Page 10 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
“Oh, totally.” Jack nodded emphatically and leaned over the table. “I can totally see that. I mean, look at him, right?”
Hawk’s jaw was clenched so hard she thought all his teeth might shatter. The waitress glanced back and forth between the two of them, and hesitantly said, “It’s not my place to say this, but . . . but you shouldn’t fire him. He’s . . . there aren’t many men like him out there.”
“Fire him!” Jack scoffed. “Oh, no way! I’m getting my money’s worth! Well, Nola’s money’s worth, anyway.” When both the waitress and Hawk stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, Jack said happily, “Oh, never mind, it’s all good. Thanks for the tequila, I’m probably go
ing to need it!”
Jack downed the shot in one gulp, savored the burn, set the glass back on the table, and smiled broadly at both of them.
A male escort! This was going to be so much fun! No strings, no attachments; he’d leave afterward without all that awkward Uh, I’ll call you BS. As long as he had condoms—plenty of them—she was good to go.
The waitress turned and fled. Jack happily watched her go, then said to Hawk, “So how exactly does this work? Do I need to tip you afterward or anything, or is that all taken care of?”
That lazy, seductive smile from before had turned to a mean-looking scowl, which Jack decided was utterly adorable. God, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. Just look at those arms! Those abs! That bulge in his jeans! She almost hopped up and down in her seat with excitement.
This way, she could be absolutely free. She could let herself go. There would be no consequences, no ugly recriminations, no relationship whatsoever. She hadn’t a single hesitation about the ethics of bedding a male prostitute—it was called the oldest profession in the world for a good reason, and they were both consenting adults, and he was beautiful—she wasn’t worried about the possible dangers of having a strange man in her hotel room because Nola would have paid a high price to ensure the quality of the merchandise, and the safety and total anonymity of the transaction. In fact, she’d probably had an extensive background check run on him and made him sign a nondisclosure.
The cherry on top of this delightful sundae of sin: there would be exactly zero emotional entanglements. She’d wake up tomorrow morning and he’d be gone, never to be seen again, and she’d be on a plane on her way back to the States.
Her glee was only briefly marred by the cold pinch of anxiety she felt every time she thought about having sex. With an efficiency born of years of practice, Jack ruthlessly squashed that feeling before it had a chance to flower into fear.
Hawk growled, “What the hell are you talking about? And who’s Nola?”
“You’re right: we should stay to the script. Stay in character, I love it.” She grinned at him, more excited than she’d been in years.
“Are you drunk?” He enunciated every word, glaring daggers at her all the while.
She sighed and rested her chin on her threaded fingertips. Looking him right in the eye, she softly asked, “How are you going to fuck me first, Hawk?”
All the blood drained from his face.
It rushed back in with a speed that left blotches of red high on his sculpted cheekbones. He stood abruptly, looking angry, hot, and scary, and pulled her just as abruptly out of the booth with a hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm. He leaned down and hissed into her ear, “All right. You wanna play? Let’s play.”
Then in a very caveman move that made her squeal in delight, Hawk picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and headed for the front door.
This broad was seriously deranged.
He’d never seen a woman do a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn the way this one had. One second she was glaring at him as if he was a carrier of the plague, the next she was asking him how he was going to fuck her.
Still hanging over his shoulder as he made his way down the corridor to her hotel room, her thighs grasped firmly under his arm and her little feet kicking out in front of him, she chuckled to herself and said happily, “And just look at this ass!”
Then she actually spread both her hands across his rear end and squeezed.
What the hell?
He didn’t know how he’d lost control of the situation, but he had. And now he was about to take it back.
“Key,” he snapped as he stopped in front of room 204.
“Back pocket of my jeans,” she whispered, sounding all sexy and breathless with anticipation.
Had that waitress put something in her drink? Had she been roofied? That would certainly account for her strange behavior . . . or maybe she was bipolar. Though he hadn’t read that in her file. Not that he’d paid much attention to the file’s contents; a cursory skim had told him all he’d needed to know.
Or so he’d thought.
He dug the key from the pocket of her jeans, turned it in the door handle, entered the room, and kicked the door shut behind him. Then he flipped Jacqueline off his shoulder, set her on her feet, and backed her up against the wall.
Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, he thought she might be afraid of him.
