Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(66)

Lucky, I’m going to murder you for this! I swear inwardly as his bright, elfin laughter follows me from the building.

I can hear Dom’s footsteps too close behind me as I scram. My pulse thunders in my veins. The door to Jaykob’s workshop is open, and I adjust my course.

“Stop, Eden!” Dom growls.

No, no, no. No way am I stopping. Submit to punishment, my ass!

I put in an extra burst of speed and fly toward the building, taking full advantage of my slight lead. I round the door at speed, the momentum sending me crashing against a bench just inside.

Standing by a half-dismantled washing machine, Jaykob looks up, startled. Grease smears his white tank and the left side of his face, but he runs a bemused look over my disheveled appearance.

The nerve.

Hearing Dom’s footsteps, I squeak again and run right for Jayk, his muscles and tattoos and irritated scowl seeming a beacon of safety.

“What the fuck—”

I duck around him and bury myself in his back.

“Lucky made me do something,” I explain calmly. Or that’s what I meant to do. In reality, my voice sounds high and breathless as a rubber duck being strangled by a four-year-old. “Please, please, please just help me and I’ll do anything you want.”

Jaykob tenses for a moment, then snorts as Dom stalks into his workshop. I clutch at the back of his shirt like it’s a lifeline, suddenly unsure why I thought Jaykob, of all people, would be willing to save me. He hasn’t spoken to me since our night together. Though, since Dom went after him yesterday, maybe he’ll be more inclined to take my side.

Oh, good Lord in heaven, I’m an idiot. A bazooka? How stupid could I be?

“Hand her over, Jayk,” Dom grits out.

Jaykob tosses down an oily rag and leans against the washing machine, turning slightly so he can look down at me. The bemused look is still on his face.

Please, please, please, I silently beg up at him through my lashes, for the first time wishing I knew exactly how “womanly wiles” were meant to work.

After a long moment, he finally looks back at Dom and drawls, “Nah. She’s good here.”

My bones go weak, and I melt into his side. He shifts so I’m pressed more closely against him. Peeking, I see Dom standing tall and dark and frightening just a few feet away. Uneasily, I wonder if Jayk would even be able to take him. He’s huge and deadly-seeming in his own right, but there’s something about Dom that commands absolute fear and respect. Lethal violence lives in the hard slash of his jaw and the blunt strength of his wide, rough hands. Hands that could break every bone in my body to use as toothpicks.

Jaykob’s voice hardens. “You can get out of my shop now.”

Dom crosses his arms as he studies Jayk.

“Seriously?” he asks dryly.

He doesn’t sound angry. Bolstered by Jaykob’s warm strength, I study Dom. His stance seems relaxed.

Jayk lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Go beat on Lucky. He put her up to it.”

“She stole a bazooka,” Dom retorts.

Yep, definitely dry.

Jayk rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she steal it so she can play with it? The circus rat has a thing for explosives. It’s why you hid it in the first place.”

Dom sighs, then turns his golden gaze on me. Rather than molten, blazing fury which, let’s face it, is the main expression I’m used to seeing from him, all I see is firm exasperation.

“Stay out of my room. You try and take anything else that doesn’t belong to you, and I’ll hold you down and have Beau beat your ass so you can’t sit for a week. Running off to Jayk won’t save you then either. Understood?”

I flush and duck my head. “Yes, understood. Sorry, sir.”

Dom nods once, and gives Jaykob a final, puzzled glance before he shakes his head and leaves.

I heave a sigh of relief.

“Ohhh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” I murmur reverently, not sure if I’m praying to God or thanking Jayk.

When he doesn’t say anything, I look up. He’s staring down at me, almost as puzzled as Dom. I’m still nestled into his side but I can’t bring myself to move, enjoying the comfort of his closeness. I become very aware of the delicious, very male scent of him. I color, shifting.

“What?” I ask.

I touch my hair, annoyed with the strands that became tangled in my flight, and my glasses slip down. Jayk nudges them back up my nose, careful not to touch my skin with his oil-greased fingers. My lips part in surprise at the gentle touch.

“Why the hell did you run in here?” he asks, sounding uncomfortable.

My gaze drops from his eyes. It lands on his lips, and I vividly remember how they felt branding my skin. Shivering slightly, I press closer again. There’s nowhere to go, of course. We’re as close as we can get with our clothes still on. The adrenaline is settling but my body still feels wired, electric.

“I’m not sure, I—”

Jayk shifts again, this time moving so I’m no longer pressed against his side. He nudges me with small, insistent pushes, until I’m pressed back up against the wall and his front is flush against me. His hard length is hot and insistent against my stomach.

“I just thought that . . . you might help me?”

I didn’t mean for that to come out as a question.

“Because we fucked?” he presses.