by Jill Shalvis
Because whether or not Axel wanted to be with her, she didn’t want him hurt. Or threatened. She loved him.
She’d called the cops when she’d seen the motorcycles pull him over, but since she was from out of town, she hadn’t been able to say exactly where they were. Then, when the police dispatcher had told her to stay in her car once she’d reached the warehouse, she’d ignored him, thinking she could help Axel somehow.
Yet she’d only made herself a liability in this showdown. Her eyes went to Axel. She met his blue gaze, hoping he knew how sorry she was for intervening. For acting impulsively and thinking she could fix everything once again.
“You’re brilliant,” Axel told her, the U-shaped scar on his face stretching as he gave her a grim smile. “Because I’m going public with my past. Kyle knows all about it anyhow, so if I don’t come back tonight, he’ll go to the media for me. Either way, I plan to share the trouble I got in as a kid in order to help other kids stay out of danger.”
“Really?” Jennifer knew his career would take a hit. That the announcement would be a distraction during the playoffs when the whole team needed to focus.
“Don’t be stupid,” the old Finnish biker yelled at him. “Three million is nothing to pay. You owe the Destroyers for taking you in. You swore allegiance then turned your back on us when a better offer came along.”
Jennifer edged closer to Axel, even though a handful of guys still surrounded him. Restrained him from coming toward her.
“You can’t blackmail someone who freely admits what they’ve done,” Axel clarified. “But you can damn well be busted for trying, thanks to the live video feed. Good thing a prominent New York producer got it all on film.”
Curses flew in Finnish. The cigarette fell out of the ringleader’s mouth. Even the local bikers looked surprised. Confused at the outburst since they didn’t seem to understand Finnish any better than she did.
But every last one of them understood police sirens. And the long, high wail sounded close outside the building.
“Jen.” Axel grabbed her while the bikers who had held him scrambled for the exit. “Come here.”
He pulled her around the towering cases of alcohol, then drew her down to crouch behind the bar.
“We’re the good guys, Axel,” she reminded him, her shoes sticking in spilled beer. “We don’t need to hi—”
Gunfire broke out before the sentence had fully left her mouth.
She would have screamed, but Axel crushed her to his chest, holding her tight. Putting his body between her and the bar, providing an extra barrier for the bullets. Fear spiked. The acrid sent of gun smoke wafted on the air.
“It’s okay. It’s outside,” he assured her, the shots replaced by more shouting and sirens. The sound of motorcycle engines firing. “You called the cops?”
She breathed in the scent of his skin, her fingers clutching at his muscles straining the fabric of his cotton button-down. She focused on him instead of the chaos and fear. He was so familiar. So strong and capable.
Nodding, she swallowed back the panic, her spine pinned against liquor boxes and a fallen bar stool.
“I had to. After I followed you, I saw all those motorcycles surround you. I knew you’d be mad that I got the police involved, but I couldn’t just let those guys take you. I was so scared.”
He hugged her again, his powerful arms making her feel safe in spite of the scuffle outside.
“You? Scared?” he asked, pulling back to cup her face in his big, roughened hands. “I would have never guessed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided, hoping he was hugging her because he wanted to hug her and not just because he was glad she was okay. “Who wouldn’t be scared to face down a biker gang? And that snot-nosed teenager frightened me so bad I almost fell out of the tree.”
She showed him the scratch on her arm where a branch had nicked her. Her heart beat erratically and she wondered if she could be in shock. Did people go into shock from seeing their loved ones threatened?
“I told you to stay at Kyle’s,” he told her, his voice turning harsh and ragged. “Damn it, why didn’t you listen? You could have been killed.”
“Don’t you yell at me, Axel Rankin.” She willed her heart to slow down. Her breath to ease up before she started hyperventilating. “I’ve had about all I can take for one night.”
She scowled at him until he stopped scowling at her. All she really cared about was finding out whether or not he wanted to be with her. Had he walked away from her because he wanted to scare her off tonight? Or did he truly feel that it could never work out between them?
Just as she was going to demand an answer, there was a loud bang nearby and a shout over a bullhorn.
“Police! Come out with your hands up!”
14
THANK GOD THE SENIOR ranking officer on the job was a Phantoms fan.
Axel sat in a downtown police precinct an hour later, grateful he and Jennifer hadn’t been arrested. They’d been brought in for questioning about the events of the evening, however, and been separated so the police could compare their stories. Axel hadn’t seen Jennifer since they’d been patted down by the police who’d entered the warehouse. The officers had found an impressive weapons stash, ensuring the Destroyers would be brought up on charges. Jaako Latt had been implicated by all the local bikers, the gang’s oath of loyalty not standing up so well for the Finnish ringleader. Apparently some of the Philly members hadn’t been too pleased that they’d risked their necks for a foreigner who planned to blackmail a former member and keep the profits to himself.
Or so Ax had heard from his new police friends. He just wished he’d get an update on Jennifer now that it seemed as though he could put his past to rest.
“You know you’ve got to call Dad,” Kyle told Axel for the second time since he’d shown up at the station. Axel had phoned Kyle as soon as they were brought in, and although Kyle was furious that Axel had met with the Destroyers without him, he’d shown up in record time to help him out.
They sat in front of the desk where Axel had given his statement, and up until a few minutes ago, a crowd of officers had circled around them, each with input on how the Phantoms should play their first opponent in the playoffs, the Boston Bears. The crowd had dissipated after a call came in with a lead on where some of the other bikers had taken refuge after the bust at the warehouse. Phones rang almost continuously in the understaffed precinct, and the scent of coffee and take-out food hung in the air. Kyle’s phone beeped with a new text message every five minutes.
“And tell him what? I nearly got arrested? Almost got someone I care about killed?” Axel leaned back in the creaky wooden chair, wishing Jennifer would walk out of one of the other rooms. He needed to see her. Reassure himself she was okay. He’d have nightmares about her showing up at that clubhouse for a long time. “Or did you want me to warn Dad that I may get booted out of the league for being a crap role model to kids everywhere?”
“Look. Ax.” Kyle kicked the bottom of Axel’s chair with one foot, forcing the legs down to the ground. “I’ve got to tell you something.”
“I know there was nothing you could do about Jennifer sneaking out of your house.” He didn’t want Kyle to feel bad about how things shook down. “She must have left seconds after me, so you were probably still down in the media room.”
“I feel terrible about that, man. But there’s something else.” He stroked a hand across his chin, a gesture Axel recognized from way back. A guilty tell.
“What?”
“When you called me tonight, I called Dad.”
“Damn it, Kyle, you had no right—”
“I know, but I’m not sorry. He’s a smart guy and he knows stuff we don’t, okay?” Kyle pulled some paperwork out of his back pocket. Unfolding the sheaf, he smoothed out the crinkles. “Dad said we should hire a publicist. Someone to be ready if you needed help spinning this whole thing.”
“I don’t want to spin anything.” Axel had b
een ducking his past for too long, hoping it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. And it might have cost him Jennifer forever. “I’m going with the straight-up truth.”
“Okay, maybe spin isn’t the right word.” Kyle passed him the papers. “But you need someone to help tell your side of the story so people understand you the way we do. If you could fill in some of the blanks here, we could fire off a press release tonight.”
Axel shook his head, although on first glance, the list of ideas for a press release opening were all kind of good. None of them made him sound pathetic or as if he was asking for sympathy. Damn. His foster father only hired the best. This publicist must be good.
“Too bad the news deadlines must have passed already.” He shoved aside the release. “It’s late. But maybe I could talk to this PR person tomorrow and see if we could do something.”
“Actually, the NBA playoffs started tonight, with a series on the West Coast that went into overtime.” Kyle flashed his iPhone in front of Axel, showing him the score. “So the sports page is still being finalized, according to the publicist. We could run something now, but you need to put a call in to this guy.”
Axel stared at Kyle’s phone as his brother pushed it toward him. He hadn’t wanted help dealing with his past. Had avoided dragging the Murphys into this mess for years. But his foster family had proven once again that they were there for him.
“Thanks, bro.” Axel had to clear his throat, the words sounding rough from too many emotions.
Kyle bumped his fist. “I’m still mad I didn’t get to go kick Jaako’s ass. But if this helps you put the whole thing to rest, that’s cool.”
“I owe you one.” He pressed the call button on the contact Kyle had highlighted on the phone. “Now I just have to figure out how to get my girl back.”
Because this night wouldn’t be truly behind him until he had Jennifer in his arms again. Until she’d forgiven him for trying to break up with her and nearly getting her killed.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
THE PHANTOMS MADE BIG headlines in the local press.
Vincent Girard couldn’t think of anyone who would be more interested in all the news about the team than Chelsea. Or so he told himself as he stood with a folded paper under one arm, his finger hovering over the buzzer to apartment 2B. He clutched a tray from Arnie’s Coffee in his hand, knowing he probably looked desperate to show up on her doorstep at…7:15 a.m., according to his watch.
Yeah, well. Go big, or go home. He hadn’t waited patiently for Chelsea to come around this season only to lose her in a moment of brainlessness. The memory of her curled against him on the plane had kept him awake all night, reminding him how close he’d come to making her his. How could she have ever thought she wouldn’t be good enough to meet his parents when she’d accomplished so much with so little?
He stared up at the neat brick building and jabbed the intercom button with new resolve.
The next twelve seconds felt longer than a penalty kill. Finally, the speaker on the wall of her building crackled to life.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded vaguely wary, but wide-awake. He’d seen her often enough around morning practices to know she was an early riser.
Like him.
“Chelsea.” Just saying her name felt good. “It’s Vinny. I know you probably don’t—”
The buzzer on the security door vibrated to life, admitting him. He yanked it open before she changed her mind, shocked that she would allow him into her home before he even got out an apology. He knew how much importance she placed on privacy. Security.
Taking the steps two at a time, he kept the coffee tray level, careful not to spill any. He didn’t need to look at the numbers to find 2B because a door creaked open at the end of the hallway before he reached the top of the stairs.
She stood in the archway, hair still damp from a shower. In short sleeves, she revealed the little tattoos of his teammates’ numbers on her arms and he wondered if he’d see his somewhere. Her knit pajama pants were covered in blue Phantoms logos. Even better, she wore a white T-shirt with his number on it, an item sold in the gift shop where she worked. That had to be a good sign, right?
“I brought you coffee,” he started, holding out his offering as he reached her braided front mat in quick strides. “The newspaper, too. There’s a lot of stuff about the team and the documentary debut. Plus Axel announced—”
“Vinny, I’m so sorry I flipped out about meeting your parents.” She ignored the coffee and the paper, her eyebrows furrowed with worry he wished he’d never put there.
But oh, man, this felt like a second chance to him. Relief flooded through him so fast he thought he’d better sit down soon.
“It’s my fault for getting ahead of myself. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He peered past her into her apartment. “Do you want to get dressed and go for a walk or something? I didn’t mean to invade your space or anything—”
Her arms were around his neck before he finished. Soft, cinnamon-flavored lips met his, stirring a hunger he didn’t think he’d ever fill. The feel of her overwhelmed him, bombarding his senses as her soft breasts molded to his chest and the clean scent of her shampoo drifted to his nose. His breath evaporated for a long minute, and when it returned, his lungs dragged in the air so fast he felt light-headed.
Chelsea was kissing him.
Beyond the tangible, physical evidence of his personal goddess against him, he also had the knowledge that she still cared. That she wanted him, too, even if she wasn’t ready for all of him yet. Knowing that damn near brought him to his knees.
“Chelsea.” He levered back, breaking the kiss. “I’m dying to hold you, sweetheart. But I need to set down the coffee.”
Her passion-dazed eyes fired him up like nothing else. She blinked slowly, her lips swollen from their kisses.
“Of course.” She took the paper from under his arm and drew him inside. “I didn’t mean to throw myself at you. I don’t know what came over me.”
He locked the door behind them, setting the coffee on a stand near the sofa. He had the vague impression of a homey, warm apartment that smelled like wood polish and lemon. But mostly, he only had eyes for her, his heartbeat pounding in his chest at being allowed inside when he’d been worried she wouldn’t even let him apologize.
“I hope it comes over you again,” he confided. “Often.” He had to force himself not to grab her by the waist and tug her back into his arms.
A warm light glittered in her eyes and he could imagine the way she might flirt with him one day when she was more comfortable. When he’d won her trust completely.
“I think it might.” She stood in the middle of the living room near a cream-colored futon covered in a bright blanket. “I don’t have much experience with men. But now that I’ve given myself a chance to really consider what it would be like to be with you, I’ve been preoccupied with…” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “The idea of us together. Um. Intimately.”
He’d taken slap shots to the face that stunned him less.
“Damn.” Surprise and red-hot desire joined forces to knock the breath out of him again and he lowered himself to the nearest seat, which just happened to be a coffee table. “You can’t imagine what that does to me.”
“In a good way, though, right?” The worried note crept into her voice. “When I say I’m inexperienced, I mean really inexperienced. As in virginal. So, you might have to spell some things out for me. Although, obviously, I know the basics.”
Possessiveness tightened inside him. He was seized with the urge to pull her into the bedroom and give her an all-day education. Except he knew she wasn’t ready. The incident two nights ago had reinforced the knowledge that he had to take things slow. Careful. Because Chelsea was going to be his forever mate. The woman he loved. The woman he would marry one day.
She’d already given him a second chance. Not for all the world would he spoil it.
“Everyt
hing about you pleases me,” he assured her, rising to his feet. “You don’t need to worry about anything because when it happens between us, it’s going to be the best. But there’s no rush because I’m willing to wait however long it takes.”
He ran his hands over her shoulders, liking the way his jersey number looked on her slender body. He felt her relax and the color of her eyes deepened. Somehow, he knew the slower approach was the right decision.
“Okay.” She nodded, agreeing to take things slow. “But first I want to show you something and I hope you don’t think it’s too forward of me in light of what we’ve decided about waiting.”
Visions of what she might display had his mouth watering. His body so hard and his skin so tight that he could only nod. Yeah, waiting wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, but for her…he’d manage. He swallowed hard, preparing himself.
“I think it’s fate that we ended up dating,” she said, shuffling closer so they stood mere inches apart. “Because you were my first—” she tugged on the V-neck of her T-shirt, sliding the fabric aside to reveal more creamy skin just above her left breast “—tattoo.”
Words escaped him. The combination of a sensual offering and seeing his number scrawled over her heart solidified every instinct he’d had toward her from the first day they’d met.
Slowly, he lowered his head to her breast, giving her time to pull back. She didn’t. Instead, she arched toward him, lifting herself closer to his lips. With his blood pounding in his ears, he kissed her there, inhaling the fragrance of her faint citrus perfume. Then, knowing she wanted more, he licked her lightly. Gently. Teased a sigh from her and a groan from him.
But no more. Not yet.
“I’m so crazy about you, Chelsea,” he confided, wanting to bare his heart, too. “I always have been.”
“And I’m your biggest fan,” she whispered back, falling into his arms the way she had a million times in his dreams.
* * *
“I NEED TO SEE HER RIGHT now,” Axel Rankin demanded outside the room where Jennifer had been questioned by the police. “She’s answered more than enough questions and she’s here of her own free will. I’m taking her home.”
