by Lydia Burke
"Who do you think told Mai about her?"
Ben shook his head. "I don't know, and Mai didn't say. She must have considered her source reliable, though, because she sounded certain that her information was good."
Jessie considered that and asked hopefully, "Was that all the information she had—that Angela West was a reporter? Did she mention Ailie's real name? Maybe they don't know—"
"We have to assume they know exactly who your sister is," Ben said gently. "Even if they don't, Ed heard enough to know she's in trouble. That's why he called me as soon as he could reach me, and I rushed over to warn her. You know the rest."
What Jessie knew frightened her. More than once he had alluded to the possibility that Allie could get killed. "Ben? Do you really think they want to murder Allie?"
"I shouldn't have said that, Jessie, and you shouldn't think it." His voice was harsh. "It doesn't do any good."
She swallowed. "I'm trying not to worry, but under the circumstances—"
"I know. But there are good reasons to be optimistic."
"It's just that Allie and I have always been so close. Twins are, you know. There have even been times when one or the other of us just knew what the other was feeling, even when we weren't together."
"It would be helpful if you had one of those feelings now."
Jessie brightened. "I don't. That's good, isn't it? Surely I would know if something had happened to her." A great weight seemed to leave her shoulders, making her feel almost lightheaded. "Thank you, Ben. I needed that reminder."
For a minute Ben looked doubtful. Maybe he didn't want to get her hopes up on so flimsy a basis. But Jessie didn't care. For the moment she could relax.
"Do you have a family, Ben?"
She was thinking of brothers and sisters when she asked the question, but the greater implications struck her an instant after the words left her mouth, especially when Ben didn't answer immediately. Until now, she hadn't considered that he might have a wife, or even children.
To her relief, he shook his head. "Just my parents. They're retired and living in Arizona."
"So far away," she mused. "My mother moved, too, a year after my dad died. She couldn't take the hard winters anymore. Now she lives in Florida."
"Thaf s why my parents chose the Southwest."
"I tried to get Allie to stay in Chicago with me, but she wouldn't listen. Her new job and everything..." Without warning, the worry hit her again. Jessie wondered how much she could rely on her intuition to be sure Allie was all right.
"Don't, Jessie."
She looked at Ben helplessly. "I feel as though I should be doing something."
He sat quietly for several seconds, his eyes brooding. 'Tin not good at this. I don't know any words to make things easier for you."
Jessie saw a shadow of private pain in his face, pain that she felt intuitively had been triggered by her fears for Allie. Could he be remembering a similar experience from his past? She almost asked, but decided she hadn't known him long enough to pry into his background. He probably wouldn't allow it, anyway.
Responding to an unexpiainable need to comfort him, she said, "I'm just grateful you're here. I don't think I could stand this if I were alone."
Ben caught her gaze and held it. 'Til have to get bad: to the job soon, but I'll stay with you as long as I can."
"Thank you," she whispered.
Neither of them looked away. Imprudently, perhaps, Jessie wished she was sitting closer to him. She wanted to touch him, to connect with more than just words. The moment stretched between them, charged with emotion. Tension swirled and grew in the space separating them, the memories of all they had shared in the past hours outlining its intensity with sexual overtones.
Finally Ben tore his eyes away and raked his fingers through his hair. Jessie watched him, feeling oddly limp, as though a current had been turned off, releasing her body from a powerful magnetic force. He glanced at his watch and then back at Jessie. Suddenly shy, she dropped her eyes and began to fiddle with a loose nub on her sweater.
"Don't take this wrong, Jessie, but I'm going to make a suggestion."
Jessie raised her head.
"We both need sleep, and Ed won't be here for a couple of hours, at least. Why don't you take a nap in the bedroom, and I'll sack out here on the couch until he comes?"
She saw signs of fatigue in his rugged features and remembered he' d said he hadn' t gotten any sleep for more than a day.
"You need the rest more than I do, and you're bigger than me, too. You take the bed and I'll stay out here."
"No."
"Really," she insisted. "You'll be more comfortable. The couch looks too short for—"
"Jessie."
She stopped at his soft, warning utterance of her name. Oh, brother. He was back to being difficult again. In a way it was a relief to find familiar ground after the intense awareness of the past few minutes. Jessie was tempted to argue with him some more, but decided it wasn't worth it. If the furniture in here was any indication, the bed wouldn't be much improvement over the couch, anyway.
"All right, if that's the way you want it." She pointed to a partially open door across the room. "There?"
Ben nodded. Jessie rose and felt his gaze follow her to the bedroom. She paused at the door. "Is Ben your real name?"
"Yeah. Ben Sutton."
"Ben Sutton," she murmured as she pushed the door wide. She took a step inside the bedroom, glanced around and stepped back into the open doorway. "Hey, there are two beds in here. We can each have one."
There was an electric moment of absolute stillness.
"You're playing with fire, princess," Ben said. "My self-control is a chancy thing right now, and you're looking damned good to me standing there in that cuddly sweater and skinny jeans. So I'd advise you to get your sweet self inside that bedroom and close the door behind you."
The quietly spoken threat sent a thrill of excitement flirting along Jessie's nerve endings. For a heart-stopping moment she let herself imagine how it would be if he joined her on the other side of this door.
But he was right. A safe distance between them was the best thing right now. She should be grateful that he was keeping a rein on their attraction—she was grateful. Really.
Slowly Jessie turned and walked into the bedroom. And closed the door behind her.
Chapter 4
jDen didn't relax until he heard the latch click into place. He released the breath he'd been holding and dropped his head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling. Exhaustion burned his eyes. Even so, he had a feeling it was going to take some time before he could sleep.
If only all he had to worry about was this possibly shot-to-hell investigation. That would be routine, even with the complications Allie had introduced. After all, no case he'd ever worked had gone totally as outlined. He didn't even expect that anymore, no matter how sound the plan.
Ben was a strategist by nature who achieved his greatest satisfaction when people and events fell in line with what he'd mapped out for than. But it was an imperfect world, and he was used to having to switch gears any number of times before ieaching his goal. It wasn't the process of getting there that was important; it was the goal itself.
His goal was a simple one: Get the bastards.
It was his personal crusade and had been for eleven years, ever since his little sister, Maddie, had become a casualty of drug traffickers. The names and faces changed, but the goal
remained. Get the bastards. Ben would not be deterred, nothing could distract him from his purpose.
Until now.
On the phone earlier, he and Ed had plotted their next steps in the case, taking into consideration the possible ramifications of Allie's blundering. In some measure, devising a strategy had settled Ben's need for control of the situation. They had a plan. He should fed focused now, on top of things, in charge.
But he didn't. And the reason was right here in this cabin. The one wild card he and Ed hadn't fac
tored in was Jessie.
Oh, Ben had mentioned her, but he'd necessarily left out a few details. He hadn't said that he already knew the sweet weight of her breast in his hand or that her kiss damned near turned him inside out. He could just imagine what Ed would say to that.
If Jessie were another kind of woman, he thought, he might be tempted to take her to bed and be done with it. But he sensed her caution and respected it. After all, despite their uncommon attraction, they'd met only hours ago.
That wasn't the only thing holding him back. For some reason, she made him fed uneasy. If it were only her physical assets that drew him, then AUie, her look-alike, would have turned him on. But there was something special about Jessie that set her apart from her twin and called to Ben's most elemental urges. Even when she was giving him a hard time, it was there, humming between them.
Jessie was aware of it, too, he was sure. A minute ago she'd actually considered inviting him into the bedroom for more than a nap. Ben grimaced as he put his hand over the nagging ache behind his zipper and pressed hard. His groin had tightened while he watched her think it over and hadn't relaxed yet.
Hell, this was ridiculous. He should lie down; maybe then sleep would come. He started to push the two jackets beside him off the couch, then reconsidered and let only his own fall to the floor. Jessie's down-filled parka he bundled into a makeshift pillow. Wearily he stretched out on his back, with his feet propped on the hard arm of the sofa, and shoved the parka under his head. Immediately traces of Jessie's perfume tugged at his nostrils. He turned his head and breathed in deeply.
The truth was, Ben hadn't been so tempted by a woman in a long time, maybe never before. And that was the hell of it. Because his job came first, and the last thing he needed right now was a woman who could mess up his concentration. Somehow he had to keep his hands off her until he could send her home. In Oak Park, she'd be out of reach of his hands and all his other randy body parts, as well.
Maybe when this operation was over and he returned to Chicago, he could call her up and see whether the attraction was still as potent. Maybe he'd even take some of the vacation time he'd been accruing so he could give her his undivided attention for awhile. Two weeks or so with nothing to concentrate on but Jessie was an appealing prospect. Especially if he seduced her quickly and kept her in bed.
He had no doubt he could do just that. Oh, she might try to take things slow, but that wouldn't last long if he pressed her. Their kiss back there in the car had begun in spitting challenge but had ended with sweet, acquiescent female oozing like honey on a pancake all over the top of him. He'd never gotten so hard so fast in all his life.
No, any resistance she put up would be token. And the next time he got that close to her, he wouldn't be bound by a promise not to touch. If he'd been free to put his hands on her the first time, she would have been his for the taking already. Not that he could do anything about it, with this case hanging over his head. But when it was over...
Yeah, two weeks in bed with her—three at the outside—and this itch would be thoroughly scratched. In return, he'd see to it that she had the best time between the sheets she'd ever had. They'd both be smiling when it was over.
Then Ben could get back to work.
Oh, yes, he would definitely look her up when he got back to the city.
Ben smiled and carried that pleasurable expectation into his dreams.
It was midmorning when Mai's lover unlocked the door to her apartment over Club Duan with his own key. He knew where to find her. He strode to the bedroom and woke her.
With a cry of welcome, Mai pulled him down and embraced him tearfully. She didn't ask why he was here in Port Mangus instead of vacationing in Pennsylvania with his wife and family. All she cared about was that now she wouldn't have to face her terrible trouble alone.
Immediately she began pouring out in her careful English all that had happened since she'd last seen him. From him there was no need to hide anything, and she told it all—that Angela West was a reporter; that the journal was gone, almost certainly stolen; that her men had failed to get rid of the bitch who had taken it.
"When they entered her bedroom, she had already left through a window, probably to contact the police. So they had to leave."
Masculine lips curled in a sneer. "likely they didn't have the stomach for the job. Those two are small-time punks, not killers."
Mai saw the coldness in his eyes. Uncertainly she said, "You are right, of course. Tell me what to do."
"Your problems are bigger than you think, baby. You've not only got a reporter on your payroll—you've got a cop. He's one of your bouncers. I don't know what he's calling himself these days, but his name is Ben Sutton. Chances are your Angela West has already passed the journal over to him. It may already be too late to keep anyone else from seeing it."
"What? But how... who—?"
"It doesn't matter anymore, at least to you, Mai."
"What do you mean? Of course, it matters. We must do something to protect my business."
"You've already done too much by writing everything down in that journal. The man in Chicago isn't going to be pleased when he finds out about it."
"But... it was you who told me to keep it. It was our 'ace in the hole,' you said, in case he one day decided we were expendable."
The hard gaze he fixed on her grew colder. "I also told you to keep it in a safe place. Now, because of your carelessness, if s fallen into the wrong hands. If the feds in Chicago don't already know about it, they soon will." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "The man was already upset over having a
reporter and now a cop snooping around at the club. When I tell him about this.. ."
Mai gasped. "You would not tell him. He will kill us!"
"Us? You've got that wrong, Mai. I had nothing to do with that journal."
"You did. It was your idea."
"Nobody knows that but you, sweetheart."
Mai stared at the gun in his hand, first in disbelief, then in resignation.
"It's a shame, too. We've had some good times together." He got to his feet, keeping the gun trained steadily between her eyes. "Get up. We've got to go now."
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice was dull with the knowledge of his treason.
"Well, let's see. How about a nice boat ride? We can pretend I'm a client and you're one of the hookers. It'll be cold out there on the open water today, but you Saigon sweeties know how to warm up a man, don't you? I think I'd like that, Mai. Once more for old times' sake."
All the boats were dry-docked for the winter, but Mai didn't argue. Rising from the bed without protest, she preceded him out to his light-colored rental car in the back lot. He was right. It did not matter what he did to her; nothing mattered anymore. She had already withdrawn to that place inside where nothing—not rape, not the screams of bleeding, dying children, not even the betrayal of a lover—could touch her.
"Wake up, Jessie. Ed's here."
Jessie opened her eyes and frowned at the door. For a moment she felt disoriented in her unfamiliar surroundings, but memory came seeping in with Ben's second knock.
"Come on, Jess. Up and at 'em. We need you out here."
She yawned, stretched sumptuously on the unexpectedly comfortable bed and sat up, feeling fuzzy with sleep.
"Jess!"
"I'm awake," she called back.
"Shake a lpg, will you? There's something I want you to hear."
"Mein Fiihrer," she muttered under her breath. Ben was obviously back to his normal autocratic self after his nap.
"What?"
"I'm awake, I said!"
She yawned again and stood up, surprised that she'd been able to sleep. She felt hot and grubby from lying in the warm sweater and snug jeans. Reaching under the sweater, she adjusted the band of her bra, which had bitten cruelly into her flesh.
Vaguely wondering what time it was, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and ran her fingers through her disheveled curls. When sh
e kept getting caught on snarls, she gave it up as a lost cause. Certain now that she resembled a well-used mop at best, Jessie made a conscious decision to ignore the mirror over the dresser. There was nothing she could do about her appearance, anyway, so why make herself fed worse?
What she came out of the bedroom she noticed Ben had shaved and combed his hair. He was sitting on the edge of the couch fiddling with what appeared to be a small portable tape recorder, looking wide-awake and refreshed.
Figures, she thought. He's the one who sleeps on the bed of nails, and I'm the one who feels like a flat tire.
Beside Ben was a slender, middle-aged man with receding gray hair who could only be Ed. Both men looked up at her entrance, and Ed came to his feet. It was Ben's eye that Jessie sought, however.
"Jessie, this is Ed Brock," Ben said. "Ed, this is Jessie ... is it Webster, like your sister?" Jessie searched his gaze. His eyes were those of a polite stranger with a faintly questioning look on his face. She sighed inwardly. All right. It was disappointing, but if he wanted to pretend those few moments of emotional susceptibility earlier hadn't happened, she'd oblige him.
"Yes. Didn't I mention that?" She turned to Ed and held out her hand. "Please call me Jessie, Mr. Brock. Or is it Agent Brock?"
"For you I answer to Ed," he replied with a smile that barely turned up the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he didn't smile often, Jessie thought. He seemed a little rusty.
Everything on Ed's face seemed to sag downward, from the bags undo: his eyes to his prominent earlobes to the lines around his nose and mouth. Even his eyelids drooped, though the eyes under them were bright and alert. He was less muscu-
lar than Ben, but still looked lean and fit in his neatly tucked striped shirt and belted corduroy pants.
"Hell of a way to spend Thanksgiving, isn't it?" he added conversationally. "Welcome to the world of law enforcement/'
