Page 12 of Contracted to the Bikers

Rook gestures toward the next door down the hall. “That one’s yours.”

I blink at him in surprise. I’d expected Jessy and me to be sharing a room. I follow Cruz, who leads the way. He opens the door, and I tentatively step inside. This room is larger, with a queen-sized bed against one wall and a small dresser under the window. There’s even a bookshelf that currently holds nothing but a few motorcycle manuals. I exhale slowly with relief, a bed, a desk, a door that locks. It’s more than I expected.

“I need a workspace,” I say, being difficult despite my gratitude. I don’t know why, but I can’t help myself.

Rook raps his knuckles on the desk. “You have one.”

“I need an actual desk, not a dresser.”

Rook leans against the doorframe. “What exactly are you planning to do up here? You’re hiding from a cartel, and you quit your job.”

“I’m still a lawyer.”

“And?” he asks, an eyebrow quirking. He’s enjoying this, the bastard.

“And my clients still exist.”

Cruz whistles softly from the hallway. “This should be good.” His amusement only serves to piss me off more.

I turn back to Rook. “I need a real desk and a desk chair, strong, reliable internet access, secure file storage, a shredder, and space for documents.”

“You’re not running a damn law firm out of my clubhouse.”

For some reason Rook’s attitude annoys me. I know I should feel grateful that they’ve agreed to help me. But at what price? Having all of my decisions taken from me is why I didn’t want to go into witness protection. “I’m not abandoning my career either.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “You’re under our protection. That means certain adjustments.”

“That doesn’t mean surrendering autonomy. If I’m going to provide you with legal services, I need a place I can actually work from.”

The silence stretches. Jessy’s voice drifts from the other room. “Boone, this one’s a Triceratops!”

Boone responds with quiet seriousness. “Yeah, they’ve got the horns.”

I glance toward the doorway. Something in my chest softens as I watch Boone with her.

Rook notices. “You like him?” he asks. I glance up. There’s something in his tone that sounds almost like jealousy.

“That’s irrelevant to my needing a desk,” I reply dryly, refusing to back down.

Rook ignores my snarky response. “Boone’s good with kids.”

“Yes, that is apparent.”

I don’t know whether he says this next part to scare me or to reassure me that he’ll protect Jessy. “He’s also very dangerous.”

I stare at Rook, refusing to show fear or intimidation. Dealing with him feels like dealing with the hardened criminals at work. You can’t show any sign of weakness. “So am I.”

Cruz guffaws, his face breaking into that maddeningly handsome grin again as he tilts back his head and laughs delightedly.

Rook’s mouth twitches as he tries to smother a smile. He runs his hand through his hair, lifting his shirt slightly and giving me a peek of the contours pointing down to an area I refuse to let myself imagine. “You’re stubborn.”

“You told me that already.”

He pushes away from the doorframe and steps closer. Too close again, the smell of him overwhelms me, motor oil, smoke, and mint. “Let’s talk about the contract,” he says quietly.

I gulp, my body responding despite myself, and heat builds in my groin. “Yes.”

“You think you’re my old lady in name only.”