Free His Captivating Confidante (Secret Sentinels) by Lisa Weaver Page B

certainly wasn’t worthy of her now.
    And yet how quickly he’d forgotten his unworthiness. The knowledge that he’d done something tonight that he hadn’t done then burned in his gut like battery acid. He squeezed his eyes shut, for a moment, to block the barrage of sensations assaulting him courtesy of that single, unintended kiss.
    He hadn’t meant to give in, but with her trusting gaze locked on his and her perfect mouth pressed to his lips, he’d forgotten his personal code of honor. He’d taken things further than he had any right to. For the first time in his life, doing the right thing had been out of his grasp.
    He’d held her in his arms. He’d tasted her. He was certain he’d never be the same again.
    He’d had no right to take advantage of what she’d so innocently offered. He knew better. But not only had he partaken of that luscious mouth she’d offered him, he’d ravished it. And he hated himself for his weakness.

Chapter Eight
    If he’d been alone, Frank wouldn’t have hesitated to chase down the thug who’d tailed him. Stephanie’s presence, though, had swept that option off the table. Keeping her as far away from the sinister game of cat and mouse he was engaged in was paramount.
    Besides, he had a feeling the guy would find him again—and sooner rather than later. When he did, he would be ready for him.
    Reluctantly stepping away from Stephanie, he sighed. “It’s late. We should probably head back. I thought I might stop in at the marina on my way home and make sure the boat is ready for our trip tomorrow.”
    “We’re taking your speedboat to Damon’s island, instead of the ferry?”
    “Yes, unless you prefer not to. I thought I could pick you up around nine. We can head over to the marina together.”
    “Okay, but you don’t need to pick me up in the morning. I’m meeting Lauren for breakfast not far from there. I’ll just head over when we’re done.”
    “Sounds like a plan. My boat is docked in berth number nine. I’ll wait for you.”
    For their return trip, he chose a back road that was infrequently traveled. It was just them, the bike, and the gorgeous, starry night sky.
    The ride was beautifully tranquil, but that serenity was abruptly broken when he approached the turn that would connect them with the road back to Stephanie’s house. That’s when he spotted the flash of rapidly approaching headlights in his rearview mirror.
    A vehicle was gaining on them swiftly—too swiftly—and that was enough to catch his attention.
    It caught Stephanie’s, too.
    “Frank!” she called out in warning as a dark Cadillac Escalade accelerated to pull up beside them, dangerously close.
    “It’s okay. He just wants to pass,” he assured her, keeping his tone calm so as not to alarm her further.
    He decelerated to give the guy an opportunity to pull ahead of them. If the Escalade’s driver did have malicious intent, the four-hundred-pound Ducati would be no match against the five-thousand-plus-pound behemoth and its driver who seemed hell-bent on edging them towards the soft shoulder of the road.
    Instead of passing the driver continued to crowd them, forcing the bike to the edge of the pavement. The motorcycle skidded as its tires hit loose gravel, but he managed to keep the bike upright and bring it back onto the tar.
    “What’s he trying to do?” Stephanie questioned, the tremor in her voice betraying her alarm.
    “I think our new friend has road rage issues,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Apparently he wants the lane all to himself. Lucky for him, I’m feeling charitable. Hang on tight,” he cautioned.
    Twisting the throttle, he shot ahead of the massive vehicle and scooted out around it. Aware that the stretch of pavement up ahead was under construction, he blasted past the turn that would connect him with the road leading back to Stephanie’s house and raced toward the work area instead.
    A detour sign directed traffic to an alternate route, but he