Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders Read Online Free PDF Page B

morning, but it’s at the restaurant now. It would take me an hour fifteen to get there, but they won’t wait. Would it be possible for you to accept the delivery?”
    She liked Lucian. He’d had to deal with the slow and agonizing illness that took his mother and then after her death, his father’s total desolation.
    “I’m sorry Clara. I would ask my father but he’s …”
    He didn’t finish the sentence so she interjected, “No problem. I’ll head over there right now.”
    She watched Jackson’s jaw twitch from its tightly fixed position. He’d give himself a migraine. She hung up the phone, jumped up, and slipped her feet into flip-flops. “Forty minutes tops. Order the pizza, I’ll be back in a flash and then we can start the movie.”
    “If you think I’m letting you go alone to an empty restaurant at night then you don’t know me very well.” He stood. “I’ll drive.”
    Hands clasped, they rode in silence to the restaurant. The delivery truck was waiting when they got there. They exited the car and Jackson followed her to greet the man in the truck. He stepped down from the truck and approached her with a nod. “How you doing.” He passed her a clipboard and indicated where she needed to sign. His lips formed into a nasty smirk as his eyes traveled over her tank top and down the length of her. She suddenly regretted not throwing on a pair of jeans instead of the short knit shorts she wore. His mouth parted, his tongue tracing his bottom lip as his hand landed on her shoulder.
    She crossed her arms across her chest and looked around for Jackson, but his hands were already on the creep. He had him pinned against the truck with his hands twisted in the guy’s shirt.
    “Make the delivery.” Jackson slammed the man’s body against the truck before releasing him. “Keep your eyes off her if you want to keep your spleen.”
    When he released him the man huffed out some expletives. Jackson stood by watching every movement, jaw ticking and his stance dripping with power and charge. She hated the circumstance, but loved to watch him exert his dominance, especially where she was concerned. She fought off a shiver thinking what may have happened had he not been there.
    She stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “How about I go inside and prepare a pizza for us.” He nodded his assent, but never removed his focus from the deliveryman.
    While the pizza baked away in the oven, she prepared a caprese salad using mozzarella she’d made yesterday. She sliced deeply into a tomato as warm hands caressed her from behind, sliding over her waist and across her stomach to pull her back.
    “The delivery is secure.” He set the invoice on the counter. “I got the guy’s name and truck number. I was thinking of reporting him, but I’d fear retaliation and, unlike this time, I may not be around.”
    He turned her around to face him. “Thinking what may have happened had I not been here had me more scared than I’ve ever been.”
    She kissed his chin. “But you were here.” Pushing a stool up to the counter she pointed, indicating he should sit. She put a plate of salad in front of him and handed him a roll of silverware.
    With a white towel draped over her arm she presented a large pepper mill. “Care for some freshly cracked pepper sir?”
    A smile erased any leftover traces of his agitation from the delivery ordeal. “Please miss.”
    She heard his knife and fork scrape the plate, followed by moans of satisfaction. “Mmm, you’re worth so much more than eight dollars per hour. This is the most tender mozzarella I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating.” Using the fork in his hand he gestured at his salad. “Knocks this salad out of the park.”
    “I don’t think Mr. Moretti has more than eight dollars to give me.”
    “No, I don’t guess he would if he’s drinking it away every night.”
    “Jackson, his wife died. It hasn’t been so long ago.”
    “I know baby.” His brow creased.