The way something sizzled in my veins.
How there wasn’t a single thought in my mind but making him pay for what he’d done.
I could have killed that guy.
Imight havekilled that guy.
If Dylan hadn’t stepped in.
In general, I considered myself a pretty temperate guy. I didn’t have some kind of rage disorder. I got angry, sure, but in a detached sort of way. It didn’t feel personal to me.
And aside from the brutal beating of my former best friend, I never lost control of myself.
I’d been up half the night trying to figure out why that one bastard had elicited that kind of reaction from me.
I couldn’t come up with anything logical.
Sure, I hated when men were pushy with women. Who didn’t?
But I’d dealt with that before without having to nearly strangle a guy to death.
So the only thing I could conclude was that it was because of Dylan. Her personally. A woman fully capable of taking care of herself. Yet she somehow evoked an overwhelming protectiveness in me.
It made no sense.
So I stopped trying to analyze it and just let it exist.
I figured working side by side with Dylan on this job would help me sort through some shit.
So I went ahead and volunteered to research and book the hotel rooms.
Since no one else was interested in the task, there was no reason for them to suspect ulterior motivations.
Like finding a hotel with connecting rooms.
Two for Saint and Syn.
Two for Dylan and me.
Would she probably make sure the deadbolt and latch were fastened at first? Sure. But I had a feeling she would soften eventually.
I was working on packing my bag when someone cleared their throat in my doorway.
And there was Saint.
“What’s up?” I asked when he just leaned on the doorjamb, shooting a look in my direction that I didn’t know well enough yet to interpret.
“Syn got his room confirmation,” he said.
“Good. I sent it to him.”
“He and I got a connecting room, huh?” he asked, lips twitching ever so slightly. “I figure I can guess who you plan to beconnectedto.”
“It’s—” I started to object.
“It’s absolutely like that,” he cut me off. “And far be it from me to question where someone dips their wick, man. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna do something stupid like fuck up this job.” I straightened at that, ready to throw my seniority in his face. “And don’t feed me shit about being new to the club. Because I think we both know that in our past lives, I was a shot caller and you were an order follower.”
“Might be true,” I agreed. “But that was then. This is now. And now, there’s a club hierarchy. No matter how much you want to bypass it.”
