Page 4 of Kiss Marry Kill
“Did he hurt you?” he finally asked, almost scared to know. “Are you hurt?”
“No. He wanted me to sing. He was only inches away, but he didn’t see me. He was going to hurt me. I know he was. Oh God, please tell me they got him?”
“Shhh,” He stroked her back and rocked gently back and forth. “Calm down. He’s not here. You’re safe.”
“But they didn’t catch him, did they?”
He shook his head and she took a deep breath. “Wh-what are you even doing here, Jax?”
“You know, just in the neighborhood. Came by to say hi,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. She looked up and gave him a watery smile in return. “I saw it on television and came right over.”
Sitting up, Megan blew out a breath. “God, I was so scared.” Her voice shook when she spoke and her nails dug into his forearms, but he didn’t say anything because if clawing him made her feel even a little bit better, she could keep doing it and he would never ever complain.
And that’s when he realized: What kind of asshole fantasized about hair or the way she felt against him when the beautiful woman shaking with fear needed him?
Shifting slightly, he pushed down his feelings and tried to take control of the situation. In war, he never thought of the injured or dead bodies around him or the pain he felt when a bullet hit—those were thoughts you dealt with after the threat was gone. A soldier didn’t break when the shit was going down. If they were going to break down, they did it after—during the calm, not in the middle of the fucking storm. During the storm, they were the ones that people counted on to get them through. Right now, he was still in the battlefield and bullets were flying. It was time to put his shit on lockdown.
“Do you think you can answer some questions? The police are waiting downstairs.” Holding her like this, it was difficult to let her go, but cuddling her wasn’t going to keep her safe, and in that moment Jax vowed he would do whatever it took to keep this woman safe.
“Shoot. Yeah, I guess I can talk.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand and shifted to stand up, but he stopped her.
“Wait, do you have a robe?” He had been so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed that she was wearing just a T-shirt, and that body he remembered so vividly was still there, maybe a little curvier, a little more enticing. Looking down at her bare legs, she gasped softly and avoided his eyes. She pulled the shirt lower and pointed to the bathroom, and he retrieved it. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said when he got back. He lifted her chin so she would look at him. “With me you can walk around naked if you want, it’s just with all the other men around, I want you covered up.” He knew his tone was not at all light, and he didn’t have the right to be possessive, but if he had any say, he would not allow any other men to look at her barely clothed.
With a shy smile, still holding her shirt down, she said, “I don’t remember you being so caveman-ish.”
“You have a terrible memory, then.”
Rolling her eyes, but actually smiling in earnest now, she snatched the robe out of his hands and slipped it on.
“Joking aside, Megan. Are you okay?”
“No. Not really. I just want to get this over with. Talk to whomever is waiting and forget this night ever happened.”
Forget this night ever happened? He knew she was talking about the nightmare of the break-in, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted to forget one second of seeing Megan again. Even if the situation sucked, it did serve to bring them together again. But the truth was, every moment that passed without her giving a statement was an extra leg up they were giving the perp.
“Come on, let’s go talk to the cops. You’re right, we need to get this over with.”
As she finished tying the robe, the door swung open and two women rushed in, an older woman who looked a lot like Megan and a blond in her early thirties.
“Megan!” The older woman said, embracing her as everyone talked at once. There was no way any of them knew what the other was saying. As they hugged and cried, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Megan. Not just because she was gorgeous, but because he wanted—no, needed—to make sure she was really okay.
“Are you hurt? I knew this would happen. I knew it. This music thing is—”
“Mom, not now.” Megan mumbled, sounding irritated.
“Meg—”
“No. I don’t need a lecture right now, Mother.”
God, she was stunning, all the emotions showing brightly through her expressive eyes. She was even more beautiful then he’d remembered, and he’d remembered a lot. Now, though, her eyes showed fear and annoyance and he was as anxious as she was for the police to take her statement. Experience dictated that the longer it took to get her statement the longer it would take to find the perp.
“It’s not a lecture, Megan. It’s the truth. These kinds of things don’t happen to lawyers. It’s ridiculous—”
Watching Megan get beat down was enough to send his temper flaring. She’d had a horrible day, probably the worst of her entire life, and this woman—her mother—was giving her grief instead of comfort? Jax was doing everything he could to keep his temper and agitation at bay but he wasn’t there on a social visit and neither was her mother. They were all there for one reason—because Megan’s house had been broken into. She’d been in danger and there was a guy on the loose who could come back at any time.
Focus. Purpose. Action.
The Marines had trained him to be a quick, quiet, and effective machine. They didn’t teach about heart and feelings. He’d already spent too much time calming her down and reminiscing about shit he had no reason to be thinking about—like her hair and her body. There was no time to waste with tears and affection. Those things didn’t mean shit when survival was at stake.
