Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,55

in one hand and his other arm draped over the shoulders of a busty brunette.

Sitting next to his wife and children at church, thinking about how his secretary would blow him on Monday morning.

“Ian ever mention what car he drove as a teenager?”

Max laughed, covering her full mouth. “I told you … no one knows anything about his life before stardom.”

Jersey shoved handfuls of chips into her mouth as Ian threw his head back in laughter and his blowjob secretary gazed at him with her intentions clear in her doe eyes and teeth planted into her bottom lip.

“Ian slid his hand down the front of my pants this morning.”

Max choked on her sushi roll.

Jersey nodded toward Ian and his secretary. “Think he’s going to put his hand down her pants before we leave?”

Max coughed a few more times. “You know I don’t want to hear about this, talk about it, or envision it in any way, right?”

With a shrug like her emotions were dead, and maybe they were, Jersey tore her gaze away from Ian and focused on Max. “Do you realize we would rule the whole damn world if we had big cock swords carving the way for us? Fearlessly and unapologetically impaling anything that got in our way.”

“And by we you mean women in general, not actually you and me, correct?”

Jersey licked the salt from her fingers, letting her curiosity return to Ian.

Max moved closer to Jersey. “The girl … Grace … she’s Bryson’s sister. I don’t know what her relationship is with Ian. But if you’re concerned about what could happen, then go tell him how you feel—but don’t actually do physical harm to him.”

Jersey sighed. “Another example why men still out rule us … they don’t let petty things like feelings get in their way.”

“Where are you going?” Max called as Jersey weaved her way through the crowd to the coveted rock star at the epicenter of the gathering.

Shane frowned, more like a subtle cringe, when he caught sight of her as he stood guard behind Ian and Grace.

“You don’t own him,” Shane warned, keeping his voice just low enough so Ian couldn’t hear him.

Jersey lurched forward as if someone shoved her into Shane. He grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright. She lifted her gaze, flashing him a toothy grin. “I own all of you; you just don’t fucking know it yet.” With her right hand she slipped out her knife, squaring her shoulders to Shane while gripping it firmly at her side.

Shane focused on the knife while slowly reaching inside his unzipped, black leather coat. Their little standoff continued, unnoticed by Ian thanks to the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd and the incessant white noise of chatter making it difficult to hear well.

He did a good job playing it cool, but Jersey knew Shane’s heart raced with panic behind his broad chest as his hand came up empty. Lifting her left hand, she dangled his gun from her index finger. Jersey wasn’t a fan of guns, but Judd trained her well on disarming the enemy.

Shane wasn’t the enemy. He was just the enemy’s bodyguard.

“Oh my god!” Grace yelped, glancing over Ian’s arm still resting across her shoulders.

Ian turned. His gaze ping-ponged between the dangling gun, Jersey, and a wide-eyed Shane.

“Dropped your gun, big guy.” Jersey shot Shane a lethal smile as she extended her hand toward his face.

He glared at her for a few seconds before shooting his attention to her other hand, but she had already returned the knife to its concealed spot. Shane grabbed the gun and shoved it back into its holster.

“Jer-sey …” Ian said her name in two slow syllables.

“Dude …” Some drunk guy cackled. “How the fuck did you drop your gun?”

“Dropped your wallet too.” Jersey fished Shane’s wallet from her front pocket and tossed it into his chest.

Shane’s anger simmered into something else? Hurt? Was he hurt that she’d embarrassed him? Did she go too far? Jersey wasn’t sure. But his you don’t own him comment felt like the manly cock jab—the age-old attempt at putting a woman in her spot.

“Let’s go.” Ian grabbed her arm.

She fought back the urge to jerk away from him and land her fist into his pretty little face. She submitted to his need to steer her through the crowd, down a long hallway, and into a dark bedroom.

Ian released her with a firm shove and shut the door behind them. The second it clicked, a knife landed with a thud into the solid wood mere inches