by Lori Foster
“You expected me to sleep in a suit?”
His mouth flapped open, then smashed shut. “So you are sleeping with her? I was right about that?”
“Given I’m armed and pissed, that should concern you a whole lot more than where I slept.”
Breathing hard, again searching the yard, Tobin shook his head. “You’re insane.”
“Says the guy slinking around in the dark in a ski mask mid-July.” Jackson took a step back and hefted the knife. “I have better things to do, Tobin, so stop straining my patience.”
“Right.” Eyes narrowed, Tobin turned his face away.
So pathetic. Jackson drove his fist into Tobin’s gut. He doubled over, wheezing, one hand reaching out for support against the wall. “Next one will break your nose.”
Tobin gasped, “I wanted to impress her, that’s all.”
“Yeah, squashing her flowers ought to do it.”
Stupidly, Tobin looked at the crushed landscaping. “I’ll buy her new flowers.”
“The hell you will.” No way would Jackson let Marc Tobin anywhere near Alani. He grabbed Tobin’s hair and pulled his face up for emphasis. “You’ll never see her again, you moron. You’re going to be rotting in jail.”
“I only wanted to scare her, okay? That’s all.”
Jackson released him with a shove. “No, it’s not okay.”
Marc rubbed his face, eyeing Jackson warily.
“Should I kill you now, or beat the answers out of you?”
He must’ve sounded convincing, because Tobin rushed to say, “I disabled the meter, and then I was going to heft a rock through the window. I figured you were in bed, but I was looking in to make sure. I assumed if you were asleep, and with the house dark, it’d take you a few minutes to even think to check the meter.” And with accusation, “Why the hell didn’t you check the fuse box first?”
“Because I’m not a numb-nuts like you.” Jackson studied him. “How was this going to help you any?”
Like a rat, Tobin’s gaze searched everywhere. “Shouldn’t we talk inside?”
The fine hairs on Jackson’s nape tingled. Trouble. Trouble beyond what Tobin brought.
No way in hell would he bring danger into Alani’s home.
Grabbing Tobin by the shoulder, Jackson turned so that Tobin’s back faced the blackness beyond the yard, and shielded his body. That afforded him a little protection, and an opportunity to grill Tobin.
Alarmed, Tobin said, “I know what happened to Alani.”
Jackson said nothing; he found it very hard to believe that Alani might have confided in him.
Tobin nodded frantically. “She told me. I know that’s why she couldn’t—wouldn’t—get physical with me. But I figured if bad shit followed you, she’d get tired of you and your redneck manner, and come back to me, where it’s safer.”
A red haze filled Jackson’s vision. Alani had been through enough. “So you were going to do more of this shit?”
Pained, squirming in nervousness, Tobin nodded. “Yes, sure. That was the plan, yes.”
Slowly, Jackson put the gun back in his hand, his finger on the trigger. Low, mean, he asked, “That’s the best you could come up with?”
“What?”
“Not buying it, Tobin.”
“It’s true!”
“Part of it, maybe.” There was a rock on the ground by Tobin’s feet, and he had no weapons on him. But he was rich enough that if he’d wanted to terrorize Alani he’d have hired some grunt to do it for him.
Jackson pressed the tip of the knife to Tobin’s windpipe and leaned down to growl right into his face, “I should have done more to you earlier today. I should have broken your damn nose at the very least.”
“No.” Tobin flinched back, ready to run if it came to that, though even he knew he wouldn’t get far. “What will you do?”
Knowing he needed more answers, Jackson tamped down his rage. “Undecided.” He sawed his teeth together. “The least you deserve is for me to beat the shit out of you.”
Tobin quickened with regained dignity. “A fight, mano a mano? No police, and without the knife or…” He flicked his gaze to the Beretta. “The gun?”
“We’ll see.” Shooting Marc, just once, would feel real good. Course, using his fists on him would be nice, too.
“I’ll accept a fight.” Urgent, Tobin straightened to his full height, which was a few inches shorter than Jackson.
“You’ll do as you’re told.” Jackson lowered the knife. “First, plug the meter back in.” He needed the yard lit, to help ward off any other threat.
Tobin tried to put distance between himself and Jackson, but he wasn’t successful. Jackson stuck close, dividing his attention between Tobin and the wide-open yard.
“This is partly your fault.” Annihilating more flowers, Tobin stomped over to the meter box, his attitude defiant but wary. “She cares about me, you know. If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have left me.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jackson prickled under the growing sense of menace. Not from Tobin—but then, who? Come out, you cowardly bastard, Jackson thought. Come out and show yourself.
“It was only because of what she went through, the kidnapping and everything, that she didn’t want to pursue our relationship.”
“You’re history, end of story.”
Marc jammed in the meter. “You’re probably the reason she got kidnapped.” As the house hummed back to life, Tobin continued to prattle and turned to Jackson. “Anyone can see that you’re dangerous. Look at your weapons! Do you even have permits for that—” Suddenly sidetracked, Tobin went mute and froze.
Ready to engage any threat, Jackson followed Tobin’s line of vision and saw Alani standing in the open sliders. His mouth went dry.
Rather than stay in the bedroom—in the bed—as he’d ordered, she’d pulled on a sleeveless white nightgown and followed him. She’d also flipped on the kitchen ceiling switch, leaving her slim, shapely form backlit, rendering her gown all but transparent.
Alani, oblivious to why they stared, said, “Jackson!” Scandalized, she took one step out. “What in the world’s going on? You’re naked, for crying out loud.” Her gaze went to Marc. “What are you doing here?”
Not only was Alani now out in the open—in the line of danger—but Marc was seeing her in the sheer gown.
Jackson clubbed Tobin in the head with his fist. “Turn around, damn you!”
His shout was loud enough to rattle the leaves in the trees, but it got Marc’s attention off Alani. His expression dazed, his lips parted, Tobin stumbled as he jerked around.
“Get her inside,” Tobin whispered.
Jackson felt his fear, damn him. “You!” He pointed the knife at Alani. “Get back inside. Now.”
Instead of obeying, she got her back up. Mouth pinched, she took another step toward him. “Be quiet before you alert the neighbors.”
Since she’d moved away from the light, she looked a little more decent—but that did nothing for her safety. Jackson wrapped an arm around Tobin’s neck in an unbreakable choke hold and, dragging him along backward, approached Alani. He’d put her inside if necessary, and deal with the consequences later.
Tobin fought him—not that it did him any good. At the moment, Jackson was so furious, he could have snapped Tobin’s neck with ease.
He stomped up to Alani. Through his teeth, he said, “Get in the house. Right now.”
Bristling indignation had her leaning into his anger. “You are not my boss.”
He caught her arm, more than ready to force the issue.
A projectile zipped through the air and struck the house with enough force to splinter a piece of brick. Confused, Alani turned to look, but Jackson knew that sound and reacted without thought.
He shoved Marc away from him and in the same movement drove Alani down. They hit the ground together with bone-jarring force. Keeping her head covered, Jackson rolled and came up with her on the porch, near the picnic table. He upe
nded it so that it shielded her.
“What in the—”
“Bullet.” Gun in hand, on high alert, Jackson waited, but all he could hear was Tobin’s loud, thundering escape. Shit, shit, shit. “C’mon.”
Keeping her shielded with his body, he half crouched, half ran with Alani into the dubious safety of her house. He tucked her into a corner away from the windows and hit the light switch, sending the kitchen into darkness again.
“Jackson?”
“I’m right here, babe.” Rarely did he have to engage in polite conversation in these situations. “Stay down, okay? Someone’s shooting at us.”
“I didn’t hear anything!”
Her panicked tone pulled his gaze like a lodestone. “It’s okay. But you will stay put, understand?”
Nodding, she brought her legs up to her chest. “Are you positive it was a shot?”
“Shush.” Finger on the trigger of the Beretta, Jackson sat near the patio doors, his back to the wall, and waited. He kept his gaze on the door opening, his ears prickling.
Nothing.
And then, too close for comfort, he heard another shot, this one lacking the benefit of a silencer. The resonating “pop pop” of gunfire echoed over the quiet night, followed by a curse before everything went silent again.
Dropping back against the wall, Jackson worked his jaw. Maybe Tobin hadn’t gotten away after all, but what did he have to do with anything?
“It went wide,” Jackson said aloud, as much to himself as to Alani. Tobin had been fearful. Of what? Who? “Either the shooter sucks, or someone interfered with his aim.”
“Interfered?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
No, he didn’t, either. Yet. Jackson chewed on his thoughts. Why use a silencer one second, then not the next? “Two guns,” he concluded. “Two people?”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I know.” He got to his feet but stayed hunkered down. “Woman, don’t you dare move, do you understand me?”
Eyes wide in the darkness, her pale face reflecting the moonlight through the window over the sink, Alani nodded. “I get it. You don’t have to beat it into the ground.”
Prickly to the bitter end. Unable to appreciate her moxie at that particular moment, Jackson said only, “Good. ’Bout damn time.”
He lunged to the other side of the patio doors and shoved them shut, then secured them. Finding the draw-string for the vertical blinds, he closed them. If no one could see them, then they wouldn’t be such easy targets. He darted over to Alani. “Come on.”
She took his hand and, following his lead, hurried around the doorway of the kitchen and into the hallway.
Once there, away from windows, he led her down the hall toward the bedrooms, but again held back. “Stay right here while I check things.”
“Okay.” Her hand squeezed his. “Be careful.”
“Yeah.” She released him, and he went into each room but found nothing. After snagging his jeans and stepping into them, he grabbed up his socks and boots and came back to her with a blanket. “Get comfortable.”
“Here in the hall?”
“Shit just got real, babe, so yeah, for now you wait in the hallway.” When her shoulders slumped, Jackson put one hand to her nape and tugged her into his side. She shivered, as much from nerves as anything, he knew. Holding her close, lending her his heat, he helped her wrap in the blanket. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Adrenaline pumping, he kissed her mouth, quick but thorough. “Trust me, okay?” He dug out his cell and hit a button.
Trace answered on the first ring.
“We’re fine,” Jackson told him without preamble, “but someone—two people, actually—shot at the house. One silencer, one not. Tobin was here, somehow involved—”
He heard Alani gasp.
“—skittish as hell, and when the shots came, he high-tailed it out of here. We’re safe for right now, but I wanted you to know.”
“Stay put,” Trace said. “I’ll be right there.”
“Not necessary.” Jackson rubbed Alani’s shoulder. “I’m taking her out of here.”
“Do not move with my sister, Jackson.”
Impatience gnawed on him. “Waiting for you will just hold us up.” And he wanted Alani tucked away somewhere safe. “I know how to evacuate. I know how to watch for—”
“Yeah, you do. And if it was anyone but Alani, I’d be fine leaving it up to you. But she’s my sister, and I’m already on my way.”
Jackson drew a breath, glanced at Alani’s upturned face and wide-eyed uncertainty, and nodded. She didn’t need to witness a pissing contest between him and her pushy brother. “Yeah, all right. But make it fast.”
He disconnected the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Wrapping both arms around her, he hugged her into his chest. With his chin on top of her head, feeling very much the macho protector, he asked, “You all right, honey?”
Seconds ticked by—and she pushed him away. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.”
Confused, Jackson glared at her. “What the hell?” If this was her idea of hysterics, it made no sense. “All I did was ask if you’re okay. You’re shaking all over and your face is whiter than my ass, and you—”
She threw up her hands. “You shouted at me in front of Marc. You ordered me into the house. You—”
“We could both see through your nightgown.”
“You were nasty and—what?”
“Could see you.” Jackson leaned closer, his lip curled as he fingered the fine material of the nightie. “Everything,” he stressed. “This damned fetish-inspired, virginal sacrifice gown didn’t hide a single detail.”
“Virginal sacrifice? Fetish inspired?”
“Might as well be.” He shrugged. “I know that’s where my mind went.”
Her mouth opened twice, but she said nothing. She looked down at herself. “It’s opaque.”
“Yeah, well, not so much when you’ve got the light behind you.” He brought up her chin. “I had my hands full dealing with your boyfriend. I didn’t need you flaunting yourself on top of everything else.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped. “And you were naked! Right out there in the yard!”
Jackson shrugged again. “I don’t give a shit who sees me.”
“That was obvious!”
“But I don’t want anyone ogling you.”
Irritation brought color back into her cheeks, and she thrust up her chin. “I don’t care.”
“About?” It sort of tickled him that she’d forgotten her fear in favor of bitching at him. He’d take her angry over terrified anytime.
“Whatever the circumstances, I don’t want you to use that tone with me.”
“I’d already figured someone else was lurking out there besides Tobin.” He put his hands on her and, mindful of the remaining threat, savored the narrowness of her waist contrasted to the gentle flare of her hips. So sexy. “My tone was meant to get you to safety.”
She flipped back the silky fall of her hair. “It failed, now didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He drew her hips closer to his. “So next time someone has cut your electricity and someone else is shooting at us, I’ll try to politely ask you to keep your sweet little ass inside—as I nicely instructed before I left the room—so that my attention won’t be splintered.”
Her whole face tightened…and then suddenly she grinned.
More hysterics? Wary now, he said, “Alani?”
She fell into him, her face against his chest. “You were naked, Jackson.”
She did seem hung up on that. “Clothes weren’t a priority at that moment.” Protecting her would always be his top consideration.
“What if you’d had to fight Marc?” Her voice sounded high and quick. “With your…your…”
“Family jewels?”
She gasped. “…exposed, and your…” She gestured at his lap.
“Dick?”
Her mirth expanded until she choked on her humor. “Yes, that. It was just sort of…out there.” She snickered. “Vulnerable.”
“Yeah.” He pressed it against her warm, soft body. “Not my preferred way to fight, but I wouldn’t let it slow me down.”
“Thank God I don’t have neighbors living close.” Her shoulders shook as she fought off more nervous giggles.
He didn’t mind. Because her hair fascinated him even at the worst of times, he smoothed it back, tangled his fingers in it and smiled. “That damned Tobin almost pissed himself when I busted him. You sure know how to pick ’em, don’t you?”
That snuffed her humor real quick. Suspicious, she asked, “What did you do to him?”
“Not enough. And now he’s gone, even though he’s somehow got a role in this whole shit storm tonight.”
“Your language is deteriorating.” She put her arms around him and rested her face on his bare chest. “In the future, I will try to concede to your expertise and do as you ask—but only if you ask. No more orders.”
“I’ll do my best on that.” He couldn’t make any promises. “Don’t crucify me if I slip up now and then in the heat of the moment, okay?”
She nodded. “Actually, if I hadn’t heard Marc, I would have stayed tucked away. I’m not stupid. But I peeked out and you two were chatting so…amicably, I thought it was all a big misunderstanding or something.”
“Nothing amicable about it.” Apparently she hadn’t seen him punch Tobin. “The bastard said he had some half-ass plan to scare you back to him, but I’m not buying it.” Jackson related the conversation to her, then said, “You actually told him what happened to you?”
“No. Not all of it. Just that I’d been briefly kidnapped. He thinks it was for my brother’s money, not so I could be—”
Jackson didn’t need her to say that she would have been sold for sex. “He knows about Trace?”
“Marc never met him, but since Trace backed me when I started up my design business, most everyone knows I have a wealthy brother. Trace drops in at my office sometimes, and we’re out to lunch together a lot.” Her fingers moved up and over his pec muscles. “Of course, he doesn’t know what Trace does for a living, or anything like that. When he kept pressing for us to get…closer—”
