Chapter 3

Danielle

"YOU NEED SOMETHIN' darlin'?"

I jumped (again) and turned to find myself practically chin to navel with the very large man Booker had been speaking to earlier. I looked up and grimaced. He was blond with deep blue eyes and he looked intense.

"Hi. I'm Dani."

"Hi, Dani," he said, and smiled.

"Hi," I repeated, stepping back for space, but only managing to run into the lip of the desk. I refused to wince in his presence, but I did bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"You said that."

"Um, yeah. I did. Great observation skills." Ohmigod, he is not a five-year-old. Get it together, Dani. "Um, sorry if I wasn't supposed to be back here, I was looking for a phonebook."

"You're looking for a phonebook," he said, and stepped closer to me.

"Yes. A phonebook. Do you have one? I need to call a cab. Can you back up a bit, please?" I mean, really. Where the hell was I going to go? He'd just boxed me into a corner. I took a deep breath.

"You need to call a cab," he said, his voice low and raspy.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I need to call a cab."

"What about an Uber or a Lyft?"

"My phone's dead," I explained. "But even if it wasn't, it's too old for the app, and my brother can't pick me up. He's still at the station." Why did I feel the need to offer so much information?

"Station? Like a train station?"

"No."

Mack frowned. "As in police station?"

Crap!

I bit my lip. "Will you please let me by? You're making me nervous and all I want to do is call someone to pick me up and take me home."

"I'll take you home," Booker said as he walked back inside, a scowl on his face directed at "big biker man" in front of me. "And get the hell away from her, Mack. You can see she's freaked."

"Did she tell you her brother's a cop?" Mack demanded.

"Detective, actually," I corrected and then dropped my head. I needed to shut the hell up.

"Move the hell away from her," Booker repeated. I took a minute to look at him and his expression was a little scary. He gave his friend a look like he would kill him if he didn't do as he said. Instead of making me nervous, it made me feel protected. Another clear indication there was something inherently wrong with me.

Mack grinned, raising his hands in surrender as he stepped away from me. I skittered around the desk and back out in the open, keeping my purse in front of me... for what I'm not sure. I just felt a little protected somehow.

"Come on. I'll take you home," Booker said.

"No, it's okay. If you can just call me a cab, it'll be fine."

Booker shook his head. "We're closed, darlin', and it'll take a while for a taxi, so let me just take you home."

I swallowed.

"What?" he asked.

I glanced at Mack and then back at Booker. "Um... aren't bikes really dangerous?"

Booker seemed to share another secret look with Mack before they both burst out laughing.

I pulled my purse closer. "Well, if you're going to stand there and laugh at me, then I definitely want to call a cab."

Apparently, I'm freaking hilarious when I'm scared out of my ever-blessed mind, because Mack laughed harder.

"I've got my truck," Booker said, once he'd sobered.

"With or without a shovel and a tarp in the back?"

Booker frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind." I figured if he was going to murder me there wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do about it at this point. "Yes, a ride home would be much appreciated."

Booker nodded and waved his hand toward the roll-up door.

"Nice to meet you," I said to Mack, and headed outside.

"You too, babe," Mack said to my back.

Booker led me to his Ford F-150, and I turned to face him. "Can I borrow your phone please?"

"What?"

"Your phone. May I borrow it for a second?"

He reached into his pocket and handed it to me. "Knock yourself out."

I stepped in front of the truck and took a photo of it, along with the license plate, texting the photos to Kim so she'd know who was driving me home and when I was leaving. At least if he did murder me, they'd be able to track down my killer.

"Thanks," I said, and handed the phone back to him.

He smiled his sexy smile again and pulled open my door. I wasn't expecting his gallantry as he waited for me to climb inside, but I covered my surprise. I didn't realize badass biker men did that kind of thing.

Booker climbed in beside me and started the engine while I buckled up. He didn't say anything as he guided the truck away from Arbor Lodge and I took a moment to take in his ride. It was new with all the bells and whistles, so to speak. Leather seats, wood inlay, and a kick-ass stereo system... at least it looked like a kick-ass stereo system. It was currently off.

About ten minutes passed and I had about all the silence I could handle. "Your real name's not Booker, is it?" He glanced at me and shook his head before focusing on the road again. "Are you going to tell me your real name?"

"Austin Carver."

"Oh," I said, unable to hide my surprise.

He smiled. "Not what you were expecting?"

"Not really, no. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice name. Sweet sounding, but I guess I expected you to be Maverick or something like that."

"Maverick?"