t come to him or answered a single one of the many e-mails he’d sent her. He’d created profiles on all the major social media sites and messaged her. Nada. A monumental fuck-off if he ever got one, not that he could let that stand. If she wanted to dump him, she would have to tell him straight to his face.
He still had the keys to her place and he had no qualms about a little home invasion, but at this time of night she was at the restaurant, and waiting until her shift ended wasn’t an option.
He glanced at Rosita’s windows.
There she was. Elle. His pet.
She was so beautiful. She’d cut her hair short, which made her even more beautiful if that were possible, her features on display without the mane of hair taking any attention from them. So starkly gorgeous in her simplicity. Just a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. No heavy makeup, just some lip gloss on her luscious mouth.
Jack missed her so fucking badly. Her sweet smiles and her sarcastic comebacks. The way she always found an opening to touch him. How she soothed him with just a glance. He missed everything. Every-fucking-thing.
He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He couldn’t live without her. Time to man up and bite the bullet.
As luck would have it, Rosita’s was full, and not only with patrons. All the Bowens were there, kiddies included. Whatever. That wouldn’t derail him. Nothing would derail him.
Elle was at the back and didn’t see him coming in. James and Max did, and they walked to him.
“You sure you want to do this here?” James asked.
Sure? Not in the least. Nevertheless, he nodded curtly. He didn’t have any other option; he wasn’t leaving without talking to her.
Tate hurried to him and hugged him. “Go to her,” she whispered. “Before she sees you and bolts.”
Right. Very reassuring.
ELLE WAS TAKING Mrs. Copernicus’s order when she noticed the old lady was looking behind her, waving and smiling. Elle turned and froze.
Oh God. Jack was in front of her. The need to envelop him in her arms and kiss him was so strong, she had to fist her hands and lock her legs to stop herself from jumping at him.
“I need to talk to you, pet,” Jack said, his voice husky.
She glanced around. “I’m working.”
Jack didn’t move a muscle. “I’ll wait as long as I have to. Or talk in front of them. Don’t care.”
The patrons didn’t seem to mind either. Mrs. Copernicus, as a matter of fact, had turned around and was snacking on the bread sticks as if she were watching a movie.
“Go. I’m taking over,” Tate told her, realizing they were going to need privacy.
Jack and Elle stepped to the side.
He looked good; a bit skinnier and paler than his normal self, but she guessed that was what a hole in your insides and four weeks in a hospital did to you.
“You okay?” she whispered.
Jack nodded. “I was released the day before yesterday.”
“I know.” She’d been fighting herself not to go to him.
“You didn’t come to visit. Didn’t answer my e-mails,” he said, his tone dripping with bitterness.
She latched on to the last part. The first part she didn’t even want to delve into. “What e-mails? I haven’t been checking them.” She’d been trying to wean herself off the Internet, so she’d kept away from her laptop. “Have you been writing me?”
He nodded, yet he remained silent.
She was dying to ask about that, but she stopped herself. “I’ve reduced my cyberactivities.”
“So I heard,” he answered. “I’ve decided to reduce my activities too.”
That caught her by surprise. “Really? Because you didn’t have many to begin with.”
“The life-threatening ones.”
“Your schedule is wide open, then.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Her attempt at joking had backfired and the following silence was so heavy she couldn’t breathe. “Was there something you wanted?”
He drew a deep breath and locked eyes with her. “I fucked up when I walked out on you. You were right. I was being a coward. I’m here to correct my mistake.”
“I appreciate you saving me, but you might have been right; we aren’t a good fit. You’d better go.”