CHAPTER TWO

      THE throaty roar of powerful bikes faded but Ellie could still feel the reverberations.

      Or was she still shaking from the face-to-face encounter with Marcus Jones?

      Unbidden, her legs took her to one of the chairs around a table and she sank down onto it. Her worst fear had been realised. Marcus had found her. He knew she was pregnant and sounded absolutely confident that the baby was his.

      But she had won. Not completely, of course. Her legs were probably still shaky because she knew he wouldn’t give up this easily but she had won this round thanks to a most unlikely team of dark, leather-clad angels. They were, without doubt, the most impressive array of masculinity she’d ever been this close to and they had stood up for her.

      Protected her.

      Sent Marcus Jones scurrying away with his tail between his legs.

      He wouldn’t like that.

      The tiny smile Ellie had been quite unaware of, as she had thought of her guardian angels in action, faded abruptly.

      ‘You OK?’ A chair scraped on the tiled area of the floor as Max took a seat at the other end of the table. He pushed a black, full-faced helmet to one side, where it clunked against the trio of beer bottles.

      ‘I’m fine.’ The sound had caught Ellie’s attention. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted your party.’

      The corner of Max’s mouth lifted. ‘Hey, if it had been a party there’d be a damn sight more than three lager bottles left over and they’d be empty, what’s more.’ He rubbed at his face. ‘No…this was…a toast, that’s all. A token one at that thanks to the guys having to work tonight. It’s a bit of an annual ritual, I guess.’ His voice softened into a sadness that tugged at Ellie’s heart. ‘An anniversary.’

      She had been watching his face as he spoke. Such serious lines…His eyes were dark brown—a match for wavy hair that looked like it had been squashed under that helmet for some time. The odd, wayward end of a curl was valiantly poking out here and there, giving him a rather charmingly dishevelled look that was enhanced by the faint shadowing of his jaw.

      She watched his fingers as he rubbed the uncompromising line of that jaw. Funny, but she could almost feel the catch of stubble on her own fingers. Just a little rough. As though he usually shaved at least once a day but hadn’t bothered on this particular occasion.

      He had shadows under his eyes too and lines that looked emotional rather than age related. He couldn’t be much older than her. No more than his mid-thirties. The echo of his tone lingered.

      ‘Not a happy anniversary?’ The query was tentative. It was none of her business, after all, but she owed this man something. Rather a lot, actually, and if he wanted to talk about whatever was on his mind, the least she could do was take the time to listen.

      He was watching her now. Warily. Then his gaze slid sideways and he sighed.

      ‘There used to be four of us,’ he said simply. ‘See?’

      He was indicating a silver framed photograph that had pride of place on the bookshelf beneath the window. Four young men, probably in their early twenties, were lined up in front of four gleaming motorbikes. They all wore leathers and held a helmet under one arm and they were all grinning. The picture was resonant with the thrill of being alive and young and with the promise the future held. Ellie recognised Max and Rick and the one with the odd name—Jet. The fourth man was shorter than the others and had wildly curly hair. He looked younger. As though he was out with his big brothers.

      ‘Matthew died ten years ago today.’

      ‘Oh…’ Ellie stole this opportunity to let her gaze rest on his face again. The bond between the three men when they’d decided to protect her had been unmistakable. He was capable of caring very deeply for others, this man. He still cared about a member of their group who had been dead for ten years. He was also capable of very deep loyalty.

      Heavens, he’d been prepared to protect her—a complete stranger. No wonder her instincts had told her so convincingly that he could be trusted.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

      Max looked up. ‘Fate has the oddest little twists sometimes,’ he said with an attempt at a smile that came out with an endearing crookedness. ‘Matt died because there were people who were protocol police. A bit like your friend, Mr Jones.’

      ‘He’s not my friend,’ Ellie whispered fiercely, but Max didn’t seem to hear her. He had closed his eyes. He had the most astonishingly long, dark eyelashes.

      ‘There were rules in place and they had to be followed.’ He opened his eyes again but he was seeing a very different place from where he was sitting with Ellie on this quiet Sunday afternoon. ‘Their egos wouldn’t allow them to even consider they might be wrong. We were fresh out of medical school and what consultant would bend rules just because we had a hunch? Or let us juggle rosters so we could keep an eye on Matt? Even he said he was fine. It was just a headache. He’d sleep it off.’

      Max paused to drag in a slow breath but Ellie stayed silent. She was happy to listen even though she knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

      ‘Didn’t help that we were legends for the way we partied but by the time we came off duty, Matt was in a coma from a ruptured aneurysm. They kept him on life support only long enough for his family to think about organ donation.’

      Max was eyeing the bottles again as though he wanted a slug of something. ‘They didn’t want us around,’ he continued tonelessly. ‘And why would they? Any hint of trouble Matt had been in for the past ten years had been associated with us. His sister, Rebecca, was convinced we could have saved him if we’d tried a bit harder. It was the worst time ever. Finally, we got our bikes and took to the road for a good, hard blast. We came back to learn that they’d turned off the machines and Matt was gone.

      ‘Anyway,’ He shook his head, letting the memories go. ‘We figured that Matt had been pillion that day. Riding out in style. So we do it every year. Go for a blast on the open road and then finish off with a nice, cold beer.’

      ‘And I interrupted you.’ Ellie’s tone was full of remorse but Max smiled.

      ‘But don’t you see? We got the chance to play the heavies with one of them. Egotistical rule followers. The kind we didn’t know how to deal with way back then. Take my word for it, it was a bonus.’

      Max’s smile was doing something very odd to Ellie.

      This was the first time she had seen both sides of his mouth curl evenly. There was warmth there, unsullied by anything sad or grim. A warmth she could feel curling inside her, melting that hard knot of tension that was starting to make her back ache intolerably.

      The adrenaline overload of the last thirty minutes or so was draining away to leave her utterly exhausted but that was OK because there was energy to be found in that smile, too. It really was quite extraordinary. It was just a shame she was too tired to smile back.

      ‘So, that’s my story.’ Max raised an eyebrow as his face settled back into rather more intent lines. ‘What’s yours, Ellie Peters?’

      He knew her full name was Eleanor now but he was still calling her Ellie. She liked that. Did she want to tell him her story?

      Oh…yes.

      Would he think less of her when he heard it?

      Quite likely.

      Ellie didn’t want Max to think less of her so she didn’t say anything.

      Max