The word came out faster than I meant it to and his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I wasn’t suggesting anything weird.”
“I know,” I said quickly, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I just… No, I’m fine. I’ll manage.”
For a moment I thought he might argue; instead, he just nodded once.
“All right. You know where I am.” He pushed off the doorframe and walked away without another word.
I stared at my reflection, annoyed at myself. I didn’t want to upset him or annoy him, and yet that was all I seemed to do. He had taken on what had happened at the bar as if it was all his fault, but we both knew the truth, and we both knew that none of this was his fault. It was my parents’ fault. It was the Kings’ fault. It was the cartels fault. And it was definitely whoever the rat was in their club.
My parents had gotten involved in some shady stuff, and now I was being dragged along for the ride.
Ten minutes later, I heard Tex’s voice downstairs. I crept to the top of the stairs and tried to listen, but the call was short and clipped, and he hung up before I’d managed to catch even a single word.
I wanted to know what was happening. Had they found the rat in their club? Had they discovered where the cartel was hiding out? Were they making moves to eliminate them? Was it possible to eliminate the cartel—and why the hell was I talking like I was in some gangster movie?
“Eliminate the cartel,”I mumbled mockingly to no one.
I rolled my eyes and went back to my room and lay on my bed.
I was just drifting off when I heard a car pull up and then the sound of talking from downstairs drifted up to me. It wasn’t unusual—plenty of people had been turning up from the clubhouse to check on me and the ranch and speak to Tex—but this voice was female.
Climbing off the bed, I headed to the window to look out, but I just missed whoever it was coming inside.
Had Tex phoned for a hookup?
I scowled at the thought, disgust and jealousy rolling around in my belly like bad food. I walked to the door and headed downstairs. There was no way he was doingthatinmyhome!
When I walked into the kitchen, my scowl still on my face, Tex and a woman turned to look at me. Her dark hair was pulled into a long, loose braid, her blue eyes standing out against her pale, freckled skin. She had a leather jacket slung casually over her shoulders, and one hand on her leather-clad hip.
“You must be Rowan,” she said with an easy smile.
“Uh…yeah.”
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Tex called me. Said you needed help.”
I turned toward him slowly. “You called for reinforcements?”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “You said no to me.”
I opened my mouth to argue and then closed it again, because honestly? I did need help.
The woman stepped forward, holding out her hand.
“I’m Jordan,” she said. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Upstairs in the bathroom, Jordan worked like it was second nature—gently guiding me to lean back, carefully washing my hair without tugging too hard or getting water anywhere near the bandage.
“You’re lucky,” she said casually. “Most guys wouldn’t think to do this.”
I huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, well, Tex isn’t exactly like most guys.”
“No,” she agreed. “He’s not.”
There was something in her tone that made me glance at her.
“What?”
