Wicked Ties(114)

“You shock him?” Deke laughed. “That’s funny, but not possible. You surprised him.

He just walked out to think. If I believed for a second that he wouldn’t come for you, I

would have left you with him in the swamp.”

Deke honestly believed that Jack was coming back for her. Tonight. Was he

delusional? Convincing himself so that he didn’t have to babysit her?

It didn’t matter. She had to get out of here, away from the swamps and Lafayette, and

from Jack, before she did anything else she’d end up regretting.

“Why? I want to get away. Why would you leave me with a man who doesn’t want

me?”

A fresh rush of February wind cut through the thin clothing, chilling her to her bones.

Morgan huddled further into her arms.

“Doesn’t want you?” Deke asked incredulously as he ripped his sweatshirt off over

his head. “Woman, you know shit about men. When he comes, ask Jack why he came

after you. It won’t be long now.”

Morgan tried to follow the train of his words and not to swallow her tongue. Every

sculpted inch of Deke’s torso was blessedly, achingly bare. She took in the angled dips

and hard swells of his body. The man was enormous! Those

shoulders…they had to be damn near three feet wide. Holy cow, it was a good thing

she already knew Deke wasn’t going to hurt her. Otherwise…she’d be terrified to meet

the man in a dark alley.

“Arms up,” he commanded.

“You’re going to get cold.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a spare in my Hummer. Arms up.”

This time, she complied. The allure of warmth was too strong to resist. The sweatshirt

settled over her body like a soft, warm cloud that extended at least six inches past her

fingertips and nearly down to her knees.

Deke laughed. “You’re a little thing, doll. My sweatshirt makes you look like

someone’s six-year-old sister.”

Torn between laughing and screaming, Morgan stomped out of the boat and onto the

decaying wooden dock. Deke tied the boat off and followed her.

“If we’re done laughing at my expense, can you drop me off at Sexy Sirens so I can get

my purse and blow this taco stand?”

Deke raised a tawny brow. “You know that’s the first place Jack will look for you.”

“Well, then let’s hurry so I can be gone by the time he decides to chase after me.” If

he does.

“Your chariot, my lady.” He gestured to a gleaming black Hummer H3 sitting in the

dirt-and-gravel lot ten feet ahead, perched up on monster truck tires nearly taller than

her.

Morgan snorted. As if a guy that tall and huge needed such an intimidating vehicle to

make a statement. Talk about overkill.

Once he unlocked the doors with the press of a button on his key fob, he opened the

one on the passenger’s side and lifted her into the vehicle. She couldn’t call it a car. It

was more like a tank with leather seats and satellite radio.

Settling into the seat and shutting the door, she was grateful for the fact that it

blocked that terrible cold wind.

Behind her, a rear door opened and closed. A few moments later, Deke climbed into

the driver’s seat wearing a West Point sweatshirt and a smile.

On the road to Sexy Sirens, Morgan asked him to drop her at the back door. The last

thing she needed was to crawl through the crowd wearing Jack’s too-big sweatpants and

Deke’s even bigger sweatshirt, sans bra and shoes. She probably looked like a refugee

from an all-night frat party.

“As if I was going to drop you off at the front door.” Deke’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I

think your stalker friend is in California. I don’t know it. Until I know where the bastard

is, we lay low.”

Morgan couldn’t argue with that logic. Better safe than sorry. She wanted to believe

Reggie was still in California stewing that she’d given him the slip, but who knew…

Deke parked the Hummer in the alley behind the club, then helped her down. He

stopped before the back door and pounded his fist on the cracking paint. A new blast of

arctic wind cut down the narrow lane of the alley. Morgan’s teeth chattered. Her thin L.A.

blood really couldn’t take this.

With a curse, Deke moved his body to block the brunt of the wind and he wrapped

his arms around her.

Alyssa opened the door and stared at them with a surprised gaze that quickly turned

jaundiced. “Well, if it isn’t He-Man.”

The sexy club owner was dressed tonight in a black leather corset just shy of illegal

and a matching skirt a breath away from indecent that emphasized long legs encased in

sheer, thigh-high stockings. She stepped back on black stilettos to let them enter. A wall