Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6)

“Is that the girl he’s always going on about? And she’s with that bowl-headed dork? I’d say he could get up on that.”


“I’d say so, too. Although Tobias does have quite the personality. He’s a tech genius and does all the surveillance for the Bones.”

“Is that so? Then I might have need of him.”

“Yeah. If you want to put a tracker on anyone or look up their cell records, that sort of thing. He’s your man.” We went behind the shadow side of the shed. With a slightly creepy shudder I realized the sign over the door said UXO STORAGE. That was nice of the army to put the unexploded ordnance far away from the hangar.

I folded my hands in front of my skirt. “Fox, I’ve got a sister. Now I’m going to trust you on this. Can I trust you not to tell another living soul? Not even Ford or Lytton?”

He seemed mystified enough to promise anything, so of course he nodded. “Sure thing, Pippa. If I couldn’t keep a secret, I’d be out of a job.”

“Good. Because my life literally depends on it.”

Not only did he nod again, he took my shoulders in his hands. He sort of bent at the knees to look me in the eye. “You can rely on me.”

I was so stunned at his touch, my dilemma with Shelda temporarily took wings and flew into the stratosphere. But he took his hot palms off me and folded his arms respectfully.

“For governmental reasons, I’m not allowed to contact my sister. Or anyone in my family. I’m a federal witness in an important case and I’m here for my own protection.”

He nodded. “WITSEC.”

Oh. I hadn’t seen that coming, how savvy he was to such things. “Exactly. WITSEC.” It felt weird saying it aloud. “I’m from Corpus Christi, Texas.”

“No shit.”

I frowned, but relaxed when I saw he was giving me shit. “Did my accent give it away?”

“You’re shore as shootin’ not native to these parts,” Fox said with an exaggerated twang. “Go ahead.”

“So the DOJ—that’s the Department of Justice—sort of screwed me over on this one. Shelda was supposed to be relocated with me. She agreed to it, and everything, even though she’s not a witness. I’m single”—I said pointedly—“so there was no spouse to relocate. I wanted Shelda, and my sweet dog Monstro.”

“But they didn’t.”

I wiped my eye on the back of my hand. “But they didn’t. They relocated her, because her safety was threatened by the same people I’m testifying against. But I have no idea where she is. They assured me my dog is with her, but who knows? Oh, God!”

This time Fox did wrap his arms around me. I’d admitted my most deadly secret to him. If he’d been a different sort of man, he could have used this against me in all sorts of lethal ways. It was a big step, admitting this. But the end would justify the means if only he could find Shelda and Monstro for me.

Turning my head, I pasted my cheek to his bare flesh. I breathed in his essence, sort of an outdoorsy scent. I even dared to snake my hands around his incredibly taut waist, to be soothed by the solid plane of his torso.

“And you want me to track her down.”

I nodded, a tiny little kid’s nod.

He took my chin in his fingers and forced me to face him. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

I shook my head.

“Pippa, I’m on the run myself. I can’t enter New Mexico or they’ll nail my ass to the floorboards. In case you wondered why someone would give up a thriving law practice to become a hitman, well, that’s why.”

“Did you—”

I was going to say “commit perjury” or some other legal term for lawbreaking, but he stopped my words by pressing his thumb to my lips.

“I have a brother I can’t see either, in Taos. He’s disabled—he’s got muscular dystrophy, and I wire money every month, but I can’t go back to see him.” He didn’t remove his thumb, so I let him talk. I knew how it felt to have no one to talk to. He must’ve figured since I entrusted him with my big secret, he could spill to me, and I was honored. “Every day it breaks my heart that I can’t see him. He must be confused.”

I knew that children with muscular dystrophy often didn’t make it to their thirtieth birthday. But it would be rude to bring that up, so I just looked up at him, stroking his face with the backs of my fingers. He moved his thumb to let me talk. “We’re kind of the same, then.”

He nodded. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Don’t accept the identity the government has made for you. You make your own story. That’s one thing you still have control over. Creating your own story.”