He pointed a finger at her and then the spot in front of her feet, making his message clearer than neon on the Vegas Strip. Stay here. She nodded again.
Jackson crept away in the direction of the rustling. A chill covered her skin, from the loss of his body heat or the fear skirting around the edge of her overactive imagination, she wasn’t sure.
Michaela couldn’t see him any longer. The shadows of the surrounding rose bushes now cast a decidedly unromantic pall over the almost-sex-afterglow and she counted the endless moments until she had some clue about what the hell was going on.
She didn’t have long to wait.
…
Son of a bitch. The asshole was in her bushes spying on the two of them. Jack didn’t need to see him to know what was going on. Years of training had honed his instinct, and it screamed “kill the fucker.”
He sidled along the side of the garden, the roses giving him good cover until he could maneuver around and get a good look at the Peeping Tom. The adrenaline coursing through his system deadened the stinging scrapes on his arms from the thorns but heightened his senses. Cocking his head, he pinpointed the location of the intruder. The rustling emanated just to his left on the path that led from Kayla’s carriage house apartment to Crystal’s large mansion.
Yesterday, he’d walked the property with Lucky. The path was slightly overgrown, with gaps in the landscaping where a man could slip through, cut across neighboring lawns and escape to Main Street. He had to grab this guy quick.
Quick, silent footsteps brought him within spitting distance of where the local perv was hiding. Poised to rush him, Jack crouched low, taking one last steadying breath.
The flash of the headlights of a passing car ruined his best-laid plans.
The light gave the stalker a clear shot of Jack silhouetted against the bushes. Jack’s momentary blindness gave the jerk a five-second head start. Fighting to get a clear sight of the guy, Jack followed his crashing progress through the garden. Jumping over lower plants and shoving in between larger ones, he pushed his body to the limit in an attempt to close the gap.
“Stop! I’ll shoot!” he shouted.
Unfortunately he didn’t have his gun. If he had, he would have shot the asshole just for making him run with a hard-on. Hard as a spike because of Kayla, the adrenaline rush had done nothing to help his condition.
Seeing the point of no return approaching, Jack made a final effort to surge ahead but the other guy was quicker. He disappeared around the edge of Crystal’s yard and when Jack emerged on the other side he was nowhere in sight.
“Dammit!”
Sprinting to the neighbor’s yard, Jack scanned the shadows looking for any movement but he knew he was too late. Rage burned like a fire in his chest, his breathing loud and labored on the trip back to Kayla. At least he knew the stalker was still around. She couldn’t refuse his help now. The proof of her danger was irrefutable.
Emerging onto Kayla’s driveway, he drew up short when he couldn’t see her anywhere. The burning fury of his rage morphed into an icy dread. Had he been deliberately drawn away? Was this guy working with someone? The last time he’d made a mistake, he’d watched people die. He’d tear this fucking town apart before he let it happen to Kayla.
“Kayla!”
“Over here.”
Jack whirled around. Kayla emerged from behind her car, a medium-sized concrete garden gnome in her hands. Relief turned his legs to rubber but it didn’t keep him from getting to her in a few, long strides. A quick scan told him she was unharmed.
“Jackson.”
Her voice was off. He stepped closer but she held the gnome in front of her like a tacky talisman against the things that go bump in the night. It would have been funny except for the way her hands were shaking.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Jack reached out and took the gnome from her grip before tossing it into the garden. Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her close, absorbing her tremors and giving her some of his body heat. He was still jacked up, so he made a concerted effort to gentle his caresses. “He got away but I’ll get him. Don’t you worry.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“No. But he’s getting sloppy.” He pulled back far enough to see her face. “You understand now that you need to let me handle this? I’ll set up security for here and for your office. I’ll need to start screening the parents of your patients unless you’ll agree to shut down your practice for a few days.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
She pushed away from him, shaking her head. “I said no. I don’t want any of that and I’m damn well not going to shut down my practice! That is just what he’d want.”
“Who?”
“The governor!” She shouted, her voice incredibly loud in the hush of the evening. If she kept this up, the neighbors would call the cops. He didn’t need the attention.
“Kayla. Will you listen to yourself? You can’t just ignore this because you don’t want to bow to your father.” He lowered his tone. “This is serious and you could get hurt. Don’t be stupid.”
Her expression turned to stone.
Oh shit. That was the wrong thing to say. If she hadn’t been irrational before, his comment sent her straight over the edge into stubborn female crazytown. Population: one very pissed-off blonde.
Kayla stalked to her door. The keys were still in the lock and he barely made it before she closed the door in his face. This was the second time today when he’d faced off with her at a door, but he didn’t think he was going to get his way this time.
“Kayla, wait.” He shoved his foot in the door and wedged it open.
“Jackson. Go away.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Please.”
She was begging. It was just one word but she uttered it in a tone so full of fear, disappointment, and resignation that he had no choice but to give her what she asked. Biting back a curse he moved back and stood by helplessly as she closed and locked the door.
He’d totally fucked this up. Her history told him she wouldn’t react well to a man trying to control her life, and in the heat of the moment he’d ruined whatever progress he’d made on getting her cooperation. She’d been really scared before. Now, she was mad and defensive. Back at square one.
Shit.
He looked down, his eye noting an object lying on the ground. He knelt down and picked it up—the condom—shiny wrapper intact. Without her warmth and the taste of her mouth, it didn’t take long for his common sense to return. He worked for her father. This was a job. He had no right to touch her, much less have sex with her. Clearly, he hadn’t learned one fucking thing from the disaster formerly known as his career.
Now, it was time to get back to work.
Jack hit the first speed dial on his phone. He waited through two rings before Lucky answered, laughing, and clearly not alone. It looked like no one was getting laid tonight.
“Lucky, get your ass over to Kayla’s as soon as you can. The asshole was here but he got away.”
“Shit. Jack, are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just get over here. No lights. I don’t want her to see us out here.”
As he ended the call, a light in an upstairs window cast a spotlight on him. Jack stepped deeper into the shadows, looking up to see Kayla framed perfectly by the old architecture. Her golden hair gleamed briefly under the lights and then disappeared behind the lowered blinds.
The moment needed something—a benediction for the future she so desperately wanted. He was never a poet or a praying man, so he settled on basic Southern hospitality. “Welcome to Elliott. I hope you’re happy here.”
Chapter Five
Holy crap. Teague Elliott thought this was a date.
Michaela had convinced herself that his dinner invitation was merely a courtesy extended to a client, but when he’d shown up at her office with flowers her belly flopped with unease.
Teague was attentive, charming, i
ntelligent, and very handsome. His chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes were everything any woman would want focused on her with romantic intent. Every woman but Michaela. She desperately tried to concentrate on what he was saying while simultaneously wondering how she could tactfully turn him down without making every future meeting extremely awkward.
It didn’t help that everyone in the diner was looking at her, including the man she couldn’t stop thinking about—Jackson. Since the fiasco on her front porch, she’d suffered two distracted days and long, restless nights. What happened wasn’t his fault. She’d overreacted to his offer, but she couldn’t let him come to her rescue. Her brain knew she should stay away from him but her body wasn’t listening. And now, Jackson was sitting in what she foolishly thought of as “their booth.” His dark eyes were hot, but his face gave away no information on what was going on in his head.
“…and I think that a trip to The Homestead would be a perfect romantic weekend for you and Jack.”
“What?” Michaela stared at her dinner companion. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Teague’s smile widened and showcased the killer cleft in his strong chin. “I said that you and Jack should spend a romantic weekend together.” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. “I know you’re the woman he spent the night with in Roanoke.”
“Did he tell you?” She flicked a quick glance around the room. Most folks were openly gawking. She almost invited them to join her so they wouldn’t risk straining their necks attempting to eavesdrop.
“No. He didn’t have to.” Teague dipped his head. “I was a groomsman at the same wedding as Jack. I knew who you were the moment I saw you in the bar that night.”
“How?”
“I live in DC.” He took a sip from his glass of iced tea. She watched him, daring him to tell the truth—even if she didn’t want to hear it. Her skin prickled with apprehension.
Teague gave a short nod, placed his glass down on the table, and blurted out his confession. “My firm does work for your father.”
Was he going to spread the truth about her identity to everyone in town? Did he want her to curry him favor with her father? She traced a pattern in the condensation on her glass. “What do you want for keeping that little tidbit to yourself?”
“Nothing. I figure you’ve got your reasons for keeping it on the down-low.” He paused and offered a sympathetic smile. “I’ve met your father and I can guess why you’ve chosen to strike out on your own.”
Relief washed over her in a warm wave and she loosened the death grip on her mangled napkin. “Sounds like you have personal experience with men like the governor.”
Teague huffed out a low laugh. “Let’s just say that overbearing fathers with unrealistic expectations aren’t just found in DC and governor’s mansions.” He waved a hand toward the busy Main Street just outside the bank of windows. “This town was founded by my ancestors and I left the minute I could. It’s suffocating to have your life planned out for you before you were born.”
“Yes, it is.”
She leaned back in her chair and played with the paper straw wrapper, trying to avoid looking over to where Jackson sat and talked in low tones with his dinner companions. She recognized both men. Detective Landon, his partner, and Dr. Beckett Sutherland, a surgeon at the local hospital.
“The Boys” were all in attendance tonight.
As if sensing her attention, Jackson looked up. Concern softened the angles of his face, until he noticed Teague looking at him. In an instant, his expression transformed into a mask of hard warning. Michaela was surprised when Teague waved at him across the diner before turning back to her with a wicked grin on his face.
The diner tittered with hushed whispers. The other patrons were clearly enjoying tonight’s version of The Dating Game.
“Jack’s a good guy.” His expression sobered as he cocked his head. “You’re an amazing woman.”
“And?”
“You should be sitting here with him and planning that romantic weekend.”
“No.” Michaela pushed down the urge to agree with him. She couldn’t get involved with Jackson. Her father was up to his old tricks and her future in this town was tenuous. She didn’t need to add Jackson to the list of things that she would miss if she had to leave.
“Well then, let him help you with whatever trouble you’re in.”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes at her question. “The whole town noticed you guys here the other night and that you left together. I don’t know you well, but I know Jack. While his desire to get back in your bed is written all over his face, he’s also worried about you. And if he’s worried, then you’re probably in some kind of trouble.” He spread his hands in a how-am-I-doing gesture and waited her out.
No. She couldn’t let Jackson help her with this problem. That would bring him too close to her father and she wouldn’t take him down with her.
Desperately needing to change the subject, she asked, “If Jackson is your friend then why are you acting like this is a date?”
“Because I knew it would tick him off.” Teague laughed and slapped his hand on the table. “He’ll probably kick my ass but this was so worth it. Getting Jack to show his hand is almost impossible. Growing up he was Mr. Cool—nothing fazed him. Then he went into the Marines and the FBI and they perfected his talent.”
“So, you wanted to see how far you could push him?” Laughing in spite of herself, Michaela shook her head. Men—sometimes they were just boys in grown-up costumes. “Aren’t you worried this will ruin your friendship?”
“No. He’s been my best friend for thirty years.” He cast another quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to her with a contagious grin. “But, let me know if he goes for his gun. His mom will kill me if I bleed on her floor.”
…
Teague Elliott was a dead man.
Jack gritted his teeth when Kayla laughed at something his best friend said. Ex-best friend.
She was beautiful, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in golden waves. The silky strands had smelled like vanilla and weighed heavily on his skin.
He’d spent the last two days shadowing Kayla, watching her, the people who interacted with her, and the people who watched her. After their argument, he knew she would hinder his surveillance if she suspected what he was doing. Adaptable, he’d lurked in the shadows and resorted to breaking into her office and home to place several spikemikes.
Reviewing the tapes had revealed the usual, mundane, coma-inducing stuff until a familiar voice sounded across the line—Teague calling her house to confirm their plans for a date. He’d replayed the call several times, analyzing their voices, tearing apart every syllable to determine whether she was interested in Teague.
He was acting like a damn teenager and he couldn’t stop himself.
“Jack, you need to stop. The thousand-yard sniper stare is seriously creepy.” Lucky turned to their other companion, Dr. Beckett Sutherland. “Beck, tell him he’s got to cut this shit out.”
Beck looked up from the medical journal he was reading while indulging in a piece of pie. Distracted at first, his expression sharpened. He removed his glasses and pointed at Jack. “Cut that shit out.”
“Thanks a lot, Beck,” Lucky grumbled.
Beck sighed, rubbing his face. The fatigue of a long hospital shift deepened the lines around his mouth. Jack’s attention was diverted for a moment. Beck’s usual drive and ambition was in hyper-drive lately and he looked close to the end of his rope. Only one thing could wring him out like this—a woman.
Welcome to the club, buddy.
“Lucky, he has his rules, the way he keeps his balance. Leave him alone.”
“I should have known you’d take his side.” Lucky grunted, then slapped a pile of folders onto the table. “You’re no better with your I-won’t-sleep-with-people-I-work-with rule.”
“Leave me out of this. I’m just trying to eat my pie.” Be
ck’s voice was a low warning.
Jack listened to the same bickering and fighting he’d been privy to for the last thirty years or so. They were all tense. Pretty soon, this would end in bloody knuckles, a bottle of booze, and a killer hangover. After the last few days that sounded very appealing; however, he couldn’t afford to sink into a bottle of oblivion. He had a job to do.
He grabbed the top file and opened it, reviewing what Lucky’d gleaned from two days of research into the background of Dr. Michaela Roarke. Mother died when she was 8…took her mother’s maiden name after college graduation…raised by a succession of nannies… Older brother Jeff, history professor, lives in Barcelona with his part—
He snapped his head up. “Her brother’s gay?”
“Yep. He came out of the closet and ran off to live in Europe after his father made it impossible for him to stay.” Lucky curled his lip in disgust and pointed to the folder Jack held in his hand. “Michaela hasn’t fared much better. She’s had a handful of lovers and the relationships all ended after they received dream opportunities that could only be arranged by someone with powerful connections.”
Pleased that Kayla’s list of lovers was short, Jack stifled the urge to preen. He read down the page, processing the facts presented to him, discarding what was irrelevant and categorizing what was left. A couple of boyfriends in college; a fellow medical student; a police officer who was unexpectedly promoted to a detective position out of the DC area; Mitchell Rhodes, currently working as Governor Eastland’s assistant.
“She dated the asshat from her father’s office?” Jackson was stunned.
Lucky nodded. “Yeah, but she dumped all of them once they accepted help from her father. From what I can gather, they had no problem staying with her but she kicked them to the curb.”
Jack shifted in his seat. As much as he wanted to despise these men, he couldn’t muster too much righteous indignation. He’d also signed up to work for the governor and would accept the brass ring dangling in his face when the job was done. The only difference is that he wouldn’t sleep with Kayla in order to get what he wanted.
A Night of Southern Comfort Page 6
