Jake: The Sinner Saints #3 (2 page)

“No?” Jake crossed his arms in front of his chest. Damn, it looked like the man was made of nothing but muscle. “Then why don’t you tell me
exactly
what it is that you are doing here.”

Verity swallowed past the quickly growing lump in her throat and reached into her bag. She pulled out a plain white envelope and slid it across the tabletop.

Jake didn’t make a move to touch it.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A letter,” Verity said, sliding it an inch closer to him. “I received it in the mail from Roman yesterday. It explains everything.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “
You
tell me.”

Verity blinked. It looked like he was determined not to make any part of this easy on her.

“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “It describes a mission his Special Forces unit was on a couple years ago in Afghanistan. Apparently, in the course of patrolling a small village, they found a stockpile of priceless, ancient Afghani art.”

“You’re telling me they just happened to find this treasure in a storeroom underneath a random house?” Jake asked skeptically.

“It really isn’t all that surprising.” Verity nodded. “Decades ago, when the Taliban was taking over, the Afghani museum community was in a panic. They faced the challenge of finding hiding places for as many of their national treasures as they could manage before the zealots could smash and burn it all. Whole collections were scattered across the country, squirreled away in hundreds of secret locations. Many of these hiding spots were in the homes of people who were dedicated to keeping their history safe until the day that the items could be returned to their former glory.”

“And let me guess,” Jake said, tilting his head to the side. “Your brother and his unit failed to report what they’d found and, smuggled the treasure back to the States.”

Verity’s spine straightened. He didn’t sound surprised. And here she’d been trying to make herself believe that this was just a single lapse in judgement on her brother’s part.

She should have known better.

“Exactly,” she said.

Just then, the waitress returned, placing two tumblers of strong amber liquor down on the table. Jake gave her a nod of acknowledgement, but the woman lingered at the table’s edge. It was clear—even to someone as
innocent
as Verity—that she was hoping for a stronger show of gratitude. A moment later, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to get it, she turned and walked away.

Jake waited until they were alone again before continuing. “So what’s your part in all this?”

“Roman wrote asking for my help in authenticating the items they found,” she admitted.

“So they could fetch a better price on the black market.” It wasn’t a question. He made it sound like a forgone conclusion. “And you came.”

Verity’s gaze slid down to her glass. Sure, the contents smelled like barrel-aged gasoline, but now that it was in front of her, it was hard to shake the feeling that she could
really
use a drink.

“It’s not like that,” Verity said.

Jake shot her a wry smile. “Then why don’t you tell me what it’s like.”

“I didn’t fly all the way out here to help my brother sell the art he found.” Verity wrapped her fingers around the tumbler and pulled it closer. “I’m here to try to rescue it.”

Jake’s brows arched slightly. “And how exactly are you planning on doing that?”

“Roman didn’t ask me to come out until the middle of next week. He gave me the address, an empty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I’m guessing that’s where Roman is hiding everything.”

Verity pulled a copy of the satellite photo she’d found online out of her purse and slid it across the table. Jake didn’t even glance at it.

“A reasonable assumption,” he said. “But how do you know the place is empty?”

“Because my brother said it was.” He didn’t look convinced, so she decided to try another way. “The letter was postmarked in Mississippi, and Roman said he and his
business partners
wouldn’t be at that address until next week.”

“Is that right?” Jake arched a brow.

“It is,” she went on as if his skepticism didn’t bother her. “So, I was hoping that we could get to it this week, while he wasn’t expecting us and steal it back. Then all we would have to do is crate the artifacts up and anonymously send them back to the National Gallery in Kabul.”

“
Us
?
We
?” he asked with a dark laugh. “Lady, I’m still not even sure how you know my name.”

“I guess that Roman had an attack of conscience before he sent me the letter because he scribbled a note on the back,” she explained. “It said that if anything went wrong, and I mean
anything
, then I needed to find you at Macmillan Security and ask for your help. He said not to go to anyone else. Only you.”

The first real spark of curiosity shone in Jake’s eyes. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Verity answered honestly. “I can only guess that Roman has a higher opinion of you than you do of him.”

“I doubt it,” he said, leaning closer. “But none of this explains what you’re doing here. Nothing’s gone wrong.”

Nothing
?

“I would call finding out my brother was a smuggler and a thief pretty major,” Verity shot back. “Besides, I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing is dangerous. I figured in this situation it was smarter to ask for help
before
I needed it, not after.”

Apparently, Jake disagreed with her, because he relaxed back into the booth. “You won’t be in any danger once you climb on a plane back to Michigan.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Verity said, wishing she could make her voice sound as strong as her resolve. “Not until I’m done here.”

Jake turned his head to the side, and stretched his arm out on the back of his bench. “Listen, lady, you seem nice. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

Nice. Innocent.

Those qualities weren’t making him listen. The time had come to try something else.

Verity lifted her glass to her lips and felt the sting of burning hot alcohol wash over her tongue. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cough and sputter as she forced the whisky down her throat.

The drink was a hell of a lot stronger than she was used to, but it did the trick, slapping her across the face. When she opened her eyes again, Jake’s gaze was back on her. But this time she had the courage to meet his stare.

“Stop calling me lady,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I told you my name is Verity.”

A long beat passed between them.

“All right,” he said slowly. “
Verity,
I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. You’re in over your head on this one.”

No shit.

“Why do you think I came all this way to find you?”

“Some kind of death wish?” he answered. There was no humor in his voice.

Verity bit into her bottom lip. Maybe she was going about this all the wrong way.

“I’m not asking as a favor on my brother’s good name.” Obviously,
that
wouldn’t get her very far. “I have money. I can pay for your protection.”

Jake’s eyes turned dark. He held her gaze for a long moment, as he picked up his glass and downed it all in one swallow.

“I don’t give a damn about your money,” he said. “And you don’t want my protection, trust me.”

Apparently, she’d hit a sore spot. The man might be as big and scary as a grizzly bear, but he was obviously in pain. Usually, she would have felt bad for him, but right now she had her own troubles.

“But Roman said—”

“Screw what Roman said.” His eyes narrowed. “How the hell did you find me anyway? Nobody knows I’m here.”

“That isn’t true,” Verity said, shaking her head. “The girl in your San Francisco office knew exactly where you would be.”

“
The girl
?” Jake asked, before his eyes widened in understanding. “Ah, let me guess, about yea-tall, bright red hair?”

“It was more of a copper color,” Verity corrected him. She went to pull the business card that the woman had given her out of her pocket. “Her name was—”

“Charlie.” He shook his head as he said the woman’s name. “I should have known.”

“She said you were on vacation, but that for the last few weeks you’d spent every night in this bar.”

Jake closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “She’s probably been tracking my phone.”

“She can do that?”

“Charlie can do just about anything you can imagine,” he said with a sigh.

Verity’s brows drew together. “But why would she?”

“To torment me.” A dark grimace twisted his lips. “See, I almost got her killed a couple of months ago.”

“Excuse me?” Verity’s brows shot up.

Jake’s lips flattened as he reached up to the neck of his shirt and pulled the material down, exposing a ragged, round scar just south of his collarbone. Verity swallowed down hard at the sight.

“We were shot,” Jake said, his voice growing tighter. “I let down my guard for a second, and I paid the price. That’s on me. But when I went down I wasn’t there to protect Charlie. She took two bullets in the chest. I took three.”

Verity shook her head. “I’m sure it wasn’t your—”

“That wasn’t all. My best friend’s girl got kidnapped because of my mistake. I put both of their lives in danger too. Not to mention letting everyone I work with down.” He reached across the table and snatched up what was left of Verity’s whisky. “So, no. I’m not here on any vacation. And I’m damned sure I’m the last person you want protecting you.”

He drained her drink and slammed the glass down on the table. Verity’s mouth hung open, but no words came out. She sat stunned by the force of his words.

It took Verity a second to notice that the mood of the bar had changed. That a hush had fallen over the place. There were a lot of faces turned their way. Jake didn’t seem to care, but Verity scooted deeper into the shadows of the booth, waiting for people’s curiosity to fade.

But it was too late. A man in a black leather jacket was already headed their way. Jake didn’t move as he stopped by their side and propped his beefy fists on the table. Verity tucked her cardigan tighter across her chest as the man’s gaze swept her up and down.

“This guy giving you trouble, miss?” the stranger asked.

“I’m okay. Thanks,” Verity said, keeping her head down. “We were just talking.”

“How about you?” the man said, turning toward Jake. “She giving you grief, brother? Because I’d be more than happy to take this tasty thing off your hands if she’s too much for you.”

“Walk away,” Jake said, his voice low.

The man straightened his back. “Come again.”

“Turn around and walk away,” Jake said, still staring straight ahead.

“And if I don’t?” the stranger asked with a laugh.

Verity sucked in a breath as Jake slowly stood up. The man was menacing enough while seated, but standing he was a force to be reckoned with. He was well over six feet, and every inch of him as brawny as his arms.

Her eyes were drawn to the back pocket of his jeans. The corner of a flat plastic card was sticking out of the top. Verity could just make out the word
Motel
at the top.

Interesting.

And she wasn’t just talking about his tight rear end.

Verity felt a coil of tension that had nothing to do with fear tighten in her core.

Whoa. Where had that come from?

It was undeniable that Jake Thorne was attractive in a hyper-masculine sort of way. And sure, there was something about all his muscles and rough looks that woke a deeply buried primal urge deep inside her, but this
really
wasn’t the time to explore it.

“You don’t want this fight,” Jake said, looking down at the man.

Verity wasn’t sure Jake didn’t though. It almost looked like he was itching for a brawl.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the other man said. Beads of sweat showed on his brow, but for reasons Verity didn’t understand, he didn’t back down. It had to be pride. Wasn’t that what usually made men battle like savages?

Verity’s gaze swept across the bar. Everyone’s eyes were glued on the men and the promise of an imminent fight, but no one looked ready to jump in and stop it. And since she really didn’t want to spend the rest of the night figuring out how to bail Jake out of jail, it looked like it was up to her to keep these two guys from going at each other like a couple of barnyard cocks.

She gathered up her phone and Roman’s letter as quickly as she could and stuffed them inside her bag. She slung it over her shoulder as she jumped out of the booth and went over to Jake’s side. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around his forearm.

Damn, he felt solid.

“Maybe we should continue our conversation somewhere else,” she tried.