Page 4 of Junkyard Dog (Lonesome Garage #3)

Chapter Four

I dream of sexy blondes and wake up hard to wet kisses on my cheek.

I turn my head and get hit with full-on doggie breath.

“Mandy, off!” The dog keeps climbing onto my bed at night.

I tell her “no”, but she doesn’t listen.

I don’t want to kennel her so I’m going to have to come up with something new.

This wouldn’t be a problem if I had a delicious, curvy romance writer sleeping next to me, taking up the rest of my king-size mattress.

The dogs are up before the sun, so I have to get up as well.

I let them outside to do their business and pour a cup of coffee from the pot that I set up the morning before on a timer.

For once, my day’s schedule has more on it than pulling parts that my cousins have requested, breaking down new junkers and listing their components on the salvage yard’s website, and hanging out at the clubhouse and chipping in with whatever my brothers need done.

Today I get to play knight in shining armor for Rhiannon.

I don’t know why I opened my mouth and volunteered.

Bishop could have driven her back to her car.

He’s right there. I tell myself that I don’t want her stalker to get a chance to see anything that could lead back to Romy’s place.

But that’s a lie. I just want to see her again.

I should text Bishop, ask him to do it. I am not the man for the job.

I couldn’t handle a training exercise, not without a brother-in-arms ending up dead.

Violet doesn’t blame me for what happened to her first husband.

Hell, neither did the rest of my team. But even the revelation that Keith had been set up and I was collateral damage doesn’t ease the guilt.

He’s gone. I’m still here—at least, pieces of me are.

But I’m not the man I used to be, or even the man I thought I was.

The scars prove it. Why am I deluding myself to think I can handle a protection detail, even on a romance writer?

It would be lying to Rhiannon to let her believe I can look after her.

She, on the other hand, hasn’t lied. For a split second, I thought Romy might be trying to set me up with her friend.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Then, after I dropped the girls off, I swung back around to the bar and grill.

There was a kidnapper’s white van with Virginia plates in the parking lot, just like Rhi suspected.

The woman in the bar had been polite but the staff told me that they had found her trying to access the staff room. She’d claimed she was lost.

The stalker left at closing. Then she sat in her van for an hour and a half, until the lights were out and the last vehicle drove away, leaving Rhiannon’s and one other in the parking lot.

This meant that I had all of five hours sleep last night.

At least it was a solid five. I haven’t had that in a while.

I know where this is heading. Both Violet and Romy arrived with trouble in their wakes. I can see Rhiannon isn’t going to be any different. How do these women find each other?

The dogs race back inside. I tell them that I’ll be back soon, then jump in my truck. I’m pulling up to Romy’s place when I realize that it’s seven in the morning. Rhiannon’s on vacation; she might not even be up yet. She certainly won’t be ready for company.

I am in the middle of a three-point turn when movement in Romy’s backyard catches my eye.

Rhiannon appears out of the mist, bit by bit, as she climbs the sloped lawn from the lakeshore to the house.

She looks completely unconcerned about the cold temperatures in her jeans, sweatshirt, and flannel jacket.

When she spots me, she lifts a hand to wave.

I’ve never seen perfection walking before.

“I didn’t expect to see you so early. Are you here to drive me back to my car already?” Her face falls. “Or was there a problem with my superfan?”

“No problem,” I say in a hurry. Whoever this woman is, she has really freaked Rhiannon out.

“She had no idea that you snuck out the back. She stayed till closing, then hung out in the parking lot for another hour watching your car before taking off. She’s parked outside a motel in Dickerson.

I figure now is a good time to move your car out of sight. ”

She nods. “I appreciate it. Let me grab my purse.”

This is for the best. Good deed done and we part ways, never to meet again. It’s ridiculous that I’ve already formed some sort of attachment. It’ll probably fade as soon as I find a suitable replacement for my nighttime—and daytime—fantasies about her.

Fuck, I’m going to be stuck on Rhiannon forever.

She hops in beside me and bounces to get comfortable while she fastens her seatbelt. The scent of her flowery perfume fills the cab. “I’m ready.”

The drive around the lake is peaceful. It seems neither of us are talkers this early in the morning.

Another thing we have in common. I slow to turn into the parking lot of the Lonesome Bar and Grill.

Then I see a white van parked around the corner of the building.

I reach across the seat, wrap my hand around Rhiannon’s slender neck, and pull her face down into my lap. “Don’t move,” I order.

“What the fuck, JD?”

“Your stalker is watching your car.”

I can feel the heat from her cheek burning through the denim on my thigh. It is way too dangerous to have her this close to my dick. But I also don’t want her to move. I drive through town and don’t lift my hand until we hit the salvage yard turn-off.

Rhiannon shakes out her hair when she sits up. “Well, fuck. This is officially out of control.”

I drop my ball cap onto my sensitive lap.

What a disaster. I push my fingers through my hair roughly.

Lonesome has already experienced the trouble that its new residents have brought to town.

This is the first time it has involved illegal activity right out of the gate.

Rhiannon’s right; things are beyond serious.

This is no superfan. This is a stalker. The danger level just skyrocketed.

“Well, fuck.” I agree.

I tell her to go into the house while I make a call.

I’m going to need backup to ensure that nothing happens to her on my watch.

I text the boys—Tolk, Picnic, and Duck. Tolk lets me know he’s out of town, but Duck and Picnic say they’ll be right over.

I stomp back into my house, trying to burn some of my frustration so I don’t take it out on Rhi. “You want a coffee?”

“Do I need one?”

“You will.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“It’s not supposed to be. But don’t worry, I’ve—we’ve got you covered.”

“You’ve got me covered? What have you done, JD? I mean, if you can block her van in and give me a head start, that’s all I need. I’ll drive back to Washington and sic my lawyers on her.”

I walk over and grab her hand. “Rhiannon, you aren’t going anywhere.”