And coffee. Coffee would be a blessing.
“I didn’t haul you in bed.” A low rumble from Cass. “For the record, you hauled me in here.”
She sat up, too. “I don’t recall that.” A prim response.
“You were practically falling off the bike, princess.”
That part she did recall.
“I even thought about tying you to me because you were scaring me so badly,” he admitted gruffly. “But we made it here. Then I did carry you inside.”
She wondered exactly where…here was. Her gaze darted around the bedroom. Gleaming, wooden walls. High-end furniture. Expensive curtains near the two windows that she spied. Not some no-tell motel this time. Fancy. Pricey.
“I carried you into the bedroom, but when I turned to leave,” Cass continued in that rough and sexy voice of his, “you grabbed my hand. You told me to stay. You proceeded to fall dead into bed, and I…I just slept next to you. That’s it. End of story.”
That was it. Check. No hot sexing that she didn’t recall, though, seriously, Agnes didn’t think that she could sleep through hot sex with Cass. “Where are we?”
“A safe house in Texas.”
“A safe house,” she repeated. Sure. Yes. “Because MCs have those.”
“Yeah, they do.” He climbed from the bed. “The MCs have all sorts of interesting things that Feds don’t know about.” The curtains over the window to the right were parted a bit, and light had drifted into the bedroom. That light allowed her to see the tattoos on his back.
The two-headed snake with its fangs bared.
She lunged for the nightstand. Her frantic fingers yanked open the top drawer because it was second nature for her to store her gun either on a nightstand—like she’d done at the Grove Motel—or in the top nightstand drawer. Since the gun wasn’t on top, she figured it must be in a drawer. Exhausted or not, she would have followed her routine. Because that routine was about staying alive. Whether she was at home, in a motel, or?—
There was no gun inside the top drawer. Or in the second, bottom drawer, either.
“Looking for this, sunshine?”
Her head whipped toward Cass.
He had her gun in his hand.
Her breath seemed to freeze in her chest.
He blinked, then frowned at her. “Why in the hell are you staring at me like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” And how am I looking at you? Like I’m scared? Like I think you’re my enemy? She tried to school her features. Normally, Agnes had way better control of her expression. This just was not a normal situation. She also had not had coffee, so…yes, not normal. He has the cobra tattoo. He has my weapon. Has he been playing me all along? Agnes swallowed. “Maybe I’m a little…off because you’re pointing my gun at me?—”
“I’m not pointing it at you.”
“—and because you’re the enemy.”
His teeth snapped together. He’d been standing about five feet away from her, but at that one word…enemy…he immediately stalked back to the bed. Still holding her gun.
Her chin notched up. Fine. So she didn’t have a weapon. She could still fight like hell, so if he thought she’d be an easy target, the man was dead wrong.
“What is it that you think I am going to do to you?” Cass demanded. Then he slapped the gun down on top of the nightstand. “I told you before…I will never hurt you.”
Her breath heaved out, but she remained tense. She also decided to jump out of the bed because staying there didn’t seem like the best idea. Her hand automatically went for her gun.
He made no move to stop her.
The weight of her weapon was reassuring and…
She frowned. Then checked it. “What in the hell?”
