Jack brought one of her blouse sleeves to his face and inhaled again. He missed her scent. Hell, he missed her. Regret clawed at his insides. Give him death-defying odds, danger around every corner, and Jack was in his element. Ask him to trust his heart to a woman and he ran like a dog whose tail was on fire.
He grabbed the boxes and pulled them out from behind her hanging clothes in the closet. They were taped shut, and weren’t easy to open, so before he knew it, the cardboard was in shreds at his feet. Suits, shirts, ties, all his clothes were there, neatly folded with tissue paper to prevent creasing. It made him pause for a moment to wonder why she’d bothered to save his stuff, and to take such care of them.
“Damn, Jack.”
He turned, and saw Hannah standing in the bathroom doorway. She was in a white terry cloth robe, a yellow towel wrapped around her hair, and was staring at him.
“What?” He knew what, of course, and it made him smile. He was naked as a jaybird.
Hannah scowled, took the towel off her hair and threw it at him with enough force to land at his feet. Not a small feat, considering he was at least ten feet away. He suspected her angst was more about being caught checking him out, than that he was naked.
“You never did have a modest bone in your body,” she said, clearly struggling to keep her gaze above his waist.
Jack was growing hard. “You never complained before.” He walked toward her, enjoying her blush as she stepped to the side, allowing him to pass. Their fingers brushed, surprising him enough to pause. Hannah kept her gaze averted, but didn’t protest or move away when he took her hand.
Earlier, in the lieutenant’s office, and then in the interrogation room, he’d touched her because he couldn’t help himself. And he suspected neither could she. He’d been fantasizing about making love to Hannah since he’d left her, so it was a no brainer for him to long for her kisses, but until now, it didn’t occur to him to wonder why Hannah had kissed him back. She was the one who’d instigated the sex in the lieutenant’s office. Why? Hannah had never been casual about anything, least of all sex. He found it hard to believe she was now.
Her behavior confused him, especially since she was clearly pissed. Because he’d died on her, or because he’d lived?
Hannah was statue-still, breathing shallowly, as if she couldn’t catch her breath, and he was fully aroused. She had to know that, and had to know that with one glance, one arch of her brow, he’d bury himself deep inside her and not come out until they were both blind with ecstasy.
She had to know that, yet…said nothing. No glance. No arch of her brow.
So why wasn’t she walking away? Should he touch her, nudge her over the edge of reason and into his arms? Maybe if he loosened her robe’s belt, she might allow him to touch her, make love to her. Would she kiss him back, or slap him down, scornfully dismissing his need for her? He wasn’t sure. He never was with Hannah.
“Jack.” She blinked a few times, and then met his gaze. He saw confusion there that matched his own. Then her hands went to the lapels of her robe, clutching it closed.
Her body language was at odds with what he saw in her eyes. She wanted him back, and his body was taut with need, demanding he grab her and convince her that she wanted him just as much. His lips parted as he thought of how she’d taste, how he’d feel when she touched him back. She licked her lips. He leaned toward her, intent on tasting them.
“You smell.” She swallowed hard.
He blinked. “Yeah.” She was right. He smelled of the harbor. Stepping into the bathroom, he shut the door, shutting her out. He told himself it was for the best, that he’d dodged this latest chance to screw things up with Hannah, but he knew he was lying. His body was aroused to a painful degree, and he was in hell. A Hannah-smelling hell.
It took a few moments for his vision to focus on his surroundings. The room was devoid of anything male. Flowery, feminine bath products were propped against the tile rimming the tub, supporting his hunch that Hannah hadn’t devoted a drawer to another guy. Not yet, anyway. There was no Axe bodywash or second toothbrush in the holder, and that made him happy.
He stepped into the tub, tugged the floral shower curtain closed, and picked up the least girly shampoo, envisioning the fair amount of shit he’d shoulder when he arrived at the precinct smelling like Johnson’s Baby shampoo. He lifted the bottle to his nose and inhaled, shrugging. It smelled good, so the hell with it. He turned the shower on and set the temperature to ice cold, needing to multitask. A hard-on with Hannah pissed was just looking for trouble.
It took him ten minutes to achieve that cold, calm state of mind necessary to defend himself from all that was Hannah. Waterlogged, he found her in the eat-in kitchen drinking coffee with a half-eaten ham and cheese in front of her. She’d put on a pot, so he poured himself a cup and sat. She pushed a plated tuna fish sandwich in front of him. His favorite.
“We need to talk.” She popped a chip in her mouth.
Understatement of the year. He took a bite of sandwich. “I’m starving. Thanks.”
“I was upset earlier, acted unprofessional.”
“Which time?” He glanced at his watch. He’d resurfaced in her life only this morning, yet it felt like forever ago.
“I shouldn’t have attempted to knee you in the groin,” she said.
“Oh. That.” She hadn’t tried very hard.
“There are extenuating circumstances,” she said, “but that’s no excuse. My behavior was unprofessional and I appreciate you being a sport about it.” She held up her hand to stop his attempt to interrupt. “I have a lot going on.”
“I’d say that’s an understatement.” He could list on both hands the amount of shit she’d had to deal with just today alone. Add whatever had been going on this last year with her change of jobs, and the move, and he was positive it was a gross understatement. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Hang around here for a while.”
She studied him, not giving him a hint of her thoughts. “When you showed up, Jack, I was doing fine.”
“No. You weren’t. I’m here because you’re being threatened. In no way does that mesh with fine.”
“I’ve spent the last seven years proving myself within the bureau. I can handle this. I don’t need you to save me. I never have. And no, I’m not taking the rest of the day off.”
Hannah didn’t want his advice, and she wanted him gone. Big surprise. Well, she broke their deal, so it was time to play hardball. “I gave you a choice. Protective custody or—”
“You gave me an ultimatum. A babysitter, or exile. Neither is necessary. You have to stop acting as if you’re my hero. You’re not. You’re someone I used to know.”
Bullshit, he thought. He’d caught her looking at his ass. They’d had sex. “It’s like that, huh?”
“Yeah. It has to be. This is my career we’re talking about.”
He didn’t know what was going on in her head right now, but he had a sneaky suspicion it wasn’t what they were talking about. “We’re talking about your life. A bit more important than a job.”
“My career. I need to think beyond this case. When it’s over, what will I be left with? The reputation of being a victim, of needing you to solve my problems? No, thanks. I’m a big girl. I’m an agent. I need to be integral in catching this killer. I can’t be sidelined into protective custody.”
“Like I sidelined you as you boarded the yacht despite my direct order?”
“You never should have given the order, Jack. This was my case—”
“If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else replacing you.” She was reaching, and had to know that, so what the hell was this about? “I was right. You never should have boarded that yacht. Forensics should have gotten first crack at that room. They would have found the bomb, maybe even defused it. We almost died, and now countless man-hours will be spent gathering
evidence out of the harbor.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t think my lead was legit at the time. Given your druthers, we never would have looked at the yacht.” She leaned back in her chair, scowling. “And that’s not what this is about, anyway. Last night’s email is a lead. My lead. But you swoop in using the excuse that it was directed at me. Then you find a way to leak our past to my team. Undermining my authority. And on the yacht—”
“You’re living in a fantasy world.” He popped a chip in his mouth.
She threw her hands in the air. “You nearly drown, and I’m the one who’s seen as the basket case?”
Jack shook his head, totally confused. “I didn’t nearly drown. You just didn’t see me and freaked out.”
“Same thing.” She was scowling so hard that her face was red with it.
“No. It isn’t.” He saw an opening, so he took it. “What was that about, anyway?” Did she still have feelings for him? His heart pounded and it was easier to inhale than exhale, and suddenly he didn’t want to hear her answer.
Hannah dropped her gaze to the table as her expression shut down. “I thought you’d drowned, or was drowning. Was I not supposed to care? What would the team think of me if I allowed you to die on your first day?” She took a big bite of sandwich.
Jack smiled. She still had feelings for him. He could be dense, but not that dense. It made him want to put his cards on the table and ask her outright, but he wasn’t the same man who’d left. Walking away had the unexpected result of humbling the hell out of him. He’d spent this last year pretending he hadn’t just royally destroyed his life. Now, there was no denying it. He saw that his stubborn pride had cost him dearly, and that it was about fear, and his freaking childhood damage. How else could he explain leaving Hannah without even saying good-bye? All because of the possibility she was leaving him.
Hannah glared at her sandwich, not happy she still had feelings for him, he supposed, or maybe it was the grin he couldn’t seem to wipe from his face. Well, join the club, he thought. They had something, and neither seemed happy about it, or capable of doing anything the easy way. They cared. Jack was now a guy who cared.
“I meant it,” he said. “What I said earlier.”
She sipped soda and ate her chips. “And that was?”
“I didn’t think you’d care if I left.” He saw her anger flare. “I know for you it was died, but for me it was left. I’ve enough sins to carry without putting Goodwin’s on my shoulders. I was wrong to leave it to him to tell you. I’m sorry. Really, Hannah. It kills me to know what you were led to believe. It was…needlessly cruel.”
She kept her eyes on her plate, being miserly about revealing her emotions. “Like I said earlier, apology accepted. Let’s move on.” She sipped her soda again. “I really want to move on.”
“So why haven’t you?” Because she cared. That had to be it. Right? He ate his sandwich, worrying if he was wrong, and impatient to hear if she would lie to him. It’s what he’d do. He’d lie through his teeth to protect his heart. He’d done it in the past, and though it kept him from true happiness, it also kept him from having his heart ripped out.
Hannah leveled a stare at him that brought his wonderings up short. “I loved a man who died, and I’m not good with that. Not good at all.” She finished eating and put the plate and her empty glass in the sink. “Do me a favor and don’t treat me like a victim at work. It’s my career, my livelihood, but mostly, because I’m not a victim. I’m a survivor.” She picked up her keys, slipped her suit jacket on and headed out of the apartment. “Come on. We might as well get this over with.”
Jack guzzled his soda and grabbed his sandwich, finishing it as he followed her out. “Get what over with?” She ignored him and hustled downstairs. She stopped at the old lady’s door. Mrs. Branaghan?
“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait outside.” Jack continued down the hall toward the front door.
“No. I need to properly introduce you. I should have done it before, but—” She shook her head, blushing. “When I had the chance, I buckled. That was wrong. And this is important.”
The door opened and Mrs. Branaghan stood before them, seeming nervous. Jack wanted to leave, but Hannah grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into the living room. The baby was in a wicker carrier on the floor. That Natalie woman was nudging the drapes aside to peer outside. Her movements exposed her holstered Glock 22, standard bureau issue. An odd sort of stillness came over him.
“Hannah, who the hell is Natalie? Really.” Natalie turned to him and arched a brow. All attitude, this woman.
Hannah picked up the baby and approached him. “Ellen is yours. And mine. I was three months pregnant when you…left.”
Jack heard the words, but they didn’t compute. Pregnant. He thought back to her mood swings, her tears. He’d thought she’d wanted out.
His eyes landed on the baby. His baby. She had his eyes.
Jack forgot to breathe, took a step back and sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold.
He couldn’t be a father. He’d be a horrible father.
Chapter 9
Hannah watched as Jack went from scowling at Natalie to scowling at her. She reflexively pressed Ellen against her chest and kissed her soft hair. “Natalie is FBI. A friend. I asked her to watch Ellen while I worked this case. I mean, after I discovered I’d been targeted.” Jack’s scowl grew darker, and suddenly Hannah couldn’t stop talking. “No one knows about Ellen. Between moving from D.C., working from home, and my extended hospital stay and then maternity leave, only a few people in HR and the Special Agent in Charge know about her. I thought our last case together got you killed. I was afraid for the baby. I’ve been trying to keep her safe, Jack. I was afraid Murtagh would come looking for us.”
“Murtagh is dead,” Jack said. For a long moment, his words made no sense, and then the truth sunk in.
“Well, no one told me. No one tells me anything, apparently.”
“He didn’t kill me.” Jack seemed confused.
“Obviously.” Natalie snickered from her position at the window.
Hannah didn’t think Natalie was helping, and the tension in the room was beginning to upset the baby. “I have a serial killer on my tail, so Ellen still needs to remain a secret.” She turned to Mrs. Branaghan, looking for moral support, but the woman was frozen, staring at Jack. “You have to keep her secret, otherwise I won’t be able to continue working for the bureau. And I love my job. I’m good at it, dammit. Jack, for heaven’s sake, say something!”
Natalie turned her back on them, surveilling the front yard. “I think he’s incapable, Hannah. Maybe you should slap his face. Bring him to his senses.”
“I’ll do it.” Mrs. Branaghan’s three cats weaved their way around her calves.
“No one’s slapping anyone.” Jack cleared his throat, blinked a few times. “She’s mine. My baby.”
Hannah supposed she should be glad he wasn’t arguing the point. “She’s mine. You died.”
“Ouch,” Natalie said. The special agent had always been a phone call away from the beginning; when Hannah had discovered she was pregnant to Jack’s death. Natalie had a right to her opinion, but she wasn’t making this confrontation with Jack easier. Hannah was in the mood for easy.
Jack stared at Ellen. “Can I hold her? Ellen, right? Your grandmother’s name.”
His words triggered unwanted tears, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her arms were filled with Ellen, so they trailed down her cheeks. She held her daughter out to Jack. Ellen’s father. Then she prayed she wouldn’t collapse into a heap of ugly sobs.
This is what she’d always hoped for—Ellen knowing her father, him accepting her. Loving her. Hannah knew he was probably just curious, and that this fascination might ebb when Ellen became less cute, cried, or her diaper began to smell, so she cautioned herself not to expect much. That he k
new she existed was a first step. It was important to remember that commitment wasn’t Jack’s forte. She’d known it going into their relationship, even before their first date, but she’d been helpless to resist him then, and feared she was still helpless.
Jack took Ellen, holding her in front of his face, staring into her eyes. The father meeting the child. They both seemed fascinated by the other. Hannah had to turn her back on the sight. It was just too much. Mrs. Branaghan sniffling told her she was in good company.
Wiping her cheeks, she sat on the couch and waited for the inevitable questions, but Jack said nothing. He just held Ellen, silently, exchanging curious looks. The tableau would forever be etched in her mind.
“He’s smiling like an idiot,” Natalie said.
“Natalie, stop,” Hannah said. Jack looked…amazing.
“This is probably a bad time to bring this up,” Mrs. Branaghan said.
“I’d say it was the perfect time,” Natalie said. “Even I can’t handle this awkwardness, and they need to know.” She wrinkled her perfect nose in distaste. “Jack, your daughter is drooling on your suit.”
Jack laughed, making no effort to rectify that problem. He dropped a gentle kiss on Ellen’s forehead. “My daughter.” He shook his head, amazement his most notable emotion. “Poor kid.”
“Natalie, need to know what?” Hannah couldn’t keep her eyes off Jack and Ellen. He looked like he was already in love with her, and though she fully understood Ellen’s allure, she couldn’t suppress a twinge of jealousy. Jack wouldn’t have left her if he’d known about the pregnancy. That much had become abundantly clear. She told herself it didn’t matter, that she wanted a man who wanted her for herself, rather than the child she was pregnant with, but it still hurt. She hadn’t been enough to keep him.
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