Rattle Some Cages (Battle Crows MC 3)

Which, apparently, was to his family’s vacation rental.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was going.

Maybe I was going because I needed a friend. Maybe I was going because I was crazy in the head and wanted to feel just about anything.

Whatever the case may be, I was leaving my house and going to a stranger’s house, and I wasn’t going to be doing anything to stop it.

Not to mention, I was literally and physically in the middle of a hurricane.

How was I going to get over there without getting soaked again?

That question was answered about five seconds later when I came out to the living room and found the man standing there with a garbage bag.

I tilted my head curiously, wondering what the hell he was going to do with it.

“I’m gonna shove this over you,” he answered my unasked question. “I made a little slit right here for your head.”

My lips twitched. “You don’t need shoes, either. Sand’s gonna be fuckin’ everywhere no matter what you do.”

He had a point.

That’s when I realized that this entire time, about two and a half hours’ worth of time to be specific, he’d been standing in soaking wet clothes.

Clothes that were only slightly damp now if I were to gauge the color of his jeans and shirt with what little light our phones now created.

I still, to this second, hadn’t had a chance to really study my savior.

All of my attention and focus over the last few hours had been on Faye, and the man had pretty much blended into the background.

But I had heard his reassuring voice.

I’d heard him talking, making plans, and coordinating things that needed coordinating.

Now, looking at him holding a black trash bag out to me, I realized just how big he was.

Faye had never been a small person, despite her losing so much weight the last couple of months.

She was—had been—a big girl. Almost six feet and what she liked to call big boned.

Yet the man standing in front of me hadn’t had a single problem picking her up and carrying her across uneven ground, up the stairs, and to the couch where she’d lain up until only thirty minutes ago.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

That voice again.

I didn’t realize how much the timbre and tone of someone’s voice could change a person’s life.

But this man standing in front of me? He’d changed mine.

“Um, yeah,” I replied softly. “Just… just thinking about how awful I was to make you stand here for a few hours in wet clothes.”

The man snorted. “I would’ve walked next door had I cared that much.”

My lips quirked up at the bottom.

“Okay,” I acquiesced. “I’ll try not to make a big deal about it then.”

He flapped the bag at me, and I reached out and took it.

“Let’s go next door. I want to be able to eat,” he ordered.

I took the bag and looked at the raging storm outside. “I’ll try my best.”

Turns out, two minutes later when I made it outside, I would realize that try my best meant fail almost completely.

I was halfway down the stairs when the wind gust nearly took me straight over the side.

I would’ve gone flying, had a strong, masculine arm not wrapped around me and held me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.

“Holy fuck!” I cried out, unable to stop the expletive from leaving my mouth. “I seriously almost died.”

A dark chuckle from behind me—I could feel the vibration of his laugh against my back—sounded.

“Hold on to the railing with both hands. I’ll help you get there,” he urged.

So I did, holding on to the railing with both hands, while the rest of the time he held on to me.

Eventually, we not only made it down the stairs, but we also made it across the small gap from my rental to his.

I was putting my foot on the concrete pad underneath his house when a gust of wind caused the wooden porch swing that was hanging from the rafters to fly backward.

It hit me straight in the chest.

Or it would have, had my savior not turned us until he was behind me, catching the brunt of the blow.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “I can’t believe I agreed to come to this place during a goddamn hurricane.”

I felt my stomach lurch as I turned and tried to get a good look at his face.

I couldn’t.

The darkness, the rain, and the way my hair was now practically wrapped around my face meant that I couldn’t see all that much.

What I did see, I knew wasn’t what he really looked like seeing as his own hair was plastered to his face, now along with some sand.

He did have a nice, dark beard, though.

With sand in it.

My lips formed into a thin smile as I said without feeling, “If you didn’t come, I don’t know where I’d be.”