Immortal Redeemed. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
begun to feel safe with her arms around this stranger’s waist. Safer than she’d felt for a very long time. And that was a surprising revelation.
“I’m guessing you don’t live here,” he said, looking around.
“No. A friend of mine will take over from here. I appreciate your help in getting me this far.”
“Your friend is Detective Miller?”
“How did you know that?”
He swiveled to hand her the cell phone she’d forgotten about. “You called him in front of me.”
Losing the phone had been another unacceptable mental lapse and a slip in her safety net. Just how badly was she looking for trouble? She hadn’t made any effort to get off the bike, a fact her biker would have noticed. She was sending mixed signals, damn it, and for no good reason.
“Maybe you could call the detective over,” her companion suggested with his eyes trained on her. “Or maybe you’d like me to do the honors?”
“I’ll find him on my own,” McKenna said. “I’m not sure he’d like you.”
“I’m quite certain he wouldn’t,” he agreed.
Easing back, McKenna checked out the logo on his back. Blood Knights didn’t sound good. But it wasn’t any local gang she was familiar with.
“What do you do, other than riding a Harley?” Her former cop tone came through on that question.
He shrugged. “I travel.”
“That’s all? You don’t work?”
“Would that make you feel better about accepting my help?”
“Immensely.”
The grin he flashed made her feel morally weaker, and quite prejudiced about the truth of beauty being everything. As if the smile were contagious, McKenna felt her own lips rebelliously upturn.
Those light blue eyes of his were a shocking contrast to the sculpted features any male model would have given eyeteeth for. His eyes seemed to be lit from within.
She was starting to think she’d dreamed him up.
He was still staring at her.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. “I have a tendency to speak too quickly and demand everything. It’s both a habit and a fault.”
“I get it,” he said. “And it’s okay.”
And yet she still hadn’t made that call to Derek. Minutes had gone by at the curb. An officer McKenna didn’t immediately recognize had caught sight of them and was on his way over. She would ask that officer to get Derek.
“Maybe you should go,” she suggested to the man beside her.
“With or without you?” he asked, as if he possessed the ability to read her mind and knew she didn’t really want to be at this crime scene, now that she was. Maybe he sensed she was too tired to handle anything more, including another cop’s biased queries about her condition and her ride.
McKenna also had an uncanny feeling that her rescuer might be reluctant to leave her, and the idea produced a thrill.
“Back to the hospital?” he asked. “Someplace where we can call a cab?”
McKenna bit her lip to keep from reciting her address out loud. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the black jacket slipping off this guy’s broad shoulders. She could almost feel the texture of his golden skin beneath her hands, and imagine the savage way she’d go for his pants.
Those brazen, totally unacceptable images scattered when another cop called out, “Randall, is that you?” He shone a flashlight in her direction.
She and her leather-clad knight turned their heads toward the young cop at the same time.
“Yeah,” she called back. “Just checking things out for old times’ sake.”
Lowering her voice, McKenna whispered, “Hospital,” willing her rescuer to take her away without further delay or remarking about her wishy-washy mental state. After all, he’d mentioned waiting for someone near the hospital. Quite possibly she’d been an unwelcome kink in his timeline, and he’d be glad to get back to whomever he’d been waiting for.
The streak of jealousy that came with the idea of this guy belonging to another woman was fierce and unexpected, arriving with the force of a sucker punch. Imagining some other woman’s arms around his waist, inhaling the same musky maleness she’d inexplicably begun to desire, made her hot under the collar.
What if that other woman were to tug that zipper down slowly, inch by inch, to expose what waited to be discovered by a worthy mouth or hand? Trace the pattern of that rolling black tattoo on his neck with her tongue?
Damn it!
Several more choice words slipped out of her mouth before the guy said a gravelly “Hold tight,” revved the bike’s engine and lifted his feet.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” McKenna muttered as the night wind again assailed her and the yellow crime tape disappeared behind them.
* * *
While he might never have imagined it, Kellan now found that he could be persuaded to wait a little longer to discover the extent of this woman’s secrets. Not long. Just enough time to explore the hills and valleys of her beautiful body and indulge in some monumental lovemaking.
He sensed now that she might permit that kind of intimacy. As an experiment, he decided to let go of his own wishes and find out.
“Second left,” his passenger directed in a hoarse, weary voice that also held a hint of invitation.
Kellan took another corner, knowing that turning where she indicated would eventually circle them back to the yellow tape and whomever she had decided not to see there just two minutes ago.
Change of heart?
Go with the gut?
To hell with instinct?
Was she back to considering him a threat?
“Stop,” she directed after they had gone two more blocks, maybe as a test to see if he would do as she asked.
Kellan pulled over, planted his boots, waited to see what she’d do next and what she expected.
“Thanks,” she muttered, loosening her hold on him slightly.
“My pleasure.”
They were parked in front of an old commercial building that was six stories high and made of brick covered over with a dark coat of paint. Lights glowed in the third-and fifth-story windows. Weak overhead lanterns illuminated the entrance and its large metal door.
Kellan turned to look at his passenger. “You live here?”
“Yes. I won’t be asking you in, though, for obvious reasons.”
“Obvious reasons,” Kellan repeated, nodding his head. “Completely understandable. Would you like me to walk you to your door?”
“I don’t think so. You’re too...”
She had a habit of not finishing her sentences. And they were about to return to the previous conversation dealing with what she might think of him.
“I’m too terrifying,” he supplied, filling in the blanks. “I’m an unknown. As I said earlier, I get that. You don’t know me, and vice versa. So, off you go. I can wait here until you get inside, and then I’ll be on my way.”
She didn’t move. Either she wasn’t physically able to hurry, or she was having second thoughts about leaving him.
“Okay, then.” Kellan shut off the engine and climbed off the bike. He took hold of her elbow, absorbing the shocks of electricity accompanying the touch.
Christ,