The chick was hot—but nosy. Griffin had gone through all the trouble to make sure that she was protected, and this was what he got? An angry face and crossed arms, sitting in a fleabag motel room that could be used for much better things.

 

Not that Griffin was thinking about it.

 

He couldn’t wrap his mind around the girl; there was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on, but he could tell just by looking at her that she didn’t have anything to do with this. Why did the assassin go after her? Who did she wrong?

 

It was more likely that she was just some accidental collateral damage and Griffin was reading the situation incorrectly. Yet, here she was now, sitting and demanding information that he had no intention of providing.

 

He hadn’t been able to see it before, but up close her eyes were a warm brown, almost like amber, and when she was riled up—which was most of the time he had known her—they seemed to almost glow from within. God, she is so hot, he thought.

 

“You know anything about the Lost Disciples?” he asked her.

 

She paused for a moment before shrugging. “Of course I know about them, I was at a funeral for one of them.”

 

Griffin narrowed his eyes. “Whose girl are you?”

 

Natasha frowned. “No one’s. I go to college.”

 

“So you’re not affiliated with the Lost Disciples?”

 

She snorted. “Does it look like I am?”

 

The casual derision in her voice made Griffin clench his fists.

 

“Well, a Disciple just saved your life,” he said slowly.

 

“A man in a leather jacket saved my life,” she shot back. “I don’t see any devils around here.”

 

He picked up on her sarcasm and began to pace. Who is this chick? he thought.

 

She watched him defiantly from her spot on the bed; he could feel her eyes on his back, her lips slightly parted, anticipating an explanation.

 

Desire enflamed him. Did she have any idea of how sexy she looked? He didn’t think so, and for some reason, that made it hotter. He wanted to walk over to her and push her down on the bed, take her, and make her his. He hadn’t wanted someone like this in a long time, and he welcomed it.

 

Now wasn’t the time though, not when someone could burst in the door with a gun.

 

“I can’t tell you anything,” he told her. “You’re not part of the family.”

 

Her mouth opened, as though she wanted to retort, but found that she couldn’t say anything. There was no way in Hell that Griffin was going to tell any of the Disciples’ secrets to some girl he barely knew just because she got caught up in something she didn’t understand.

 

He turned away from her, thinking about those Los Diablos bastards having the goddamn balls to bust in on Emanuel’s funeral. Everyone had been there, and yet they went for one particular girl in the crowd. It seemed strange, and because of that, he knew that he couldn’t trust her.

 

When he turned back around again, he saw that she was standing, her small hands balled into angry fists.

 

“Listen, Mr. Mysterious, you think that just because you guys are in a little motorcycle club that you’re outside the bounds of normal morality? Please. You guys are a bunch of motorcycle hobbyists who take it a little too seriously.”

 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about it!” Griffin replied. “I don’t know who you know that brought you to that funeral, or if you were just going sightseeing, but you sure as shit don’t know a thing about the Disciples!”

 

They stood there, staring for a moment, feeling something close to electricity crackle through the air. It took a while for Griffin to realize that it was simply the attraction. There they were in this small room with a bed nearby, and the last thing they should be doing was anything of that sort. Her amber eyes flashed with anger at his words.

 

“You don’t know a thing about me,” she replied.

 

“Oh yeah, not a thing about you? You’re probably some spoiled little Lady who thought she’d go and play with a Tramp!”

 

“Well, you’re just a complete asshole who doesn’t know anything!” she cried.

 

They lapsed into silence, and Natasha walked away to clear her head. This wasn’t helping, and she knew it. She knew that she would probably have to apologize to the sexy asshole with whom she was sharing a small space.

 

She hugged herself and thought about the things he had said. She wasn’t some spoiled little girl; she had worked hard to save up for college. In a wild moment, she thought about telling him that she had been at the funeral solely to put her father into the ground, but she didn’t want to do that to her father’s memory, not in that way. Instead, she took a deep breath and took her hair out of the ponytail. Shaking her long blonde hair out, she took another deep breath. Today, someone had tried to kill her. Perhaps she shouldn’t be fighting with the person who stopped that from happening. She stood up straight again to see him watching her, that same hunger in his eyes as before. He really was gorgeous, but who was he really?

 

“We got off on the wrong foot,” she said softly.

 

Griffin made a little snorting noise of derision.

 

“But I think we should start over, okay?”

 

“Whatever.”

 

She felt the annoyance rise in her stomach again. “You don’t have to be so dismissive about it.”

 

“Well, being all sugar and spice isn’t going to get you what you want, so I don’t even know why you’re trying.”

 

Natasha growled in frustration. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?!”

 

His face broke into a bitter grin. “Just naturally talented I guess.”

 

“Can I at least know how long I’m going to have to stay here with you?”

 

Griffin shrugged. “We got out of there as quickly as possible; we’re going to wait and get the all-clear so we don’t get ourselves killed.”

 

“The shooter left…why isn’t it all-clear yet?”

 

“Because shooters can come back,” Griffin replied gruffly. Luckily, he was broken off by the ringing of the cell phone in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that Damon was calling, and he raised a finger to quiet Natasha as he answered the phone. He could already see her eyes roll in annoyance, but she stayed quiet anyway.

 

“Griffin?” Damon’ voice crackled over the phone.

 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Griffin replied. He could hear Damon’ sigh of relief.

 

“Thank God. They got a few of our guys. No one died though. Zachariah is patching up the injured. I can’t believe those Los Diablos bastards did this!”

 

“I can,” Griffin said, keeping his voice deadpan. “I told you that we would have to do something about this, but you didn’t listen.”

 

“I said we’d do something after we buried Emanuel; it’s only been three days since that conversation.”

 

“Well, we didn’t move quickly enough!”

 

“Now isn’t the time to talk about this,” Damon said. “Where are you?”

 

“A safe location right on the outskirts of the desert,” Griffin said, peeking out the door again. “Did you catch the asshole?”

 

There was a pause on the line, as though Damon was shaking his head before he replied. “No.”

 

Anger flared in Griffin’s blood, as he paced even more frantically. He was increasingly aware of Natasha’s wide and curious eyes, watching his every move. He knew that she was picking up on his half of the conversation, and he also knew that she was smart enough to piece some things together, but he couldn’t worry about that right now.

 

“Well, then what are we going to do about that? He could be out there right now!” Griffin drove his fist into the wall, leaving a dent but luckily not punching through it. Natasha gave a little jump at the sight of it.

 

Even though he might have saved my life, he is still clearly dangerous, she thought.

 

“First of all, you’re going to get your ass over here so we can discuss this,” Damon said, so annoyingly calm. So annoyingly unflappable.

 

Griffin swung back to see Natasha on the bed again. “I have a girl here.”

 

“Are you kidding me!?” Damon’ disbelief was palpable over the phone. “In the middle of this?”

 

“No, of course not, you asshole. She was almost killed in the attack; the guy had a gun to her head, so I had to take her with me.”

 

Damon paused again, as Natasha stared at Griffin, daring him to give away any more information, especially because they were now talking about her. Well, she could keep waiting because Griffin had no intention of spilling.

 

“Bring her too,” Damon said.

 

“Where?”

 

“The safe house. Is that okay? Can you handle it?”

 

Griffin didn’t like being talked to like this, but given the circumstances, he figured he would just take it for now.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. See you in fifteen.”

 

“I’ll be there in ten,” Griffin replied smoothly before disconnecting the call. He turned to Natasha. “Looks like we’re headed to the safe house.”

 

“A safe house?” she said. “I’m not in the witness protection program!”

 

He walked over to the bed and took her arm. “Not yet, let’s go.”

 

She didn’t look pleased as they walked out of the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.