again. He would practice being the jaguar. The next time he encountered Cheveyo and the woman, he would be much better. Next time, he would kill them.
Chapter 7
S he would be the death of him. Of them. Even though Cheveyo had taken the blame, his words prickled across Petra’s skin.
They trudged through the woods back to the bike, which, thank goodness, started. It bore scrapes and dents, but landing in the grassy shoulder helped it, just as it made their tumble a little better.
A little.
Every muscle, bone, and hair on her body thrummed with pain, but it didn’t feel as though anything was broken. She sucked in her groan of pain when she climbed on behind him. “I need chocolate. Like a mountain of it.”
He flicked her an amused glance before heading onto the road. They went back to the RV—Tank— pulled the bike into the garage, and within minutes were back on the highway.
“They didn’t see the Tank,” she said, realizing that’s why he’d stashed it right away. She pulled a Dove chocolate out the bag but paused and offered it to him. When he shook his head, she ripped into it.
“They’ll be looking for a bike. It’ll help, but eventually they’ll track us down. How the hell did they come to work together? Glouks stick to themselves and don’t generally trust anyone, not even their own kind.”
“Isn’t there a saying about common enemies making good allies?”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Yeah, that worked with Eric and Fonda.”
She changed into dry clothes and returned to the front. He’d jumped right into the driver’s seat wearing his wet jean shorts and nothing else. She braced her hand on the back of his seat, remaining standing. She had to fight the urge to pull at the long string of denim that lay against his thigh.
“Want me to drive for a few minutes so you can change?” Not that she wanted him to change, because he looked juicy, but he had to be uncomfortable. “I know cats hate being wet.” She gave him a smile to let him know she wasn’t being mean.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you, now?”
“And they love their chin scratched.” She crooked her fingers.
“They also mount females from behind.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. So much for light flirting. He was trying to cut her off. “I rescind my offer. Your behind can stay wet.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, but he kept his gaze focused ahead. His hair was still damp, curling his waves. “Jags and tigers actually enjoy swimming. But not like what we just did.”
She could imagine him, as jag, frolicking in a lake.
He was watching her expression, and she wiped the emerging grin from her face, still stung.
He nodded. “You did well back there.”
“Something came over me, like I became someone else.”
“Adrenaline and your survival instinct.”
Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she slowly and painfully lowered herself into the chair. “Please tell me that you’re hurting like you were trampled by a herd of water buffalo.”
“I’m sore.”
She rolled her eyes. Men. But he wasn’t just any man.
A short while later he pulled into a home improvement store’s parking lot, driving around to the far side. He put the RV into park and, engine running, walked to the back. She pushed to her feet and hobbled to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He hadn’t bothered to close the door to the bathroom, so when he shucked out of his shorts, she saw just about everything in the mirror’s reflection.
Of course, he glanced up while she was gaping. Without a blink, he dragged on a pair of jeans, replaced his belt, and then wriggled into a shirt as he walked to the front. The shirt was cool, red at the shoulders, beige at an angle at his midsection, and white on the bottom. He rested his fingertips on her shoulders as he eased by her.
He didn’t seem the least bit bothered that she’d watched him, but she was. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “Don’t you close
Chapter 7
S he would be the death of him. Of them. Even though Cheveyo had taken the blame, his words prickled across Petra’s skin.
They trudged through the woods back to the bike, which, thank goodness, started. It bore scrapes and dents, but landing in the grassy shoulder helped it, just as it made their tumble a little better.
A little.
Every muscle, bone, and hair on her body thrummed with pain, but it didn’t feel as though anything was broken. She sucked in her groan of pain when she climbed on behind him. “I need chocolate. Like a mountain of it.”
He flicked her an amused glance before heading onto the road. They went back to the RV—Tank— pulled the bike into the garage, and within minutes were back on the highway.
“They didn’t see the Tank,” she said, realizing that’s why he’d stashed it right away. She pulled a Dove chocolate out the bag but paused and offered it to him. When he shook his head, she ripped into it.
“They’ll be looking for a bike. It’ll help, but eventually they’ll track us down. How the hell did they come to work together? Glouks stick to themselves and don’t generally trust anyone, not even their own kind.”
“Isn’t there a saying about common enemies making good allies?”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Yeah, that worked with Eric and Fonda.”
She changed into dry clothes and returned to the front. He’d jumped right into the driver’s seat wearing his wet jean shorts and nothing else. She braced her hand on the back of his seat, remaining standing. She had to fight the urge to pull at the long string of denim that lay against his thigh.
“Want me to drive for a few minutes so you can change?” Not that she wanted him to change, because he looked juicy, but he had to be uncomfortable. “I know cats hate being wet.” She gave him a smile to let him know she wasn’t being mean.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you, now?”
“And they love their chin scratched.” She crooked her fingers.
“They also mount females from behind.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. So much for light flirting. He was trying to cut her off. “I rescind my offer. Your behind can stay wet.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, but he kept his gaze focused ahead. His hair was still damp, curling his waves. “Jags and tigers actually enjoy swimming. But not like what we just did.”
She could imagine him, as jag, frolicking in a lake.
He was watching her expression, and she wiped the emerging grin from her face, still stung.
He nodded. “You did well back there.”
“Something came over me, like I became someone else.”
“Adrenaline and your survival instinct.”
Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she slowly and painfully lowered herself into the chair. “Please tell me that you’re hurting like you were trampled by a herd of water buffalo.”
“I’m sore.”
She rolled her eyes. Men. But he wasn’t just any man.
A short while later he pulled into a home improvement store’s parking lot, driving around to the far side. He put the RV into park and, engine running, walked to the back. She pushed to her feet and hobbled to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He hadn’t bothered to close the door to the bathroom, so when he shucked out of his shorts, she saw just about everything in the mirror’s reflection.
Of course, he glanced up while she was gaping. Without a blink, he dragged on a pair of jeans, replaced his belt, and then wriggled into a shirt as he walked to the front. The shirt was cool, red at the shoulders, beige at an angle at his midsection, and white on the bottom. He rested his fingertips on her shoulders as he eased by her.
He didn’t seem the least bit bothered that she’d watched him, but she was. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “Don’t you close
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