Hard to Let Go Read Free

even managed a scream before her body was trapped between the wall and her assailant, who ground his hard-on into her rear.
    God, I missed you, baby.
    The memory of his raspy voice whispering in her ear made her shudder. The fact that he’d gotten the jump on her without her having the chance to fight back had Kat so mad at herself she could barely stand it. And his knowledge that she’d planned to drive was seriously creepy, because she usually took the metro.
    When she’d finally talked him into letting go of her and agreed to meet him after work for a drink and a talk, he left. And she’d hightailed it up to her apartment to pack a bag, made a stop at the Superior Court to file for a protective order, and left D.C. for Baltimore and the safety of her brothers’ place.
    Ha.
    So much for that.
    But at least she knew Cole wasn’t going to be a problem here. She’d received a message yesterday that the judge had granted the order, and once the authorities served Cole with the papers putting the order into effect, he’d keep his distance. He was too damn smart and appearance-conscious not to. And, as an attorney, he’d obviously realize that getting caught violating a protective order would create problems with the bar in addition to problems with the police.
    Kat couldn’t wait for the order to be served. Not only would it give her peace of mind that he’d stay away, but the no-contact provision should also cut off the stream of demanding and accusatory texts and voice mails she’d received since she pulled a no-show for their talk Friday night. Couldn’t happen soon enough.
    Given everything that was going on with her brothers, the knowledge that the order would diffuse the Cole situation allowed Kat to breathe a sigh of relief. Because they really couldn’t handle even one more complication.

 
    Chapter 2

    T he Hard Ink building was in total pandemonium.
    At least, that’s how it seemed to Beckett as he stepped into the second floor’s cavernous gym, which had been serving as their war room and communications hub in the mission to clear their names. Despite the early hour, the bass beat of a rock song filled the air. Beckett paused inside the door and took in the scene. Groups of people sat and stood here and there. One group was chowing down an early breakfast around the big twelve-seater table. Guys were working out with the free weights, and others were spotting a big guy who appeared to be bench pressing at least two hundred pounds. Marz sat alone at his computer desk, working away. Didn’t seem like the guy ever slept anymore.
    As if there hadn’t already been enough of them, between the team and their women living in Hard Ink’s second- and third-floor apartments, now there were a dozen members of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club racking out wherever they could. Some of their sleeping bags and packs still covered the floor in the back corner. All of the activity made a room that big seem small and overcrowded. Or maybe that was because Beckett preferred his solitude. Always had.
    The Ravens had initially gotten involved when the team paid for their assistance several weeks ago. But when a rocket launcher caved in part of the building on Sunday morning, two of their guys had died in the collapse. Now they were pissed, armed, and fully on board of their own free will.
    And, really, thank fuck for that. Because between their muscle and the number of boots they could put on the ground, the Ravens helped Beckett and his four SF buddies even the playing field against their enemies. By a lot.
    Beckett started across the gym toward Marz and came to an abrupt halt when an orange-striped cat with white paws came curling out from behind a piece of equipment, planted itself in his path, and stared at him with its one good eye. Which was how he’d earned the name Cy. Short for Cyclops.
    Beckett stared back. “What?” he finally asked the animal, peering around to see if anyone was watching.
    The cat blinked