“You reading romance? Because if so, I have opinions,” he says, eyeing my e-reader.
“Yeah?” I set it in my lap and my lips quirk. “Do tell.”
“Most of it’s crap.” He leans forward like he’s sharing a secret. “All romance novel men are assholes. Too much, ‘I’m a cold heartless warrior with a dark past and emotional baggage I’ll never get over, woe is me.’ It’s bullshit. Women deserve better.”
“Oh? And what is it that you think women deserve?”
He leans back again with a shrug. “I don’t know, a dude that’s actually good to you? Who’s not a walking bag of issues you have to fix and has functioning communication skills. Not to mention a personality that isn’t just ‘I’m a badass but I brood in a sexy manner and I’m sad and lonely, so it’s justified.’” He makes a dismissive gesture like the answer is obvious.
I snort. “Date a lot of dark romance readers there, Jax?” I go back to my book, shaking my head at his cluelessness. “‘Cause you sound jealous.”
He barks out a laugh. “Jealous? Oh, daredevil, I am the dark romance.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But even I know not to brood all of the time. That shit’s exhausting.” He glances back at his laptop for a beat. “Though if you’re into tragic backstories and bad decisions, Griffin’s got the market cornered.”
That grabs my attention. I would never ask Jax to spill Griffin’s secrets but I definitely won’t make him shut up if he decides to tell me on his own. I’m curious about the man who climbed through my window and made the decision to standbetween me and the storm. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have guessed,” I say sarcastically.
He grins, dimples popping. “Yeah, tortured soul that one. Tragic backstory, a temper, commitment issues. The whole nine yards. If he wasn’t busy playing cowboy, he’d be a best seller.” He pauses. “Or were you expecting puppies and rainbows?”
“No, I definitely didn’t expect a lot of sunshine in his past. But I had hoped most of the shadows he carried came from his occupation more than a hard life...” I frown, worrying my lip piercing with my teeth. I wonder what sort of past Griffin had and how much of it is responsible for the dark aura he carries.
Jax watches me for a moment before smirking. “You like him.”
“What?” Shocked out of my musings, my eyes snap to Jax. “No, no I don’t. I’m just curious about him. I mean what makes a man like that drop everything and risk his life for a woman he barely knows?”
He tilts his head to the side like I said the most obscure thing he’s ever heard. “Huh.” He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his chair on two legs. “Well, if that’s what you’re wondering. Griffin doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to. Ever.” He lets the chair legs fall back to the floor with a clunk. “So either you’ve got some real impressive blackmail material on him. Or he’s that gone over you already.”
I scoff, “Wow, you’re full of jokes aren’t you? Fine, don’t tell me.”
He raises a brow and taps the side of his laptop. “You really don’t know why he’s doing this? That he has the connections that could have put you in witness protection instead of watching over you himself? I did tell you, you aren’t listening.” He goes back to his laptop with an amused shake of his head. The clicking of his keys fills the room again.
I stare at the screen not absorbing anything. Jax’s words repeat in my head. Connections, witness protection, he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. I read the same paragraph five times. When I start to read it a sixth, I decide I don’t need to know. Because right now, the conclusions that I am coming to feel far scarier than the Russian mafia.
~ Griffin Colson ~
BISHOP UNPACKS A DUFFELbag full of weapons onto the bed. The scent of gun oil and stale cigarette smoke permeates the musty motel room. I send another text to Jax.
“Intel’s comin’ through slower than he thought.” I straighten up, shoving my phone into my back pocket. “Sokolov’s got former Spetsnaz on payroll now.”
“Spetsnaz?” He lets out a humorless chuckle, loading magazines. His practiced hands move with lethal precision. “Well, ain’t that fucking festive.” He looks up. “So what’s the play? Because storming a new location blind sounds like a great way to get your pretty face ventilated.” The rain outside starts to pelt the motel window like an omen or piss-poor timing.
I scowl and drum my knuckles on the desk. I’m not thrilled about the idea of playing target practice for ex-Russian special ops either. “Jax is workin’ on trackin’ down their new location. But he had to dig deep. Not a lot of open information on the Spetsnaz. And Sokolov is keepin’ this one close to the belt.” The muscles in my neck tighten. “In the meantime, we wait.”
He grunts. “If you want my advice, I’d say keep your pants zipped while we do. Last thing we need is you with your head in your dick.”
I push fully off the doorframe. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Bishop.”
He smirks, knowing he hit a nerve. “Mm-hmm, that’s what I thought.”
I bristle and stop myself from telling the fucker where to shove his advice. But after years of working under him, I know it’s easier and a hell of a lot safer to walk away. I stalk over to the other bed and unload my bag. I sort through my gear while my jaw ticks. I can practically smell the testosterone-fueled tension in the damn room. We both clean and reload magazines, a task that’s as easy to us as breathing.
Finally, he sighs. “Alright, out with it.” He sets down the gun he was holding and crosses his arms, looking at me expectantly.
“Out with what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he scoffs. “You’re thinking so loudly I’m half convinced I’m the one getting a fucking migraine. And if anything, you need to let it out before it gets you killed.”
I go back to checking magazines. He’s right, I know he’s right. But, it stings to have it pointed out. I hate how well he can read me like he has a front row seat inside my mind. I set the magazine in the bag before glaring at him. “You ever consider that I don’t feel like talkin’?”
He raises a brow. He’s dealt with thirteen years of my surly ass and he’s not about to get scared off now. He lets out an amused huff. “Don’t try to bullshit me.” He sits down and leans against the headboard. “We’re going to be here awhile. You might as well get it off your chest, princess.”
