“Name.”
“It’s okay, Mase.”
She cleared her throat and Mason sighed heavily, stepping aside. I was once again struck by the girl’s absolute physical perfection. And the nervous look in her eyes.
Good.
She should be fucking nervous. I wasn’t going to go easy on her because she was stunningly beautiful. Or young. Or scared.
I realized belatedly that the girl looked more than scared. She was frightened out of her mind. That made me want to tell her that everything would be okay. That I would take care of everything for her.
I frowned, disquieted by the swirl of protective and animalistic urges that she was causing. Unwanted urges, dammit.
“Casey. Casey Jones.”
Her voice was soft and sweet, stirring something even warmer inside me. But something felt off. It felt like a lie. Maybe it wasn’t her real name. I leaned against the bar, musing over how young she looked.
Too young for me.
The thought caught me off guard. Now where the hell had that come from? Completely out of left field. Not only was it true, but I certainly didn’t date criminal trash.
I glanced at Mason who was frowning at me, a worried look on his face. He cared about the girl, that much was obvious. I had a moment of pure animal jealousy, wondering if he was screwing her.
Why I cared, I had no fucking idea.
But I did. I cared a lot.
I gave Mason a hard look.
“Is she your wife?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
He shook his head and some of the tension left my body. I felt a strange relief that made no sense at all. I should not give a damn one way or the other.
But I was almost friendly as I nodded to Mason.
“Then you have to step away, Mason. Sorry.”
“I’m responsible for her, dammit!”
Well, that was unexpected. Maybe she was his kid. I looked at her again. Hmm, no. He wasn’t that much older.
Unless he had a kid at fourteen.
“Is she your child? Relation?”
He shook his head. I glanced at the girl, my eyes skimming over her graceful curves. She really was perfect. She looked like one of those girls in those sexy bra commercials.
Lush and young and desirable.
And way too clean and innocent to be in a place like this. But she wasn’t innocent. At the very least, she was a prime witness.
“Is she underage?”
“I’m old enough to work here. I don’t serve drinks.”
I felt something hitch in my stomach at that. Damn, she was young. Not even twenty-one.
I definitely shouldn’t be having the sort of thoughts I was having. Thoughts about touching her. Kissing her. Taking her to my bed and tangling up the sheets.
No. I should not be thinking any of that, dammit. And not just because she was involved in a crime.
Not just because she was so young either.
She was one of them. The people who had killed my partner.
I’d just met the girl. Never before in my life had I taken one look at a female and thought- I would like to hold her all night.
Not just all night either. I had a crazy feeling I’d like to hold her a lot longer than that.
Well, fuck.
Cockpit
I licked the sauce off my fingers, watching Jenny work. Feldon had been right. This place did have the best barbeque south of the Mississippi.
But the amazing ribs were not half as good as the view.
Sweet Jesus, Jenny was finer than what I'd conjured up in my imagination. Her legs were just as long as I remembered but the rest of her was... different. She'd filled out even more, keeping that hourglass shape that drove me nuts last time we'd met. And then some.
She was a brick house.
And I would love to have a visit inside. Hell, not a visit. I wanted to take up permanent residence.
Too bad she wasn't as happy to see me as I was to see her.
I frowned, rubbing my face. I had to wonder why that was. Maybe she'd asked around about me... Yeah, that would do it.
I had quite a reputation amongst the Marines.
But I was a reformed man now. Or I would be, if she gave me another shot. I tilted my head, wondering why she was here. Again. Off another base.
My eyes got wide. I must be an idiot. She was either a military groupie or had a family member in the service. Just... which one? Husband? No. She wasn't wearing a ring and she didn't strike me as the cheating type. Parent? She wasn't that young.
It wasn't falling into place for me. Sweet little Jenny was a mystery. I would figure it out though. And I would make her mine. Or at least soften her up enough to take another crack at it.
If she was a groupie, I didn't care. There were women who had a thing for soldiers, officers in particular. I'd convert her to a one man woman. Just like she'd done to me, the first time I saw those emerald eyes of hers. Hell, if she let me, I'd stick to her like glue.
If she was... related to someone... or an Army brat... well, I might be in bigger trouble than I realized.