She looked at the array of liquor bottles on the bar. "This looks like a smaller version of the bar at the Firebird Club."
He shrugged. "What's your pleasure?"
"Something with some heat to it, but not vodka. Nothing Russian."
He smiled as he poured them each a shot of whiskey. They clicked their glasses together. "To survival," he said.
"I'll drink to that."
They both tossed back the whiskey in one swallow. "Another?" he asked.
She nodded. He refilled her glass and his, and after downing their second shots, they walked over to the couch. She flopped down on the oversized gray sofa and let out a sigh. "My clothes smell like smoke. I just realized I have nothing to wear."
"There are a couple of clothing boutiques about two blocks away. We can get you something in the morning. Tonight, I can lend you a T-shirt."
"That would be good. I do feel warmer now."
He took the chair across from her, thinking that they'd gone through a lot of levels of heat in the past few hours. It was almost difficult to believe they'd been about to have sex when the firebomb had come into the house. That felt like a lifetime ago.
"What are you thinking?" she asked curiously, tucking her legs up under her as she got more comfortable.
"It's been a long night."
"Is that really what you were thinking?"
He stared back at her. "I was thinking that I'm sorry we got interrupted earlier."
"Me, too. But—"
He held up his hand. "Don't finish that sentence. I have two bedrooms. You're going to take one, and I'll take the other."
"What if I'm still cold?"
"I'll get you a blanket."
"You're really turning me down?" she questioned, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
"Yes, because I don't want to take advantage of you. You're scared and vulnerable. You're not thinking straight, Maya. And when we get together, it's not going to be like this."
Her green eyes darkened. "You said when, not if."
"Well, it seems fairly inevitable."
"Then why waste tonight?"
"Because it's not the right time."
"I am scared," she admitted. "The Molotov cocktails could have killed me. They knew I was inside. My car was in the driveway. They probably knew you were there, too."
Which disturbed him, because it could mean his cover was blown. Or maybe not. They might think he was spying for Maya, but they probably wouldn't connect him to Bozic or the cars.
"I can't believe they took it this far," she continued. "Although, why am I surprised? They killed Julia after trying to set her up as a murderer. I am in so far over my head, I have no idea what to do next."
"You don't have to decide now."
"I'm really glad that my parents went to Darcy's for the night. I hope their house doesn't come under attack, but at least they won't be there."
"That was a good suggestion you made earlier. What about your grandfather? Where does he live?"
She frowned. "He's at the Carmichael Center. It's an assisted living facility in West Hollywood. They do have security. Do you think it's good enough?"
"I don't believe anyone will go after your grandfather. It's the journals they want. We need to get them tomorrow."
She nodded. "I'll do that first thing. I just don't think I can stay at work. I feel too stressed out to spend the day trying to do my job."
"Maybe you'll have to take a sick day. I don't have to work tomorrow, so I can come with you, if you want."
"I would like that. Even though I know it's not really fair to keep involving you, Jax. I should walk away. You should walk away." She paused, tilting her head to the right as she gazed at him. "Why haven't you?"
He smiled. "Because I don't want to."
And suddenly the air between them filled with another kind of tension.
She got to her feet, and he got to his. He tried to remember the promise he'd made only moments earlier. He was going to sleep in his guest room. He was not going to take advantage of her. But she was moving forward, and so was he.
"I don't want to sleep in the other room," she said. "I want to be with you, Jax."
"You're a little crazed right now."
"That might be true. I could have died tonight. And tomorrow, who knows? But right now, I want you. And I think you want me—"
He covered her mouth with his, because he didn't just want her—he needed her. To hell with right and wrong. To hell with good intentions. She