Despite the privacy breach, the man was a bit of a D.C. legend. If you had a problem, you called him. He made things happen and troubles disappear. And as far as Becca knew, he was Jarrett’s only true friend other than Wade.
Right now, Bast was also the only other person in the room. “How long do you think he’ll leave us alone?” she asked.
“Knowing Jarrett, as short a time as possible.” Bast pulled files out of the box he brought with him and separated them into piles. “He didn’t look too happy to get that business call and have to step out.”
She scanned the stacks, trying to figure out what sort of filing system Bast was using. “He mentioned something about two members being locked in a business battle to the death over a private party that’s supposed to be held in one of the private rooms next week.”
“Idiots.” Bast put a hand on top of the pile closest to him. “So, the privileged stuff and confidential agreement are off-limits, but here are the background files—”
“Agreement?”
“I thought you knew.”
She had no idea what she was supposed to have known. “Obviously not.”
Bast leaned back in the oversized black leather chair. “We needed leverage to keep Jarrett from losing everything.”
Something she always suspected. You didn’t walk away from a CIA-engineered prison sentence without putting up something the CIA wanted as collateral. “And what was the leverage?”
“Maybe you’re unclear on what the word ‘confidential’ means.”
From any other guy the comment would have come off on the wrong side of the jackass meter, but Bast could deliver a takedown in a voice so smooth the victim would be smiling. When she realized she was, she stopped. “Whatever they wanted is likely at the center of why he was targeted in the first place.”
“What were you told?” Bast turned his pen end-over-end as he talked. “I’m assuming not much.”
“Only that he had contacts with foreign nationals who are or were club members and he had collected certain information that could be vital to the security of the United States.” She repeated the operation objective almost verbatim. “The job involved surveillance, routine searches, total infiltration of Jarrett’s operation.”
“You know you just used a lot of words and said nothing.”
Clearly Bast wasn’t impressed with her memory, but he had to understand her limitations as well. It wouldn’t do her much good to avoid being shot only to pick up an espionage charge. “You’re not the only one with confidentiality restrictions.”
“I notice you didn’t mention the drugs.”
Funny how a talk about Jarrett always came back to that topic. Thinking about the charges even a few days ago had the power to drop her to the ground. She closed her eyes and called up the image of the evidence against him, and something deep inside her cracked open.
But the pieces no longer fit together as cleanly as they once did. She just accepted before. With her heart shredded and her belief in her instincts destroyed, she bought into the tale she was told. Now, with the story about his mother and watching him day after day, where his worst sin was coffee overindulgence, she doubted everything she’d ever been told.
Rather than let her emotions unwind in front of Bast, she stuck with the facts. “As you know, domestic drug running is generally outside of the CIA’s purview. The briefing on this operation referenced the drugs as a way Jarrett kept a hold over some of the members.”
Careful and deliberate, Bast set the pen down on the table. The click sounded louder than it should have, as if he’d exercised his control to keep from slamming it down and didn’t quite succeed. “He’s never used drugs in his life.”
Once the words were out there, she grabbed onto them. She turned them over in her mind and they made sense. Sounded right and true. “That’s a pretty strong statement.”
“I’ve know the man for a decade.”
But still, she had to be sure. The drugs charge was the one block that, if removed, could bring everything else tumbling down. “People hide things. Functional alcoholics. Recreational drugs.”
“No way.” He tapped his fingers against the hard tabletop.
“I saw them here. In the club and his condo.”
“Planted.”
His unwavering confidence was hard to ignore. “That’s what Jarrett says.”
Bast’s frown eased and now he sized her up, searching her face with his gaze. “Interesting.”
The whole assessing thing made her jumpy. “What?”
“I think you’re questioning the truth of the charges now, too.”
She thought about denying it but couldn’t think of a reason to. She spent her life analyzing high-intensity situations and reacting. She worked on gut and instinct. She relied on both now. “It never fit. As Jarrett has pointed out, the timing was convenient since the op wasn’t uncovering anything and could have been shut down.”
“Instead, drugs magically appeared.”
“I’m assuming that was part of your argument to free Jarrett.”
“Yes, but not the winning one.”
This. She’d been waiting for this. “Are you gonna fill me in?”
“Your bosses wanted the information Jarrett had collected on some troublesome members and figured out the easiest way to get it was to destroy Jarrett and make him hand it over as he begged for mercy.”
She couldn’t imagine him doing any of that, but if she could match the member to a case, she’d know who at the top needed the information—Natalie, Todd or someone else. “And the specific information?”
Bast shook his head. “Ask Jarrett.”
Right, because it was that easy.
She sat up and curled a leg under her butt. “He’s not exactly an open book.”
Bast closed one eye and shook his head from side to side as if he were thinking the comment over. “Also interesting.”
“You’re making me hate that word.”
“Professional hazard.”
She skipped through the dramatics right to the issue on her mind. “You don’t like me very much.”
Bast almost talked over her. “I worry about the hold you have over him.”
“He can kick me out at any time.” She held out her arms and scanned the room. She hadn’t seen anything that could hurt him. Weird how that was the case since he had the absolute power to wreck her.
“I think we both know that’s not going to happen.”
She shifted her chair from side to side as she sized up her opponent. He was supposed to be the best and she didn’t like to lose. It was a potentially lethal combination. She thought about backing down and holding her plans in, but Bast might be the one person who could help.
For days, ever since she walked into Jarrett’s bedroom and saw parts of her old life still hanging there, her priorities had changed. She’d brought him to his knees, and maybe the charges were true and he deserved the devastation, but somewhere deep inside she sensed that wasn’t the case. He might not be innocent of everything, but the drug charges—the very reason she turned on him—appeared to be nothing more than the CIA working an angle to get what it wanted. The idea she played a role in that made her stomach heave. Made her question every professional move she’d made.
But maybe she could make amends in some small way. “If I told you I don’t want anything bad to happen to him—”
“You better not.”
For some reason the quick defense satisfied her. Never mind it came wrapped in a threat. “While I’m busy trying to stay alive, I plan on clearing his name.”
Bast’s eyebrow lifted. “I could point out that’s my job.”
“In part.”
“Jarrett already made concessions, did things he didn’t want to do, to buy his freedom.”
“There’s a difference betwe
en being free and being absolved.” Right now she was neither and craved both. “And we both know the CIA will come back around if it thinks it can squeeze more information out of Jarrett.”
“We have protections in place.”
“So did I, and then someone tried to burn down my home with me in it.”
“I heard.” The chair creaked as Bast rocked back. “Does Jarrett know your intention?”
He’d probably tell her he didn’t need her or say some other dismissive thing that ripped her in two. She decided not to give him a choice. “No.”
“Any particular reason you’re not sharing?”
None that she planned to say. “We have trust issues.”
“I figured that much. Can’t say I’m sorry to hear he’s on guard this time around.”
Anxiety spun through her at the thought of someone knowing her private business. She dug around to see how much. “The two of you are close.”
“I’d guess I’m the person who is closest to him.” Bast reached into the box and pulled out one last file. The box thudded against the floor a second later. “But that could change.”
“What does that mean?”
“Someone could take my place.” Bast shrugged. “Maybe you.”
The anxiety ran out of her as quickly as it had stormed in. For the first time, she gave words to the need crashing through her and admitted it to herself. “Maybe.”
SEVENTEEN
The next afternoon Jarrett took a break from reviewing club membership applications and stepped on the elevator. He needed to head upstairs for a few minutes to warn Becca about some household maintenance issues. Listening to the thud as the doors closed, he realized if he got her a cell he could avoid the number of trips upstairs during the day. Today he held himself to two, but it was early yet, only one in the afternoon.
But this trip had a real purpose. He repeated that as he pushed the number three button and rode in silence. He wanted to let Becca know he’d taken the cleaning crew off standby. The condo was about to run out of towels and he’d changed the sheets twice, which was two times more than he ever did. She’d handled the general pickup, but he was a guy used to pristine surroundings and the crew was on the payroll, so they’d juggle their lives for a few hours tomorrow to let the crew in.
She could work in the second-floor conference room. That meant keeping Elijah in his cage. Or it would if Jarrett had been smart enough to build the other man one. As it was, Elijah had to stay out of the hall and out of sight. Jarrett didn’t relish that conversation. Between that and Natalie’s deadline, Jarrett’s life was filled with many unpleasant tasks lately.
When the elevator dinged, Jarrett stepped off and unlocked his door. He made it two steps inside before feeling left his legs. The door banged closed behind him, but he barely heard it over the rush of blood through his veins.
Becca leaned against the doorway to his bedroom and the den. She wore one of his white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons open. The position showed off a long sliver of sexy bare skin.
“Why are you standing there?” He hoped the answer had something to do with wrapping her legs around him, but he’d wait and see.
“I saw you on the security monitors and knew you were coming upstairs. I thought I’d wait for you.”
“You do provide an interesting welcome.”
Fuck the phone. He would rather get a look at this a few times a day than read one of her texts.
“You’re not going to complain about me wearing your shirt again?”
“Not when you look like that in it and it’s almost off.” After all, he wasn’t a complete dumbass. He’d learned a thing or two over the last nine days.
She smoothed her hand down the edge and over the buttons. “Well, I’m not sure why I’m still wearing it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yesterday you made me a special promise but never followed through.”
He was too busy looking at her to follow the conversation. “About?”
She slid a hand up the doorframe, making her shirt drape open even more. “Tying me up.”
Three little words and a heaviness settled in his lower half. In the space from one breath to another, his cock revved up for action. This woman took all his good intentions about separating his mind from his body, about concentrating on work, and flushed them away.
“We did have sex on the couch after your meeting with Bast.” Jarrett remembered every damn second of it. “And then again last night.”
“True but that’s not the same thing, now is it?” She pushed away from the door and stood up straight. The shirt fell off one shoulder, exposing the most tempting bit of skin.
“The cleaning crew is coming.”
Her eyebrow inched up. “Now?”
He’d be damned if she could even tell time at the moment. “Soon.”
“Cancel.”
He didn’t even question her order. He dialed the number and moved the visit to another day. Then he looked up and saw her staring. He almost swallowed his damn tongue. “Now, what were you proposing?”
“We go in there,” she tipped her head toward the area behind her, “and find your ties. About time those saw some action for something other than balancing out your pretty dark suits.”
“My bedroom.”
She didn’t show any reaction as his voice got louder. “Yes.”
“Why?” But he knew. The days-long power play had long since shifted to her favor. He let her in intending to use sex as a weapon. He was the one who got shot.
“There’s the obvious reason about how you have posts on your headboard. Those come in handy when using the ties. The guest room doesn’t have that feature.”
He couldn’t believe he was going to get beaten by his choice in furniture. “And that’s all this is about?”
“I can see you’re turning the idea of me in your bed over in your mind and not liking the suggestion.” She made a tsk-tsking sound and stepped away, keeping one hand on the doorjamb. “So paranoid.”
From experience, he had reason to be. “I wonder if I’m being outmaneuvered.”
“What do you think my endgame is?” She let go of the trim and stood behind the couch.
The look, from those firm breasts to the sexy smile on her lips, reeled him in. He couldn’t remember why he got on the elevator in the first place. And fucking did not care.
The game she played was a dangerous one. Made him think about the positions they’d tried and the ones left on his wish list. “You tell me.”
“My safety.”
“That’s fair.”
“Maybe some revenge.”
Seemed to him she deserved to exercise a bit of that. “I’m a fan of that, so long as it’s not aimed at me.”
“Not even a little.”
Unable to stand still for another second, he walked across the room to her. “That’s good.”
“And some truth.”
His steps stumbled, but he tried to hide it. “You lost me on that one.”
She leaned against the back of the couch and her fingers absently toyed with the soft fringe of a throw pillow. “What if I said I only told you half the story about why I almost broke cover months ago?”
He stopped in front of her. He would have reached out, but that question had him holding back. Also splashed a full bucket of cold water over his dick.
If this was the part where she admitted to making the call to bring him in, he would . . . actually, he had no idea what the hell he would do. In the back of his mind he assumed Elijah’s comment about her going to Todd meant she pulled the trigger on the operation at the club. That she actually planned to have him grabbed while she was in the middle of giving him a blowjob, just to add to the shittiness of the moment.
With a flash of clarity Jarrett understood one thing—he
didn’t want to know every detail about her role in his arrest. He could let the truth sit there, unheard and never spoken from her mouth. That might be the only way to survive what happened long enough to put this piece aside and enjoy her now.
But the bigger question was why she wanted him to know. After all this time, why the seduction followed by the verbal bomb drop?
Before he could ask, she gave him the answer. “You deserve the truth.”
Forgetting the type of man he was and how he valued information, he’d rather pretend not to know this part. “Look, Becca, I’ve had about enough of—”
“I wanted to break cover. Me. Not the office, not my bosses. Certainly not Todd.” She put her hand on Jarrett’s chest with a soft touch. “I walked into Todd’s office and told him to pull the plug and leave you alone.”
The words bounced around his head but refused to make sense. “Why?”
“I risked my job and talked to Todd because I wanted out of the lies, out of conning you, of pretending I was something I wasn’t. I needed it all to end.”
None of this was what Jarrett expected. Here he thought she’d come clean and lay her guilt on his shoulders. But this was something else.
He forced his arms to remain at his sides. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I went to Todd and told him I couldn’t do it. That you were innocent.”
Jarrett had never heard her use that word in reference to anyone. “Because you didn’t find the drugs after looking all over my building for them.”
“No.”
“That’s what you said.”
Her other hand slipped up his chest and over his shoulder to find a place at the back of his neck. The move brought her body in close to his. The scent of her shampoo, of her body, spun around him.
She pinned him with a look of fierce determination. “I thought the man I was falling for deserved to know who was in his bed. That’s why I wanted out eight months ago. I wanted to come clean and tell you everything. Warn you.”
Mercy Page 18
