The Dangerous Curves Series

Chapter 12

Jax felt her bury her sweet face in his back, felt her body go soft against his, and the hope that he’d get her number was revived. He couldn’t explain even to himself why he wanted – no, needed – to see Sarah again after this morning, but he just knew that he did.

Too soon for both of them, Jax pulled up in front of Sarah’s place. He took a good look at it, and it was about what he’d expected: seriously run-down, boarded-up windows as a security system, across from a vacant lot. He glanced over, saw the syringes and condoms scattered around the lot, and he winced.

Not a nice place, not at all. How the hell does she even f*****g survive out here?

Sarah clambered off the back of the bike, and looked at her watch right away. Holy God, three minutes. I can still make it. It’ll be OK.

Jax swung his long leg over the bike and undid Sarah’s helmet, his fingers lingering on her soft skin a bit. “Sarah…”

“Thanks, Jax,” she said. “It was nice to meet you… thank Mac for me again, would you? And I’ll arrange for my car to get towed from Curves over the next few days, OK?” She turned to go to the house.

“Wait, Red,” he said. “Can I just get –”

“I’m sorry,” she said, already walking away from him. “I’m really sorry. But I’ve got to go. I have less than three minutes now.”

“For what?” he asked, totally baffled. “What happens in less than three minutes?”

She shook her beautiful head, headed up the stairs to the front porch. She dug her house keys out of her purse, and jammed them in the lock. She opened the door, stepped into the house, turned to give him one last look.

Jax was standing there, so huge and handsome in the morning light, and all she wanted was to get back on the bike, have him drive her away from her whole damn life. Just for one day; just for today. But that wasn’t an option: she knew that he was already awake upstairs, waiting for the clock to click to precisely eight-oh-oh. Then he’d be up and in the kitchen, and she had to have his breakfast ready. If she didn’t, there could be serious repercussions, and not a single one of them was good.

This is your life, Sarah. Your life isn’t standing out there, all gorgeous and dark and smoldering… not beyond one short ride that felt like pure freedom.

She raised her hand to him, and he returned the wave. Then the door shut, and she was gone.

Jax stood next to his bike, staring at the closed door, wondering just who or what was in that house that was so f*****g important. Or frightening.

****

Sarah hurried into the kitchen, her hands shaking. It was Sunday, so that meant it was Cocoa Puffs day, with a side of sliced bananas, and a glass of apple juice. She grabbed the box of cereal, and poured it exactly to the yellow line in the blue bowl, poured the milk into the matching blue milk jug. The banana was sliced into seven pieces, arranged in the shape of a fan on the blue plate. She set the food on the table in the required placement, and looked at her watch again.

One minute. Holy hell, I’m going to make it.

She threw herself at the fridge, located the apple juice in the door. She scrambled to find the glass with the sun on it – the sun glass for Sunday – and poured exactly to the fourth sun ray. She set the juice at the top right of the plate – at precisely two o’clock – and then stood back, making sure that all was OK.

Calm down, Sarah. You did it.

Her knees sagged under her now, and she leaned on the counter. She took a deep breath, and then she heard him behind her.

Sarah turned, and there he was: huge, hulking, his thick hair tousled. He was staring at the floor, shifting his weight from foot to foot, back and forth, back and forth. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he was whispering something under his breath.

She brushed her hair down and over her face to cover the bandage on her forehead, and the worst of the bruising on her cheek. Not that it would hide much, of course, since the man knew things about her without Sarah uttering a single word. But still – it made her feel better to cover it up, for some reason.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said softly, and was relieved that her voice came out normal and even. “Come on and sit down. Breakfast is ready.”