Explosive (The Black Opals)

by St. Claire, Tori

  He steeped her tea, torn between wanting to track down the faceless man who’d made false promises and wanting to tell Jayce everything, even if it condemned Brice for life. Jayce was security, the kind Alyssa needed. As for himself…

  Well, he’d made his bed. He’d lie in it. He suspected his days were numbered anyway.

  That document, however, was leaving this house. As long as it was inside, Alyssa would remain in jeopardy. Whether she was in true danger or not remained to be seen—Parker very well could be responsible for the break-in. Brice doubted it, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of consideration. Nevertheless, he wasn’t taking any further chances.

  He left Alyssa’s tea on the counter, ducked into his room for some clothes, then slipped down the stairs to his office. From behind a heavy file cabinet, he produced the keys to his desk. They jangled over the low hum of the air conditioner as he unlocked his bottommost drawer.

  The sealed folder stared him in the face. Revulsion twisted in his gut. The things inside were enough to warrant several hits on multiple persons. How the hell had he gotten himself mixed up in this?

  He grimaced and plucked the folder out. His integrity had gotten him involved, that’s how. All because he couldn’t tolerate an unethical bending of the law. Now, those ethics pushed his best friend down a perilous edge, and Brice couldn’t guarantee Alyssa would ever recover if this compounded any further.

  More determined than ever to stop Alyssa from suffering, Brice tucked the folder under his arm, hurriedly locked the drawer and replaced the key, then bounded up the stairs. He’d find someplace else to stash it until the mysterious Toledo arrived for the drop. Getting it out of the house was the smartest decision he could make.

  Taking care to keep quiet, he slipped outside to his car. A glance up and down the street showed a quiet neighborhood. A block north, at the intersection of two residential streets, a dark grey sedan braked at the stop sign. Brice waited until it turned the corner, then opened his Hummer’s door. He tossed the folder on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat, glad to have the damnable thing out of his hands.

  With a relieved exhale, he shut the door. Tea for Alyssa. Alarms for the window. Pretend everything’s okay.

  He double-timed it to the front porch, immensely glad she had decided to avoid the police. He’d have called and lied through his teeth if it had made her feel better. But this was something they couldn’t stop. And the more questions the cops asked would only make things more dangerous.

  Two days. It would all be over in two days. It had to be, for Alyssa’s sake.

  S i x t e e n

  Jayce’s cell vibrated where he’d tossed it in the passenger’s seat. He hit the brakes, slowing behind a dark grey sedan as he prepared to turn left into Alyssa’s neighborhood. He grabbed his phone. “Yeah?” he asked, struggling to tuck it against his shoulder and grasp the wheel in both hands again.

  “It’s Kane. Clarke said you needed me?”

  “Man, it’s good to hear your voice. How soon could I convince you into making a jaunt to Boulder?” Finally, a resolution to this entire situation. He could get the hell out of here and away from Alyssa with Kane on the security job.

  “What?” A short laugh followed the question.

  “I need a favor, if you’ve got some free time. Security just happens to be the cover Clarke gave me, and sure as shit I’ve been called on it.” Jayce nosed into Alyssa’s driveway. “I’ve got a building broken into with no alarm tripped, and I’m supposed to come up with a solution.”

  “Whoa. I don’t do private sector. That’s like kindergarten play.” Humor rumbled in Kane’s voice as the low whistle of a train drifted through the line.

  Jayce eyed the second-story window, the one he now realized opened into the north wall of Alyssa’s bedroom, and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had to confess, he wouldn’t waste his own skills on a routine bomb threat. Asking Kane to do the same, essentially, was a bit out of line.

  But there were bonds Opals shared. The understanding that their line of work often made it impossible to look after family. Maybe Alyssa wasn’t family now, but at one time she’d been the only life Jayce wanted. He released a harsh breath. “It’s for someone who matters a great deal to me. She’s working for James Parker, man.” His gaze drifted to the corner of the house where he’d encountered the iron filings beneath the window. “Someone’s targeted her house.”

  “Targeted how?”

  “I can’t name anything specific. Footprints under her window. Iron filings on the ground. Nothing that means jack to me, but my gut knows.” To anyone else, that gut suspicion might be bunk, but Jayce would bet his life on the fact Kane Anderson had experienced it more than once in his life. That instinct kept good operatives alive.

  “Iron filings? Someone was checking for a window alarm.”

  Jayce blinked. Damn, he should have made the connection. Window alarms worked on magnets. Iron would identify the field. Yeah, someone was definitely targeting Alyssa and Brice. All the more reason he needed to act on getting sensors of some sort.

  “Look, man, can you get out here? I’ve got red flags going off all over the place. Something’s not right.”

  A moment of silence passed before Kane answered. “Yeah, guess I can cut that way. I’m s’posed head back to HQ tomorrow. I’ll tell Clarke I’m dropping in to see what you need.”

  “How soon?” Jayce cringed at the anxiousness in his voice. Not what he needed another Opal hearing.

  “Can’t catch a flight till tomorrow. I’m buried in work. See if you can get me a schematic or rough blueprint of her house. It’ll go quicker when I get there.”

  “On it. Thanks, Kane.”

  “Sure thing, Sandman. You’re gonna owe me one, though I hope to shit I don’t ever need your talents.”

  A wry grin tugged at Jayce’s mouth. Kane would be having a really bad day if he ever needed help from a bomb specialist. “You got it. Call me when you get in.”

  “Later.” Kane clicked off.

  Relieved, Jayce let himself out of his pickup. At least he had a good reason for being here. One that sounded a hell of a lot better than attempting to try and install window sensors he knew very little about. For good measure, he grabbed the box of two he’d picked up at the hardware store—he supposed he could put a little effort into maintaining his cover—then snatched up his phone.

  He headed for the door. Two steps away from the porch, his cell vibrated again. A glance at the LCD announced his sister Jasmine. “Hey, sis,” he answered.

  “Where are you?” she demanded.

  “Where am I? Where are you?”

  “At the bridal shop. You’re supposed to be here for a fitting.”

  Jayce blinked and glanced at the time on his phone. Eleven-thirty? “Jordan said it was in an hour.”

  “Harlow moved it up. Didn’t you get his email?” His sister’s voice took on a harassed, ear-grating pitch. “Jayce, you can’t screw this up. I’ve got a list of things a mile long to worry about. I don’t have time to baby-sit you.”

  Whoa. He might have been a little…rebellious… as a teen. Might have even deserved that remark ten years ago. But he was so far removed from those days the remark was laughable. What the hell did weddings do to people?

  “Ah, Jasmine, chill. It’s a tux fitting, not the end of the world. I’ll get it done.” Maybe not on her schedule, but he wouldn’t let her down. Not even if he did despise the pansy-ass clown she was marrying.

  “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “I can ask the lady here to reschedule you. Set up something later today.”

  “I’ll take care of it, sis,” he repeated more firmly. “Trust me.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  He refused to reply.

  Jasmine let out a soft sound of frustration. “All right. If you say so. But I swear to God, if you forget about this, and we get to the rehearsal dinner—”

  “Chill.” Jayce rolled his eyes. “Go ha
ve a drink and unwind. I’m not going to screw up your wedding, for God’s sake.”

  “Okay, well, remember we have the rehearsal dinner day after tomorrow. Seven o’clock at the church.”

  Again, Jayce found himself wondering who the hell planned a big wedding for a Tuesday night, but he shrugged his shoulders and marched up the remaining step to Alyssa’s door. “Got it. See you soon, Jasmine.”

  He disconnected before she could dive into another lecture of some sort. Why couldn’t she be more like Jordan? Instead of relaxed and easy-going, his oldest sister had always been uptight. Always played by the rules and couldn’t stand the thought of breaking boundaries. Why she’d even included him in the wedding party, when they had rarely ever gotten along, Jayce couldn’t understand. Likely his mother had insisted.

  He knocked on Alyssa’s door. It opened instantaneously, as if McTavish had been standing on the other side. He motioned Jayce inside. “Had coffee yet?”

  “Not nearly enough to survive the day.” Or the next few hours in Alyssa’s company. He forbade his gaze from canvassing the house in search of her as he followed to the kitchen. But he couldn’t stop his tongue, no matter how he ordered it to stay still. “Where is she?”

  “In her room.” McTavish poured a fresh cup of coffee and passed it to Jayce. “Haven’t had so good a morning.”

  Despite himself, Jayce chuckled. “’Magine that. Damn it sucks to be interrupted.” Pretty much like it had sucked to have company last night.

  Where old banter had flowed between them easily, tension now crackled. Jayce held McTavish’s steady gaze, the mug half-lifted to his mouth. He’d meet him challenge for challenge, if it came down to it. Ten years might have passed, but damn it, he hadn’t walked away from Alyssa, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend like he was okay with McTavish taking his spot.

  McTavish looked away. “Don’t look at me like I stabbed you in the back.”

  “Didn’t you?” Jayce let the question escape, though he took care to keep his voice low.

  “No. I didn’t. She came to me.”

  Somehow that made everything right? Jayce bit down the bitter taste of jealousy. The fight was useless anyway—if she’d wanted him, she’d have tried to find him. He might have been out of country most of the time, and Alyssa might have never met Jordan, but she still knew Jordan’s name. If nothing else, McTavish could have contacted Jordan, if Alyssa had ever inquired.

  And he’d have been here in a heartbeat if she’d asked. A fucking heartbeat.

  “You bring those sensors?” McTavish asked after several long, quiet moments.

  “Yeah.”

  With a wave of his hand, McTavish beckoned Jayce to follow him to the office he’d glimpsed through the window. Jayce glanced around, observing the feminine sweater slung over the arm of a leather couch, the slim briefcase leaning against the leg of the desk. Inside, there was no mistaking this office belonged to Alyssa. Her perfume clung to the very air.

  “Better start in here.” McTavish picked a square of paper off the desk and tossed it gently. It landed on the corner, a scant six inches from Jayce’s hand. “But maybe you better go upstairs and see if you can calm her down.”

  Calm her down? Jayce glanced at the photograph. He recognized the office building immediately. The flames added to the photo, the roughly scrawled word etched into the finish—he snatched it off the desk. “What the hell?”

  “She found it in here this morning.”

  Jayce slowly lifted his head. McTavish regarded him with calm reserve. A little too calmly for Jayce’s comfort. “What the fuck’s going on, McTavish? Where are the cops?”

  McTavish shook his head. “She didn’t want them involved.”

  In one furious move, Jayce slammed both the picture and his open palm on top of the paper-covered desk. “She didn’t want them here? Where the hell is your brain? Why aren’t you doing the right thing anyway? You fucking find a photograph in your house like this, and you fucking call the cops! I don’t give a rat’s ass what she wants.”

  McTavish turned away, giving Jayce his back. “It’s not that easy, Jayce. Shit’s happened. I can’t just ignore what she wants or doesn’t want. Besides, Parker’s attorney threatened her yesterday. She’s convinced if she plays it down, he’ll back off.”

  It took every bit of self-control Jayce possessed to not gape dumbfounded. He must be dreaming this conversation. Parker threatened her, McTavish knew about it, and the pair of them were sitting here in a house with no security, and not a one of them had called the police. What the fuck had misfired in their heads?

  He withdrew his hand and straightened. “I’ll do what you can’t then. Talk some sense into her.”

  Someone had to, that’s for certain. If McTavish didn’t have the balls to stand up to her, Jayce would. He stormed for the stairs.

  “Jayce, you can’t just go up there and—”

  “The hell I can’t!” He ascended the stairs two at a time.

  “It won’t work the way you want it to,” Brice called out behind him.

  The way he wanted it to? What the hell was that supposed to mean? All he wanted was some answers. Alyssa wasn’t stupid. So why was she being so remarkably foolish? One way or the other, he was getting an explanation. He’d grown tired of hearing the excuses, of sitting by and passively accepting the way she shut him out.

  He didn’t bother with knocking. Instead, he reached for the doorknob, prepared to throw open the door. But the sound of soft sobs from the other side cooled his anger. They also made his gut twist.

  Bracing himself for an emotional rollercoaster ride, he let himself inside her room. “Alyssa?” he called quietly.

  She whipped around from where she lay, stomach-down, on the bed. Tearstains marred her cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes widened with surprise. “Jayce.” She swiped a hand over her face and scrambled to sit upright.

  Driven by the soul-deep need to stop those heartbreaking tears, Jayce eased himself down beside her. He looped an arm around her slight shoulders and drew her against his side. “Tell me what’s going on, baby doll.” With his free hand, he cradled the back of her head against his chest and tucked his nose into her hair. God, she felt right like this. Tears or no tears, she fit him perfectly. He breathed deeply of the faint scent of flowers that clung to her hair and rubbed his cheek against the crown of her head. “Talk to me, Alyssa.”

  Let me in, just a little bit. Goddamn, he was tired of being a stranger in her life.

  S e v e n t e e n

  Alyssa slid her arms around Jayce’s waist. She grounded herself in the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. He was here, warm, and oh so familiar. So many times had he held her just like this, soothing her tears when their circumstances and the need to hide their relationship pushed her to the point of breaking. She’d hated the fact they had to sneak around, hated her family for forcing them into secrecy. But Jayce had always been strong, there to reassure her that when she turned eighteen everything would be okay.

  She tightened her hold on him, closing her eyes to another fresh rush of tears. Tell him. Explain why a stupid photograph had upended her completely. She didn’t know how. But oh, how she wanted to turn to him.

  “McTavish said Parker threatened you,” Jayce murmured quietly.

  Alyssa nodded. With a sniffle, she eased out of the safe haven of his embrace and wiped her slowing tears away. “It was veiled. I can’t prove anything.” She couldn’t prove a damned thing, if it came down to the wire. There was nothing she could do.

  The sickening sense of helplessness crept around her again. This was all beyond her control, every bit of it. She stood, rubbed at her arms to ward off a chill.

  “Can’t prove anything?” A touch of exasperation filtered into Jayce’s low voice. “Alyssa, you were threatened. The proof of it is in your office.”

  The proof had been on her person too, but her parents hadn’t believed her. If blood couldn’t prompt people into action, why would anyone a
ct on something so insubstantial?

  She looked to Jayce, wanting nothing more than to turn to him. Wanting to confess, to spill everything. But she’d made the choices, deliberately accepted work from a man with an unscrupulous past. The shame of confessing choked her. She couldn’t confront the blame Jayce would rightly assign on her.

  She shook her head. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

  “Alyssa.” Frustration hardened his warm voice. “It’s me, for God’s sake. Talk to me. What is going on?”

  “It’s nothing.” With more courage than she really felt, she gave him a half smile. “Really, it’s nothing. Everything will settle.” Before he could hound her with more questions, she escaped the claustrophobic confines of her room and headed down the stairs to the safety of Brice’s presence. He knew when not to push.

  Jayce’s boots followed heavily behind her. “Alyssa, damn it.”

  “Really, Jayce.” She quickened her step. “Let it be. There’s nothing you can do, anyway. I appreciate your concern.”

  “My concern?”

  From the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of his hand as he reached for her arm. She jerked her elbow away and ducked into the kitchen, not really caring where she went so long as she kept moving. Away from him. Away from the terrifying effect he had over her self-control.

  “What do you mean it’s none of my concern? Do you think I don’t give a damn what happens to you?” Jayce demanded on heels.

  To her immense gratitude, Alyssa found Brice hovering over the toaster. She shot him a glance, begging him to intercede. He looked between them both, feigned helplessness with a slight shrug, and plucked his bagel from the toaster oven.