Page 17 of Irresistibly Wicked

“That’s right, and if you want this hand back, you’ll explain why four is your favorite number.”

She could make up anything, or refuse to tell him, but something about the way he was looking at her drew the truth. “I used to party a lot, and one Fourth of July I was at a beach party and drank way too much. All I remember is that I was so drunk, I could barely walk, and some guy put me in his car and drove me home. I was incredibly stupid. He could have been a psycho killer or a rapist, but I remember telling him I didn’t want to live like that anymore, and he said—”

“Then don’t,” they said in unison.

Her jaw dropped, and it was all she could do to stare at him in disbelief, which was mirrored in his expression as he said, “Every minute of the day is a chance for change. Make this one yours.”

“It was you?” She was floored.

“Holy hell, Angel. You’re that girl. I wondered what happened to you. The next day I went back to the house where I dropped you off to make sure you were okay, and a woman told me you were fine and that you and your boyfriend had moved on.”

You checked on me? It took a minute for her to find her voice. “That night changed my life. No wonder we felt like we knew each other.”

“It’s pretty wild, isn’t it? I’m guessing you’re my secret charm bearer?” He fished a chain out from beneath his shirt, showing her the brass key-chain charm she’d put in his vest pocket in the hospital.

She couldn’t believe he was wearing it, and she felt caught again. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a laugh. “Why did you give it to me?”

“I don’t know. I felt compelled to. I bought it the morning after you drove me home, and I used it as a reminder to stay strong and turn my life around. I used that as my key chain, and it became my lucky charm. It helped a lot. Eventually I got the tattoo, so the reminder would always be right in front of me. When you had your accident, I was first on the scene, but the first responders were from a different firehouse. When they took you to the hospital, they left my coat on the ground, and I found your leather vest beneath it. I took it to the hospital after my shift ended the next morning, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had some sort of a connection. At the time, the doctors didn’t know whether you had any cognitive deficits, and when I saw you lying there, I thought you needed luck more than I did.”

“Wow, Angel. Thank you. That’s really something. I think it helped. Do you want it back?”

“No, thanks. I don’t believe in taking back gifts.”

“Good.” He held her gaze. “Because four is my favorite number now, too.”

His gaze was unwavering and intense, rooting her in place. The air between them thickened, pulsing with something alive and enticing, honing in on the moment. Heat sparked in her chest, climbing up her neck and cheeks. The breeze carried his leathery, spicy scent as it brushed over her skin, painting her with it. Her heart was pounding, as if trying to be heard, and she realized he was still holding her hand just as her radio sounded with a call for a motor vehicle accident, jerking her from the moment.

The air rushed from her lungs, kicking her work brain into gear.

She pulled her hand free, grateful for something familiar and steady to focus on, and responded to the call using the shoulder mic to the radio attached to her belt. “Medic one copies call.” Turning to Zander, she said, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

She ran toward the front of the building, thankful for the escape.

Not because she wasn’t attracted to him or curious about the unstoppable energy between them, but because she was.

Chapter Seven

ZANDER CRUISED INTO the parking lot of the old brick schoolhouse that had become the Dark Knights’ clubhouse years ago and parked among the other bikes and vehicles. Climbing off his motorcycle, he scanned the groups of guys standing out front as he locked his helmet to the bike. He spotted Zeke and Maverick talking with their cousins Tank and Gunner and headed over. Belleau, one of Gunner’s many rescue dogs, bounded toward him. Gunner and his wife, Sidney, both former marines, owned an animal rescue, and he often brought one of his dogs to church, like Preacher did.

Zander petted the old chocolate Lab. “How’s it going, boy?”

“The bastard stole my beef jerky right out of my hand,” Tank, his oldest cousin, said.

The Wickeds were a tough crew, but at six four, burly, and bearded, with dark hair, coal-black eyes, a body full of tattoos, and piercings in one nostril and both ears, Tank was the most intimidating of them all. Tank owned Wicked Ink, a tattoo parlor, and he was a loving husband and adoring father to two little girls and an adorable little boy.

“Don’t make my dog out to be a villain. You asked Belleau if he wanted any,” Gunner said, giving Tank a pointed stare. Like his oldest brother, he had tattoos from neck to fingers, but his military-short hair was blond, like their father Conroy’s had been before it turned silver. “Remind me to train you before you get a dog for the kids.”

Tank ignored him.

“How’s it going, Zan?” Maverick asked. “You doing okay?”

Zander tried not to let his brother’s second question get to him, but before the accident there wouldn’t have been that kind of second question, or the scrutinizing, worried look in his eyes. “Yeah, man. I’m good,” he said, even though he wasn’t. He was worried about Shauna. He’d been worried since he’d first heard her and Brian shouting at each other, but when he’d seen Brian earlier, the guy had been blitzed out of his mind and more belligerent than he’d been the day before. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with Brian tonight since her shift didn’t end until morning.

“Where have you been?” Zeke asked. “I thought you finished early today.”

“I did. I stopped by the Brewster firehouse to give the woman who pulled me out of the wreck something, and I talked with her for a while.” He’d told Zeke about Shauna when he’d seen him at the shop that morning.