DONOVAN (Gray Wolf Security, #1)(132)

He was watching me from his casual stance leaning against the doorframe.

“When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

He pushed away from the door and came deeper into the room, his eyes falling to my open suitcase on the end of the bed. One of those fancy bras Theresa made me buy was sitting on top, its rounded cups leaving little mystery as to what it was meant to hold. The way he bit his bottom lip made me feel uncomfortable, as though we were doing something for which I should rush to confession to clear my soul of.

I stood and backed up a little.

“We should go back out.”

“In a minute.” Jacob’s eyes came up to mine, his dark eyes like little pebbles as he studied my face. “Lucien isn’t like most of the men you’ve probably dated. He’s not the kind who brings a woman home lightly.”

I gestured toward the French doors that led out onto the back deck where we could hear the low voices of his parents. “Your sister has made that pretty clear.”

“He’s had his heart broken as often as the rest of us. Maybe more,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “He’s been through a lot in his life. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”

“We’ve only just met, Jacob.”

“That’s why I’m telling you this.” His eyes moved slowly over me, lingering in places where they shouldn’t have. I crossed my arms over my chest, and that brought his attention back to my face. “I won’t stand idly by and watch you break his heart. Little bar flies like you are a dime a dozen. But Lucien…” He shook his head. “He’s worth so much more than that.”

Anger burned in my chest. A bar fly? I wasn’t some little slut who hung out in dark bars just waiting for some guy to have pity on me and buy me a drink. I had so much more self-respect than that. I could take this guy out with one well-placed punch to the throat. And I would have, under any other circumstances.

But this was a case. It was my job to keep Lucien safe. Knocking out his brother wasn’t going to do that.

“What’s going on?”

I turned, relieved for once to see Lucien’s tall frame standing just a few feet away.

“Nothing,” Jacob said, his eyes moving over me one last time. “Just saying hello.”

“I’d say you’ve done that. So maybe you’ll give us a little privacy?”

Jacob nodded, ducking around Lucien without really looking at him. Lucien shut the door and stood there for a moment, resting his head against the cool wood for a long moment.

“I was just sitting here, and he came—”

“Could you get some juice out of that fridge for me?” Lucien said, interrupting me.

I glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, but still stood with his head against the door. I’d seen the small fridge tucked into a corner near the bed, but hadn’t really registered what it was. I wondered why he couldn’t get his own damn juice, but I went over there and grabbed one of these little pouches of juice that parents buy for their toddlers and carried it to him. He didn’t look up, and when he reached for it, his hand was shaking.

“Could you do the straw?” he asked.

There was something off about the tone of his voice. Was he angry at me for being alone in here with Jacob? It wasn’t like we were really a couple, despite all the touching and the kisses we’d exchanged. He really had no right to be angry.

I stabbed the straw into the bag and handed it back to him. He sipped at it, his eyes closed as he continued to stand with his back to me. When it was empty, he dropped it onto the floor and pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a small handheld game console or something.

Hell of a time to play games.

He watched its screen for a moment. I peeked at it, saw nothing more than a graph, the number fifty-five, and an arrow that was pointed downward.

“I’m sorry. Could you get me another juice?” he asked, his voice kind of weak.

I didn’t understand. But I was beginning to think there was something odd going on.

I got another bag of juice and pushed the straw into it without waiting for him to ask. He drank that one down too, then moved to a chair, sitting back like he’d just finished running a marathon or something.

“What’s going on? What is that thing?”

He looked at the device in his hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He held it up, turned so that I could see that the number was now a fifty-nine and the arrow was gone.

“It’s a continuous glucose monitor.”

“Glucose?”

He nodded. “I’m diabetic. Have been since I was six.”

I don’t know why it surprised me, but it did. I studied him, searching him for something that I’d missed before. I don’t know what I expected to see, but I felt like there should be some physical sign. Something that should have told me that he wasn’t all he appeared to be.

He sat up a little and pulled his shirt out of his pants. “Do you want to see?” he asked even as he lifted the shirt up high enough that it revealed washboard abs and two odd looking objects attached to his belly. One was about the size of a half dollar, a white piece of gauze with a clear plastic thing attached to a long, thin tube. The other was roughly the same size, but it was thicker, heavier. And it wasn’t attached to anything.