Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(20)
Chapter Four
Goddamn, what’s taking so long?
Jake wasn’t accustomed to being outside the action. In fact, he was accustomed to being smack-dab in the middle of it. So this hanging out in the backyard with his thumb up his ass sucked. Hard.
He felt like a sitting duck, like he’d cut his leg on a piece of coral and was chumming the water in great white shark territory.
Oh, he knew Boss would never have left them if he truly thought there was any immediate danger, and he’d been telling Shell the truth about the level of security around the place, but that didn’t stop the hard burn of adrenaline from sizzling through his system, making his knees bounce until the beer in his hand threatened to shoot like a geyser.
With an effort, and so he wouldn’t make Shell any more nervous than she already was, he resisted the urge to recheck the clip in the Glock. Then he managed, just barely, to corral his jumpy legs and lean back in his chair.
Unfortunately, none of the physical calm he forced on himself stopped the dark thoughts from endlessly spinning inside his head.
Who would want to kill Boss?
Would this dick-wad try to go after Shell and Franklin?
Did this dick-wad know about Shell and Franklin?
Okay, and back to the original question, which was, Why the hell is it taking so long?
He covertly glanced around the courtyard, deciding on entry points and escape routes, figuring out where he’d place himself to best protect them on the off chance an assassin came crawling over the wall.
Christ, just the thought…
Well, I can easily hustle them inside the safety of the shop, he assured himself. Then he frowned when he realized that would be the case if the perpetrator tried to come at them from any direction save the northwest corner.
Yeah, that northwest corner was a weakness. It effectively placed an intruder only three feet from Black Knights Inc.’s back door, cutting off their only secure avenue of escape.
So, the far southeast corner it is.
That’s where he’d make his stand. From the southeast, he could hoist Shell and Franklin over the wall and into the Chicago River on the other side. They’d both be safe in the water while he dispatched the person or persons stupid enough to screw with those he loved.
And if he couldn’t dispatch them? If the number was overwhelming? Well, then, he’d give Shell time to swim to safety with Franklin while he stayed and fought to his last breath and—
Whoa. He’d just unconsciously included little Franklin in with those he loved.
So that meant…what? He loved the kid?
It made sense—he certainly loved Shell, and Franklin was part of the package and, okay, now his pulse was really hopping. He’d never been tasked with protecting a child before…
When Shell started gnawing on her lower lip, he decided the silence she’d requested wasn’t really doing anything to ease her tension. So, to try to take her mind off the situation, and his mind off the memory of what it was like to suck that full lip between his teeth—come on, even pinned down by mortar fire he’d still have wild fantasies about that bottom lip—he determined it was finally time to offer up the apology that’d been sitting on his tongue since…well…since forever.
***
The expression on Jake’s face had Michelle’s heart flipping over in her chest.
“Shell?”
And when he said her name like that, even after all these years and even though her nerves were stretched piano-wire tight, her stomach took flight. “What?”
“There’s, uh, there’s something I’ve been needing to say to you for a long time.”
For the first time since her brother had disappeared inside the shop, Jake wasn’t craning his neck around every which way. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the label he was nervously peeling from his beer.
Nervous? Jake?
Flip. Uh-huh, and that would be her heart turning over. Again.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Don’t fall for it, Shell. Just keep it together for a little while longer.
“Jake,” she said, “whatever it is, let’s just forget about it, okay? Let’s just—”
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted before she could finish.
Okay, so…they were doing this.
Taking a deep breath, doing her best to shore up all her emotional walls, she asked, “You’re sorry? For what?” She had a whole list.
“For getting Preacher killed,” he whispered.
Um, okay, so that wasn’t what she expected. If he’d suddenly grown whiskers and claimed to be the Easter Bunny, she didn’t think she’d be any more shocked. “Jake, that wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought—”
“It was my fault,” he insisted, running a hand over his face and shaking his head.
“No,” she assured him. “That’s ridiculous.” She knew a little of what’d transpired on that wind-swept mountain. Her brother had given her the basics after Steven’s funeral. And as much as she’d prayed for the day when she’d see Jake the Snake brought low, she never wanted it to happen this way, with guilt and blame tearing him apart. “It was a vote. Fair and square. Steven made his own decisions that day,” she insisted, hoping her tone convinced him, because she was having a really tough time resisting the urge to reach across the small distance separating their lawn chairs to lay a hand of comfort on his muscular shoulder. She knew from experience, once she started touching Jake, it was almost impossible to stop. “Steven was a grown man who—”