Taking Control

by Nina Croft

She shrugged. “Maybe.” God, she needed out of there. Time to get her shit together. She’d brought Dave along in case they needed to start the job immediately. But also as a means of keeping her distance while she’d discovered just what sort of effect meeting Declan again would have.

  Catastrophic. That about covered it.

  So much for playing nice. But she hadn’t expected Declan not to recognize her. She hadn’t known why he had asked for her, but it had never occurred to her that he hadn’t. That he would have no clue it was her. That had thrown her totally off balance.

  A whole nasty blast of unwelcome shock had hit her in the solar plexus when he’d said it was his father who had arranged for Knight Security’s involvement. Had some little demented part of her brain actually liked the idea that Declan wanted to see her again? Had she imagined some fond memories had driven the action?

  Ugh!

  Instead, it was Rory McCabe who had contacted them. What the hell was with that? Ten years ago, he’d pretty much ordered her to leave his son alone and never to darken his door again.

  Yet he must have known it was her. He’d asked for her by name.

  God, her head was going to explode. She tugged at her ponytail trying to ease the pressure.

  “I take it you and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome-Billionaire have history.”

  Her gaze darted to Dave. “Mind your goddamned business.” But she couldn’t see that happening. Dave was an atrocious gossip and this would be all around the office within minutes of them getting back.

  “And what’s with the tattoo?” Dave asked. “You have a tattoo? Where?”

  “Nowhere you’re ever going to see. Come on, let’s get out of here.” She nodded to the young man who sat at the desk across the room, trying to look as though he wasn’t hanging on their every word. Declan’s assistant? At least he didn’t have some sexy bimbo secretary. But why should she care?

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t try again?” Dave said. “I read what little there was in the file and these guys after him mean business. Even if you don’t like him, I’m guessing you don’t want him dead.”

  “And maybe you’re guessing wrong. Maybe I don’t give a toss.” Maybe she’d like to shoot him herself. At just what point had he recognized her? She was betting from the moment she walked through the door. And he’d no doubt thought it would be amusing to string her along. He was a better goddamn actor than she was.

  “Hmm. And I think you’re protesting too much. Very…intriguing.”

  “Oh bugger off,” she muttered and headed for the elevator. She stared straight ahead as they made their way down, but she could almost hear Dave’s brain ticking over. No doubt coming up with more and more salubrious scenarios to entertain the entire office.

  “Go back to the office and file a report,” she said, as the doors slid open. “This job is officially closed.”

  “Where are you going?” Dave asked, eying her suspiciously.

  “For a walk. I need some fresh air.” Without waiting for him to answer, she strode across the reception area and out the front door. Once on the street, she hesitated, not knowing where to go.

  She should go back to the office and sign in the firearm, but she really did need to clear her head, and in the end she just turned right and started moving, not really paying attention to where she was going.

  She purposefully didn’t think, just kept walking, while her brain cooled and her thoughts stopped whirling around in her head. When she reached a measure of calm, she slowed her pace and searched around her, settling on a coffee shop across the road.

  She ordered an espresso and sat by the window, staring out but not seeing.

  Well, that had gone well. As an exercise in moving on, proving that the past had no power over her anymore, it had been a complete disaster. As an exercise in proving she could play nice, it had been even worse.

  Declan had changed so much. She could hardly recognize the boy she had known within the self-assured man she had just met. Though he had always been self-assured; it was one of the things that had drawn her to him. Even at eighteen, he’d known exactly who he was and what he wanted. For a little while that had been her. But he hadn’t wanted her enough. She hadn’t fitted into his plans for his nice tidy future. What had he told her? She was too wild, a disaster waiting to happen. That had been the first time they’d broken up. She’d stolen a car, gone joyriding…

  She’d been seventeen at the time. And yeah, she’d been a little out of control. Not bad, just a tiny bit screwed up and filled with a need for excitement away from her tame middle-class upbringing.

  When she’d met Declan, he’d seemed the perfect match. At first sight, he was the ultimate bad boy. Strangely, she’d met his father first. She’d been running with an older crowd, and they’d gotten tickets to a party in one of Rory McCabe’s nightclubs. She’d caught his eye, not surprisingly considering her barely there sparkly dress. He’d invited her to his table, plied her with champagne—she had told him she was twenty-one—and even offered her a job dancing in his club. She’d found the attention flattering. Rory McCabe was a handsome man, an older version of Declan.

  Then Declan had stormed over to the table and informed his father that she was in fact only seventeen. Declan had known her from school though he was a year ahead of her. Rory had been all for getting the bouncers to throw her out, but when Declan had said he’d take care of it, he’d given his son a knowing look and told him to play safe.

  At first, she’d been pissed that he’d spoiled her fun. But soon she’d forgotten all that. Declan was… She sighed as she remembered him that first night. Tall, towering six inches above her five nine, with black hair, overlong so it brushed his shoulders and fell over his forehead, and mesmerizing silver gray eyes.

  For all her wildness, she’d hardly ever been kissed, never having found anyone she wanted enough. But with Declan she was lost. He’d walked with her along the embankment, taken his first kiss with her pushed up against the wall, his big body hard against hers, the salt tang of the river in her nostrils. Even now, she couldn’t smell the river without being carried back to that night.

  She’d have given him everything right then, but he’d bided his time.

  And yeah, she’d done some stupid things, but she’d been young and she wanted to impress him. She’d known he had reservations. At one point, he’d kept away from her for three nights. When he finally came to see her again, he had given in. Taken her to a hotel room and taken her virginity.

  She grinned. He’d been totally shocked at that, probably thought she’d been sleeping around.

  After that, they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other; their coming together had been explosive. For a second, she had a flashback to the feel of his strong, young body, on her, filling her. He’d made love to her over and over again, until she was sore and still wanting more. When he’d left, she’d thought she would do anything just to feel that way again.

  There had been a hint of desperation in his lovemaking; she could see that now. Maybe even then he’d planned that she would have no part in his future, the nice, honest, aboveboard future that his shady father had always intended for him.

  She yanked open her bag, pulled out her cell phone, and drummed her fingers on the casing for a moment. If she was back at the office, she would no doubt be able to access a number for Rory McCabe. But she wasn’t ready to go back just yet. Instead, she looked up the number of the nightclub where he had spent most of his time.

  “Could I speak to Rory McCabe? Tell him it’s Jessica Bauer.”

  She had no clue whether she would be put through. After all, he’d told her never to contact any of them again and Rory McCabe was not known for making empty threats. He’d been a scary figure on the crime scene at one time, but he’d never been caught, and he was now reputedly straight.

  But a minute later he came on the line. “Jessica, how lovely to hear from you.”

  Sarcastic bastard.

  “Why?” she ask
ed.

  “How are you? It’s been a long time.”

  “Cut the bullshit. Why did you employ Knight Securities to provide protection for Declan? And why did you specifically ask for me?”

  “In answer to the first, I wanted the best and your employer has a good reputation.”

  “And…?”

  “And you can imagine my surprise when I did a quick check on the company and you popped up as second in command. I have to admit, I presumed it was a different Jessica Bauer. It was hardly a profession I would have expected for you.”

  No, he’d probably expected her to be a hooker or a drug-dealer. “Get on with it,” she snapped.

  “You’ve changed.”

  “Really?”

  “Okay. My son does not want a bodyguard. He refused to allow me to provide him with one. When I saw your name and realized who you were, I thought he might be intrigued enough to keep you around.” He was silent for a few seconds. “And you would be professional enough to keep him alive.”

  She considered his answer. Did she believe him? It sort of made some logical sense. “You really think they’ll try again.”

  “I know they will. I’ll pay you extra if you persuade him to take the protection.”

  “I don’t want your fucking bribes any more now than I did ten years ago.” He’d offered her money back then—a lot of money. She still had the check; it was framed and hanging on her bedroom wall to remind her if she ever got nostalgic and felt like falling in love again. “And just how do you expect me to persuade him?”

  “Whatever you need to do. You could always twist him around your little finger.”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course I could.”

  She didn’t wait for him to say anything else just shut down the call and sat tapping the phone on the table.

  She’d have been okay this morning if the meeting had gone as expected. They could have been polite to one another, he would have said he didn’t want the protection and they could have settled the matter in a businesslike manner. Instead, he’d thrown her off-kilter by pretending he didn’t recognize her, getting her back up. More than ever, she needed to get him out of her system, needed to take control of her life and her future. Prove to Jake that she could be nice.

  So she’d go back, wrap Declan around her little finger—yeah, what alternate universe was Rory McCabe inhabiting—and persuade him to accept Dave and Steve as bodyguards. Then she could leave, knowing she’d acted in a professional manner. And she’d get her promotion and move on with her life.

  Sounded like a plan.

  She couldn’t believe how far she had walked, and she didn’t want the time to think—she suspected that she might come up with a few flaws in her plan if she had time to consider it in detail—so she hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of Declan’s office building.

  It occurred to her that she might have problems getting back in, that he might have informed the reception desk that she was persona non grata. But when she gave her name, for a second time that day, the woman told her to go right up.

  Had he just not bothered to say anything or had he forgotten her as soon as she walked out the door? Or the alternative, that he was expecting her back.

  She hated that she had no clue what was going on.

  Did he think she had changed?

  Personally, she considered she’d changed beyond all recognition. Both internally and externally. There was nothing of that girl left.

  The man was still sitting at his desk outside Declan’s office like some sort of guard dog. “He’s expecting you. Go right in.”

  “He is?”

  Was she so fucking predictable?

  A smile quirked his lips as though he could read her mind. “Reception called up.”

  “Oh.”

  God, she was overreacting. She stood in front of the oak door and took some deep breaths, closed her eyes, and forced herself to calmness, something she’d learned to do when on active duty and she needed to focus her thoughts.

  Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Declan stood by the window, his back to her. The first time around, she hadn’t taken in her surroundings. Now she studied the office, maybe to give herself a bit more time. It was spacious, with a huge desk, where Declan had sat at the previous meeting, across one corner. Decorated in cream and black with a long black leather sofa against the wall. Overall the office gave the impression of serenity and good taste. A total opposite to his father’s clubs, but hadn’t that been what they were aiming for? Respectability.

  She took a few more paces into the room, her footsteps muffled on the thick cream carpet. Declan had taken off his jacket; it was slung over the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Through the thin silk of his shirt, she could make out the bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

  He’d been shot.

  Her breath hitched and a sharp pain jabbed at her chest. Someone had actually tried to kill him.

  Before, it had seemed unreal. Now, it sank in, and she realized that no, she really didn’t want anyone to kill him, however much she hated him.

  At eighteen, he’d still had a boyish lankiness to his frame. That was gone. His shoulders had broadened, though his hips were still lean and his legs beneath the charcoal-gray pants were long. His black hair was cut short, and while she watched, he ran a hand through it. He’d always done that when he was thinking, and it would leave him all sexily tousled. Now, it was too short to tousle.

  Even from behind, he seemed controlled, contained, all that energy she had loved so much leashed in tight.

  Maybe she’d had a lucky escape.

  Declan’s path in life had been decided early on. His family had always expected him to take the business and make it respectable; that’s what he’d been groomed for and he’d gone along with the plan without a hitch. Except for her. And that had been a minor mistake, easily remedied.

  After what seemed like an age, he turned around. His hands shoved into his pockets, he scrutinized her from head to toe. A tremor ran through her, but she stiffened her spine and returned the favor. And her breath caught again. It wasn’t fair; he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  “You came back,” Declan murmured.

  “Your father offered me a lot of money.”

  He raised a brow. “You spoke to him?”

  “Well, he would hardly be able to offer me money if I hadn’t.”

  His lips twitched. “I’d forgotten that sarcastic mouth of yours.”

  “Not the only thing you’ve forgotten, I’m guessing.”

  His gaze drifted down over her body, sending shivers across her skin. “You’d be surprised.”

  What the hell did that mean? “Actually, I turned him down.”

  “You did? And yet here you are.”

  Time to get nice. She took a deep breath, curved her lips into a smile. “I like to think we were friends once.” Until you dumped me. “You’re in danger and I want to help. Why not reconsider? Take the bodyguards—they’ll be discreet. They won’t cramp your style.”

  “And would you be one of those bodyguards?”

  Not a chance in hell. “If you want me to be.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he studied her face for a long minute. “Are you trying to be nice?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

  He let out a short laugh. “I’d forgotten your habit of absolute honesty. But you suck at the nice thing.”

  “No, I don’t.” She shrugged. “I’m just a little out of practice.”

  He took a step closer, his gaze still wandering over her.

  “You’re staring,” she said. And she wished he would stop. She was used to being stared at, and she’d learned to ignore it. But somehow she couldn’t ignore Declan’s cool scrutiny.

  He took another step closer, so close she could breathe in his scent—warm man, and some expensive cologne, sharp and citrusy. She stared straight ahead, but that meant she was gazing at his chest and she could
see the dark shadow of his nipples beneath the thin silk. Her mouth went dry, and she forced her eyes upward just as he reached out and ran a finger down the scar on her face. A shiver rippled through her at his light touch, settling low down in her belly.

  “Did you get this in the army?” he asked.

  She frowned, too shocked by the effect of his touch to make sense of the words at first. He must be quite aware of where she’d got the scar. He’d visited her in the hospital after the crash. That was when he’d told her they were finished. “I got it in the accident before you left.”

  His hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back, his gaze fixed on her cheek, so for the first time in years she had the urge to raise her hand and cover the scar. Instead, she clenched her fists at her side.

  “They told me you weren’t seriously hurt,” he muttered.

  “I wasn’t. This is nothing.”

  He shook his head. “I remember now. You had a bandage on your face, but they told me you were okay. They said just cuts and bruises. You should have told me.”

  “It is just a cut—from the broken windshield.” Why was he making such a big deal about it?

  “You didn’t have it taken care of?”

  “You mean plastic surgery?” When he nodded, she continued, “Didn’t seem worth it. At first…” Shit, what was she supposed to say—that she’d been too broken inside to worry about what the outside looked like? Then later, once she was in the army, she just hadn’t thought about it. Now, she actually liked the scar. Kim had told her it gave her character. Without it, she’d just be one more beautiful woman, and what was the point in that?

  But from the shock on Declan’s face, maybe that was all she had been to him. She gave a mirthless smile. “Your father told me all I’d had going was my looks and I’d fucked that up.”

  “He did. When?”

  Maybe his father hadn’t told him about their last meeting; maybe he hadn’t thought it important enough to mention.

  “I went to see you after I got out of hospital. Of course you had already fled the country.” She gave what she hoped was a dismissive shrug.

  “He didn’t tell me.”