The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(46)

Questions and next steps ran through my mind. The police would investigate, but I wasn’t going to leave this to them. I was going to find out who did this so I could make damn sure they never did anything to Cameron again.

“Jude?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Yeah?”

She hesitated for a few seconds. “Can I go home with you tonight?”

Putting my arm around her, I drew her in close. I didn’t care if it wasn’t professional. And when she melted against me, I stopped worrying about whether she wanted this from me.

“Of course.” I kissed the top of her still-damp head. “Come stay at my place.”

“Thank you.”

I just squeezed her. Anything for you, Cameron. Anything.





19





Cameron





Jude’s muscular arm encircled me, and I rested my head against his thick chest. Closing my eyes, I breathed him in. His scent and the heat of his body were more relaxing than a glass of wine. I indulged in the comfort for a long moment before shifting away.

“Do you want to grab some of your things?” he asked.

I shook my head. My clothes were still damp from the rain, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out of here. “No. Let’s just go.”

He smoothed my hair down and nodded. “Okay.”

I kept several pairs of sandals in a closet off the entry, so I slipped my feet into a pair while Jude put on his boots. He did a quick check of the doors and windows, making sure everything was secure before we left.

Most of the runoff from the rainstorm had found its way into the canal, leaving the ground glistening wet but not flooded. The humidity would be intense when the sun came up and all the moisture left overnight evaporated. For now, the breeze coming off the water cooled the air and a bird called in the distance. Thankfully it wasn’t Frank. That asshole parrot had a knack for ruining a quiet evening.

Jude insisted I wear his helmet, since he didn’t have an extra one with him. I dutifully put it on and climbed on the bike behind him. I must have looked ridiculous, dressed in nothing but a thin pajama set and a hastily thrown-on robe.

The engine roared to life and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He drove us slowly down my driveway and through the enclave, pausing at the entrance gate.

As soon as we pulled out onto the main road, he opened it up. I felt the speed in my chest, in the way we sliced through the warm night air. The vibration of the engine hummed through my body as the scenery flew by. With a motorcycle between my legs and my arms around this gentle beast of a man, it was easy to forget the chaos I’d left behind. Lose myself in the freedom of speed.

We came to a stop in what looked like an industrial area, next to a building with tall garage doors on one end. A set of stairs on the adjacent wall led to a door on the second floor. It was hard to see much in the dim light of the single streetlight. But as soon as we climbed off the bike, another light blazed to life.

“It’s on a motion detector,” Jude said.

I pulled off the helmet and handed it to him, feeling suddenly guilty. When I’d asked Jude to take me home, I hadn’t thought about whether or not he’d want me to invade his private space like this.

“I’m sorry for springing this on you. Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s fine. I don’t have company very often, but it shouldn’t be too embarrassing.”

He took my hand and led me up the metal staircase, his boots making surprisingly little noise. He glanced around—it was like a reflex, I saw him do it everywhere—before unlocking the nondescript door.

And just like that, I stepped into Jude’s world.

From the outside, the building didn’t look like a residence. But inside was a sprawling loft. Exposed conduit and bare brick walls had been coupled with comfortable furnishings. A long section of wall had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed with books. The kitchen was open with a bar-height island separating it from the rest of the space. Another area had a couch and two chairs facing a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. His bed—king size and neatly made—was in a shadowy corner at the far end.

“It’s not much,” he said, hanging his keys on a hook by the door. “But it’s home.”

“I like it,” I said, taking slow steps and absorbing every detail. The deck of cards on a side table. The large desk with six monitors. The set of golf clubs in the corner.

“Thanks. I keep saying it’s temporary until I find something else. I guess I’ve been saying that for five years, so maybe I should just accept that I live here. Anyway, you could probably use some dry clothes.”

I glanced down at my bedraggled pajamas. Leaving without changing into something else—or grabbing a change of clothes—had been a stupid thing to do. I wasn’t a wilting flower who could be scared out of her own home by some assface who thought he could fuck with me.

Except tonight, I was. And it was by choice. And maybe that was what made it okay to be standing in damp silk pajamas and sandals that, now that I looked down at my feet, probably weren’t even mine. Inda’s maybe? Or something Luna had left behind?

I was tired, an aching exhaustion that I felt deep in my bones. I’d been holding myself together—all by myself—ever since the hit and run. No, ever since the parking garage. I’d been keeping my fear bottled up, hidden behind a wall of sarcasm and flippancy. I was fine. It hadn’t been a big deal. I could handle things myself.