Lori Foster - Savor the Danger

She groaned. “That’s worse.”

Maybe. Since Trace knew Jackson, he probably had a good idea of things. A little louder, so Trace was sure to hear, he said, “It’s none of his damned business.”

She surprised Jackson by smothering a laugh. “Surely you don’t think that will stop him?”

“Probably not.” He knew what he was in for. But what she apparently didn’t know was that, because Trace was overprotective, he would never be satisfied seeing his sister with a man who wasn’t his equal.

Jackson fit the bill.

And despite all the bluster, Trace wasn’t blind; he knew Alani was a grown woman, able to make her own decisions.

Right now, she was safer with Jackson than without him.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, what else?”

She bit her lip, and shook her head.

“You said there were other things bothering you.”

“I know.” She slipped her arms around him in a brief hug that he felt clean to his soul. “But we’ve been in here too long already. We’ll talk about the rest later, when we don’t have an interested audience waiting on us.”

As if on cue, Trace said, “I’m counting to ten.”

Enjoying the contact of their mingling heartbeats, how right and natural it seemed, Jackson said, “Ignore him.”

“You’re not worried about his reaction to all this?”

He snorted. “Nah. Why would I be?”

After giving him a squeeze, she leaned away with a smile. “God, Jackson. What am I going to do with you?”

“That’s the fun part, honey. As long as you’re not pushing me away, you can do anything you want.”

WALKING BACK IN to face her brother and Dare was nearly painful. They weren’t exactly condemning her, but Dare watched her with that quiet scrutiny that was so much a part of him, now sharpened with curiosity, too.

Had Dare ever seen her as a sexual being? Probably not. She hadn’t even seen herself that way, especially not since the kidnapping to Tijuana. That, more than any other reason, had accounted for her problems with Marc. He wanted what she couldn’t give…or rather, what she couldn’t give until Jackson, until last night, until she’d discovered her own carnal nature.

Her brother…well, in any other circumstance, she would find Trace’s behavior amusing. It wasn’t often that she got to see him disconcerted. Even before their parents had died, he’d been an Alpha male in every way, taking charge of everything and everyone, always cool, always a rock.

But now, with the realization that her nightmare could be starting all over again, humor remained well out of Alani’s reach.

As Jackson sat down, he brought her with him, ensuring she stayed close to his side. His hold was comforting but also intrinsically possessive.

Did it mean anything?

Giving him a subtle nudge with her elbow, she complained in an aside, “I’d prefer a little more discretion, please.”

He kissed her ear. “Sorry.” He loosened his hold, but didn’t let her go completely.

And she was glad.

Dare and Trace watched their every move. Never had she envisioned her private life being made so public. Jackson didn’t seem to mind, but she couldn’t bear it.

“This is ridiculous.” She wanted them both to leave so she could put Jackson back to bed—to sleep. He needed to recoup after his ordeal, and she wanted to be the one to take care of him. Usually he was so capable, so strong. This might be her only chance, her only excuse for keeping him close.

With all three men underfoot, she couldn’t get her emotions in check. The dual assault of wanting Jackson again so badly, juxtaposed against the thrumming fear of danger, left her more flustered than usual.

She tried a direct look that came off weak at best. “If you two have finished your coffee…?”

Dare half smiled at her obvious hint and lifted his cup for another sip.

Trace hadn’t bothered with coffee. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you kicking out all of us, or just Dare and me?”

Short of admitting that she wanted to take advantage of Jackson’s predicament, what could she do other than protest? “You’re overstepping, Trace.”

“Not the first time.”

She stared at him, and he relented enough to say, “Until we sort this out, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

Jackson ran his fingertips down her spine. “Put your brother’s mind at ease, honey. Tell him I can stick around for the night.”

For the night? Oh, for pity’s sake. Sure, she realized that she might have stumbled into things, but they were stretching it. Rather than admit that she wanted Jackson to stay, she said, “I promise I will be extra careful.”

“Not good enough.” Dare set aside his coffee. “You don’t have the right skills to recognize a possible problem.”

Her smile hurt. “Believe me, being kidnapped more than drove home that point for me.” At her self-deprecating tone, each of them froze with uncertainty. It was almost amusing, given how big and skilled and dangerous they could be.

Knowing the way they thought, she continued, “It makes no sense that anyone would want to hurt me. Jackson was the one drugged.” She held up a hand. “But yes, I realize that if that woman had anything to do with him being drugged, then she saw my face and she heard Jackson call me by name.”

“It’s a long shot,” Jackson told her. “But why take any chances?”

Trace moved to stand over her. “It’s also possible someone knew you would be at his place, and that’s why Jackson got drugged in the first place.”

Dear God. She hadn’t even considered that. Had he been drugged so that someone could get to her? Had she inadvertently put Jackson in danger? Thinking aloud, she said, “I called him from my cell—”

Trace asked, “Not your office phone?”

“No.”

Dare stood. “Where is it?”

“My purse.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “In there.”

Dare left the room to get it.

Jackson had been too quiet. She glanced at him, and got caught in his intent stare.

Overly gentle, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to worry, Alani. No one is going to hurt you.”

Because people had already hurt her, an invisible fist squeezed her lungs. It took so little to alarm her.

Nothing really new in that. Since escaping Tijuana, she hadn’t really stopped being afraid. Sometimes she hid it well, and sometimes…sometimes it woke her in the middle of the night, a scream burning her throat, her face wet with tears.

Swallowing down the shame of cowardice, she nodded. “I know.” And then, hopefully with more strength, “So what now?”

Trace and Jackson shared a look. Jackson took her hand. “For about a dozen or more reasons, I’m hoping you’ll let me hang around. If Trace wasn’t leg-shackled—”

“Leg-shackled?” Sidetracked, Alani gave a laugh that sounded far too forced. “Priss would get you for that.”

Jackson showed his teeth in a wicked grin. “Yeah, she’d probably try.” He quickly held up a hand toward her brother. “Don’t hit me, Trace. I’m not a hundred percent, so it wouldn’t be fair. Besides, you know Priss is always on the fence about whether or not she likes me.”

Trace sawed his teeth together. “Shut up about it.”

Under most situations, her brother was the personification of icy calm.

When it came to his wife, Priscilla…not so much.

But then, given that Jackson, in the course of a rescue from intruders, had taken Priss naked from the shower, Alani understood why it nettled Trace.

After a tense silence, her brother reined in his anger to address her. “Do you have any appointments you need to cancel?”