Cook's Choice: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 4)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  Pinky doesn’t miss a beat, and I could swear she almost smiles. “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so.” Moon reaches out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “You want a drink?”

  Pinky lets him lead her toward the front door of the firehouse. “I don’t drink.”

  Of course she doesn’t. Because what pink-sweater-wearing preschool teacher does?

  I turn to scan the street where someone just unloaded a clip at that same soft and sweet teacher type.

  The one who is basically stalking me.

  My gaze makes it back to the clubhouse just before Pinky walks inside. She’s looking over her shoulder.

  At me.

  And that gaze doesn’t stay in one spot. It slides down my frame, slow and careful, barely hesitating at certain spots that would make an innocent woman blush.

  But Pinky doesn’t blush. Not even a little bit.

  And then she’s gone, pulled inside by the slickest of the Lost Boys. The one who has women tripping all over him every second, of every hour, of every day.

  “Damn it.” I stomp up the sidewalk. Pinky can’t handle Moon. He will chew her up and spit her out.

  She’s too sweet for this place.

  And everyone inside it.

  “What is it that brings you to our neck of the woods, Carly?” Moon’s voice is low and smooth as I walk into the main room on the first floor.

  And he’s calling her by name. Already.

  Like he knows her.

  Pinky’s eyes slowly come to where I stand. “He does.”

  Moon’s lips barely twitch. “That’s an interesting twist I wasn’t expecting.” He eases back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, ankle to knee, the move revealing the low gleam of his expensive shoes.

  It impresses most people. Especially people from the real world. People like Pinky.

  But Pinky isn’t even looking at his shoes. Her eyes are still on me. “What’s interesting about it?”

  Moon barely smiles. “Lots of things.”

  I’m done with this. “It’s time to go, Carly.”

  She barely straightens on the couch. “You didn’t call me Pinky.”

  “Don’t read into it.” I cross the room, intending to do whatever it takes to get her on her way. Out of the clubhouse. Out of a part of town a woman like her should never be.

  And out of my fucking life, before I try to think about what it looks like with her sitting in it.

  “Time to go.”

  Carly leans back a little. “You still haven’t told me what I want to know.”

  I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling.

  Is she fucking kidding me right now?

  “What is it you want to know, Carly?”

  “Hey.” I point at Moon. “Don’t fucking say her name like that.”

  I don’t like how it came out of his mouth, and I sure as shit don’t like the ideas I know he’s starting to have about her.

  She’s not like that.

  Carly’s not a woman who is down for a fun night and an unattached morning. I can tell it by looking at her.

  Moon doesn’t look surprised by my outburst. His lips turn into a smug smile. “Maybe I can answer your question, Carly.”

  I should kick his ass right here, right now.

  But Carly needs to get the hell out. Go on her merry little way. Back to her quiet, perfect, safe life.

  “You’re not answering shit because she’s leaving.” I grab her arm and try to pick her up, but suddenly Carly’s dead weight, sinking deeper into the couch Felicity chose for this space. I stare down at her. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  Carly shakes her head. “I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

  “Don’t think I won’t throw your ass over my shoulder, Pinky.”

  I expect the threat to get her moving. It doesn’t.

  The flush I anticipated earlier comes now, creeping along her neck as her breath barely hitches.

  Shit.

  I can’t handle this. I can’t deal with her.

  I’m about to make good on my threat when the front door opens. My hands are almost on her when Carly suddenly sits up straight, her eyes bouncing around the room. “Why won’t you just tell me about him?”

  She says it loud enough they all hear. The second it’s out of her mouth, Pinky sucks her lower lip between her teeth and waits, eyes wide on me.

  Moon leans forward in his seat. “Who?”

  Don’t say it.

  Don’t say it.

  “Herbert Wallace.”

  “Damn it, Pinky.” My head drops forward.

  The room goes silent and still. Gypsy and Felicity don’t move from their spot just inside the door. Moon doesn’t even breathe.

  And Carly’s eyes stay on me, never wavering.

  I thought she was a sweet, mild-mannered, soft-spoken lady.

  But what’s sitting in front of me is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “What in the hell are you wearing?” I grab at the ridiculous-looking thing that’s swallowing her up.

  Carly blinks a few times before glancing down. “My friend gave it to me.”

  “Your friend knows you’re stalking me?”

  Carly’s brown eyes lift to mine, her lips twisting to one side. “She suggested it.”

  “I’m not sure I like your friends, Pinky.”

  “Umm.” Felicity starts moving, her long legs breezing her to where Carly sits. She drops to the cushion beside the tornado masquerading as a woman. “Did you say Herbert Wallace?”

  “Don’t tell her anything.” I grab Pinky’s arm again, this time lifting her from the couch.

  She shouldn’t be tainted by that name on her lips, let alone the knowledge of what the man is.

  All he’s done.

  And no way will I let her get caught up in the war happening because of him. “Go home.”

  “It’s too late, Cook.”

  I turn to Moon. “It’s not.”

  His expression is grim as he stands to go to the line of liquor along the bar tucked into one corner. “You know damn well it is. Her car is sitting right out there.”

  I wipe my free hand down my face. “Damn it, Pinky.”

  “You keep saying that.” Carly doesn’t try to twist from my grip. “Just tell me what I want to know and I’ll leave you alone.”

  I stare at her, taking in the line of her nose. The set of her soft eyes.

  They are familiar. Similar to another woman I know.

  I shake my head, shoving the similarities out of my mind. “Not gonna happen.”

  Carly’s eyes narrow on me for a second. Long enough to give me hope she might finally be realizing I mean what I say.

  I’m not telling her shit about King. Not now. Not ever.

  Especially if the suspicion lurking dark and icy in the back of my brain is correct.

  Her nostrils barely flare. “Fine.” Pinky’s shoulders straighten and her chin barely lifts. “We can do this the hard way.”

  And then she starts to run.

  But not toward the door.

  Nope. Pinky runs straight for the main hallway, disappearing into the dark space.

  I don’t even try to chase her.

  What’s the point?

  I drop to my ass on the couch, and catch my head in my hands.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Gypsy finally says something, still standing in the same spot, staring after the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.

  I sit up and fall back, head dropping to the cushion behind me. “A fucking pain in my ass.”

  Felicity slaps me hard in the shoulder. “Stop acting like an asshole.”

  “I keep telling you. I’m not fucking acting.” I cross my arms.

  She smacks me again. “Stop lying.”

  I thought it might be nice to have a woman around the place, and at first Felicity didn’t disappoint me. She brought comfortable furniture and candles that made the firehouse smell like clean clothes and coo
kies.

  But all that comes with a price.

  And Felicity is that price.

  “Stop making her hit you.” Gypsy moves to shove into the spot between us, one palm stretching over his wife’s rounded belly. “She’s not supposed to be getting upset.”

  “Well I’ve got hella bad news for you then.” I scoot down the sofa, trying to work my way out from under Gypsy’s left ass cheek. “The Horsemen just shot the place up.”

  “What?” Felicity spins to look around. “If those fuckers broke any of my shit I’ll-”

  “You won’t do anything, Beanie.” Gypsy’s tone is calm and cool. “All you’re going to do is grow my little girl.”

  Felicity’s narrow nose wrinkles. “Whatever.”

  “What happened?” Gypsy’s gaze bounces between me and Moon.

  “When I pulled up they were unloading.” Moon pours out some high-end into a glass. “Cook had his lady on the ground, making sure she didn’t get hit.”

  “She’s not my lady.” I snap it out before I realize how it will sound.

  Moon eyes me over the rim of his tumbler of whiskey. “In that case—”

  I’m across the room in a heartbeat, grabbing him by the lapels and backing him against the wall. “Leave her the fuck alone. She doesn’t belong here.”

  That smirk is back on his face. “But she’s here anyway. By her own doing.” He sips at the glass, completely unaffected by my hold on him. “And if I’m not mistaken, that was the door to your room that slammed shut.”

  My eyes slowly drag toward the hall.

  Son of a—

  “She’s probably on your bed right now. Waiting for you to come after her. You gonna make her wait?”

  I shove Moon loose and back toward the sofa, putting as much distance between me and Pinky as possible. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “Doesn’t mean she hasn’t done it.” Gypsy pulls Felicity close. “How’d she get here?”

  “Followed me home.” I stand back up, nervous energy making me restless.

  Or maybe it’s knowing she’s back there. In my space. With my things. Investigating my world.

  Tainting it with her scent. Her presence. Leaving a mark that won’t be easy to erase.

  But the thought of that scares me less than going back there does. I can’t be around her. Definitely not alone.

  Not anymore.

  Gypsy frowns at me. “Why didn’t you notice her?”

  “I did. I just didn’t know it was her. She was wearing—” I laugh because this is so fucking ridiculous. “She was wearing a disguise.”

  “You think she’s—” Gypsy holds one hand out, palm down, rocking it back and forth.

  Felicity rolls her eyes. “She’s not crazy.” Her attention rests on me. “Does she look a little—”

  “Don’t say it.” I don’t want to think about what the possibility would mean for Carly.

  For all of us.

  “If she is who I think she is, then we’ve got to keep her from trying to find him, Cook.” Felicity’s tone is softer this time. “He can’t get to her.”

  I don’t want Carly here.

  That’s not entirely true.

  I can’t want Carly here.

  She doesn’t deserve this world. Neither do the other women here, but they are all different from Pinky. All of them carry an edge that keeps them safe. Makes them bold and brave and dangerous in their own right.

  But that’s not how Carly is. “She shouldn’t be here.”

  “And yet here she is.” Felicity lifts her shoulders, head tilting. “And any woman willing to follow a strange man into this section of town can’t be half as delicate as you seem to think she is.”

  I won’t let myself consider the possibility.

  Because if Carly isn’t what she seems then—

  “You just gonna leave her back there, man?” Moon tips back the rest of his whiskey. “Should I remind you the woman just witnessed her first drive-by shooting?”

  Felicity glances toward the window again.

  Gypsy stands up. “Come on, Beanie. Let’s get you packed up.”

  “Where are we going?” Her eyes are wide on him. Like she doesn’t realize her husband’s about to get her and their unborn baby the hell outta Dodge.

  “It’s time for us to find a safer place for you to stay until we figure out what’s going on.” Gypsy eases her up off the sofa. “So I won’t lose my fucking mind.”

  Felicity isn’t real far along, but her tiny frame doesn’t hide much, and the small swell is a reminder of everything we have to protect.

  And now there might be one more added to that list.

  Gypsy and Felicity go upstairs, leaving me with Moon. He’s a smart guy. Knows how to make shit happen.

  “What in the hell are we going to do with her?”

  “Not we.” Moon tips his refilled glass my way. “You. You’re the one she came for.”

  “Why me? What did I do?”

  Moon shrugs. “Maybe she likes grumpy-ass men.”

  I huff out a breath and slump back onto the couch.

  Moon points to the large window Felicity was eyeing earlier. “Might wanna pick a different spot in case they make a second pass.”

  I think on it for a second. It might be the better of the alternatives at this point.

  Because I’m sure as hell not going back to my room.

  Pinky’s gotta leave sometime. She can’t stay back there forever.

  Four hours later I’m rethinking that opinion.

  Felicity and Gypsy are gone. Hidden away in a spot out of town where they can move around without being noticed. Moon went home two hours ago, leaving me to stand vigil on my own.

  I thought she would break. Decide it wasn’t worth it, and try to sneak out.

  But the longer I sit here, the more I realize that’s not an option.

  Moon’s right. Pinky’s car has been out there, parked in front of the clubhouse during the drive-by and long after. Chances are good The Horsemen noticed.

  They’ve gone after everyone who gets close to any of us, and if they think Pinky is close, they will go after her too.

  Not realizing how close she really is.

  And if King gets a hold of her, there’s no telling what he will do.

  “Damn it, Pinky.” I jump up from the spot where I’ve been sitting for too long, and march straight back to my room.

  There’s only one option here, and I need to get it over with before I try to come up with another one.

  One that might make me think I can have things I can’t.

  I ignore the stab of something too painful to recognize as I shove open the door.

  And stop short.

  4

  “PINKY.”

  The jab to my shoulder jostles me awake.

  I blink at Cook’s face. It’s awfully close to mine, and awfully unhappy looking.

  Which makes me almost as happy as his presence. “I knew you’d give up first.”

  “This isn’t a competition, Carly.” His voice is softer than it’s been before. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “If you’d just told me what I want to know then I wouldn’t have had to come here.”

  “Are you trying to make this my fault?” He still doesn’t sound as upset as normal.

  More surprised.

  To be fair I’m a little surprised myself.

  When I set out to do this, I wasn’t confident I had what it took to hunt down this Herbert man. Especially when my basic internet searches pulled up some rather interesting information.

  I expected the men who knew him to be dangerous. Rough.

  And Cook probably is those things.

  But he’s also some other things. Ones he tries to keep hidden behind a wall of smoke and mirrors.

  It probably usually works too.

  But I can see right through it.

  “This could have all been over a week ago.” I glance around. “Then I wouldn’t be taking
up whoever’s bed this is.”

  Cook’s eyes change. It’s hard to tell how in the dim light of the darkened room, but I know something is different.

  “You’re in my bed, Pinky.”

  I actually already knew that. Could tell the minute I walked into the perfectly pristine space that it was his.

  It is immaculate. Not a speck of dust. Not a wrinkle in the dark blue cover on the mattress. Even the cases of the pillows are smooth and perfect.

  At least they were until hours of a stand-off left me tired.

  “I like your bed. It’s soft.” I smooth my hand down the sheet under my body. It feels like it’s been washed a thousand times, the fibers broken down more and more with each cycle.

  “You’re really fucking my life up, Pinky. You know that?” Cook’s voice is still low. Still soft.

  “I’m a little surprised that this is all it takes to accomplish that.” I barely smile. “Makes me think you might be exaggerating.”

  Cook inhales, long and deep before giving his head a barely-there shake. “Not exaggerating.” His eyes move down the covers over my body. “What’s your plan now, Pinky? Just stay here forever?”

  “Well.” I chew my lip. “I was expecting you to barge in and tell me what I want to know so I would leave you alone.”

  Cook’s lips slowly lift into a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  I scoff. “You’re still not going to tell me?”

  “Nope.”

  I sit up. “Why are you being like this?” I grab one of his perfect pillows and smack him right in the face with it.

  His brows bounce up. “Why am I being like this?” Cook yanks the pillow away from me, tossing it to a chair in the corner. “Why are you being like this?” He snatches the second pillow before I can get it off the mattress. “You are the one who’s been stalking me for God knows how long.” He tosses the other pillow on top of the first. “Following me to my work, my home.” He leans in close, making me pull back.

  But Cook doesn’t stop coming. His hands press into the mattress at my sides as his face comes almost nose to nose with mine. “You could have gotten yourself killed today, Pinky. All because you want to stick your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong.”

  The pang of sadness comes without warning.

  It’s the same stab I ignore countless times a day.