Page 12 of Royally Ruined

“Because the front desk will take one look at you and assume you’re a prostitute. I don’t want to risk them denying us a room because they think I’m paying you for sex.” I was used to being blunt. What I wasn’t used to was visualizing the exact scenario I’d just described.

Scotch adjusted herself on the seat, facing away from me. “All right, I get it. I’ll be right here.”

As quickly as I could, I climbed into the cool air. The lot was relatively empty, the woman running the front desk barely awake. I paid her enough cash for a single night. I wouldn’t need longer than that, no matter what Thorne and I decided to do.

When I returned with the key, I tapped Scotch’s window. Stepping out of my car, she steadied herself next to me. A gust of clawing air shredded us both; her shiver was visible, and her arms curled around to hug her.

In just her skirt and bra, she was hilariously underdressed. It was my fault and I knew it. I gripped my jacket’s zipper and pulled it down my body. “Here,” I said, leaning close to drape it over her shoulders.

When she turned to watch what I was doing, the breeze grabbed her hair, tickling it over my cheek. Her smell invaded me. I wanted to bury my face in her blonde strands and imprint this scent in my memory.

Fingering the edges of the leather collar, I stared down at Scotch. The jacket was too big on her—it made her look as if she had nothing on beneath it, her bare legs seeming more naked than ever.

The giant neon sign buzzed overhead. Something rustled in the patchy green dumpster nearby, a cat looking for a warm spot to spend the night. No one would put this moment on a Hallmark card, and yet ... desire throbbed through the air between us. I could have waved my hands and seen it move, like steam in a sauna.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, backing away from me.

The cold weather was doing nothing to cool the hot pressure between my thighs. “Let’s go inside before we get pneumonia.”Or before I do something very, very stupid.

Something worse than what I’d already done tonight.

We were barely up the rickety stairs when Thorne pulled into the lot below us. His lights went dim, and his hair was jet black in the low-lit area as he stepped onto the cement. My brother wasn’t smiling as he often did; his quick scan of Scotch wearing my jacket deepened the lines around his nose.

She ran to meet him, pushing past me on the landing. “Is Gina okay?”

He ducked his chin into the tall collar of his coat. “She’s fine. Just a little shaken up.”

I waved at him. “Come inside our room.”

“No. Let’s talk out here.”

He doesn’t want her to listen.“Here,” I said, handing her the key. She clutched it, her thumbs rubbing over the well-worn surface. “Get in there and warm up. We won’t be long.”

With some reluctance she backed toward the doorway. It was one of several on the open second-floor landing. Her nervous eyes lingered on me. Then she was through the door, gone.

The motel was a ghost town as far as I could see, but we still walked toward the far corner of the shadowed railing. Thorne faced me, his hands deep in his peacoat. “What the fuck happened back there?” he asked sharply.

“First, tell me what the doctor said about Darien.”

He dug his fingernails through his hair vigorously. “He’s still unconscious, no clue when that will change, but Doc thinks he’ll live. We’re lucky she didn’t kill him.”

“She didn’t shoot him, Thorne.”

“Like hell she didn’t. Look, I like Scotch. She’s worked at the Dirty Dolls forever. I’m sure she did it because he was messing with Gina, but we both saw the same thing. She was literally red-handed.”

I was shaking my head. I couldn’t stop. “He shot himself while they were wrestling for the gun.”

He laughed so loud it made clouds in the air. “Come on! What are the chances of that?”

“Thorne.”

“She was holding the gun.”

“Thorne!” I snapped. “She didn’t do it.”

With a low groan he leaned against the railing. “Doesn’t matter. Word is at least two people saw her go into that champagne room.”

It felt as if centipedes were marathoning up my back. “What?”

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