by The Saint
So rather than cling to Jake, she redirected her regret over leaving, and so much more, and used that energy to slip out of bed without disturbing him. With feline agility she made her way through the dark bedroom, dodging every toe-stubbing obstacle in her path. The beautifully carved cat that crouched beneath her window. The antique trunk at the foot of her bed. The brick doorstop.
This morning, she thought with a smirk, was one time when being–what had Michael called her? Obsessive-compulsive?–had definitely paid off. Without turning on the light, she knew the precise location of everything she needed.
Her underwear had always been in the first dresser drawer. Bras and slips in the second.
Nightgowns and pajamas in the third. Blouses hung on the left side of the closet–arranged by sleeve length. Suits in the middle–sorted by color. Slacks to the right–dress pants, then jeans.
As Courtney grabbed her wheat-colored slacks, she called on every ounce of logic she possessed to convince herself that last night had not been the second biggest mistake of her life. After all, considering the job she was trying to do for Uncle Brian, sleeping with Jake wasn't exactly a separate issue. As hard to delineate as she wished it were, the fact remained that he worked for Templeton Enterprises.
Yes, she was determined to take down Dirk. Yes, Jake worked for Dirk. But maybe, just maybe, he wasn't involved in the business. Maybe he really was just a driver, nothing more. Determined not to delude herself because they had made love, she still stubbornly reasoned that a lot of good people–people like Sandy–worked for Templeton. Dear God, she prayed, for once let Jake be exactly what he appears. Nothing more. For all their sakes.
Pulling on the matching sweater, Courtney knew there wasn't enough time to delve further into the complexity of the situation. Regardless of the circumstances and despite the facts, deep down she knew, without a doubt, that finding Jake again was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time.
Last night Courtney hadn't been practical. Or logical. She'd simply listened to her heart. Surprisingly content, she grabbed her purse along with picking Jake's pocket for the keys to his Jeep. Unable to confide in him or explain where she was headed before daybreak, unlike Jake, she at least issued a silent apology and carefully eased the apartment door open, then closed it behind her without making a sound. From this point on, she only hoped he would not hate her for what she was about to do.
Traffic was sparse on the drive to Templeton Enterprises. By the time Courtney pulled into the parking deck, street lamps, like the early morning sky, were just beginning to pale. She parked by the service entrance she and Jake had exited yesterday, anxious to see if her makeshift chewing gum stopper had prevented the door from locking.
Unnerved by the echo of her flats on the concrete, the tomb-like silence that followed seemed far more deafening. Her shaky fingers wrapped around the cold metal knob, and she held her breath. One turn and…click…she was inside. Resembling a runner sprinting out of the blocks, she raced up two flights of metal steps and entered the hallway, quickly making her way to Dirk's office.
Like yesterday, she pulled her trusty, makeshift pick from her purse and jiggled her way inside in a matter of seconds. Unlike yesterday, she closed the door behind her and locked it. No interruptions, she vowed. Not this time.
With her strategy already in place, Courtney knew exactly what she had to do and precisely how to do it. Every bit as confident of success as she was aware of the time constraints, she headed straight for the main frame. Fingers flying over the keys, the sound of the rapid strokes ricocheted off the office walls like machine gun fire.
The plan she'd been forced to resort to was decidedly brilliant. Almost untraceable. However, should Leonard catch on before O’Shea received the information, every bit of evidence Wallis would unearth would point to Jake.
Her heart thudded dully against her ribs. God knows, she reasoned, if there had been any other way to secure this data, she would never have resorted to using the call forwarding capabilities on Jake's phone to camouflage the transfer. Since this concept would definitely work and she didn't have time to formulate an alternative, it was a chance she had to take. Unfortunately, Jake would have to unknowingly take the same risk right along with her.
Jeopardizing her own life was one thing, but implicating Jake–without his knowledge or his consent– was quite another. Could she have trusted him? She truly believed that she could. Should she have? Probably. Her only regret was that, just like six years ago, she had not been afforded the time to find out. Well, that, and the fact that he might never forgive her for not trusting him enough. Again.
With any luck, she rationalized, Templeton's head will be on O’Shea's platter before Leonard puts two and two together and comes up with anything less than five. Feeling smug, she finished up in what she guessed must have been record time and began the data transfer.
Perched on the edge of her seat, Courtney sat stone-faced and waited. This was exactly what she had been sent to do. This time, without interruption, she had successfully downloaded the information O’Shea needed. Now, in a race for time, she watched the red percentage bar ascend.
Seventy-five percent had been copied…
Eighty…
"Come on," she whispered to the monitor. Sweat prickled at the nape of her neck, trickling between her knotted shoulder blades as her haunting nightmare resurfaced right before her very eyes. Dark and sinister, it dared her to remember.
Footsteps in the hallway.
Hurry, Courtney pleaded silently, refusing to acknowledge the uncanny similarities between the dream and this moment. She couldn't reach her purse, so she shoved the makeshift pick into the large, potted plant next to the desk. Clasping both hands together, prayer-like and white knuckled, she did the only thing that was left to do. She waited.
Ninety percent complete…
The footsteps stopped outside her door.
The red bar inched to ninety-three…
Silence.
Enveloped in déjà vu, Courtney held her breath.
Ninety-five percent…
The knob turned.
Her heart stopped.
When the door opened and Jake walked in brandishing a key, not a gun, she did not know whether to laugh or cry. Until she took a good look at his thunderous expression …and her smile faded immediately.
"You're damned lucky, this office key was on a separate ring," he snarled. "You've got,"–he checked his watch–"ten minutes–tops. Dirk's car just pulled in downstairs."
Struggling not to care why Jake was helping her, Courtney checked the computer screen–one hundred percent complete. Yesss! she silently cheered. Thank God, she'd done it. The bad dream was finally over, and all she had to do now was leave. Her thoughts traveled full circle and returned to Jake, literally the only thing standing between her and the door. In so many ways.
"No problem." Courtney quickly shut down the main frame, then stood. "I'm done in here."
She eyed him suspiciously. After what they'd shared last night, why hadn't he questioned her? She had stolen his car and sneaked out before daybreak. Or at the very least, why hadn't he asked how she entered the building and what she was doing? But he hadn't. Instead of waiving his bruised male ego like a red flag or raking her over the coals for being in Dirk's office, Jake had warned her.
"Great." She'd done it! Jake’s voice remained even. His face masked the relief threatening to burst inside him. Years of training and experience enabled Jake to hold the explosive adrenaline rush in check. Pride and respect for Courtney jockeyed for position, but he reasoned there would be time for sentimental slop later. If they pulled this off. And if he didn't wring her gutsy, pretty little neck first. After the stunt she'd pulled this morning, the fact that he'd have done the exact same thing still didn't mean squat to him.
Waking up without her, however, had torn him apart. Yanking on his pants, he had raged. Searching for his shoes, he had ranted. Shirttail flying, tie flappin
g, he'd raced into the parking lot on a dead run only to find…Nothing.
No Courtney.
No keys.
No Jeep.
If O’Shea had not rushed Jake an undercover car, he would have walked, or crawled, all the way to Templeton Enterprises–if necessary. That was how much Courtney meant to him. How much she had
always meant to him. Looking at her this morning, how could he have left six years ago without telling her? Right now, his immediate concern had to be her safety. His job was to get her out of here. Far away. And fast. And judging the stubborn look on her face, that was not going to be easy. Courtney waited. Jake still hadn't asked her one thing. Well, for whatever unexplainable reason, he might not have any questions, but she had enough for both of them. "Aren't you the least bit curious how I got in here or what I'm doing?" She tapped her toe and added, "Before sunrise, no less?"
Jake used his best poker face to communicate his indifference. "You're a computer expert. Our system's out of whack. What's to wonder?" When she didn't blink, he decided to hell with it and grabbed her by the hand. He never had been very good with the subtle approach anyway. Yanking her into the hallway, he closed and locked Dirk's door behind them.
She jerked free. In some round about, misguided way that bouquet of bull he had just handed her almost made sense. Almost. Unfortunately for Jake, she did not believe a word of it. When he grabbed her hand again and dragged her down the hall, she struggled just enough to tick him off.
Once they were inside her office, she whirled around to face him and demanded, "Why are you doing this?"
"You know, Sweetness, I'm beginning to ask myself that same question." Her flushed cheeks were more satisfying than any answer. "Now, pack your stuff and get the hell out of here."
For one instant Courtney's heart did a slow, graceful somersault. Jake was doing his best, for whatever reason, to protect her. And not just after what had exploded between them last night. He had looked out for her since the moment their paths had crossed.
When the door opened and Dirk stepped in with Leonard in tow, Courtney markedly drooped her shoulders. She let out an exaggerated sigh and shook her head in frustration. Looking from Dirk to Lenny to Jake and back again, she met Templeton's unreadable gaze with one of her own. "Silly me. I thought it would be a little quieter around here at the crack of dawn." Unwilling to let it go at that, she fixed her eyes on Dirk, offered a practiced smile and prodded, "How do you inspire such loyalty?"
Dirk shrugged. "Fear."
"I'll just bet." Her grin never wavered. The pit of her stomach, however, tied itself in a knot. "Then I guess it's lucky for me that I got your computers back on track."
Whether it was his remark about fear, or his emotionless eyes, either way Courtney's intuitive side screamed bloody murder. No need to get cocky now, she told herself. There would be time enough for that when Dirk was behind bars. A lifetime, if she had anything to say about it.
The closer Courtney came to getting away with what she had set out to do, the more her nerves frayed. And Jake's silent presence only unraveled them more. Well, that, and Leonard, who refused to as much as look at her. Concentrating on her next goal–leaving the building–she nonchalantly checked the contents of her purse as she spoke.
"Yes," she confirmed. "Your system is up and ready to go again." She fingered past her cell phone, desperately seeking the comfort of Jake's car keys and finding them. Cold metal, she was certain, had never felt this good.
"All done, huh? Well, that's great," Dirk assured her. Isn't that great, Lenny?"
"Uh huh."
"You certainly work fast," Dirk pointed out.
"I try." She averted Jake's penetrating stare to concentrate on tossing Templeton one final, reassuring smile, before snapping shut her purse. "Well, I'll be in touch," she told him, disguising her uncertainty by moving confidently toward the door. "I don't anticipate a problem, but if you have one, call me."
"Will do," Dirk assured her. "Won't we, Lenny?"
"Yes, sir." Leonard's Adam's apple bobbed up and down with the nodding of his head.
Filing out of the office among the three men, her knees were still wobbly. She wasn't at all sure what Jake's eye contact meant, but this time the warmth she saw there made her feel safer. Like everything was going to be all right. And if there was one thing she needed to believe right now, that was it. For her. For Janey. And suddenly for Jake.
Courtney calmed her desperate need to run by reassuring herself she was only the length of one hallway, probably less than sixty feet, away from freedom. So why did this feel like the green mile? Maybe because Dirk had casually stepped between her and Jake. And when she felt his long, intimidating fingers wrap around her arm just above the elbow, her skin crawled.
The moment Dirk moved next to Courtney, Jake's palms itched from the need to ram Templeton's face into the nearest wall, but he restrained himself. He had to. For Courtney. Knowing her reaction to Dirk would be crucial, Jake angled his view to assess her. Lips, softly upturned. Shoulders, set, but relaxed.
Back, nicely arched. Her controlled expression told him she was doing fine, somehow able to handle whatever curves Dirk tossed her with poise and control.
Hang on, Courtney, he willed silently. Five more minutes and you're out of here. Jake stepped forward and stopped in front of the elevator. Punching the down button, he turned just in time to see Templeton lay hands on her.
A primal rage gnawed at the already badly worn tether of Jake's control. Begged for permission. Rattled his dark side. The side that was trained and fully capable of taking a life. The side that crouched, ready and waiting to be unleashed. Without thinking, he snagged Dirk's wrist. Their eyes met. In that split second, Jake reined himself in long enough to think clearly. He released his grip.
"Hey, boss," he began, passing off his breach of conduct as a sloppy attempt to get Templeton's attention. "I'll drive her home." Jake winked, counting on Dirk's surveillance to have reported he and Courtney had spent the night at her apartment. He relied on Templeton's sleazy mind to fill in the blanks and pick up on his macho sign language.
"You do that," Dirk smirked, clapping a strong, never-touch-the-boss-again hand down hard on Jake's shoulder and making his point unmistakably clear. "Just be back by lunch."
Jake rammed his thumb into the up button–repeatedly–before Dirk and Lenny said their good-byes and disappeared into Templeton's office. The moment the doors slid open, Jake grabbed Courtney's ice-cold hand and yanked her inside the empty elevator.
"Your Jeep's parked where it was yesterday." Courtney's words were clipped, her voice practically a whisper. Certain the exchange between the two men had been critical, but unsure exactly what it meant, she knew one thing. Jake had definitely interceded, and Dirk let her go because of it. Eternally grateful, holding Jake's hand felt like clutching a lifeline, and she clung to him. Eagerly. Without compunction. Because, until Courtney had retrieved the information she'd transmitted, she still had a job to do.
Stubborn to a fault, she refused to give in to the fear, the anger, the pain that was Dirk Templeton. Instead, she used her energy to will away the imprint of Dirk's fingers on her arm. Indelibly etched in her flesh, like the Devil's tattoo.
Jake's cop instinct kicked into overdrive the minute Courtney put a death grip on his hand. When he turned to face her, she was a little too pale to suit him, but he had to give her credit for one thing. This classy babe was one gutsy lady. She was definitely hanging in there, and whatever was driving her went miles beyond helping O’Shea.
Later, there would be time to find out why. But right now, before the doors opened, he decided she needed a little nudge to ease her across the finish line. Warming her hands between his, he asked, "Do you trust me, Sweetness?"
Staring up at Jake, Courtney felt so foolish, standing beneath the glaring, fluorescent light. Dangerously close to tears. Supported by the one man who had literally broken her heart in two. And after six long years, she admitted–he
had taken the other half with him the day he walked out of her life without a word.
"Yes," she answered without hesitation, raising her chin just a notch. "I do trust you."
At that moment Courtney realized the enormity of her answer–to her and to Jake. And Janey.
My God, what this was going to mean to all of them.
One hurdle at a time, she vowed silently. His strong arms wrapped around her, making her feel complete.
He felt her melt against him and kissed her before she could think. Before she could stop him. Hell, before he could stop himself.
His kiss was so misleading. Gentle, almost harmless, at first. Like the familiar creek of a porch swing on a sultry summer night…until a sudden gust of wind captures the moonlit sky and changes everything. Electricity crackles. Thunder rolls. Lightning strikes. So had this man changed her life. In ways he was yet to understand, she thought shyly.
His mouth was subtle, but then it always had been. His lips, warm and soft. His teeth, playful. He outlined her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She held on tight to the memory of last night, surrendering, for a moment, without any of the caution she was known for.
Courtney was…surprising. Even after last night, Jake hadn't expected the steam to rise with such immediacy. From her. From him. Desire was no stranger to Jake, but he could never remember it slamming into him this hard.
When the elevator doors opened, inviting reality to join them, she was the first to pull away. She looked up at Jake, sheepishly, and smiled.
"Wow." She leaned her forehead against his.
"You always did have a way with words." When she giggled, he kissed the tip of her nose.
"And you always knew just what to say." Their road had been a long one. But not one she regretted traveling. Not then. Not now. Quite the contrary. She believed with all her heart this journey was one she had been meant to take–alone, in part. At least, until now.
