Rhys (16 page)

“I’d never let that happen,” Rhys said, lifting her chin. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m never going to let anything take you away. You’ll always be safe with me.”

Tessa couldn’t stop the smile that lifted her lips as she looked up into his eyes. “Is that a promise?”

“More than a promise,” he said. “A vow.”

Chapter Fifteen

Three Days Later

“Full house,” Charlie said. A wide grin showed on her face as she laid her hand down on the flimsy hospital tray that was positioned over her lap.

Tessa looked down at her own collection of mismatched cards. She didn’t have so much as a pair.

“Looks like you win the pot again,” she said in defeat.

Charlie’s smile faded a little as she looked down at the pile of flat white soda crackers.

“I have to get out of here soon,” she said, pulling them closer. “At least to some place where the food is a little better.”

Tessa laughed. “What are you talking about? The doctor said you might be able to spice up your diet as early as next week.”

“Yay,” she said. “Canned tomato sauce.”

“Hey, it’s better than crackers.”

“
Anything
is better than crackers.”

Charlie’s voice was still a little raspy, and it certainly wasn’t at full strength, but it was still filled with her signature humor.

The doctors had said it would be a few weeks before she or Jake were back on their feet, but at least they were recovering well. Which was nothing short of amazing given the hours of surgery they’d both been through.

Even more amazingly, neither one of them blamed her for what happened. Not that she’d been that easy on herself.

Rhys kept telling her that she didn’t have to come down to the hospital every day out of guilt, but that wasn’t the real reason she visited them.

The truth was, she really liked Charlie and Jake. They were her friends, and she didn’t want them to go through their recovery alone.

Suddenly, the fluorescent lights from the hallway were blotted out, and Charlie’s face lit up. Tessa turned around to see who was there and found a massive dark-haired stranger blocking the door.

“Bowie,” Charlie called out.

So, this was the mysterious Bowie Tessa had heard so much about. He certainly was tall. And dark. And she guessed he was hand—

Hey, wait a minute.

Tessa cocked her head to the side as he stepped into the room and came right to the end of Charlie’s bed. He didn’t even glance at Tessa. He only had eyes for Charlie.

Tessa knew the look well. It was the same one that she’d seen on Rhys’ face when he’d found her in the belly of Boyd’s yacht.

Tessa shifted her gaze back to Charlie. She was all smiles.

“When did you get back in?” she asked.

Bowie looked up from all the tubes and wires that Charlie was hooked up to. His thick dark brows slanted across his eyes.

“Never mind that,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Charlie laughed, and immediately started coughing. Bowie grabbed her hand, which only made Charlie smile wider.

“Oh, you big ninny,” she teased him. “I’m fine. The doctor said I’m going to have to stick around here for a little while, and that I’ll probably have to put off that marathon that I never planned on doing.”

Tessa gave a little laugh, and Bowie’s face snapped up at her. Tessa froze instantly under his glare.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Bowie, seriously. Mind your manners,” Charlie chided him. “This is Tessa Rosenthal.”

Tiny crinkles appeared around Bowie’s eyes.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, putting out her hand. “You were the one looking after my parents back in Boston. I owe you a big thanks.”

Bowie stared at her for another second before answering.

“Don’t mention it,” he finally said, his voice hard.

Wow
.

It seemed like Carter Macmillan had another recruit for his anti-Tessa club.

Of course, there was only one reason that this guy would dislike her so much on sight. The same reason he still hadn’t let go of Charlie’s hand.

Tessa wondered how Charlie couldn’t see just how deeply in love with her this man was.

Not that she was going to be the one to bring it up.

“Bowie,” Rhys’ familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

Tessa breathed out a sigh of relief as Bowie’s dark eyes swiveled away from her.

“When did you get in?” Rhys asked, stepping into the room.

“About forty minutes ago,” Bowie said.

“At least we know where he was this time,” Charlie said to Tessa. “Usually when he goes out on assignment, it’s a big secret. I mean really secret. Not even I can figure it out. And don’t think that I haven’t tried.”

“I’ve told you not to dig into that, Charlie,” Bowie said. His voice softened a great deal when he talked to her.

“You’re not the boss of me,” she joked.

“No, but Carter is, and he’s told you the same thing.”

Charlie shrugged her shoulders. “And when was I ever any good at listening to authority?”

Rhys moved over to Tessa’s side and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

Bowie’s eyes snapped to them and, even though he didn’t say anything, she could feel judgment oozing out of his every pore.

If Rhys felt the same thing, he didn’t show it.

“I just came from Jake’s room,” Rhys said, changing the subject. “I’m sure he’d like to see you before you leave.”

Bowie nodded. “How is he doing?”

Rhys’ mouth flattened. “The doctors say he’s going to be all right.”

Bowie cocked his head a fraction of an inch to the side, just far enough to say what his mouth wasn’t.

“He’s not taking it well,” Charlie said, translating the man code into actual spoken language. “He blames himself for my injuries and Tessa’s kidnapping. Which is ridiculous. If you could have seen these guys—”

“I would have torn them apart with my bare hands,” Bowie said.

“Of course you would have, big guy,” Charlie said, giving him a condescending pat on the hand. “But us mere mortals were ambushed. We never stood a chance. Not even Jake.”

Bowie went completely still. “They’ll pay for what they did.”

“Yep, they will,” Charlie said. “Rhys had to shoot Dylan, and, by the looks of it, Boyd is going to spend the rest of his life in jail. So at the end of the day, I guess we still get a mark in the win column.”

Tessa let out a deep sigh.

At least that part was true. Not even Boyd had been able to talk his way out of the mess that they’d found at the warehouse or his yacht. It appeared there was no amount of money or connections that could free him from all the charges.

And that meant that Tessa could stop running. That she could have a chance at a real life.

One with Rhys by her side.

Bowie nodded, but didn’t look away from Charlie. “That doesn’t seem like enough,” he said.

“It’ll have to be,” Charlie said with a shrug. “And it wasn’t all bad. Now at least I have a cool scar, just like yours.”

She pulled down the shoulder of her gown to show off the red and puckered skin around her shoulder.

Bowie’s expression turned as hard as stone. His hand tightened around Charlie’s.

Tessa stood around for another couple of seconds of silence before she tapped on Rhys’ arm and pointed at the door. He just raised his brows in confusion.

Oh, dear heavens.

“Well,” Tessa said when it became obvious that Rhys wasn’t going to take the hint. “We were just about to go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee.”

“We were?” Rhys asked.

“Yes, we were,” she said again.

Charlie smiled widely.

“It’s cool, you two. You don’t need to make excuses to be alone. Go enjoy your time together,” she said with a wink.

“We’ll be back in a little while,” Tessa promised. She waited until they were all the way down at the elevators before she turned to Rhys. “So Charlie has no idea how much that man loves her, does she?”

“None at all,” Rhys said with a hint of a smile.

“And I probably shouldn’t be the one to tell her, should I?” Tessa said.

“Not unless you want to deal with an angry Bowie showing up on your doorstep at two o’clock in the morning,” Rhys said.

“I don’t think I want that,” she said.

“You do not,” Rhys agreed, shaking his head slowly. “I speak from experience.”

She laughed out loud, and a few of the nurses turned their heads to stare at her. Tessa ignored them. “I do know what I want though.”

“And what’s that?” Rhys asked, drawing her closer, flush against his body.

“For you to take me home.”

A full smile spread across his face, wide and joyous.

“That I can do,” he said, turning to kiss her. “I can always do that.”

<<<<>>>>

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Jake

Excerpt from Jake by Adrienne Bell

Book 3 in The Sinner Saints Series

Chapter One

All right. I’m going in. Off to make the stupidest mistake of my life
.

Verity Green stared down at the text message she’d composed a little over fifteen minutes ago.

She drew in a deep breath. And then another. She tucked her knees in a little closer—as far as the tiny front seat of her economy-sized rental car would allow—but her thumb still refused to hit send.

Damn it.

She hadn’t spent the last six hours driving down the length of California’s Central Valley just to chicken out now.

Had she?

No, she had not. There was too much on the line.

Verity clenched her eyes shut, and hit the damned button. She kept them closed until, a couple of seconds later, the familiar chime of her text alert sounded in the empty car.

Yeah, right, you coward. You’ve been saying the same thing for the last 20 minutes.

Verity groaned aloud as she read Cheryl’s text. She should have known better than to hope for a sympathetic reply from her closest friend.

What was worse, Cheryl was right.

She was a coward. A big one. One that wasn’t any closer to stepping out of the safety of her car and onto the gravel parking lot of the Crossroads Saloon than when she’d pulled in nearly a half hour ago.

Well, if she was going to find her courage, she was going to have to do it soon. It was nearing eleven o’clock at night, and somehow Verity doubted that the atmosphere inside the rickety wooden roadhouse was going to improve as the night went on.

The parking lot was already almost full with Harleys and pickup trucks, new ones pulling in every minute. Soon they’d start overflowing onto the shoulder of the two-lane country road that led to this remote watering hole.

It was now or never.

Ignoring the loud voice arguing that
never
was the most obvious and rational choice, Verity forced her fingers around the door handle and pulled.

And why not? It seemed that she’d abandoned common sense a little over twenty-four hours ago, the moment that she’d received her brother’s letter—the one that had her emptying her bank account and flying all the way to California, looking to hire a man who was little better than a mercenary.

Here I go. If you don’t hear from me in the next half hour, call the police.
Verity typed the text as she hurried across the dirt lot.

The reply came back almost immediately.

Setting the timer now
.

Verity smiled as she heard Cheryl’s familiar sarcastic tone in her head. It was almost like a piece of her friend was here with her, pressing her to move out of her comfort zone, just like she did back at home.

A little of her fear dissipated at the thought.

Of course, it all came roaring back a second later when she raised her head and saw the crowd of about a dozen men that she’d have to push through to get to the entrance.

Verity pulled her sweater tighter over her chest and tilted her head down as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her black, curly hair flopped down like curtains shielding her eyes. Much to her relief, the move worked. No one said a word to her.

A wave of heat smacked Verity in the face as she pulled open the door. The dry October night might be unusually warm outside, but inside the bar it was practically sweltering.

It wasn’t surprising. The place was packed, filled up with all kinds of people—country boys playing pool at the tables, leather clad bikers spread out across the bar, all manner of other folks filling up the space in between.

And unlike the endless, horrible scenarios that had been running through Verity’s mind all day, no one seemed to notice how awkward or out of place she was. There were no glares or shouts. No one seemed to notice her at all.

Suddenly, Verity started to feel silly for being so paranoid. Being both a big girl and on the shy side usually meant that she didn’t attract a lot of attention, male or otherwise. There’d been no reason to believe that this bar would be different than any other just because it was unfamiliar.

Still, she kept her head down and kept her hand wrapped tight around her handbag as she moved deep into the sea of people, looking for the man she’d come for.

Verity didn’t imagine he’d be hard to find. Based on the picture she had on her phone, Jake Thorne wasn’t the kind of man who blended into a crowd.

Of course, she’d been wrong before. After five minutes and two trips back and forth along the length of the bar, she still hadn’t spotted him.

Maybe her information was bad. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe she was too late and he’d already gone home for the night. A thousand possibilities floated through Verity’s head, all of them ending with her throwing in the towel and hightailing it out of there.

She’d just let out a sigh that was half-defeat, half-relief when she spotted a man sitting alone in the darkest corner. She squinted, trying to get a better view of his features in the low light, but it was useless. The crowd was too thick and the dingy green light fixture hanging above his booth too dim. As it was, all she could make out was a glimpse of short, dark brown hair and broad shoulders.

But it was enough.

She took a few tentative steps toward him, sneaking around one of the billiard tables.

It was Jake Thorne, all right. Verity sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the man sitting perfectly still in the booth, staring at the nearly empty glass in front of him.

He was massive, with arms so big they stretched the cuffs of his solid black T-shirt. Nearly every inch of exposed arm below was covered in tattoos. What looked like a week’s worth of beard lined his jaw. Bold, dark brows slashed above his eyes. Light and shadow played across his face making him look every bit as hard and dramatic as anything that Caravaggio had ever painted.

But Jake Thorne was most definitely not made of oil and canvas. He was real.

Maybe a little too real.

He proved her right a second later when his head snapped toward her, piercing her with a sharp gaze.

Heat rushed to Verity’s cheeks as she instinctively turned away.

Crap. He’d caught her staring. There was no pretending that she’d been doing anything else. It wasn’t her fault. The man was just so much
more
alive than he looked in his picture. She’d just been momentarily overwhelmed. That was all.

Verity was able to rationalize away some of her embarrassment, but it all came rushing right back the moment she turned back around and saw that his eyes were still on her.

She needed to get over there and explain herself before he got the wrong idea.

Verity forced herself to keep moving forward even though his stony gaze stayed fixed on her the entire way. By the time she made it to the side of his table her knees were shaking so bad that she could barely hold herself up.

“J-Jake Thorne?” she asked.

Verity swallowed past the lump in her throat as a long beat of silence followed. His brows pulled down over his dark amber eyes. The line of his lips hardened. Eventually, he turned away.

“Keep walking, lady,” he said.

Verity blinked.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”

“Yes, you are.” Verity pulled out her phone just to be sure. She brought up his photo and placed it right in front of him on the table. “You’re Jake Thorne.”

He glanced down at the screen, then back up to the empty space in front of him.

“I don’t know what you want, lady, but I’d keep moving if I were you,” he said.

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“Of course, you can.” He wrapped his hand around his glass and downed the rest of his drink. “Just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you’re out the door.”

Verity’s mouth fell open. “But I’ve come a long way to find you.”

“Not my problem.”

Verity stared down at the massive man, not knowing what to do. On one hand, she’d come too far to turn back now. There was too much at stake to pretend otherwise. On the other, it was obvious that Jake Thorne wasn’t interested in helping her. Hell, he didn’t even want her standing by his table.

Well, that was too damn bad, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she’d wanted to travel thousands of miles out to the middle of nowhere just to find a brute, who apparently couldn’t stand the sight of her. It looked like everybody was going to have to learn to deal with disappointment tonight.

Verity dipped down to the bottom of her quickly dwindling supply of courage, and sat down on the bench across from him. His back straightened and his shoulders squared as she slid into his line of sight. She paled as he seemed to grow even larger in front of her eyes.

Damn, the man was intimidating.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” His voice was so deep and low it practically vibrated the table under her fingers. “I’m not looking for company.”

“And I’m not coming on to you,” Verity blurted out.

Crap
.

Her face instantly started to burn again as his brows arched.

“Not that you aren’t worth flirting with.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. “It’s just…I mean…look at me. I’m obviously not your type. Which is fine, cause you’re not exactly mine either. Which isn’t to say that you’re not attractive, just—”

“What do you want?” he mercifully cut her off.

Verity drew in a deep breath as she tried to wrangle her composure back under control. Surprisingly, he gave her the time.

“I’m sorry. I think that we got off to a bad start,” she said after a few seconds.

“You think?”

“I’ve never been very good at first impressions,” she went on. “And my jitters aren’t helping.”

“Maybe you’d be more comfortable somewhere else.”

“You have no idea how true that is.” She gave a small laugh. He didn’t join her.

He leaned forward into the murky light. The shadows across his face deepened, instantly draining away all of her humor.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice hard.

“V-Verity Green.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” he asked.

Verity shook her head. “I doubt it.”

His eyes narrowed. That obviously wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“So, what the hell do you want with me, lady?”

“My brother told me to find you,” Verity said in a rush.

“Your brother?” Deep furrows appeared in his brow. For a hired gun, Jake Thorne had an amazingly expressive face.

Verity nodded. “Roman.”

“
Roman
?” Jake let out a sharp laugh. “Your brother is Roman Green?”

“He is.” The pit in the center of Verity’s belly widened. That didn’t sound good.

“You’re right.” A mocking smile spread across Jake’s face. “You
are
crap at introductions.”

Verity rubbed her thumb nervously against the worn tabletop. “I take it you’re not good friends with Roman.”

Another taunting laugh erupted from his throat.

“That’s a kind way to put it.” Jake leaned back in his seat, giving her a long, assessing look. A second later, he lifted his hand, signaling the waitress. “But, I’ll tell you what. You’ve given me the first real laugh I’ve had in a couple of months. So for that, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“That isn’t necessary.” Verity shook her head, but the waitress was already on her way over.

“What’ll you have?” Jake asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Verity said quickly. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”

His brows arched up as he leaned back in his seat. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Verity nodded. Alcohol was the last thing that Verity cared about right now. All that mattered was getting Jake Thorne to agree to help her, and if sharing a drink with him was the only way to buy a few more minutes of his time, then she’d pretend to swallow moonshine.

“Two more then,” Jake said to the waitress, holding up his empty glass. He waited until she’d walked away before turning back to Verity. “So tell me, what in the world does Roman Green want from me? And why’d he think it would be a good idea to send his innocent sister to come get it?”

Verity lifted her chin a notch. It was one thing to be ignored; it was another to be dismissed. “Who said I was innocent?”

A wide, wicked smile spread across Jake’s face. “I don’t know where you came from, lady, but I can guarantee that you are, by far, the most pristine thing that has ever walked into this godforsaken place.”

“Ann Arbor.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you didn’t know where I came from.” Verity met his gaze. “Ann Arbor, Michigan. I’m an assistant professor of Art History at the University of Michigan.”