Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(39)

Uh-huh. She shouldn’t have expected anything more.

“You all have a lot of secrets, don’t you? Even from one another.”

“What do you mean?” His brows lowered over his perfect nose.

“I mean, there’s you and this other job. Boss kept his sister hidden for years. Then there’s Snake and this thing with Michelle and Franklin and the—”

“What about this thing with Shell and Franklin?” he demanded, and she realized it might be smart to close her mouth right now.

Like, right now.

Sometimes she just wasn’t very smart.

“I, uh, I thought it was obvious.”

“What’s obvious? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. Far be it for her to be the one to enlighten him.

He narrowed his eyes before pushing up from the chair. Stalking across the room, he grabbed his designer jacket and slung it over his shoulder before dropping the optics on the mattress beside her. “I’m goin’ to go make some inquiries at the bar. You stay here and keep an eye on things.”

The set of his jaw was hard and unforgiving as he turned and marched toward the door.

“Be careful,” she called to his back. “We don’t know how many guys Johnny has out looking for us, and that disguise is good but it’s not infallible.”

He lifted a hand in answer, refusing to turn back to her as he disappeared through the door.

O-kay, she thought, so talk of his second job is clearly a big no-no.

Good to know…





Chapter Eight


Bang!

The sound jerked Michelle from a fitful sleep, and she was out of bed, throwing on her robe, and wrenching open her bedroom door before she was fully awake. Which might account for her momentarily forgetting the fact that she had a very big, very menacing houseguest. Because when a large shadow loomed in front of her, she opened her mouth to scream.

And she would have, too. Just let ’er rip with everything she had, if a hard hand hadn’t clamped over her mouth.

“Geez, Shell, it’s me!” Jake whispered, and she nearly collapsed with relief onto the hallway rug.

Then she remembered what had jolted her awake.

“I heard a noise,” she said after batting his hand away, blinking owlishly in the dim glow given off by the nightlight she kept plugged into one of the hallway’s outlets.

“Yeah, me too.” He pushed the cold handle of her Beretta Tomcat into her shaking hand. The little .32 pistol had been a gift from Steven. He’d given it to her right before he’d left for his final mission, and the feel of it against her skin brought on a deep, aching sadness that took the edge off her momentary panic. She couldn’t help but think that none of this would be happening if Steven was still alive…

“I recognized Preacher’s lockbox above your refrigerator,” Jake said. “And, FYI, you really shouldn’t tape the key to the lock onto the actual box, but that’s neither here nor there. Right now I just need to be sure you know how to use this thing.”

“I know how to use it,” she assured him. “Frank made sure of that.”

“Good. Now I’m going to check out that noise.” He handed her his cell phone. “If I’m not back in five minutes, you lock yourself in Franklin’s room, hit one on the speed dial—that’ll be your brother—and shoot at anything or anyone that tries to come through that door. You got me?”

“Yes.” She nodded again, swallowing jerkily, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, as she followed him the short distance down the hall to plant herself in front of her sleeping son’s door.

As Jake silently descended the stairs, she noticed he was naked save for a big, black Glock and pair of boxers covered with…

Were those hearts?

A laugh that was one part incredulity and two parts hysteria bubbled up the back of her throat, but she managed to bite it off.

Now was not the time to lose her mind.

***

Jake’s blood pumped through his system at a rate of about a hundred miles a minute, because someone or something was right outside Shell’s back door.

He carefully turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door, stepping barefoot onto the cold concrete of her back steps. With his Glock held ready, he flipped the switch to the outdoor fixture. A sudden wash of golden light bathed the back of the brownstone and part of the driveway in a twelve-foot radius—which meant there was still a whole helluva lot of area left in darkness.

Goddamn shadowy corners. They’re the bane of my existence tonight.

Goose bumps pebbled his flesh, but they had nothing to do with the harsh bite in the night air and everything to do with the fact that even though he couldn’t see anything, his senses—heightened by years of training and living on the edge—told him he wasn’t alone.

Come out, come out wherever you are, he silently challenged as he descended the steps, quartering the area with his weapon, ears cocked to the slightest sound. He could smell the sweet, earthy aroma of the purple flowers blooming in the flowerbed beside Shell’s driveway and the more pungent smell of newly turned mulch.

Gauging the short distance to the neighbor’s house, the street in front and the alleyway behind, he chambered a round and methodically scouted the area.