Nineteen
Colin
It was different now. He’d be the first one to say that sex was just sex, but in this case, it had shifted the balance between Jenny and him. It hadn’t given him more power – nothing could make that possible – but it had given them a whole new axis. What had passed during the night now lay hot and unquestionable between them; the boundaries were slipperier, the personal defenses transparent at best. Before, Colin had watched her move around the restaurant and seen the rigid lines of tension down her back, the shields in her eyes when she happened to look at him – which hadn’t been often, because she’d made a point of avoiding his gaze.
Now, she shot him frequent glances, where he was reclined back against the wall, nursing tea at a table with a view of the entire small building. The tension he’d come to expect had vanished. At ease with her customers, comfortable in the same old routine of her job, he saw her smile more, saw her blow out a deep breath and massage a kink from her lower back, a show of weakness she hadn’t allowed herself previously.
He also saw, when she pushed her hair back, the dark shadow of the bite he’d left on the side of her throat, and that made him grin.
She took her lunch break at eleven-thirty; he watched her untie her apron, stow it and walk toward him with a basket of onion rings. That was when he saw it – not tension, he couldn’t call it that. But a little under-the-skin shiver that reached her eyes as she slid in across from him and met his gaze.
The onion rings had just come out of the fryer, glistening with grease and pulsing ribbons of steam up into the sunlight.
“I needed something fatty,” Jenny said. She picked one up, grimaced, and blew on it as it burned her fingers. “Figured you might too.”
“I’ll never say no to onion rings.” But he didn’t reach for any right away, instead studied her. She had smudges beneath her eyes from physical exhaustion, but she seemed energetic.
“Okay, you’re going to have to stop that,” she scolded.
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
She made a face and lowered her voice. “Like you’re imagining me naked.”
He smiled. “I don’t have to imagine that.”
“Ugh…”
“But that’s not what I’m doing.”
She lifted her brows, inviting him to explain.
“I just like watching you.”
She took a bite of onion ring. “God, you’re not some kind of sap, are you?”
He laughed and grabbed a ring from the basket. “Uh, no.”
“So why are you looking at me?”
He thought he saw fear and doubt in the quick flicker of her gaze. Riley, the fucker, hadn’t admired her, hadn’t doted on her, hadn’t complimented her. So he said, “Because you’re beautiful.”
She blushed madly, and said, “You’re an idiot,” in a pleased, sweet voice.
“No, sweetheart. I’m Cajun. We Frenchies don’t have a problem telling our women they’re damn gorgeous.”
Her blush deepened, and she bit into another onion ring. “Stop,” she said, softly, but that wasn’t what she wanted at all.
“No.”
“Colin…” She met his eyes, hers full of softness and warmth. Yes, she was soft, in the feminine heart of her. Women were tough as nails…and melty as butter when you loved them and showed them affection. Men couldn’t hope to be as dynamic as them; men ought to treat them better, in order to reap the rewards.
It struck him, suddenly, that he’d been a real shithead with most of the half-girlfriends and one night stands in his past life. Why was it different with Jenny? He had to acknowledge that there was something special in the works. “I think you’re falling in love with my sister,” Candy had said.
“Jen,” he said, growing serious.
“Hmm?”
“I meant what I said before. About not hurting you.” He gave her a meaningful look and hoped she read his sincerity. “I ain’t perfect. Probably not even good. But I will look after you.”
She smiled, eyes still soft. “You are a sap.” When he started to protest, she said, quietly, urgently, “I like it. Please be a sap. I’ve never had that before.”
~*~
Jenny had to work until five. And despite the diversion of watching her take orders, by four, he was bored out of his mind. His eyes glazed and at half-mast, he saw Jenny as blurred around the edges, movements fuzzing into her surroundings.
Colin didn’t realize there was a man standing beside his table until the guy spoke, and then he jerked.
It was a young, scrawny man who reminded him a little of Pup the prospect: dark hair that needed introduced to a brush, edging of pimples along his jaw, that uninspired slack-jawed look of youth today. He wore a greasy white apron, and Colin thought he must work here, back in the kitchen.
“You’re Jenny’s boyfriend?” he was asking.
Colin shook his head to clear the fuzziness. “Uh…what?”
The kid scratched at his pimples. “You’re Jenny’s boyfriend?”
Colin had a feeling Jenny wasn’t ready for labels yet, but in this scenario, he decided a straightforward, simple answer would be best. “Yeah.” He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, more than a little proud. “I am.”
The guy stared at him, eyes glassy. High, Colin guessed. “She don’t ever bring boyfriends around.”
Feeling prouder, Colin said, “I ‘spect she hasn’t had one worth bringing around before.”
The kid frowned. “Why do you always sit in here? You can’t talk to her at home?”
This could go bad fast. In a friendly voice, he said, “That’s not your business, is it?”
The frown deepened. “You’re a foreigner, ain’t you?”
Jesus. “Uh, no. I’m from New Orleans.”
A squint to go with the frown, as the brain child tried to recall where that was.
“You know. N’awlins. In Louisiana.” When no comprehension registered, Colin said, “Christ, man, it borders this state.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m part French, alright? Born and raised in the USA,” he said with emphasis. It occurred to him he didn’t have to explain himself to this dumbass, and he scowled, frustrated. “Look, if you don’t have anything to say–”
“Jenny got her ex-husband locked up, you know,” the kid said, startling Colin into brief silence.
“What?”
Movement at the door caught his attention; someone coming in just ahead of the dinner crowd. He caught a glimpse of blue, and then the greasy cook spoke again.
“She’s got a bad reputation for getting guys locked up.” He punctuated the statement with a sniff, dashing a hand under his nose.
Someone walking, heading toward the counter.
Colin leaned forward and planted his hands on the table, relishing the way the young man’s eyes went to them, widening when he saw their size. “Okay, I’m gonna say this once.” His voice was hard and heavy, nothing like the voice of the man who had raised him. Maybe this was Remy Lécuyer’s voice. Mercy’s voice. Oh, the irony. “Jenny’s ex was a violent asshole who got what he deserved. I’m not having a conversation about it. Shut up, and walk away. Now.”
A man at the counter. A man…
“Shit!” Colin leapt to his feet and shoved the fry cook to the side. The kid made an alarmed sound and crashed into a neighboring table.
Colin didn’t care. He charged the front counter, just as Agent Riley, in plainclothes, took a grip on Jenny’s arm, cranked it behind her back until she yelped, and hustled her down the back hallway.
Colin chased them at a dead run. A waitress stepped from the break room, and he shouldered her out of the way; he’d apologize later. She hollered. He kept going.
The back door opened with a bright flare of sunlight, Jenny’s face limned in gold, her mouth open as she protested. She was fighting, wriggling, struggling.
Colin hit the door before it shut, drew the gun Fox had given him, and said, “Let go of her, asshole, before I spray your brains across the pavement.”
Riley froze, half-turning toward Colin. He had a gun on his hip, but no badge that was visible.
Jenny’s eyes rolled toward him, white-rimmed and frightened.
In his mind, Colin saw himself closing the distance and curling one of his big hands around Agent Riley’s throat. He imagined the man’s eyes popping; his ineffectual fingers scrabbling at his own.
But he held his ground, gun level and unwavering. Breath heaving in and out of his lungs.
“You got a hearing problem?” he asked. “I said to let go of her.”
Riley kept a grip on Jenny’s arm, but met Colin’s gaze. His own was hard…but not hard enough. He hadn’t expected resistance. Colin saw a fast flicker of doubt, maybe even fear in his eyes.
“This is official federal business, son,” Riley said. “Don’t get involved.”
“That’s the biggest load of horseshit I ever heard. Sir,” Colin fired back. “You arresting her? Taking her in for questioning? Nobody strong-arms an unarmed woman on official federal business. This is personal as all hell. So I’ll say it again: Get your hands off her, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“Colin,” Jenny said, voice strained. Like she was trying to warn him away.
Fuck that.
“Step away, Agent Riley.”
Face red and furious, the agent shoved Jenny loose, hands balling into fists as he turned fully toward Colin. “You just made a huge goddamn mistake–”
Colin inhaled, inflated his chest, and took one giant step toward the man, leading with the gun.
Riley’s teeth clicked shut.
“Explain yourself,” Colin said, “and do it quick. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger, and we’ve got no witnesses.”
The agent’s jaw set. He fumed, in a visual way, hands grasping. But he said, “I have every right to question Miss Snow about her brother and his club.”
Colin flashed him a nasty grin. “Nah. You don’t. Get gone.” He gestured with the gun. “Go.”
Nothing happened.
“One,” Colin said. “Two…”
With a growl, Riley took off, charging around the side of the building.
Colin followed him with the gun’s muzzle. Waited for him to change his mind, to return, to come back with his own gun…
“Oh God,” Jenny whispered. “Colin…”
He moved before he was aware of it, caught her against his chest, one arm banded around her. “Baby,” he said, dropping his face into her hair, breathing the heady scent of her shampoo as his eyes lingered at the corner of the building.
Her arms stole around him and squeezed tight. She shook all over.
His grip tightened on her. He wanted to wrap around her, enfold her. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”
~*~
Jenny
Her hand shook as she raised the glass to her lips. Whatever. She took a long slug of wine and the glass rattled again, as she set it on the bar top.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Candy asked.
Colin answered him: “I wish I was. He said he had business with her.” His dark, gorgeous gaze turned on her. “Any ideas?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“He was gonna drag her off to some precinct and try and grill her about us,” Candy said with a snarl.
“Okay, say that’s true,” Colin said. “Why do that now? Couldn’t he have come after you guys whenever he wanted to?”
“Yeah, but he isn’t driving this. His brother is.”
Jenny closed her eyes and tuned them out. She didn’t need to hear the explanation; it was an all-too-familiar nightmare coming to fruition. Jud Riley wasn’t the sort of man to forgive a slight, and what Candy had done to him went leagues beyond that. For revenge and bloodlust alone, he would want to attack the Dogs, and first he would regather his scattered posse of idiots – check – and then use his dirty cop brother in any capacity he could – double check.
“Jen,” Candy said, and she shook her head, opened her eyes.
“What?”
Both men were looking at her with open worry, their expressions different shades of concern, Colin a little more hostile.
“The cook,” Candy repeated. “The one keeping Colin busy. He been there long?”
“Dusty. No, he’s new.” She felt like an idiot. “Oh, damn…”
“One of Riley’s guys?” Colin guessed.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Candy said. “How new is new?”
She shrugged. “A few months.”
“So before Riley got out,” Candy said. “Shit. He started laying the groundwork while he was still inside. Which means we’re two big fucking steps behind.”
“Derek,” she said, sighing, “he isn’t some sort of mastermind.”
“He’s goddamn dangerous, is what he is,” her brother growled.
“And that dirty fucking fed,” Colin said. “I shoulda put a bullet in his head.”
“You need to calm down,” Jenny told him.
“No, he doesn’t,” Candy said. The men shared a look of such ridiculous machismo, jaws clenched, giving each other bro-nods of approval, she would have laughed if she hadn’t wanted to cry in frustration.
“Guys…”
“He’s got the right idea,” Candy said, scowling at her. “I don’t wanna hear anymore protests from you about being watched, or being careful. Christ, Jen.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and she realized he hadn’t shaved today, skin of his palm rasping audibly against his stubble. “What if he hadn’t been there?” Gesture to Colin. “Shit, what if it had been the other Riley? Forget the precinct, we might never have seen you again–”
“Stop,” she said, quiet but firm. She felt the tears burning her eyes and blinked hard. “You think I don’t know that?”
Candy muttered something to himself and pushed away from the bar, stalked out the front door. He needed space, she knew. He had to wrestle with his temper alone, or risk losing all control of it.
Jenny turned to Colin, and was met by a wall of brooding male anger.
The sight of which made her angry, because she needed an emotional outlet of some sort.
“Y’all are stupid,” she said. “I was nothing but Riley’s wife. He’s got no personal beef with me. It’s Candy and the club he wants to wipe off the face of the earth. He should worry about himself. God knows I do.”
When she moved to hop off the stool, he caught her arm and held her in place. A light hold. She could have broken away…but when she looked up into his face, she didn’t want to.
“You were his wife.” His voice lowered a notch, velvet-smooth and deadly-serious. “And in this club, you were his property. You turned to your brother, instead of your old man. That’s a betrayal in his eyes, Jen. Not only that, but he lost you, and trust me, that’s a big loss.”
She swallowed, throat tight.
“He wants club blood…but he wants yours too.”
It was overwhelming, the sentiment behind his words, something tangible she could feel, trying to wrap around her. “Trust me, I’m not that important.” She slid down and pulled out of his grasp. She walked away from him, and a part of her hated that he let her go.