Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(46)

“Huh?” His frown deepened as he pulled out a glossy photo. It showed Michelle Carter and her son laughing together at a playground. He dug deeper into the file. More photos. More papers listing names and addresses. More newspaper clippings showing—

Wait.

Names and addresses?

He thumbed back to a previous page and squinted at the typed list. Some of those names sounded familiar. Sykes, McMillan, Weller…

And then it hit him. Those were the last names of the Black Knights. But these photos weren’t of the Knights. These were women and children. Young men. Elderly couples and—

Relatives.

This package was from the PI he’d hired, the same PI who wasn’t supposed to know where he was.

“You’re even better than you led me to believe,” he murmured into the silence of the room, impressed by the private investigator’s resourcefulness while at the same time a little peeved to have his hiding place discovered.

The PI was obviously letting Johnny know that he wasn’t without a certain set of skills. Not so subtly informing Johnny that should Johnny attempt to come after him, you know, just to tie up that last string—which had been Johnny’s plan from the beginning—he knew exactly where Johnny was and would see him coming from a mile away.

Okay, Johnny could respect that.

The PI would live. For now.

Shoving everything but the picture of Michelle back into the file, he ran a finger over her photographed face.

He’d begin dealing with the Knights other relatives tomorrow, because tonight he had big plans for Michelle…

***

“Hey! What are you doing?” Michelle demanded when a strong arm wound around her waist, dragging her back from the taxi she was about to step into.

“My job.” Jake’s voice sounded close to her ear. “Acting as your bullet catcher. So, you’re coming with me.”

“You can act as my bullet catcher by following at a safe distance. Just like you’ve been doing all night.” And, boy, hadn’t that been fun? Glancing in the rearview mirror of Chris Drummond’s BMW and seeing Jake behind them, looking mean and menacing sitting on the back of his motorcycle, and too, too sexy for words in that thick leather jacket? Not to mention the grumbling roar of his monster bike had made it impossible for her to concentrate on anything Chris said…

Now, she slapped at Jake’s arm until he released her, spinning to face him. The chill wind whipping in off Lake Michigan grabbed the flimsy shawl she’d draped over her shoulders and whipped it away. He snatched it before it could fly up into the vortex of air created by the towering skyscrapers and wrapped it tightly around her back, pulling her close to his chest in the process.

“Where’d the good doctor go?” he asked quietly, intimately. His breath smelled crisp, like the lime-flavored seltzer water he’d been drinking at the bar in the upscale Spanish restaurant while keeping an ever-watchful eye on her and her date.

Her date.

What a joke.

It’d been the evening from hell, and she couldn’t say she was sorry it was ending so soon.

Oh, not that Chris Drummond was a jerk or anything. If fact, he was a very nice guy. An exceedingly boring, eye-crossingly somber, nice guy. As he spoke quite elegantly over dinner about his family, his charity work, and his patients, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over to the bar where Jake sat.

All vigilant and threatening and in no way boring.

And all she’d been able to think was, I’m doomed.

Here I am. Out with a handsome, stable, well-to-do man, and I can barely keep from falling face first into my Paella or else running over and jumping on the lap of the cad sitting at the bar.

There was obviously something really wrong with her.

Because even though she knew that a smart woman would look at Dr. Drummond and start salivating over what a fantastic catch he was, even though she knew he was exactly the type of man she should want, the exact opposite of her father and Jake, she couldn’t help but glance across the table at his handsome face, perfect teeth, polite conversation and think…

Borrrring.

Where was the drama? The passion? The fire? The romance?

It was at that point in her spinning thoughts when she’d inevitably glance over at Jake and come back to the whole I’m doomed thread. Because there was the drama and passion and fire and romance. Right there. Sitting at the bar in biker boots, another stupid Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of jeans that made the temperature in the restaurant jump ten degrees.

Every other man in the place was dressed in designer suits that probably cost more than one of her mortgage payments, and still Jake managed to outshine them.

How was that possible?

Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she had some sort of strange weakness when it came to the allure of a rough-and-ready alpha male, otherwise known primarily as Mr. Jerkwad. Maybe it was some deep-seated psychosis brought on by her father’s abandonment. Some sort of twisted, perverse Electra complex.

Yep. It’s official folks. I’m a total head case.

Because her big plan to prove to Jake that things were really, truly over between them by holding up another man as comparison—a smart, handsome, professional man whom he couldn’t hope to compete with—had blown up in her face like an overcooked microwave dinner.

Bam!

Doomed. That’s all there was to it.