Heholds me there, riding that devastating, hidden friction, while he casually picks up his coffee mug with his free hand.Hetakes a sip, his lethal gray eyes locked in a dead stare with the two scouts by the door.
Whenhe finally shifts his leg down, offering me a agonizing fraction of relief, my pulse is thrumming against his chest, frantic and loud.Myentire body hums with a heavy, wet ache.
Thecafe is silent.
"Jesus,Elias,"Mikecalls out from the kitchen window, wiping his hands on a rag.Helets out a low whistle. "Tryingto melt the snow off the roof?"
Christiesets our plates down on the table with a triumphant grin. "Toldyou so," she whispers to no one in particular.
Ikeep my face hidden against his shoulder, my breathing ragged. "Everyoneis looking.Ican't even think straight."
"Good,"Eliasrumbles.Heglares over my head at the two men by the door.
Ipeek out just as the scouts break eye contact.Theylook unnerved, thoroughly intimidated by the primal display.Theyexchange a glance, turn around, and walk right back out into the cold.
"They’regone,"Ibreathe, my voice shaky.
"Theygot the message."Eliasfinally relaxes the iron grip around my waist, though he keeps me firmly straddling his leg.Hepicks up a fork. "Eatyour eggs."
"Ican't eat while sitting on you like a toddler,Elias."
"Youcan and you will.I’mnot letting you go."
Myphone buzzes on the table.ThenElias’sphone buzzes in his pocket.Atext from an unknown number pops up on my screen.
Welcometo the asylum. -Savannah
Eliaschecks his own phone.Hesnorts.
"Whois it?"Iask, spearing a piece of sausage.
"Logan," he says.Heturns the screen soIcan see.
Aboutdamn time, brother.Stopmaking out in the coffee shop and get back to the compound.Wehave a war to plan.
"Subtle,"Inote.
"Logandoesn't do subtle.Hedoes effective."Eliaspockets the phone.Hecuts a piece of my pancake, dunks it in syrup, and holds it to my lips.
Iopen my mouth, accepting the offering.It’sdelicious.Sweet, fluffy, perfect.
"So,"Isay afterIswallow. "I’myourOldLadynow?"
"You’vebeen myOldLadysince you color-coded my inventory," he says,leaning in to licka drop of syrup from my lip. "Ijust waited until the paperwork was filed to tell you."
"Youfiled the paperwork by burning it."
"Details."
Ilean back against his arm, watching the town ofPineValleygo about its day outside the window.Snowis falling gently now, dusting the parked cars and the storefronts.ItlooksHallmark-perfect.
ButIknow what lies beneath the surface.Iknow about theVaultdeep inside the main clubhouse, the guns in the trucks, and the fierce loyalty of the men who run this mountain.
Ifeel the weight of the master key in my flannel pocket.It’sheavy.Coldsteel.
"Youknow,"Isay softly, tracing the patch on his chest—Treasurer. "Ifwe survive theCostas,Ihave some ideas about your filing system."
Eliaspauses.Helooks down at me, and the tension in his face finally dissolves.Hesmiles.Areal, genuine smile that transforms his scary face into something breathtaking.
