“I’m not going to the hospital, Jules—just drop it!” Keegan repeated for the fifth time, as he sat on the bumper of the ambulance while the medic applied a bandage to the cut near his temple. He ran his fingers around the edges of the small cut, which bled like he’d been scalped, sending sharp rays of pain through his skull.
“You could have a concussion, buddy. This laceration could probably use a stitch or two as well,” the second medic warned.
“I’ve had worse paper cuts and I have a headache. All they’ll tell me to do is stay in bed for a day or two. I don’t have a day or two.” He would be in the middle of the Atlantic on a ship with possible terrorists in a day or two.
Keegan wished like hell they’d just drop it, because they were giving him the headache. If he had a concussion, it wouldn’t be his first. Yes, it hurt like hell and he felt dizzy, but tomorrow he would be fine as long as he was on that ship before it sailed.
Things got real tonight.
Something huge was going down on that ship and he would be on board to stop it. The fact that Ari followed him into Frank’s office with his muscle to pistol whip them solidified that.
Thank God he hadn’t brought Jules with him tonight. He was pretty damned pissed she’d talked his uncle into bringing her here. But he was also grateful she went with her gut, because otherwise, he could be dead. And damned if she didn’t look smoking hot tonight in those leathers.
Even with a concussion he didn’t miss that.
At least he’d gotten Ari’s last name before they knocked him unconscious. He needed to call the Commander and put him on notice that Ari Alil Abdulla, number ten on the government’s most wanted terrorist list, was locked up at the police station in Norfolk.
That was a very good thing, but he knew if the Commander didn’t step in and have the Department of Justice file the real charges, Ari would likely lawyer up and be out on bond in a few hours on the assault charge. Then they would never find him again.
“Thank goodness Ruby took a swing at me with that chair. At least she’s going downtown tonight too,” Jules said, waking him up.
“Yes, and thank goodness she didn’t connect with your hard head,” he growled pinning her with his eyes and she made him angrier by smiling. “Maybe if she had, though, she’d have knocked some sense into you.”
“Did Ari knock some sense into your hard head? Do you now realize you don’t have to do everything alone?” she fired back, raising an eyebrow.
Yes, he did, as a matter of fact, because Keegan wasn’t getting on that ship with only her tomorrow afternoon. He would have help, if the guys could get a leave chit approved on a quick turn from Lieutenant Bledsoe.
“Where’s Uncle Bob?” he asked, hissing as the medic rubbed ointment on the cut.
“He’s going home to make reservations for him and Louise to be on the cruise tomorrow too. He said there’s no way he’s letting two rookies go on this operation alone.”
“Fuck me,” Keegan growled, closing his eyes as the medic taped on the bandage. After he applied the last tape strip, Keegan got to his feet and his stomach lurched when the ground moved. Jules grabbed his arm to steady him.
“You’re riding bitch tonight, Boris, so give me your keys and hop on.” Jules laughed when his mouth dropped open. Keegan jerked his arm from her grasp.
“No way am I letting you drive me anywhere. Are you nuts?!?” he shouted, then groaned when a lightning bolt sliced through his skull.
“I must be, because we’re going to my house tonight so we’re ready to roll in the morning. Louise said she’s packing your bag, and they will bring it with them to the port. It’s only an hour fifteen or so from here.” She held out her hand, palm up, and gave him the evil eye with her exotic cat eyes. “You scared to turn over control, SEAL Boy?”
Fuck yes, he was! That was a very expensive bike which he’d just finished retrofitting. And it wouldn’t just be turning over control—he’d be putting his life in her hands.
“Do you even have your endorsement? Have you ever driven a bike before?” he asked, his vision going a bit hazy as his insides clenched.
“My sport bike is at home in my garage, so yes, I have my endorsement and I’ve driven a bike. Just not in the last five years or so, because of work.”
Keegan stared at her for a moment, trying to get his mind together enough to make a decision, and he finally decided he really wasn’t in any shape to operate that motorcycle right now. With a sigh, he shoved his hand into his pocket and his stomach rolled when he dropped his keys into her hand.
Please don’t kill us, he prayed. You only live once, MacDonald. There were worse ways to die than with his arms wrapped around a badass woman who seemed as custom-made for him as his badass bike. Jules turned and her perfect ass, which was framed by studded leather chaps, grabbed his eyes and didn’t let go until they were standing beside the motorcycle.
She put on a helmet, then turned to hand him his. His eyes locked on the pink glitter words marking her as Bob’s Bitch on the front. A laugh rumbled up from deep inside him and escaped. In addition to the Louise’s leathers, she must’ve borrowed her helmet, too. But she was never wearing that helmet again after tonight.
Because he was buying her a helmet that said Keegan’s Bitch.
Too much, too fast, bud. You’ve known her less than two weeks. Then why did it feel like he’d been waiting for her a lifetime?
“Are you going to take your helmet or stand there staring at me all night?” she asked, and he dragged his eyes to hers.
“What if I choose staring?” he asked with a grin, as his eyes dropped to her perfect breasts before taking a slow ride down her S curves to the toes of her boots.
“Then you won’t get to sleep in my bed tonight,” she replied, and his eyes flew up to hers. “I have a lot of adrenaline to burn off, and you’re the man who’s going to help me get rid of it.”
Concussion? What concussion? Oh. Hell. Yes. He. Was. He’d have to be dead not to take that offer, and then he’d still try.
She shoved the helmet into his gut then turned to throw her leg over the bike. When she cranked it, Keegan smiled as he put on his helmet. He straddled the bike behind her and had no problem wrapping his arms around her waist.
He knew he looked like a fool riding behind her, but he also knew there were plenty of men who would do the same for this privilege. He knew of three men at least, who he would be calling when they got to her house.
Keegan had a feeling he was going to have to fight at least two of them on this cruise, once they met her. The third would have been in the mix too, if he wasn’t smarting from his divorce. But they could all get behind him, and his uncle could too, because Jules Lawson was his bitch.
Thirty minutes into their ride, Keegan finally relaxed and enjoyed the novelty of letting someone else have control. The fresh air cleansed the nasty bar smell from his senses and replaced it with her scent as the rushing wind forced it into his nostrils where his nose was buried near her neck.
If he didn’t think she’d wreck, he’d lick the smooth, hot skin, explore her body with his hands since they were free. Instead, he bided his time as his cock got harder and harder, the deeper it settled into the crevice of her ass checks.
Closing his eyes, he pictured his warrior princess in those leather chaps without the jeans underneath. That made his problem worse, but it hurt so good. He was so wrapped up in his fantasies, he didn’t realize they’d reached their destination until she stopped the bike in front of a neat little gingerbread farmhouse, which was framed by a copse of trees on a wide lot.
She killed the engine but it still rang in his ears as he got off of the motorcycle and removed his helmet and every ounce of tension left him as he studied the brightly lit wide front porch, which was home to a swing at one end and two rocking chairs at the other.
The house looked like it belonged in a Norman Rockwell painting, or on a postcard, but it was so much in contrast to the woman who lived here, he almost laughed.
“So this is home?” he asked as he placed his helmet on the seat after she got off the bike.
“It was my grandmother’s house, but yeah, it’s home,” she replied, as she set her helmet beside his on the seat.
But now it was hers because her grandmother was dead too. Compassion slammed into his gut like a fist as he stared down into her glassy eyes. This house represented even more grief that Jules Lawson had lived through in her nearly thirty years on this earth. If it was true that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, she must be made of steel by now.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the porch where she stopped to pick up a rock beneath a bush. He watched while she twisted it and it opened to reveal a key and removed it before she dropped the gray plastic rock back where she found it. He followed her up onto the porch, waited while she opened the door, then pushed her inside and shut it behind him.
Jules took a step, but he grabbed her arm and spun her toward the door.
“About that adrenaline…” he whispered as he pushed her against the wall, tipped her chin, and up covered her mouth with his.