“Me too. I’ll give you a key before you leave.”
So much for self-protecting.
She shuffled toward the sofa and levered herself into it, wincing as her joints creaked and popped. “They beat the crap out of me.”
Immediately, she glanced at the stupid lamp with the stupid bug. They could hear everything.
Jack followed her gaze and wandered to the lamp. “You should soak in the tub.”
“My tub stopper doesn’t work. One more thing that needs attention.”
He picked up the lamp, pulled it apart as he had the night he found the bugs and stared at the tiny listening device.
Then he ripped it out.
A zing of power, or maybe relief, she wasn’t sure and certainly didn’t care, buzzed up her arms. Maybe Jack had the right idea here. She’d been the target of these maniacs while they invaded her home, her sense of safety, her work environment. Her entire life, up to this point, had been at their mercy.
Until Jack ripped out that bug.
“Jack Lynx, I adore you.” Gently, she levered off the sofa.
He put the lamp back together, set it in place and went to work on the device hidden in the dining room air vent.
She walked to the kitchen, waving him to follow. “Quit staring at my face. It’s a bruise.” And stitches and a load of swelling. “It’ll go away.”
When she reached the kitchen, she scooped up the decorative vase, flipped it over and ripped out the listening device. Jack grinned at her.
“I hope these scumbags,” she said, getting a little loud on the word scumbags, “hear us tearing out these listening devices. Maybe then they’ll realize I’m done with them terrorizing me. They should get out of my life!” She squatted to the floor, lifted the vent cover and, for kicks, banged the metal against the opening a few times. That’ll hurt their ears. “Bastards.”
She ripped the bug out of the vent and slapped it into Jack’s hand. “Good work,” he said, shoving the bugs into the sink drain. “Hit that switch.”
“On it.” Marching to the wall switch, she flipped it up. The disposal churned and coughed and, after this nightmare of an evening, she burst out laughing.
They’d tossed the bugs down the disposal. She imagined there was a powerful statement there somewhere, but she wouldn’t analyze it.
She followed Jack back into the living room, where he settled himself on the arm of the sofa and she lowered herself into the cushions. “Do you need anything?”
You.
“I need my employer to stop harassing me.”
He brushed his hand over the side of her head. Warm hands. Always. Another thing to like about him. “Working on it, babe.”
What she didn’t trust about that simple statement, she wasn’t sure. But there was something in his inflection. Not quite confidence, but not doubt either. He’s up to something. “Where did you go?”
He shrugged.
“Jack Lynx, you tell me what you did.”
He studied the room then jerked his head. “I paid your boss a visit.”
“Oh, damn you.”
“Damn me, nothing. He needed to make my acquaintance and understand the kind of turmoil I can create with a few phone calls. Now that he’s aware, I decided the bugs were no longer necessary.”
She closed her eyes for a quick second. “Why would you go there?”
“A look in the mirror will tell you why. I went to plan B.”
“One you never discussed with me.”
“Here we go.” He shook his head. “It was spontaneous, and you’d had enough for one night.”
According to him anyway. What gave him the right to decide when she’d had enough?
Or was she being too hard on him? Being alone for so long had deadened her to the complexities of a relationship. “All I’m saying is you could have waited. You chose to disregard any opinion I might have. Reminder, Superman, this is my life.”
His stare went rock hard. Pulverizing intensity. She pulled the throw pillow closer. As if that would help her.
“I get that it’s your life. Exactly why I went to see your boss. What happened tonight will never happen again. I’m not gonna sit around and let some asshole pound you bloody. I have an arsenal I can use against these people. Now they’ll see that.”
“And you don’t think you made it worse by threatening them? They know who you are. They definitely know who I am. If they went to the lengths they did tonight, what else will they do?”
He stood, wandered to the window and peeped out the blinds. Stalling. Eventually, he turned back to her. “If something happens to one of us, I’ve made sure enough people know about my suspicions that the feds will know exactly where to look. Stennar is going down. It’s just a matter of when and how. I’m praying I’m the one to do it.”
“And where do I fit? Does what I want matter?”
“Of course it matters. My assumption has been that you’d like to bring these people down. Am I wrong?”
This man had an answer for everything and it was starting to make her head hurt. Either that or the painkillers the doctor gave her had worn off. Suddenly, she understood how people got hooked on those things. It would be easy to swallow a pill and let her worries go with it. “No,” she said. “But I don’t want you getting killed doing it. Whatever they’re doing, it’s not worth that. For either of us.”
“Jillian, I’ve just showed them my hand. My hand is unbeatable. They know that. There are a million ways this could play out. It starts, at the very least, with an investigation by the Oversight committee. If they get through that, there’s the FDA and the IRS. There will be so much pressure on these guys, whatever they’re doing will have to stop. And, hopefully, these assholes go to prison.”
“I agree that’s the end goal. You’re missing the point, though.”
He boosted off the window frame and smacked his hands on top of his head. “What’s the goddamn point?”
Oh, no, sir. He was not going to raise his voice to her. “Watch your tone. The point is I need to trust you. I need to know you’re not doing crazy stunts like you just pulled. These people are lining me up to look like a nutcase so they can fire me. They want me gone, but I’m too far into this thing to walk away now. It’s not about keeping my job anymore. This is about stopping them. I don’t know what they’re doing, but based on the condition I’m in, it’s nothing they want made public. As dangerous as this has become, I want them to burn. So, yes, I’m going into that hellhole tomorrow and I have to face the boss you just threatened.”
He propped his hands on his hips and grunted. If he thought she was being a hysterical female, too bad. He’d have to live with it. “We’re partners in this, Jack, and you disregarded me. I will not be disregarded.”
“Hang on. Is this about Stennar Pharm or us?”
Prior to this conversation, she hadn’t pondered that. Either way, it terrified her. “I suppose both. One has everything to do with the other. I need to trust you. I don’t want to wonder what you’re doing and when.”
“Meaning if I’m popping pills?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, it is.”
* * *
And didn’t that just suck the mud? After all this, his hard work, his dedication to his recovery, his self-loathing and subsequent attempts to heal himself, somewhere in the back of her mind, she was afraid he’d relapse.
It could happen. He didn’t know any way around that. Every morning he woke up and told himself he’d stay clean. There were also mornings he missed the numbing bliss and had to work harder to convince himself that staying clean was the more important battle.
None of it mattered if Jillian couldn’t trust him. Years of dealing with her father’s addiction left her jaded. “The addiction is part of
me. Love me, love my disease.”
“There’s nothing simple about it. I want to trust you and that means you not throwing your addiction in my face every chance you get. You assume I was talking about you relapsing. I wasn’t. I’m talking about trust in general. But you’re as scared as I am, so you figure you’ll keep reminding me and I’ll make a run for it, right?”
“Well, Christ, Jillian, don’t hold back.”
“Now you’re going to spin this? Like it’s my fault?”
Whoa, Nellie. He held his hands out. “None of this is your fault.”
That, he believed. Bad circumstances, rotten timing, he could come up with at least a dozen reasons why none of this was her fault.
Including him being scared.
She tossed aside the pillow she’d been mangling. “I hate fighting with you.”
She slouched back, then winced. If he hadn’t forgotten to set the alarm before he left, she might not be dealing with this. “You okay?”
“No. I’m not okay. I need you to...nothing.”
“What?”
“I need you to stop being a superhero. I love that you care enough to help me, but what you did tonight? Not acceptable. We’re a team in this. All of it. I need you to get that. You confuse me. I don’t want to care about you. I really don’t. But there are complications in every relationship. I at least owe it to myself to try, because I’m crazy about you. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I could love you. A recovering addict. Do you know how hard that is for me?”
He sat next to her, shifted and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, close enough that his fingers skimmed her shoulder. “I do know.”
“Then let’s work together here. Okay? Earlier tonight you avoided my calls. Don’t do that. When you’re upset with me, talk. Don’t make a plan without discussing it. And please, please, tell me when you’re feeling vulnerable. It’s the only way we’ll survive.”
Shit. The woman knew how to set a guy straight. “Uh...okay.”
“Are you agreeing or humoring me?”
He laughed. “Maybe both.”
That response might get him another ass whupping, but hey—she smiled. Nice to see. Even if her face looked like something out of a horror flick.
“Are you mostly agreeing with me?”
“Yes. I won’t avoid your calls anymore and I’ll discuss plans with you. I don’t know that I’ll always admit when I’m feeling vulnerable. That’s not me. I won’t be a whiny pansy-ass. Some things I need to work out on my own.”
“I can respect that.”
“Thank you. Tell me what I can do for you now?”
She rested her head back and closed her eyes. “Can you find me a bathtub? Please. My body feels bulldozed.”
He leaned forward and ran his fingers along her jaw. Just about the only uninjured part of her face. “Baby, your body is bulldozed. I’ll take you to my place. You can soak and crawl into bed. I’ll take care of you.”
“I know you will.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jack’s tub was better than hers. Deeper and bigger. Not cheap and plastic. She needed this tub. Add it to the list.
She also needed to figure out a way to get her battered body out of this tub. Slowly, she eased forward and flipped the lever to open the drain. The water had gone tepid anyway. Jack had checked on her a couple of times, making sure she hadn’t passed out from the pain meds, but left her be.
Obviously, he’d learned she needed alone time.
You’re in trouble, Jillian.
Understatement. She sighed and rolled her body so she could lever out of the bathtub. One thing at a time. After three tries, she’d managed to push herself to her feet without taking a header and splitting her skull open.
That would be the topper.
Jack knocked on the door. “I hear movement. Do you need help?”
I need a lot of help. “I’m good. Thanks. I’ll be out in a sec.”
“I’ll be in the living room. Holler if you need something.”
She grabbed the towel and started patting herself down. Oh, the things she needed. Like his hands working this towel instead of hers. She snorted. The stress must have fried her common sense.
“Right, got it.” More patting. She’d get good and dry. That’s what she’d do.
This whole thing was a little weird. Taking a bath in a man’s home had an intimacy to it. Maybe if they weren’t alone or maybe if he were her brother—if she had a brother—it would be okay. This, though?
This was weird.
And she had to act like it wasn’t. She scooped her underwear, T-shirt and yoga pants off the vanity and began dressing. Creaky bones and all.
She stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair and studying what used to be her face. Now she didn’t know what to call that mess. Still, she smacked a smile on and opened the door.
None of this had to be awkward. They were adults. He was just a guy helping her out.
A good-looking, take-charge guy who she’d just told she could love, but still had a couple of days of celibacy to complete.
* * *
Lynx heard the bathroom door open and turned toward the hallway where Jillian appeared. She wore a light green yoga top and black pants. He’d seen them on her in class before. Comfortable. Unconfining.
“How was the tub?”
“I want that tub. Big enough for two people.”
The comment was casual, but a sudden charge filled the room. “Uh.”
She closed her eyes. “Mind-boggling how I just said that.”
“You’re right. It’s built for two. Not that I’ve...uh...ah, shit.” Yeah, the wheels were coming off.
Jillian opened her eyes and their gazes locked for a brief second that made him nearly piss himself. Not ready for this.
“We’ll try it sometime,” she said.
He took a step back. What was he supposed to do with that when he still had two more days until he hit a year of celibacy? Technically, at 12:01 the following night it would be a year. Twenty-six hours and he’d be close enough. This year-of-celibacy bullshit was starting to get on his nerves. Starting to? Hell, it had been on his nerves for a year now. Always thinking and not thinking about thinking about women. Avoiding them because he was too terrified to blow his recovery. All because he was Mr. Responsibility, who fucked up and had to prove to everyone he wasn’t a total loss.
At this point? Who cared? He was a man, for Christ’s sake, and men needed sex every once in a while. Why did getting laid mean he’d blow his recovery?
Again with the thinking. He was tired of thinking.
And avoiding Jillian.
Not until he marched up her walkway and saw her bloody did he realize how much of himself he’d been holding back the past year.
Jillian held her hands in front of her. “No, no, no. Don’t freak out on me. I’m just saying it would be fun. Extremely. And now I have this vision of you naked wearing a cape. And, wow, I can’t believe I just said that.”
She laughed at herself.
He should probably say something. Thanks?
Nah.
Got a helmet handy?
It was his turn to laugh. Although, the tightening in his crotch was absolutely no laughing matter.
She continued to stare at him. “What?”
“I was thinking about whether you had a helmet handy.”
A wicked grin slid across her face. “Oh, my.”
“Seriously, I’d like to have at you right now. It’s all I think about sometimes. For three months I’ve been thinking about the things I’d do to you.”
She opened her mouth and a breathy sound reached him. “Fun things?”
“I’ll say this, it always ends with you screaming. And
not in a bad way.”
“Screaming?”
“Howling.”
“I see.”
“No, honey, you don’t. There are things I’m good at—at least I’ve been told I’m good at them—and sex is in the top three. Which makes this self-imposed sexual imprisonment even more torturous. I would love to strip you and find one hundred different ways to give you an orgasm. Particularly tonight when all I want is to make you feel better.”
Given that she had sworn off men with any sort of addiction issues, he wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. He wanted to think they could work on those issues and put all her preconceived notions about life with an addict aside.
She knew better than to let herself love an addict. She knew the risks. She knew the disappointment waiting for her when he relapsed. Everyone relapsed, didn’t they?
And yet, she stepped closer and ran one finger down the center of his chest. “What if I wanted that too?”
“Wrong thing to say. I’m trying to hang on here. I got twenty-six hours and I hit that one-year mark.”
“Is that what you want? To hang on?”
“I’ve spent all year working toward it. Plus, what kind of shithead expects a woman to have sex with him after what you’ve been through? It’s barbaric.”
“Barbaric? I think you’re barbaric to yourself.”
She stepped a little closer. He backed up an inch. “I like to think I hold myself to honorable standards.”
She rolled her eyes. “But if I say it’s okay, why would it be barbaric?”
* * *
The superhero stayed quiet. Had she ever met anyone so tough on himself? She didn’t think so. Typically, in her world, it was the other way around. She took the brunt of her loved ones’ emotional deficiencies.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Finally, they were getting somewhere. Him not knowing, that little bit of doubt, was a whole lot better than his insistence that he was a creep. “Good answer.”
Two inches closer and she was right in his space. Barely half an arm length away. Her mind ticked off all the reasons she should walk away. At the very least, this would get messy for her. With her history, her aversion to people with addictions, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to give a recovering addict a fair shot. What she didn’t want was to take out her emotional issues on him.
Opposing Forces Page 17
