Текст книги "Primal Law"

Автор книги: J. Tyler

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Quickly, he tucked his flagging erection into his jeans and zipped up, and then pulled Alexa to her feet. “I have to see about this. Go back to the hotel, where it’s safe.”

“Oh, come on,” she began, pouting. “It ain’t your problem. Let someone else deal with it.”

Spinning her around, he gave her a push toward the corner. “Go, now, and don’t follow me. I’ll call you.” In that moment, he knew he never would, but the reason eluded him.

Digging his iPhone from his jeans pocket, he took off at a jog, wincing at the stab of pain in his mangled leg. In human form he could walk with barely a limp, but more strenuous activity such as jogging, running, or sparring with his teammates still caused the injured limb a great deal of agony.

Ignoring the pain, he scented the air. Fear.The unknown woman’s panic clawed at his chest, more than a stranger’s should. He had to get to her, make sure she was all right. Following the scent, he slowed long enough to ring Zander. Thankfully, his friend answered right away.

“What’s up?”

“My hookup, Alexa. You’ve met her.”

“Right.”

“We went for a walk, but something’s going down and I had to send her back. She’s coming your way.” He gave Zan her location and the intersection he’d just passed.

“I’ll call the others and send them as backup. After I make sure she’s safe, I’ll head there myself. What’s going on?”

“Not sure, but I heard a woman scream twice.”

“Be there soon.”

“Thanks, man.” Ending the call, he stuffed the phone into his pocket again and picked up the pace. He didn’t understand this driving need to hurry, to get between this woman and whatever threat she faced. He ran full out, knowing by the sweet scent that must be hers that he was almost there. She was nearby.

His route took him farther from the Strip, across another parking lot and past more darkened buildings. Not an area where anyone should wander alone. What had brought the woman to such a desolate part of the city? He’d learn soon enough.

As he rounded another building, he spotted her. The woman whose scent would likely drive him mad if he had a few seconds to savor it. The petite blonde was struggling in the hold of a man in a dark suit, fighting like a rabid wildcat, biting, scratching, and kicking. A second man rose to his feet, gun in one hand, cupping his crotch with the other, and Jaxon felt a surge of pride knowing she’d put him on the ground. Then the first man slammed her against the side of a car and delivered a blow to her face that snapped her head back and made her cry out in pain and terror.

Tear out his fucking heart and feast on it while it beats.

Jaxon’s beast rose with a vengeance, burst from his skin without conscious thought. His roar shook the earth, brought the tableau before him to a complete standstill. He stripped off his shirt, was barely aware of the rest of his clothes falling away as skin became fur, muscles and bones contorting and reshaping, the usual pain little more than a whisper in his mind. Hands changed to paws, fingernails to claws, man to pure, raging gray wolf.

All zeroed in on the man who’d struck the small, pretty blonde.

The soldier in him knew the smart move would be to go for the man with the gun; the beast demanded blood from the one with his hands on her. The one who’d hit her.

The one who now let her go, twisted around to confront the new threat . . . and stared at him in horror. The predator in him felt a surge of satisfaction. His wolf wasn’t nearly as hampered by his leg injury as the man.

The wolf sped across the distance, leaped, and the man screamed, the last sound he’d ever make. His forepaws struck the bastard square in the chest, knocking him backward, into the side of the car. Off-balance, the man stumbled and fell, and Jaxon took him to the ground. Lunging, he went for the kill, snapped his jaws around the vulnerable neck, teeth sinking into flesh, through muscle and bone. The man’s scream ended in a rough gurgle, his hands grabbing desperately at the wolf’s fur, trying to dislodge him. To no avail.

The struggles weakened as blood filled the wolf’s mouth, rich and sweet, and he was hardly aware of the man’s companion shouting in terror. The beast longed to linger over his prize, to rip into the savory meat and take his fill. To howl his triumph over the man who’d dared to strike his—

A muffled pop and a searing pain in his shoulder brought him around snarling, his kill abandoned as he faced the remaining threat. This asshole had also wanted to harm the woman, and for that he was fucking dead. The wolf launched himself at the second man, who backpedaled with a yell, pointed the gun and fired again. His shot went wide, and Jaxon took him down as easily as he had the first goon, tearing out his throat. The urge to feed was strong, almost unbearable, now that they were no longer a threat to the woman.

The woman.

Again, the scent of her invaded his senses. With the danger past, he let his limp prey drop from his jaws and finally took stock, letting the aroma of citrus and vanilla fill him, the crisp, clean essence of her imprinting on every cell of his being. A strange rush fired his blood, as though the man inside the beast had mainlined a load of coke, a comparison he could honestly make. A much younger, more reckless Jaxon had flirted with the edge of no return before he’d gotten his act together and joined the Marines.

Instinct told him that the effect of this woman’s scent had the potential to be twice as intoxicating as any drug, and much more dangerous to the man andto the wolf.

Turning, he saw her. Edging around the front of the dilapidated car with her hands on the hood, eyes wide with shock, trying to put the vehicle between them. The predator in him tensed, focused his attention solely on the woman, and he moved forward slowly. Began to stalk her—but not for the reason she might think.

She was slim and small, fine-boned, with a delicate face that was all angles and dominated by big sky blue eyes. Almost an elfin face, especially with the shoulder-length pale blond hair framing those sweet features. He doubted her head would reach his chin, and all things considered, she’d tuck against his chest and mold perfectly against his much bigger body.

Mine.

And why the hell would he go all possessive over a woman he didn’t know? His irritation with himself emerged as a growl.

“N-nice puppy,” she stammered, stumbling as she kept moving backward, around the car. “Good puppy. Aren’t you p-pretty?”

The wolf snorted, which came out like a sneeze. He’d been called a lot of things, very few of them complimentary, and certainly never pretty. But from her? He could live with that.

She grabbed for the passenger door handle and tugged, only to find it locked on that side. Eyes round with fear, she stared at him, and he recognized the moment she realized she was trapped. There was nowhere to go, no escape.

The woman was his.

Kira stared at the . . . dog? Husky? Wolf?

Wolf-man?

No. She had not seen a pissed-off Rambo wannabe burst from the shadows, strip off his shirt, and turn into a big ball of fuzz. That image had to have been a product of her terrified, overwrought mind. But it had seemed so real. She blinked, studying the animal warily as it returned her regard.

The creature was huge, with creamy white fur tipped in black and gray around its face, ears, shoulders, and back. His eyes were a steely blue-gray and seemed to look straight into her soul. Despite the blood marring his coat on his right shoulder, he was beautiful.

And he’d easily ripped apart two grown men, one of them armed. Another glance at the gore confirmed that part was definitely no figment of her imagination.

He continued to advance on her, and she shrank against the passenger’s side of her Camry, heart hammering in her throat. She couldn’t outrun him if she tried, a fact reflected in those piercing eyes. They were eerily intelligent, almost daring her to try so he could enjoy the thrill of chasing her down.

“Nice puppy,” she crooned again, voice wobbling. Holding out a shaking hand, she tried a command. “Stay!” The beast stopped, cocked his head, an almost bemused expression on his canine face. “Good boy. Sit!”

He did.

Some of her fear began to ease and she wondered how well trained the animal was. Maybe he was someone’s guard dog that got lost? He’d certainly protected her from those bastards. “Roll over.”

At that, the creature’s form began to waver. Sort of reshape. She blinked rapidly, thinking there must be something wrong with her vision. But no, she was simply losing her mind after all, because fur retracted, became skin. Paws became hands and feet with very human limbs attached. Tufted black ears went away; the snout disappeared and was suddenly a regal nose.

And now a black-haired man crouched where the wolf had been seconds ago. A big, very naked man who unfolded his tall body and gazed down at her, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“I’ll do a lot of things on command,” he drawled lazily. “But I don’t roll over for anyone, sweetheart.”

Her brain fritzed. “I—I . . . you . . .” She trailed off helplessly, unable to form a coherent response.

Her eyes raked his body, and she thought he had to be about six-foot-four and more than two hundred pounds. He was pretty well ripped, his chest, long limbs, and torso sculpted with muscle. Thick, strong shoulders led to defined collarbones and a broad chest sprinkled with springy dark hair and graced by two bronzed male nipples. His right shoulder was marred by a bloody gouge, just stopping at the edge of a large tribal tattoo of gorgeous scrollwork that spilled over the deltoid area and ran down his arm. Did it extend down his back as well? There also appeared to be some sort of design worked into the swirls on his shoulder, but she didn’t pause to study it.

Her scrutiny drifted lower to his taut, ridged stomach, the dip of his hips. Skimmed down mile-long athletic legs. A network of scars twisted around his right thigh, knee, and calf, and she wondered how the terrible injury had happened, but it did nothing to detract from his physical potency. Inevitably, her attention settled at the apex of his thighs, to the proof that whatever else he might be, one hundred percent pure male stood before her now. A well-endowed man, even in repose, his impressive sex nestled in a neat thatch of curly dark hair.

A hysterical giggle escaped before she could stop it. Her wolf manscaped. How courteous, since he obviously didn’t have a problem with public nudity.

“See something amusing?”

The frown in his tone brought her head up and she studied his face for the first time. A single word whispered through her brain, made her shiver—lethal.

If she hadn’t already known he was seriously badass, his looks confirmed the impression. He was no modelperfect pretty boy. His spiky black hair seemed to defy gravity, somehow arranging itself into an artfully messy style that reminded her of tangled sheets. Dark brows were arched above a prominent nose and full mouth with lush lips. His ears each bore a piercing of a shiny black stud. His jaw was strong, dusky with a five o’clock shadow, and a soul patch graced his chin. Normally, she preferred men without facial hair, but on this guy? It fit him.

No, not pretty at all.

Raw. Stunning. Untamed.

He spoke, and it took her a second to realize he’d repeated the question. “No, not really. I was just thinking it’s so nice that you find time to stay well groomed. When you’re not tearing out people’s throats.” What am I saying? Shut up, idiot! “Are you going to do that to me?’Cause I gotta tell ya, I’m probably a little gamey. Really, really stringy and—”

“Relax,” he said, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you. I heard you scream and I . . .” Suddenly he went rigid, staring deeply into her eyes. Lowering his hand, he grasped her wrist, his hold gentle but firm. His eyes glazed and he seemed to be looking beyond her somehow. Into her soul.

“What are you doing?” She tugged, trying to pull free, hyperaware of the warmth of his palm, his manly scent. A mix of fresh leaves, the outdoors, and sweat. God, he smelled good.

He shook his head, the weird moment broken. Just as quickly, his expression darkened, his mouth thinning in anger. “What are you hiding? Tell me what you stole from those bastards—the ones I killed to save your ass.”

The blood drained from her face. Oh, shit. Did he work for them, too? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes were flinty. “Sure you do. Spill it.”

“Fuck, man. What happened here? Can’t leave you alone for a goddamned hour.”

Startled, Kira twisted and peered over the roof of her car to see two tall men—one redhead and one blond—step into the circle of light and eye the dead suits with grim expressions. The blond pushed a strand of silvery hair from his eyes and whistled.

“Shit. Cleanup on aisle six.” His voice held a note of humor, and his expression was kind as he looked up, spotting her. “Ran into a bit of trouble, huh?” So it was the pissed-off guy with the long, dark auburn hair who’d first spoken.

She nodded, windpipe shrinking to the size of a pinhole.

“Well, don’t worry, honey. We’ll take care of you,” he said gently.

Hours, make that days, of fear and worry caught up with her in a rush, and she was suddenly exhausted. The empathy from this stranger in the middle of all the chaos, not to mention the anger radiating from his two buddies, just about did her in. Tears stung her eyes and she struggled not to let them fall as her captor dragged her around the side of the car to meet his companions.

“Don’t look at them,” he ordered her, nodding toward the sprawled bodies.

Which, of course, made her look again. And almost get sick.

“For God’s sake, Law, put on some damned clothes before my eyes bleed,” the redhead growled.

“Yeah, well, it’s kinda hard not to lose the threads when we get furry, dickhead.”

Get furry. We?

Red cut her a sharp look. “She see you change?”

“Affirmative.”

“Oh, fantastic. You do realize Sweet Thing is now our special guest?” At Red’s venomous glare, she pressed backward, into the man who’d come to her rescue. “We. Are. Fucked. Nick’s going to shred our asses.”

“For what?” A fourth man joined the party, jogging from the darkness. The dark-haired newcomer halted, scanning the scene. “Christ.”

“Trust me, it gets better,” Red informed him, curling his lip. He flicked a hand at Kira and the man—Law?—who now placed his body protectively between her and the others. “The fair damsel got herself into some shit. Our friend here got his hero goin’ on, wiped out the vermin, but oh, wait—the chick saw him do his White Fang impression. So now she goes with us, whereupon we can look forward to a reaming from the boss. That about right?” He snarled the question at Law.

“You got it in one,” he said coolly, eyes like steel. A muscle in his jaw ticced. “And I’d do it again. So now we deal with the mess, and if you don’t like it, tough. After the cleanup, she’s my responsibility. I’ll field the heat from Nick and take care of her.”

“Damned right you will.”

“Knock it off, you two.” The blond tossed a pile of clothes at Law. “Get dressed so we can ghost out of here. I’ll go get the SUV.”

The dark-haired guy palmed a set of keys and tossed them to the blond.

Law let her go and pulled on a pair of jeans, followed by his black T-shirt. As he tugged on a pair of heavy lace-up boots, Kira found her voice. “Hang on a second,” she said, edging away from them. “Take care of me? Like you took care of them? No, thanks. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No longer an option.” Law straightened, shot her a feral grin. “Welcome to Alpha Pack, sweetheart.”

Two

“Wh-what’s Alpha Pack?”

The woman was about two seconds from short-circuiting. She was tired and frightened as hell, and Aric’s sorry attitude wasn’t helping. Friend or not, if the red wolf snarled at her again, Jaxon would plant his fist in the moron’s face.

Even if she was a criminal on the run.

“I’ll explain that later.” He gestured to the beat-up car. “You got anything important to bring along?”

She nodded. “My purse.”

“Is that where you stashed whatever it is you stole?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“Get the purse. That’s part of the talk for later.”

Avoiding the bodies, she stepped up to the driver’s door, opened it, and leaned in. In seconds she emerged, clutching the bag to her stomach. “Ready.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kira,” she said hesitantly. “Kira Locke.”

Kira. He liked it. The name fit her. “I’m Jaxon Law.”

“What should we do with these guys?” Zander asked, interrupting the introductions.

Jaxon thought a moment. “We’ll take their wallets so we can run their names later, do a background check. See who they worked for. Then we’ll put them in the car, one behind the wheel, the other in the passenger’s seat, and light a bonfire.”

Aric grinned, his mood improved by the prospect. “My pleasure.”

“Before you do, let me see if I can get a reading or two.” Crossing to the nearest man, the one who’d shot him, he squatted and wrapped his fingers around the wrist, making sure to get part of the coat sleeve.

Objects and clothing often carried better signals than people. The impressions he could pick up from a dead person faded quickly, and the living sometimes shielded their thoughts whether they realized it or not.

In the background, the woman, Kira, whispered, “What’s he doing?”

“Shh.”

As always, he braced himself for the buzz in his brain, like a thousand angry bees. His vision grayed out, the ground beneath him disappeared, and he was falling, falling. And then caught, snared in a web of someone else’s making. Sticky threads brushed at his cheek, snagged his hair and tugged at his clothes, but he no longer tried to brush them away in panic as he’d done when he was thirteen and his Psy ability had first manifested.

The strings weren’t really there in the physical sense. Rather, he’d come to think of them as the tattered moorings of memories to their owners, ripped free and waiting for someone with his ability to grab hold and use them as a guide to the images he sought.

They were anything but consistent, and he likened latching on to one to catching a soap bubble without causing it to pop. The process was tedious, exhausting, and the quicker he grabbed a thread and made the reading, the better.

The first two slipped away, but he took firm hold of the third, following it to the end. Some memories were mere snapshots, but this one was a snippet of film, and Jaxon found himself looking through the eyes of the initial speaker—the dead man in his grasp. The man’s residual anger, his trepidation, enveloped Jaxon.

“I’m telling you, this is not my problem. I don’t give two shits what Chappell says, I’m not getting paid enough to deal with his freaky God complex!”

The middle-aged, average-looking man in the white lab coat twisted his lips into a condescending smile. “You’re being paid plenty, and you’ll do your job. Unless you’d rather volunteer to be his next subject.” He reached for the phone on the counter. “I can call him right now and make him aware of your issues—”

“Try it, you nasty little fuckwad, and I’ll break your neck. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, just that I’m not getting paid enough to take these kinds of risks. I’ll talk with him myself, and you mind your own damned business. Got it?”

Without waiting for an answer, he spun and slammed out of the lab.

“Slimy creep, he’s gonna call anyway. Shit, what am I gonna do about . . .”

“Jax!”

“. . . and sooner or later the cops will notice . . .”

“Jax! Jesus, wake up!”

The thread snapped and he came back to himself gradually. Sounds of the city at night filtered in, along with the oppressive heat. And the fact that he was no longer kneeling, but slumped backward against a big body. Zander’s voice was quiet and anxious next to his ear.

“Scares the hell out of me every time you do that.”

“Sorry,” he slurred.

“You okay?”

“Think so.”

“Get anything?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure what.”

He’d have to think about it. Later. God, he was so tired. Always was after he went that deep into a memory. It was much different from the simple flash he’d gotten from the woman a few minutes ago. He wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon tomorrow. Like that would be an option once Nick got wind of their guest.

“Can you get up?”

No.His leg was screaming. “Yes.”

“All right. Hang on to me.”

Zander stood, hauling him to his feet, steadying him as he blinked away the rest of the fuzziness. Got his bearings. As their surroundings came into focus again, he saw his friends and their new acquaintance staring at him, obviously worried.

Zander patted his cheek. “Hey, you need a turbo boost from the Z-Man?”

Shaking his head, he gave his best friend a lopsided grin. “Naw, I’m good. I’ll sleep it off on the way back to the compound.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Bitching, but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.” He looked doubtful.

“I am.”

The act of using his healing ability hit Zan every bit as hard as when Jaxon tapped into his RetroCog mojo. No way would Jaxon let his friend expend his energy over something that would easily pass with some rest.

Ryon pulled up in the SUV just as Aric and Zander got the two dead men situated in the girl’s car and shut them inside. Jaxon walked over to their newest addition, a little unsteady on his feet, and took her arm, began to steer her toward their vehicle. Zander followed, but Aric hung back a safe distance from her car, facing it. Preparing to do his thing.

“Don’t watch,” Jaxon said as she resisted, twisting to look over her shoulder.

“What’s he planning to use to start the fire?” she asked, frowning. “There’s nothing in his hands. And what the heck happened to you back there?”

“I’ll explain—”

“Later.” She snorted. “Right. Got it.”

“You ask more questions than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe because so many people you meet end up like them?” she tossed out, waving a hand to indicate her unfortunate attackers. “Just an educated guess.”

She had a point. He sighed, thinking this was going to be a long night. And not nearly as much fun as he’d originally planned.

Any retort he might’ve made was waylaid by a loud whooshand a blast of heat. Automatically he turned, glancing over his shoulder at the orange and yellow flames that engulfed the car and its occupants. The conflagration shot into the air and spread out to lick at the pavement, erasing all signs of the blood Jaxon had spilled.

Aric was standing with his feet spread and arms outstretched, palms out. The inferno intensified in response to his unspoken command. After another few moments, he lowered his arms to his sides and strode toward the rest of the group.

“Oh, my God! Did he just . . . No, he didn’t. That man did not just start a fire with his bare hands!” Kira was staring at Aric, a mixture of disbelief and astonishment etched on her pretty face.

“Well, that’ll attract attention,” Aric muttered as he reached them. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Come on.” Jaxon pulled his reluctant new charge along, forcing her to abandon goggling at the fire and get moving.

Ryon remained behind the wheel and Zander got in front with him. Aric climbed in back without a word, taking up position to watch their tail, Jaxon knew, and eliminate any pursuers if necessary. A fact he didn’t mention to Kira as they took the middle seats, Jaxon behind the driver.

Ryon floored it, getting them away from the scene as fast as he dared without gaining unwanted attention from the Las Vegas PD. By the time faint sirens could be heard in the distance, they were well on their way.

Beside him, Kira cleared her throat. “Where are we going?”

If not for the subtle tremble in her voice, he might’ve snapped at her. But for some weird reason, it made him want to soothe her worries. Protect her from harm as he’d done earlier. Fuck. “To our plane. We have a private jet and landing strip in a hangar not far outside the city.”

“And from there?”

“Wyoming.” Silence. He looked over to see her holding the purse on her lap in a death grip, eyes wide. Hoping to ease her fears, he elaborated a bit. “Shoshone National Forest. We’ll land at our compound, and you’ll stay there with us for the time being.”

“I don’t get a say?”

“No.” The thought of letting her leave burrowed under his skin like a stinging nettle, though he had no clue why. What the hell was wrong with him?

Her voice rose on a note of hysteria. “So I’m going to be held captive at an unknown facility by a group of weird, mind-reading, fire-starting, vicious werewolves?”

“Hey, we’re not weird,” Ryon protested from the front.

Jaxon ignored him. “You’re our guest, not a captive. Besides, would you rather be dead right now at the hands of those guys back there for stealing whatever’s in that bag? You want us to put you out and leave you at the mercy of whoever sent them?”

She looked away, swallowing hard. “Of course not.”

“Then we’re your only option at the moment, so sit back and enjoy the trip. You’re in safe hands. Nobody in Alpha Pack will hurt you, including me.”

This brought her head around, and she scrutinized his face as though she could read the truth of his words there. “You want me to believe you’re the good guys?”

He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “I’m not so sure about that. But we’re not the guys you have to worry about. Let’s put it that way.”

She bit her lip for a moment, then sighed. “So are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

She seemed genuinely interested, and he hoped that boded well for how the next few days would shape up. He didn’t want her to be afraid. “Sure. The guy driving is Ryon Hunter, and next to him is Zander Cole.” The pair said their hellos, and flashed her charming smiles over their shoulders. “The warm and cuddly pup in the back is Aric Savage.”

“Fuck you, man,” the redhead responded, but with less rancor than before.

Kira smiled nervously at Jaxon. “Nice.”

Jaxon stared at her, struck speechless for a few seconds. He could see in the dark just fine, and the shadows did little to hide how her smile lit the inside of the SUV, which tightened his groin into a painful knot. She wasn’t just pretty—she was incredible.

“I suppose I can look forward to more intros when we arrive?”

“Um, yeah. You’ll meet our boss and another teammate, as well as a bunch of doctors and scientists who live and work there.”

Her brow furrowed. “All of you live on-site?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Hmm. Your compound is located in Shoshone National Forest,” she said slowly. “That’s government property.”

“Right again.”

“And if your facility is there, and everyone resides there as well . . . You all work for the government, then. Top Secret stuff. Special Ops?”

“Something along those lines.” He grinned at her. “You’re quick, Miss Locke.”

“Kira, please.” She caught his gaze, held it.

The air thickened, the moment stretching taut. To his surprise, he was the first to look away. Even his wolf was overwhelmed, in addition to being aroused to the point of madness. He cleared his throat. “Call me Jaxon, or Jax,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, the ‘Top Secret stuff’ you mentioned includes the abilities you’ve witnessed in us so far.”

“Something tells me what I’ve seen barely scrapes the surface.”

“You’re batting a thousand.”

At that, she went silent and stared pensively out the window at nothing, because there was literally nothing to see other than the blanket of stars crowning the desert sky.

Jaxon had just begun to be lulled to sleep by the darkness and the motion of the vehicle when they arrived at the landing strip. Ryon hit the opener for the wide door, pulled the SUV straight into the hangar, and the overhead lights came on, activated by motion sensors.

Jaxon straightened as a sudden thought hit him. “Our bags are at the hotel.”

“No, they’re back here,” Aric said. “Z-Man must’ve worked his charm on the concierge to get ’em so fast.”

Zan snickered. “She owed me a favor. I collected.”

Ryon parked and Aric handed their bags forward. Jaxon took his and shouldered it as he got out of the SUV, and then headed toward the jet. A cheery blip sounded from behind him as Ryon locked the vehicle, and the clomping of boots on concrete filled the cavernous space.

As they walked, Jaxon noted that Kira stayed close to him. Which pleased him to no end, and confounded him as his every reaction to her had so far. It didn’t make sense, this need to protect, to place himself not only between her and danger, but between her and the men he loved like brothers. He barely restrained himself from snarling at Zan, who took her hand and politely helped her step into the plane before Jaxon thought to offer.

And her scent is still driving me freaking insane. I’m losing it.

Kira’s voice broke into his musings. “Where’s the pilot?”

Aric climbed in and grinned at her. “That would be me, sugar britches. Still feel safe?”

She leveled him with a frosty glare. “I have a name. It’s Kira. And I never said I felt safe– hesaid I should feel safe.” The look was pointed as she glanced at Jaxon.

Aric laughed and headed for the pilot’s chair. “Yep, you’ve got a live one, pal. Have a blast with your new babysitting gig.”

“If anyone needs a babysitter it’s you,” she shot back. “Or a spanking, more like.”

Jaxon winced. She’d walked right into that one.

His friend pounced on the opening. “Don’t threaten me with a good time unless you plan to follow through. Whenever, wherever you want me to drop trou, say the word, sugar britches—oops, Kira.” He winked, completely ignoring the lip she curled at him in disgust, then turned in his seat and fired up the engine.

“Don’t mind him,” Ryon advised her as he and Zan took seats behind her and Jaxon. “He’s so immature he still hikes his leg on the sofa.”

That cracked up everyone. Except Aric, who shot the finger to the passengers in general as he taxied the plane from the hangar.

“Is he always so cranky?” Kira asked in a low voice.

Jaxon shrugged. “Nah, Aric’s a good guy. Don’t know what’s up, except maybe he’s not too happy about our aborted weekend off.”