Roaring Up the Wrong Tree by Celia Kyle Read Free Book Online Page B

She rushed forward again, but this time Keen managed to catch her with his free arm.
    “Easy now.” He noted the trembles that wracked her body. She was pissed and—he breathed deep—scared as hell.
    Yup, not happening. Not to his Trista.
    “I left the SUV running. Why don’t you go get in there for me?”
    The shakes increased. “But—”
    “I’ll take care of this, you go.”
    “I—” She stared at him, hope, fatigue, and anxiety filling her gaze.
    “I’m going to chat with Craven and then you and I can talk in the SUV. Let me help you, Trista. You don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but take a deep breath and know I’m just trying to help.” He prayed she could smell past his rage at Craven and discover he spoke the truth.
    “Keen…”
    Carefully, so damned carefully because he valued his junk, he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let me do this and then we can speak.”
    She took so long to reply that he wondered if she could suddenly no longer form words.
    “Okay.” The word was barely a whisper, but his beast rejoiced in her small measure of trust.
    He watched her walk away, watched the sway of her hips—damn she was something—and the way her hands trembled as her arms hung limply at her sides. That took the small ounce of pleasure he’d experience away in a heartbeat.
    Hand still wrapped around Craven’s throat, he focused on the male. “Now, with very small words, explain to me why you felt your behavior was acceptable.”
    He eased his hold enough to let the male to breathe. “That bitch—”
    “Ah, ah, ah.” He allowed his nails to prick the man’s skin. “That was too big. Try again.”
    A good fifteen minutes later, Keen left the male in a quivering, whining mess. When he rounded the corner and spied a decidedly pale Trista huddled on his front seat, he wondered why he hadn’t slaughtered the asshole landlord. The bear wanted to know why, too.
    Good point.
    Keen spun and headed back the way he came. Trista could wait five more minutes.
    *
    Trista had one thought whirling through her mind as Keen placed the SUV in reverse. It had nothing to do with a plastic bag filled with her belongings that he’d tossed into the backseat. Nor were they centered on the wad of cash he’d pushed into her hands.
    No. The only thing she could focus on was the fact his knuckles were bloody.
    Because of her.
    Not because he’d hit her, but because he’d fought for her. He’d fought and then gotten back some of her things. Staring at the ball of money in her lap, she realized she wasn’t poor any longer.
    Okay, she wasn’t rich, but she could at least spring for a hotel for a few nights and actually eat .
    It made her wonder if there was more to Keen than a pretty face and quick, seductive smile.
    “Thank you.” Her words broke the silence. “I know I didn’t deserve your help and I’ve been nothing but a bitch, but thank you.”
    Keen grunted.
    He drove farther along Sunwell and then turned onto Main Street. They traveled along in silence, the rhythmic thump of the tires rolling over asphalt warring with the sound of their breathing. Moments passed and she spied the sign for the single hotel in their small town.
    They approached and he didn’t slow, the SUV maintaining its speed as he flew by.
    She half-turned in her seat, pointing behind them as she faced him. “You passed the hotel.”
    “Yes.”
    That was it. A single word, a single syllable.
    “And amazingly enough, I’m staying at the hotel for the next few days.”
    He flicked his blinker and the harsh clicking of the indicator stung her ears. “Not really, no.”
    The SUV eased right and she gripped her seat to remain steady. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
    “Well, my discussion with Craven—”
    She snorted. Apparently bloodied knuckles constituted a “discussion” in his world. He grumbled something about not killing males who deserved it, before he spoke.
    “After my