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“Yup.”
“There’s going to be hell to pay when Troy finds out you’ve withheld information and his woman.”
Matt bristled. “If Grace is going to be someone’s woman, she’s going to be mine.”
Colt smiled slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Fuck you,” Matt muttered, feeling uncomfortable with his declaration, and not really sure he meant it or was just peacock posturing. He was definitely in uncharted territory.
“Have you contacted Elliot Holden?”
Matt shook his head. “I’ve never trusted that weasel. I’m not letting him know I have Grace until I have her safely tucked away on our turf.”
“You know you just got off the hook with the DEA, right?”
“That ‘biker war’ was fabricated and you know it. It had nothing to do with the DEA, and I just went along with it and became the fall guy. Fucking Admiral.” Matt sighed. As much as he grumbled about Admiral Porter’s decision, he knew it was the right one to protect the Chrysalis survivors and the secrets of Misty Grove. “I promised Grace I’d keep her safe, and I’ll risk anything to keep that promise.”
Colt stared at him in a strange this-is-not-you look, but it didn’t bother Matt in the least. He’d never been this protective over anyone that wasn’t family, and something told him his life was about to change.
CHAPTER SIX
Grace
I blinked into the darkness, my body stiffening when I realized I was not alone in bed. Strong arms encircled me, but I felt no comfort, only stifling panic. No happy place to imagine in this nightmare because I had no memory. So, I repeated a mantra in my head:My name is Grace Levinson. I have a name, therefore I exist.
“Babe? I know you’re awake,” a gravelly voice whispered. “Please say something.”
“Let me go,” I croaked.
The warm bands around me loosened but didn’t release me.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
My reply refused to push through my throat because I was choked with fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of this man I knew nothing about, but he was the only link to the person I was.
“Christ, you’re shaking.” The arms around me disengaged, the bed shifted, and a light flicked on. My body was moved and then I was staring up at concerned, slate-blue eyes.
The man’s name was Matt or so he said, and I was at his mercy.
“I hate seeing you scared of me, Grace,” he muttered.
“Why are you in bed with me?” I dared ask. “Were we, uh … that close as friends?”
A brow shot up and a corner of his mouth lifted. “You could say that.” His smirk was annoying, oddly familiar, and weirdly soothing.
“How close?”
“Very close.”
Surely no one this vexing meant me harm. I found myself relaxing, but maybe that was his plan. Butter me up for the kill.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, gypsy?” he murmured, leaning over, and kissing the bump on my head.
“I’m finding myself at a disadvantage lying on my back with you looming over me that way. Can I sit up?”
“How’s the head?”
Awful. “My skull feels like someone hammered nails into it.”
