Page 37 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“To wait. Not to do anything crazy until she’s named police chief. Then she can open an official investigation and root out the assholes involved,” I explained.
Cole sipped his coffee. “That’s reasonable.”
“Yes.” I unrolled my silverware and fiddled with the paper ring. “But not practical. We don’t have time to waste, especially if these goons are hunting around for Mila.”
Finn lifted his chin and scanned the diner. “It’s only been a few days. Give it time. They’ll get bored and move on. They probably assume she went back to where she came from.”
As much as I wanted to believe him, I wasn’t convinced. While Mila had described most of the guys on the ground as idiots and lackeys, this organization had evaded detection for a long time. They couldn’t all be stupid. If Owen and Lila’s research was accurate, this was a complex organization with a lot of financial and political power.
They wouldn’t let her get away with what she’d done.
My father had gone down for a lot of the crimes these fuckers had committed. Yes, he was guilty as hell of plenty of them, but he’d kept his mouth shut, clearly concerned about the repercussions if he named names.
Day by day, Mila grew more restless. She was holding so much information in, keeping it to herself. I wanted to trust her, and a big part of me did. But the shadows in her eyes warned me that there was more to the story. She was hiding something.
“She’s not going to sit around waiting,” I said. “She’s already itching to get back out there.”
“So let her.” Cole lifted a meaty shoulder. “We barely know her, and while I certainly don’t want anything bad to happen to her, she seems like the type of chick who can handle herself.”
A wave of anger washed over me at his words. “I know her,” I snapped. “And she’s under my roof and my protection. I’ll do everything in my power to help her.”
Her presence was driving me out of my mind. Throwing me off and scrambling my brain.
I bounced between losing myself in sexy memories and being overtaken by a blinding urge to protect her.
Every night, when I scooped her up and carried her to my bed, my heart thumped heavily against my chest, as if trying to get closer to her. The thoughts and feelings plaguing me since she showed up weren’t healthy. I couldn’t afford to get too attached. But at least I could breathe easy, knowing she was safe at my house.
“Hello, handsome,” Bernice, the owner, said as she filled my coffee cup. “Been a while since we’ve seen you. Your usual?”
I shook my head. I’d been out of sorts for days. This called for something indulgent. And maybe Mila was rubbing off on me with her constant discussion of junk food.
“Eggs Benedict, please.” I handed her my plastic menu.
My brothers murmured that they’d take the same, and once their coffees had been refilled, Bernice was gone.
While Finn filled us in on the latest hijinks of his toddler son, Thor, and debated sleep strategies with Gus, I observed the various groups of folks in the diner. It was a cross section of our little community. A community I loved and wanted to protect.
But how? I wasn’t brilliant like Owen, and I didn’t have military training like Finn. People a lot smarter than me had been working to stop this for years with no success.
I was no one. Yet Mila had landed on my doorstep, putting me smack dab in the middle of all of this.
“Just be careful,” Cole warned. “You have a history with this girl.”
Finn’s eyebrows almost met his hairline as he angled forward. “What?”
I glared at Cole. It wasn’t a secret, per se, but I preferred to keep my love life quiet. And I had, but Cole had been at my house when the FBI had visited recently, inquiring about Mila’s whereabouts.
“I knew her. Sort of,” I admitted, staring down into my coffee mug.
Gus scratched at his beard. “Was she one of your groupies?”
Cole snorted.
“First of all,” I seethed, hitting them both with glares. “I do not have groupies. That’s a derogatory, sexist term, and I do not treat women like objects.”
Finn and Cole froze, their eyes going wide. Gus shook his head and drank his coffee. He knew me better than anyone, and he knew how much I hated the assumptions people made about my private life.
It rankled me, the way they treat me like I was some kind of lothario rock star instead of a normal guy who liked to blow off steam by playing my guitar, having a few beers, and occasionally hooking up with women.
