I tried not to think of crawling into Lee’s bed at all. It was just a bed. So it was Liam Nightingale’s bed. So it kinda smelled like him, like leather and tobacco and spice. So what?
The smell and the bed made me feel a little bit like I felt when I touched Joe Perry’s chest and I had this niggling inclination to do a little naughty activity but, thankfully, I fell asleep before I could do anything about it.
The next thing I knew, something was wrapped around my ankle and dragging me down the length of the bed, just like the heroine in a horror movie
When my knees slammed into the footboard, I whipped around to my back and gave a small yelp. I saw a big shadow looming over me in the dark and I opened my mouth to scream, knowing that whoever had shot at us had found us and this was the end.
My life was over, finished, and I’d never seen Pearl Jam play live.
Before I could scream, the hand left my ankle, two hands grabbed at my h*ps and yanked me out of bed in a way that my back arched painfully. My head snapped back and I swallowed my scream on a surprised gulp.
I was set down on my feet, both of my wrists were seized and pulled behind my back, making me give a whimper of pain and I was slammed against a hard body.
“Talk,” a deep voice demanded and I could smell tobacco, leather and spice.
It was Lee.
Shit, shit, shit.
Either I had really bad luck or Ally set me up.
Maybe Ally and Rosie set me up. Ally was really into the sister-in-law shit and maybe she was getting impatient enough to hire someone to shoot at me.
“Two seconds,” Lee warned.
“Lee, it’s me. Indy.”
The hands on my wrists loosened but didn’t let go.
“What the f**k?”
I took in a deep breath which pressed my br**sts further into his chest.
This was the closest I’d ever been to him, we were full-frontal. Even in the days when I was throwing myself at him, I hadn’t made it this close.
I explained (hastily), “I’m in a bit of a bind and needed someplace safe to stay for a night. Ally let me in.”
Lee took a moment to let this sink in.
“Who’s the guy on the couch?”
“Rosie, my barista.”
“Your what?”
“He makes the coffee at my bookstore.”
“Shit.”
He hadn’t let me go until that point, but he released me, turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Something about the way he did it made me follow him.
When I made it to the living room, Lee snapped on a light and Rosie was lying face down in the middle of the floor. His hands and feet were taped together behind his back with duct tape and there was tape on his mouth.
“Lee! Jesus! What’d you do to him?” I asked, running forward and going down on my knees by Rosie. Rosie eyes were rabid and shifting everywhere as he struggled against the tape.
I couldn’t believe it, I hadn’t heard a thing.