Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(73)

“How did they find me?” she mumbled, leaning her head on his chest. The water was very hot and Jack was sitting behind her, keeping her in his arms.

“Donald. He’s dead.”

“Oh God.” He’d told her he was going to be traveling the whole month, so she hadn’t thought about warning him, not that she would have been able too, seeing as he always liked to be incommunicado. Still, guilt churned in her gut. “How did he…?”

“Die? Badly, we assume. The body hasn’t been recovered yet. Once they got your name it was only a matter of time before they’d figure out where you would be. You, my little pet, are too predictable.”

Then it dawned on her. “If they found out who I am, then they know Alex Ayala is—”

“A cover,” he finished, nodding. “Not too many arms dealers moonlighting as federal witness protectors, I’m afraid.”

She was so sorry she’d messed that up for him. She had always been very careful not to mention his name or publish any of his pictures.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Jack, your sister—”

“Already taken care of. I called while the paramedics were with you.”

“Good.” Elle couldn’t recall it, but to be fair, she couldn’t recall much of what happened after the explosion. It was all a blur of smoke, screams, and debris.

Her only point of reference, her anchor, had been Jack.

Relief had flooded her when she heard the Bowen men talking around her. The thought that something could have happened to them made her chest hurt.

“Sorry I ruined that for you.”

“Don’t sweat it. This was bound to happen at some point. Too visible attending all those Bowen events.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for the DNA results on the charred bodies in the car. If Maldonado is still alive, you go into hiding as we agreed.”

His tone was stern. Sterner than necessary.

“Of course I’ll go. I gave you my word. I don’t go back on my word.” She’d put enough people at risk already. If it came down to that, she’d go into hiding. Testify and face the consequences, whatever those might be. Time to grow up. “For what it’s worth, though, I saw Maldonado getting into the car.” The second Jack had started tearing into Maldonado’s men, the big boss had decided to cut his losses and had bolted.

“So did I,” Jack stated, “but we are not taking any more risks.”

There was something in the air. A heaviness. The realization that however it played today, whether she had to go into hiding or this nightmare was over, her time with Jack was up. And she so didn’t want to give him up.

She pushed that thought aside. Didn’t want to go there.

“You were right. It was stupid not to go into hiding in the first place. I almost got you killed. And the Bowens. Max’s skull is split, for Christ’s sake.” And it could have been so much worse. Aside from the three bodies in the car, there had been no casualties, just property damage. The crowd had been a bit behind and away from the big stationary cart full of explosives for the final presentation at the square. Five minutes later, it would have been packed with revelers. She didn’t want to ponder on how many would have lost their lives because of her stubbornness.

“Don’t worry about Max. He’s hardheaded.”

“The Diablos were so important to Jonah, and I stood him up so many times in that last year. I didn’t want to let Tate down by bailing on her again and dumping the restaurant on her. Instead I put everyone in jeopardy. Maldonado was probably at Rosita’s and at the house.”

Jack tightened his embrace. “You did what you thought was the right thing to do.”

She turned around to face him. “I was wrong and stubborn and unnecessarily difficult. Sorry I gave you such a hard time. I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you meant it,” he said smirking, the laugh lines around his eyes softening his otherwise harsh demeanor.

“Okay, sometimes I did,” she conceded. “It’s ingrained in me to defy authority types.”

“Let’s get out of the water,” he said, hoisting her up.

He took her to bed after drying her. Wrapped her in a fluffy quilt and engulfed her in his arms. She snuggled against him, burying her face in his neck. Her hair was going to be a mess when she woke up, but she didn’t care.

She must have fallen asleep for a while. How long, she didn’t know.

When she woke up, she propped herself on her elbow and studied him. Even sleeping he looked…severe. Alert. Bone-deep weariness marring his expression.

She caressed his face, the dark stubble raspy under her fingertips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“Soothing you.”

His inquisitive eyes opened this time. “I already told you once I don’t need soothing.”

“Yes you do,” she said, smoothing the worry lines from his forehead. “You also need to be taken care of. You deserve it.”

The way his muscles tensed at her words showed his disagreement, but she didn’t care. She nuzzled his scars, kissed them, feeling the tension rolling off him.

“You want me to f*ck you?” he asked.

She snorted softly. “You’re such a romantic.”