Princess by Christina Skye Page B

isn’t a proposition. Cool your jets, because I’ll be the one on the couch.”
    Hawk shook his head grimly. “No.”
    “Well, it’s here or I’m out of here, Lieutenant.” Jess stared out the window. “I don’t intend to be a name on someone’s accident report tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and then began pulling cushions off the sofa, stacking them neatly on the floor. “Maybe you should take first turn at the bathroom.”
    Hawk turned her around to face him. “Stop calling me
lieutenant,
” he growled. “And believe me, staying in my room isn’t a great idea.”
    “Because you think I’ll jump you?” She smiled crookedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be asleep in five minutes. I won’t hear any state secrets you blurt out in the night.”
    Hawk bit back a curse. Why didn’t she act like any other woman he knew? “I don’t talk in my sleep,” he snapped.
    “Glad to hear it. In that case we should both get some decent rest.”
    “Look, Jess, I don’t sleep very well. I’ll probably be up and down prowling all night.”
    “No problem.” Jess unfolded a blanket and tossed it across the couch. “My sister tells me I can sleep through anything.”
    Was there
any
way to get through to her, short of a tank or a SWAT team?
    A cell phone chimed shrilly and she grabbed her purse. “That’s probably my sister now. If I don’t answer, she’ll send half a dozen field agents to surround the hotel.” She pulled out her phone, waving her hand. “Stop staring at me. Everything’s going to be fine here. You really need to learn how to chill, Lieutenant.”
    She turned away, talking on her phone, oblivious to his anger.
    State secrets?
And when had
he
morphed into the protectee? The scenario was so unsettling that Hawk grabbed his knapsack and headed for the bathroom, scowling.
    “Slow down, Jess. Why are you still at the hotel? You’re supposed to be on the road to Portland by now.” Summer Mulcahey sounded harassed, trying to make sense of what Jess had just told her. “You always leave after you file a report.”
    Jess struggled to open the big queen-size sleeper sofa. “Something came up. A storm and . . . other things.”
    “They had to be something big for you to break a cardinal rule. Hold on a moment.” Jess heard her sister turn away from the phone, asking for an update on a forensic report.
    Jess didn’t understand the rest of the conversation, which was carried on largely in some kind of jargon known only to the FBI. When her sister returned, she sounded more harassed than ever. “Sorry, Jess. Tell me what went wrong tonight.”
    “Okay, but don’t go ballistic on me.”
    “What
happened
?”
    “I had an accident.” Jess blew out a breath. “A very minor accident.”
    “What do you mean, a
minor
accident? Are you hurt?”
    “I’m fine.” Jess winced a little as she spread a blanket over the lumpy mattress. Her head and back were bothering her, but she didn’t mention that. “A bump on the head. A few stitches, but nothing major. I thought I killed a man on a motorcycle, but he turned out to be fine.”
    Her sister’s voice turned shrill. “You had stitches? Tell me exactly what happened.”
    “It wasn’t like that, Sum.” Jess frowned as the shower began to run. “Look, the man is fine, and so am I. By the time we got things sorted out after the accident, it was too late to drive anywhere.”
    “I suppose that car of yours bit the dust. I keep telling you, if you need money for repairs, I’ll send some and—”
    Jess’s face tightened. Summer was older by only a few minutes, but she had always been overprotective. Even though Jess knew her sister’s motives were good, they had a way of pushing all her sibling irritation buttons. “My Jeep is old but in excellent shape. You know I do all the work myself. No mechanic is going to rob me blind.”
    “Don’t I know it. I keep wishing you’d have a look at my Explorer.” Summer took a deep breath. “I just . . .