Page 3 of Shadow’s Protection (Hurricane Heat MC #1)

Violet

I’m more than a rule-follower.

I’m a rule-follower’s rule-follower.

I’ve never had a parking ticket. Never shoplifted or even been tempted to steal. I’ve never cheated on a test, and I’m pretty darned sure that the closest I’ve come to telling a lie was telling this terrifyingly huge, bearded man that I have a boyfriend.

Well, I did have one—so it’s not a complete lie. I just don’t anymore. But since this guy is driving me to places unknown so I can spend the night with him… I think I can be forgiven for stretching the truth a bit.

Once we’re inside the car, the reality of the situation hits me.

It’s pouring down buckets of rain, and unless this guy decides to pull over and live out a serial killer’s fantasy, he’s gonna have to use all of his attention to navigate the roads safely.

My little sedan’s in decent shape, but between the wind and the roads starting to flood, the car fishtails, and I swear I’m gripping the towel he gave me with all my strength just to calm my racing heart.

I squeeze my eyes shut when an empty plastic water bottle tossed by a sudden gust of wind strikes the windshield. I jump so hard that the man I’ve somehow trusted with my life looks away from the road to glance at me.

“We got this,” he says, his voice even and oddly reassuring. “We’re almost there.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, nervous energy making me feel fidgety.

I know I probably shouldn’t trust this guy, but I don’t get any weird vibes from him.

In fact, he seems oddly distant, like he doesn’t want to put up with me any more than I want to be stuck with no better options than accepting his charity.

“Told ya,” he mutters. “Shadow.” He doesn’t tear his eyes from the windshield when he answers my question.

My sister’s not going to like that one bit. “Your real name?” I press. “If I’m murdered, it will be a lot easier for them to find you by your legal name.”

He flicks a fast look at me, and a slight grin peeks through his dark brown beard. “Johnny.” He looks vicious and tough, but he’s got a voice as smooth as honey. The sound of it calms me, oddly. “Johnny Butcher,” he finishes.

Well, darn. I can’t exactly convince my sister that a guy named Butcher isn’t a serial killer about to make me his next victim. “You couldn’t have been John Smith, could you?” I grumble.

“What?” We stop at a red light, even though there are no other cars at this intersection, and Johnny turns to look at me. His eyes are a surprisingly light shade of green, and when he lowers his brows, he looks dangerously sexy.

I swallow hard and start punching away at my cell phone. “You could have a slightly less sinister name if you’re going to pick up women off the street,” I say softly.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You think my name is bad, you won’t wanna tell your sister about this.” He pats the leather vest he’s wearing.

I gasp. He’s carrying a gun. I shouldn’t be surprised. Florida is a concealed carry state. Half the mall-walking old ladies probably have weapons in their handbags. But he wouldn’t have revealed that he had it if he intended to surprise me with it. Use it on me, even. Would he?

“Great,” I mumble under my breath. “Definitely a serial killer.”

He laughs, and the warm sound fills the car. I want to trust him. What option do I have at this point? “It’s only for my protection—and now, yours.”

The light turns green, and we lurch ahead, the wind changing direction and literally shaking the body of my car.

“There,” he says, pointing ahead.

Not that it matters. The rain has picked up again, and I can’t see anything through the torrents of water streaming over the windshield. I fire off a quick text to my sister, including Shadow’s full name, and just hope this isn’t the worst mistake of my life.

A one-story building is ahead of us, as best as I can make out, and Shadow pulls right up to a door that has a single lighted bulb overhead. He turns and faces me.

“You got an overnight bag? Change of clothes?” he asks.

I don’t reply right away, definitely not sure I want to commit to staying here. But just then, the door of the building opens, and two girls stumble out into the storm.

That’s a good sign. There are other women inside, and they don’t seem to be here against their will.

Quite the opposite, actually. They are laughing, and they have their arms around each other’s bare shoulders.

They’re both wearing really revealing cutoff tops, and even in the rain, I can tell they’ve got more cleavage and skin showing than covered.

They have wild hair, too, blown around by the rain.

But they don’t seem to care. One looks as if she tries and fails to light a cigarette behind a cupped hand, while the other bends over, puts her hands on her knees, and pukes a big puddle of something into the grass.

“Ugh,” I mutter.

“Jesus fucking…” Shadow shakes his head. “Forget about those two. Grab your bag. You’ll have a room all to yourself. Ain’t nobody going to bother you.”

I reach into the back seat and grab a small overnight bag that I’d hastily thrown together in a gas station parking lot a couple hours ago, right when the weather started to turn. “What about my car?” I ask.

Almost everything I own is in this car. Everything I could get away with. Everything I needed to start my new life. The last thing I need is to lose it all in one night.

Shadow heaves a deep sigh. “I’ll park it out back. No room in the garage, but we have a reinforced fence. Should be okay.”

I set my bag in my lap and clutch the towels around me. “So, am I coming with you?”

He looks at me. “That’s your call. I ain’t forcing you to stay.”

I burst into nervous laughter. “Right. No. I mean, am I going with you to park the car?”

Somehow, over the last few minutes, the idea of leaving to find someplace else to stay seems even more reckless than taking shelter with this man for the night.

I can always leave if it clears up or if things get weird . He said himself I’m not being forced to stay here.

“Yeah. Might as well. I doubt we’ll have to step over puddles of puke going in the back.”

He rolls down the windows. “Get your asses inside!” he yells.

“Shadow? That you?” one of the women yells back. “Why don’t you carry me inside, big man?”

Shadow shakes his head and grumbles under his breath.

I can’t imagine riding out a storm with a bunch of people partying so hard they make themselves sick. I guess I don’t know what I expected, so I try to reserve my judgment while he drives my car around the back of the building. It appears far larger than it looked from the street.

“What is this place?” I ask, squinting through the dark. “You live here?”

He pulls a small clicker from the inside pocket of his vest, and a gate opens on a very strong-looking metal fence. He steers the car inside and parks between two enormous pickup trucks.

“I live here,” he confirms, but he doesn’t offer more than that.

I take that as a bad sign, but my sister is blowing up my phone, the ringtone I use for her piercing through the noise of the storm. “I’m okay,” I tell her, picking up after the first ring. “I’m just arriving. I’m going inside, so I’ll call you when I’m settled.”

She starts to say something, but Shadow has turned off the car and hands me the keys, so I end the call.

He holds out his hand for my bag, and I trade him.

Clutching the faded hotel towels around my shoulders like a shawl, I wait while he runs around the passenger side to open the door and let me out.

He reaches out a hand to help me from the seat.

My fingers brush his, and I can’t believe how hot his skin is.

He’s warm like he’s on fire from the inside, and God, for a moment, I wish I could curl up beside him and steal some of his heat.

It’s a dangerous thought, not to mention inappropriate, but my knight in shining leather hasn’t given me any reason to be afraid of him. At least not yet.

I shove thoughts of his heat and his light green eyes to the back of my mind and focus on stepping through the puddles of water that have started to form in the parking lot.

I do not need to slip and fall on my butt.

He’s probably already had more than an eyeful already, between my wet dress and the wind.

I don’t need him picking me up off my behind too.

We make it through the parking lot, practically holding hands the entire way. When he releases my hand, my fingers immediately go cold again. I stare at his profile as he unlocks a door, flips a latch, and shoves the door open with the toe of his boot.

“Come on,” he says, setting a hand lightly against my back. “It’s gonna be a full house.” His breath warms my ear. “Stay close to me.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

As soon as he shuts and locks the door behind us, I turn to face a scene I don’t think can even be real. I mean, I’ve seen things like this on TV, but in real life? I’m suddenly not sure I wouldn’t feel safer braving the storm than this.

The room we’ve walked into is a huge open space, softly lit with dim yellow overhead lights and neon signs attached to the walls.

There are two pool tables, an air hockey table, and probably a dozen or more couches, recliners, and chairs scattered everywhere.

On every available surface, I see bottles, cans, and plastic cups that I assume contain the sticky-sweet substance that I can feel on the floors under my feet.

The air is thick with skunky smoke, and I wrinkle my nose and try not to cough. Is this a drug den? I shudder hard, but I feel Shadow’s hand pressing lightly against my back.

“This way,” he says.