Finally, the puzzle pieces fall into place. “Meanwhile, the senator thinks it was bad manufacturing so sponsors a bill to return jobs to his home state.”
Lucky swallows back his beer and nods rapidly. “That’s when Jack stepped in shit. To shut him down, this bloke Zheng and his gang kidnaps Blakely.”
I shudder. “Why not just kill me?”
“Too risky, luv. They already made an attempt on McAlister’s life. More deaths would’ve brought more investigations. Better to scare Jack into cooperating.”
I shake my head. “Bad move on their part. Jack doesn’t scare easily.”
He chuckles. “Fair dinkum.”
“Huh?” Me and Isabella raise our brows.
“It means too true. You nev-ah heard me say that?”
“No.” Isabella and I laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world, relieving more of the evening’s stress. Snacking and chatting with the laptop on the kitchen table, we watch our guys drive away, leaving only a few FBI agents and yellow crime scene tape. Soon, the video goes dark. No doubt some geek directed the drone to some private, undisclosed location.
An hour later, we’re watching Netflix when the door to the safehouse opens. My heart beats like crazy as I wait for Jack to appear. I need to be in his arms, make love to him, and put all this behind us.
When only Grayson enters, I kind of freak out while I wait for them to finish kissing and hugging.
Finally, their lips part and I ask, “Where’s Jack?”
“He was right behind me. I’m sure he’ll be here in a sec.” He moves to the narrow space between the inner and outer walls and pulls aside a shade, careful not to stand in the window.
“Shit.” Grayson reaches into his pocket and plugs a tiny comm into his ear. “You there, Jack?”
Lucky steps to the window and rubs the stubble on his chin. “You want I should find him, mate?”
“No. I want you to stay out of it.” The billionaire grimaces, shakes his head back and forth, and leads us back into the inner sanctum of the kitchen.
“I need you ladies to stay here until the FBI gives us the all clear. In the morning, Isabella and I will be heading back to New York. You and Jack are welcome to join us.”
“Where is he?” Something is terribly wrong.
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I suspect he’s taking care of a couple lose ends. I wouldn’t worry. You go to bed, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Okay?”
Numbly, I nod as he gives his wife another kiss and they walk arm-in-arm into their bedroom. That should be me and Jack, too.
I pace some more while Lucky tries to cheer me up, but it doesn’t work. I would know if Jack was hurt, wouldn’t I? Why doesn’t anyone know where he is?
From now on, I’m only watching comedies. All night, I picture Jack in every torture scene from every horror flick I’ve ever watched.
When the front door finally opens and it’s him, I dash across the room. “Where the hell have you been?” How can you want to kill someone and kiss them at the same time?
“I was trying to find Yan but he got away.” He pulls me into his Kevlar covered chest. “Sorry, babe.”
He stands in the kitchen while Lucky helps him out of his battle gear. “You worried her, mate.”
“I didn’t want Yan coming after her. Surely, you, of all people, understand?”
“Bull dust! You got a whole team. Didn’t have to fly solo.” He hangs Jack’s equipment in a hall closet while Jack sits and kicks off his boots.
“Yan said he had diplomatic immunity. For all I know, he might already be in the air, halfway to China.”
“Fair that. Well, listen, you two lovebirds square it all away. I’m going to bed.” He walks down the hall, leaving me alone to deal with Jack.
“You mad?” He opens the refrigerator, cracks open a Heineken, and takes a long pull.
I cup his rough beard, so damn glad he’s home, I can’t stay mad. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
When our eyes lock, the dark centers of his grow wide. A little growl comes from deep within and his tangy lips crash down on mine.
He lifts me and places my back against the cool steel of the refrigerator, one knee pushing up between my legs. I channel all the worry of the past few hours into my kiss as I hold the back of his neck.
With my fingertips pressing in, my pelvis tilts, and my chest grows tight. “When you didn’t call, I thought something bad had happened.”
“I went dark, couldn’t have anyone else complicit.” His mouth covers my next question and my next until there’s no thoughts except joining.
My legs around his waist, his hands grab my butt, and he walks me down the hall. “Which room?”
I point to the one on the right, he opens the door, and places me on the bed. Faster by far than he, I slip out of my clothes and jump under the covers. His flannel shirt drops on the floor and his t-shirt comes off over his head. With his lower half inches from my face, he pulls down his camouflage pants along with his briefs and socks.
When his thick cock bounces to my face, I kiss it. Grabbing my hand away, he slides between the sheets next to me, his hand on my breast, his mouth devouring mine.
Tonight, there is no give and take. He’s in control with a rawness to his movements, I don’t recognize.
“Fuck I love you.” One hand grips my wrists over my head while the other hand moves from my neck to my nipples.
He pinches and plays and sucks while I gasp for air. When I open my legs and arch, his hand slides down my body until he finds the soft, swollenness between my legs. His finger slips into my wet want and he moans. Then, he kneels, throws my legs over his shoulders, and places himself at my core. With eyes black with passion, he enters me and my heart overflows.
His thumb presses into my nub and I shake. His large cock grows thicker as he slowly begins a dance older than time. Our heat rises as he increases the pace and our pleasure builds as we sweat to reach our need. The bed thumps, reminding me of our first night together and it sets me on fire. Bucking wildly, I meet his pace, our cores come together, his thumb teasing me without mercy.
“Oh, God.” I crash into orgasmic splendor and seconds later, he thrusts, cries out, and follows.
After what could be hours, he falls to the bed, exhausted and sleeps. It seems like only seconds later when his phone bleeps.
With a pillow pressed tightly over my ears, I moan. “Don’t answer it.”
When it starts to ring for the fourth set, Jack groans, lifts the phone to his ear and curses. “This better be good.”
There’s a long silence and from the look on Jack’s face, the news wasn’t good. “You got to be fucking shitting me? …What? Jesus. Sure. I’ll be there. Did you call Andy? Shit. Yeah, she’s here. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her.”
Chapter 15
Jack
“Sorry, babe.”
“For what?” Completely naked, my wife hops out of bed, still smelling of last night’s sex.
“That was Slate. Get dressed.” I barely have enough time to pull up my jeans before Grayson pounds on our bedroom door.
“You awake?” His voice, thank God, is calm.
“Give us a minute.” I turn to my lovely wife, her beautiful baby bump making the knot in my throat grow bigger. She deserves so much better than me. Her lips are swollen, her hair mussed from last night’s incredible love-making, and it breaks my fucking heart to tell her. “I’m being arrested.”
“For what?” As if she can somehow help, she jumps into a pair of sweatpants, throws my shirt over her head and opens the door for Gray.
“Did you do it?” Face grim, he steps into the room.
“Hell no, I didn’t do it.” I may have thought about it once or twice.
“Do what?” Mount Vesuvius about to erupt, Blakely glances back and forth between us.
I grab my boots, plop on the bed, and force them over bare feet. “He thinks I killed Yan.”
“You were looking
for him.” Gray still hasn’t learned his unblinking stare has absolutely no effect on me.
“Looking is the operative word. I was looking for Yan and he was nowhere to be found.” I tug my t-shirt over my head and stand.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you-”
“But I didn’t. Fuck. I wouldn’t take that risk. I got a bun in the oven.” I pat Blake’s belly and pull her into my arms. Then, I kiss the tip of her nose while my boss pulls out his cell phone.
“I’ve already called Andy and he just texted back. He’ll represent you and is on his way to DC. In the meantime, he says you should turn yourself in but say nothing.”
Blake takes a step toward Grayson, “Why do they think it was Jack. What evidence do they have?”
“Besides punching him in the men’s room last night?” When Grayson hesitates, I wonder for a second if he’s going to tell her so I finish for him.
“The bullet they dug out of Yan’s skull was from your gun.”
She pales, wobbles and sits. God damn it. I should’ve broken it to her more gently.
While sitting, she focuses on the opposite wall at a framed photo of the Vietnam war memorial. “No way. I gave my gun to… oh shit.”
Fuck yeah, oh shit. I turn to Grayson’s raised brows. “She gave her gun to the man in the tunnel, Philip.”
“Fuck.” He rubs his chin, shaking his head back and forth.
“What? It’s good news, isn’t it? That means Jack didn’t do it.”
I take a deep breath, knowing she’s going to be pissed. “The Feds think you made him up.”
Her face turns red and her eyes blaze as she follows us into the kitchen. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Do what?” Isabella pours coffee and hands out mugs.
“Make up a pretend kidnap victim.”
“Doesn’t seem logical to me.”
Izzy acts as if people getting arrested is a daily occurrence and Gray seems amused by her as he kisses her cheek. “We won’t be gone long dear.”
“Hold on just a minute. I’m coming, too.” Blake’s face is too earnest and sweet.
I can’t bear to watch it change when they cuff me so I shake my head, no. “I’ll be home in a couple hours. Promise.”
Later, in the car to the police station, Grayson growls at me after he slides behind the wheel. “You shouldn’t promise what you can’t deliver.”
“What? You not posting bail?” I glance up at the yellow faded shades in the window, hoping to see her face yet knowing Lucky will keep her safely tucked behind the thick walls.
“First, they’ll need to arrest you. I’m not sure how long they’ll hold you for questioning. Don’t say a peep until Andy arrives. Understand?” My boss eases into traffic then drives us through posh downtown Georgetown where lush poinsettias grace almost every entranceway and real pine garlands drape over the street.
He drives for a few miles in silence, his neck pulsing from his clenching jaw.
I happen to take offense because I didn’t do jack shit, no pun intended. “What’s with the ’tude?”
“I got an attitude because you didn’t go straight back to the safehouse like I asked.”
“Yeah? What if it were Izzy who got kidnapped. You wouldn’t spend your last dime searching for the guys who did it?”
He turns onto the thruway away from the direction of the police station. “I sure as hell wouldn’t’ve got caught.”
“Well, you have a lot more money than me. You could make sure it wouldn’t happen… Isn’t the police station that way?” I point back toward the thruway entrance he just drove by.
“Guess who came to dinner last night at McAlister’s party? If you guessed the FBI Deputy Director, you were spot on. He wants to take you down. You made him look bad.”
Fuck. I haven’t been photographed, fingerprinted, and stuck in a small cell since I was sixteen.
While Grayson drives through heavy traffic, my mind wanders to a day in a small town, somewhere in the middle of the Arizona desert.
“What’s your name, son?” Dressed in a khaki uniform, the policeman resembles a sheriff from the sixties. He’s got me sitting on the floor in the back room of a supermarket where this incredible smell wafts from the bakery.
When my stomach growls, I moan. “Can I go?”
“How about we talk?” The guy takes off his hat, squats on his sneakers, and rakes a hand over his chin.
I’ll give him credit for looking concerned. He’s real good at it. However, after being dragged from town to town for years, I’m pretty fucking jaded. No one ever gives a shit except when I’m caught stealing. Then, suddenly everyone has a social conscience until my mom leaves town. After, everyone heaves a sigh of relief and life for me, goes on the same as usual.
“I got nothing to say.”
“You got a first name, a last?”
“Does it matter? How about Harvey Wallbanger? Okay? I got to be going.” I try to stand but the guy pushes down on my shoulders.
“Hold on, there’s a small matter of stealing.”
“Are you shittin’ me? I wasn’t stealing. That stuff was going to be thrown away. Did you see what I took?”
He throws a hand to his mouth to keep from grinning. “Still, it wasn’t yours to take. You should’ve asked.”
Maybe my punishment won’t be so bad, after all. “Fine. Arrest me. At least I’ll get three meals a day.”
I’ve used that line in the past and it usually generates the sympathy I need to keep me out of jail but this guy’s eyes don’t get soft. If anything, they narrow and his mouth grows tight. “I never seen you around here before, where do you live?”
I raise my brows, cross my arms, and lean back in the chair, and tell him the God’s honest truth. “Nowhere.”
Maybe he’s one of those human lie detectors because he changes up the question real fast. ‘Okay. Where’ve you been staying?”
“I want a lawyer.” I hate abandoned cars but they’re better than foster care.
“How old are you, son?”
“Sixteen, and I’m not your son.” I jut out my chin. The worst he can do is throw me in juvie which doesn’t scare me in the least.
“What if I told you the grocery store owner has agreed to drop charges?” The guy stands and holds out his hand to help me up but I ignore it and narrow my gaze.
Nobody gives something for nothing. “What’s in it for him?”
“He wants you to work for him, after school.”
I chuckle. “That won’t fly. I don’t go to school.”
Finally, I manage to shock the small-town cop. It took long enough. He curses and leaves the room.
When he comes back, I get booked for real. They take my fingerprints, mug shots, and empty my pockets. I never had a bed, a warm shower, and clean clothes. I even see a doctor and get antibiotics for a scratch I got climbing under some barbed wire a few months back.
Still, I worry about my Mom but I guess she’s okay. She probably slept with some other dude who let her stay at his place and maybe he shared a meal or two.
My mom is nowhere near as pretty as she used to be but she knows how to reel in the suckers. More than likely, she stole some dude’s wallet and I’ll hear from her in a few days.
For now, I’ll sit tight.
A few days later, I stand in front of the judge, surprised it’s a woman.
She looks kind of nice and her smile isn’t full of shit. “Hello Jack. I’m Judge Reynolds.”
“Hello ma’am.” We’ve stayed such a long time in the south, I’ve learned the value of being overly polite.
“I understand you were caught stealing some food from Winn Dixie.” Her eyes are about the same shade of blue-gray as her hair.
“Yes ma’am and I truly am very, very sorry. I was right hungry.” Maybe the accent is poured on a bit thick but it seems to work because her face gets all soft, like maybe I’m a lost puppy or something.
“When was the last time you had a real meal?” She
takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes.
“I guess you’re not askin’ about the half-eaten kids meals from the garbage?”
She nods.
“I don’t rightly remember, judge, ma’am.” But I do. My mom scored big and we ate pretty good in Albany a few months ago. However, it’s probably not the kind of thing this judge wants to hear.
“Officer Clay says you were living at the old Gregory place, in an abandoned car?”
“No one else was using it. We didn’t steal it. Ain’t no crime to sleep in an old car is there?”
She smiles but it’s more like she’s sad. “No son. I’m just trying to figure out your situation. Do you have any family?”
I shake my head, no. “Orphan.”
“Not even a mother?”
“I got a lady who cares for me but I’m not really sure if she’s my mom.” That’s a line of crap. But in a way, I’ve always dreamed my real mother was abducted by aliens and my mom is some stranger who found me by the roadside.
“Well, if you agree, you can stay with Mr. Gregory and work for his store. There’s a room in the back but if you steal, we’ll put you away for good.”
“I’m not a thief. I was just hungry and like I said, they was throwing the stinky stuff away. I just got to it a little early.”
I haven’t seen Mr. Gregory since he called the cops. Now, he’s in this old brown suit when he steps up and talks to the judge. Then, he shakes my hand like we were equals, me not a kid.
“I’m Stan Gregory. I need someone to help out in my store. You think you might like to do that?”
“Do I get paid?”
“Not a lot. But yeah, some.”
“Jack?” Grayson’s voice kicks me out of the past as he walks me into the FBI building.
The Deputy Director comes out, shakes hands with Gray, then leads me into a small room. There’s a mirror on one wall, a camera facing me, and some kind of microphone built into the table.
Again, I wait. With nothing more to do, I close my eyes and remember…
Three months later, I was stocking shelves in the canned goods section when my mother enters from out of the blue.
Jack II Page 10
