Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(11)

Muse reaches down to pull off her shoes and tuck her feet up under her on the seat. “This is a nice car. Not quite what I pictured you driving.”

“It’s a long trip. I thought you’d appreciate a comfortable ride.”

I see her head jerk toward me. “You did this for me?”

I glance in her direction. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not completely heartless.”

“I—I didn’t say you were heartless.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

She doesn’t argue.

—

Just after a quick and silent lunch of burgers and fries right outside Tucson, she tries again. “Where’d you get that watch? It looks like something a sniper would wear.”

I glance at the black square on my wrist. Not a sniper’s watch, but . . .

When I don’t answer, she asks more directly, “Were you in the military?”

“Yes,” I answer grudgingly.

Encouraged by my answer, she turns in her seat to face me. “Really? What branch?”

“The Army.”

“My father served in the Army. He went in because his father and both his brothers served. Did you have family in the military, too? Father? Brothers or sisters?”

I grit my teeth. These are not things that I want to think about, much less talk about. “I really need you to find something else to do with your time. I’m not the talkative, sharing type.” I twitch my head to the right and see the wounded slant to her big green eyes. I sigh again and turn back to the road. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just being honest.”

After a few seconds of silence, I glance back over at her. The twin emeralds are flashing. “Well then let me be honest with you. It’s been a really shitty year for me and now my father is missing. I can’t stand sitting here with nothing but time to think about what I might find back home. I’m sorry if polite conversation isn’t in your repertoire, but maybe, just maybe, you could make an exception just this once.” Her voice is louder, punchier at the end and I know her temper is on the rise.

Fire.

Damn, I’m liking that!

“I’m doing you a favor, Muse. You don’t want to get to know me.”

“Maybe I do. You can’t possibly know that.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” I confess quietly.

I hear her huff of frustration before she flounces back in her seat, crossing her arms stiffly over her chest and turning to stare out the window.

She’s better off not knowing me. She just doesn’t know it.





SEVEN


Muse

It’s dark when we arrive at our stopping point for the night. I’m relieved to be off the highway.

I ache. Mentally and physically. From too much stillness, I think. The only physical exertion I got all day was wallowing around in the passenger seat, taking two pee breaks and getting out to stretch while Jasper was in the drive-through at lunch. Mentally, the only stimulation I got was wrestling with my own private, tumultuous thoughts. Jasper provided me with . . . well, nothing. Nothing but the services of a chauffer and a heaping dose of frustration.

I’ve met guarded men before, but none quite so extreme as Jasper. He doesn’t even want to share in conversation about other things, mundane things. It’s like he doesn’t want to participate in life, get even politely close to anybody. Or at least that’s the impression I’m getting so far.

Anxious to be able to stand and move, I practically leap out of the car when Jasper parks outside the hotel he chose for the night. We’re on the outskirts of El Paso, a town I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting. It could be a fun and interesting night, a nice diversion from my worries and inner turmoil, but since I’m with a stick in the mud, my expectation now is to crash in my room and be back on the road at an obscene hour.

“You’re a terrible road tripper, by the way,” I tell Jasper bluntly as I wait for him to come around the front of the car so we can register at the hotel.

“And why is that?”

“You’re about as stimulating as a goat. We didn’t even play stupid road trip games or anything!”

I wasn’t expecting a deep philosophical discussion on the way, but a fun game of “punch buggy” or “ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall” might’ve helped ease my mind a little.

He doesn’t even glance at me when he responds, just starts off toward the hotel lobby. “A goat? I’m crushed.”

I strike out after him, still fussing. “As well you should be. The least you could do is make some small talk occasionally. I mean, God!”

He startles a yelp out of me when he stops suddenly and turns toward me. “I didn’t realize you needed stimulation. Maybe you should’ve made your expectations clear from the outset.” I crash into his chest and stumble backward. He reaches out to grab my upper arms, hauling me up against him to keep me from falling.

I gasp at the electricity in his touch, in the feel of his body pressed so firmly to mine. My front, from my nipples to my navel, is hot and tingly and . . . aware. Too aware.

His eyes burn down into mine. He’s so close I can see the black of his pupils explode to eclipse the amber of his irises. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s affecting him, too.