Page 638 of One More Kiss

“Mann and my brother were stationed in Afghanistan together.” I cross my arms against my chest and settle back against the hard chair. “He breeds and trains dogs for police departments and military organizations. I think he might work with therapy dogs too.”

As I explain my reasoning for calling Mann, I pause. Maybe Mann and Andrew did keep in touch. Maybe that’s who Andrew got this dog from him.

I lift my eyes back to Detective Reynold’s. He’s opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his tongue as his gaze flits behind me. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention too. I don’t have to turn around to know Mann is behind me, I can sense his presence. I can feel the shift in gravity just like I did that Thanksgiving morning when I walked to the front door to answer the ringing bell.

“Jo,” he calls hoarsely. I close my eyes for a split-second, finding comfort in the sound of his voice calling my name. Dragging in a deep breath I glance over my shoulder and his cerulean blue eyes meet mine. My throat goes dry and again, I’m rendered speechless.

It’s not his ruggedly handsome features that paralyze me.

Nor is it concern I spot in his eyes.

It’s the realization that I called, and he came.

No questions asked.

No hesitation.

He turns the chair fully around—the legs dragging across the linoleum—and in one swift move I’m on my feet. His strong arms wrap around me and the scent of gasoline and leather waft past my nose.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you.”

I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear those words. How much I ached for someone to hug me. It has nothing to do with Mann and everything to do with knowing I’m not alone. My arms instantly tighten around his middle and I close my eyes. I pray he doesn’t leave. That he never lets go. That he holds my hand until the end.

* * *

Mann wasn’t by himself,something I discovered once he released his hold on me to dry my eyes with his thumbs. That’s when he turned to the man standing off the side. He wore a leather vest similar to Mann’s, one that declared him a member of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club. Mann introduced him as Ink and asked him to keep an eye on me while he spoke with Detective Reynolds. I’m sure his actual name isn’t Ink, but that’s what Mann called him and there was even a little patch sewed onto his vest that confirmed it.

Ink didn’t talk much, he just kind of stood there with a blank expression on his face. It was even more awkward than my performance on Aunt Barbara’s porch. Ten minutes later, Mann returned, but he bypassed me and went straight to Ink. They talked in hushed tones for a moment before Mann glanced back at me.

“You drove here by yourself?” he asked.

I nodded in response.

“Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he said, reaching behind him to squeeze the back of his neck. “The detective is anticipating that we won’t be able to get into the apartment for another day or so, in the meantime, we’ll swing by the house and grab the dog from the landlady. If it’s okay with her, I’ll leave my bike at the house and pick it up when I come to clean out the apartment. Until then, I’ll drive you back with me. You can stay with me and I’ll help you make whatever arrangements you need to make.”

He was talking so fast, my head spun.

“Stay with you,” I repeated.

His hand fell from the back of his neck as his eyes bore into mine.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I didn’t argue. When all you want is for someone to shoulder some of your grief, you don’t ask questions. You don’t think about your pride or even what is right and wrong. You let help in.

Mann led me out of the police station and when he asked for the keys to my Rogue, I gave them willingly. He opened the passenger door for me and once I was safely situated, he closed it. Ink left his bike at the station, which we later went back for, and straddled Mann’s Harley to follow us to my brother’s apartment.

We rode in silence until we pulled up in front of the house and my anxiety started to rear its ugly head. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car. I didn’t want look at Mrs. Jacobs again. I didn’t want to see the horror in her eyes or worse, listen to her tell the story of how she found Andrew, again.

Mann got out of the car and a short while later he returned with Andrew’s dog. The poor thing looked just as miserable as I felt. I wanted to crawl into the back seat with him and console him, but every time I looked over my shoulder, Detective Reynold’s voice rang in my ears, reminding me that the poor dog was crying for Andrew.

Mrs. Jacobs wound up letting Mann park his bike in her driveway and we Ink slid into the backseat with the dog so we could drive him back to the station to get his Harley. I fell asleep once we hit the highway and by the time I awoke, we were already in Knightdale.

Now fifteen minutes later, I’m staring out the window wondering where the hell we are. He hooks a right turn into a gated compound and the first thing I spot is the excessive amount of bikes that fill the lot. I turn to him, taking in the strong line of his jaw and the scruff that lines it and I realize this is the first time I’m going to be alone with him.

My throat tightens and my palms suddenly begin to sweat. Without Andrew here to act as a buffer, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act around Mann.

What do I say?

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