"We've got your back if you need it," Ben told him, even though it went without saying.
With a nod, Joel made his way through the crowded bar, his gaze never leaving Lora or the blond-haired guy who was invading way too much of her personal space. His temper spiked when he saw her shake her head at something the other man said, then try to step around the guy only to have him grab her arm to stop her.
Ten more seconds and he reached Lora's side, every one of his five senses sharp and alert, along with a strong protective impulse that went above and beyond the call of duty. This unfamiliar feeling was far more possessive, and it set off warning signals he pushed aside in order to deal with the issue at hand.
He pinned the other man with a dark, menacing look. "I suggest you let go of her and back off, unless you'd rather I remove your hand for you."
The man had the good sense to drop her arm, but was stupid enough to challenge Joel. "Who the hell are you? Her bodyguard?" he sneered, his breath reeking of whiskey, which explained his show of bravado.
"Actually, I'm your worst fucking nightmare," Joel said with deadly calm. "The lady is with me."
The man looked him up and down, his gaze brimming with alcohol-induced insolence. "Yeah? Why don't we let her decide who she's with? She might not like the Neanderthal type." He shifted his gaze to Lora and attempted a cocky grin designed to charm her. "Come on, sugar, let's get out of this joint and go somewhere quiet and private where we can get to know each other better."
Lora opened her mouth to speak, but Joel squeezed her arm to shut her up.
Confident that Lora was interested in him, the guy took a step toward her. Blood simmering with annoyance, Joel instantly stopped him with a flattened palm to his puny chest. He ruled this particular man out as a suspect, and saw he was rather a too-aggressive womanizer who thought way too much of his power of persuasion when it came to the opposite sex.
Still, Joel wasn't about to let any guy near Lora-a direct threat or otherwise. "Do not touch her again. If you do, I'm going to have to kick your ass."
The other man let out a bold, you-don't-scare-me laugh. "Yeah, you and what army?"
Joel could easily take the guy single-handedly. All it would take was two seconds and he would have the man's arm jammed up the middle of his back and his face pressed against the nearest wall, but Joel truly didn't want to engage in any kind of physical altercation if it could be helped.
So he opted for a more intimidating tactic. "Me, and that army right over there." He pointed to his three friends, who were still standing across the room as they watched the scene play out. Their arms were folded over their chests and the ominous expressions they wore would make any man think twice about doing something stupid.
This guy was no exception. Finally realizing just how outnumbered he was, he cast a disgruntled look toward Joel. "She's not worth the trouble." He turned around and went back to the bar to order a drink and nurse his bruised ego.
Once Joel was certain he'd diffused the situation, he glanced back at Lora. He wasn't sure what to expect from her, but it damn sure wasn't the amusement glimmering in her eyes or the way she was biting her bottom lip to contain her laughter. She didn't display an ounce of fear or trepidation over the man's overzealous confrontation, and Joel wanted to shake her for being so trusting. So naive. Just like she'd been earlier in the evening by not checking who'd been at her door.
She had no idea what she was up against. Or just how vulnerable and defenseless she was right now. That any guy who approached her could be someone who wanted her dead.
That thought, mingled with the realization of just how personal this job, and Lora, had become to him, increased the gut-twisting turmoil within him. His entire body was strung so tight he felt as though he was going to snap.
He made a split-second decision based on his surly mood. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Before she could suggest otherwise, or remind him that he owed her a dance, he grabbed her hand and led her back to their table to collect her purse and jacket, then escorted her out of the joint. As if sensing his need for space, she didn't say a word when he handed her a helmet to put on, nor did she ask where they were going as he revved up the motorcycle and told her to get on behind him.
Once he was on the interstate, he increased the speed of the bike, which also gave him the surge of adrenaline he was looking for. His motorcycle had always provided a therapeutic release for him when he was feeling irritable or restless, a way for him to relax and take the edge off of any aggression or tension that might be riding him hard.
Then again, hot, mindless sex had always been a great stress reliever for him, too, and with the provocative feel of Lora straddling the bike behind him, that's exactly where his mind and body had wandered. And it didn't help matters that her gloved hands were splayed on his thighs instead of clutched around his waist. Between the heat and throbbing vibration of the bike between his legs, the grip of her thighs against his hips as they leaned into a curve in the road, and the occasional brush of her fingers against the fly of his jeans, he was hard enough to pound nails.
She was teasing him again. Making him achingly aware of her willingness to indulge in the kind of carnal pleasures that would put an end to his sexual frustration. To that end, she was slowly, seductively driving him out of his ever-loving mind.
Needing a breath of cool night air to douse the arousal humming through his veins, he turned his bike off the main road and onto a narrow pathway. The trail led to a secluded area along Lake Shore Drive that he'd discovered a few years ago but hadn't visited in a while. The clusters of large trees gave the place a modicum of privacy and seclusion, and had always provided a peaceful, solitary escape for him. Especially during the first few months after he'd returned from Iraq, when the nightmarish memories of that last mission in Baghdad seemed to drag him down.
He wasn't sure why he'd brought Lora here now, considering he'd never shared this spot with anyone else, but it was the first place he'd thought of heading to after leaving the bar.
He brought the motorcycle to a stop, cut the engine, and parked the bike up on its kickstand. Lora slid off the back of the seat, pulled her helmet off, and shook her hair out so it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Pale, silvery moonlight shimmered and gleamed off of those long, lustrous strands, making him wonder if its heavy weight felt as soft and rich as it looked.
She took off her gloves and jacket and set them on the seat behind Joel, but left on the scarf he'd given her earlier to wear. After giving the place a quick look around, she flashed Mm a dazzling smile that accentuated the mischievous light in her eyes.
"Mmmm. This is a nice, quiet, make-out spot," she said with all kinds of insinuation lacing her tone. "Do you come here often?"
"It's been a while." He took off his own helmet and hooked it over the end of the handle bar, then pulled off his gloves. "And just so you know, I've never brought anyone here to make out."
"Maybe we'll have to do something to change that," she said, her low, husky voice wrapping around him like a sensual promise she intended to keep.
Or maybe not, he thought to himself as he got off the bike, then unzipped his leather jacket, welcoming the rush of cool night air against his T-shirt and the heated skin beneath.
She walked to the edge of the trail, which overlooked Lake Michigan and the sandy beach stretching out below them. He came up beside her, and a few quiet moments passed as they admired the gorgeous evening view of the harbor lights off to the right.
"You know," Lora said, finally breaking the companionable silence between them, "I have to say, between you and your guys, that was quite an impressive front back at the bar."