The Choice

by Jean Brashear

  Cullinane went rigid. “I’m sorry,” he interrupted his partner. “I forgot something I have to take care of. Will you please excuse me?”

  Cullinane walked her back to the table, bowing over her hand and assuring her that he’d like another dance later, if that were possible. Excusing himself, he returned to the dance floor, headed straight for Hafner and Jillian, pressure building inside him.

  She spotted him, her expression a mixture of anger and relief. Hafner turned, frowning. “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure. I need MacGregor to check the exterior with me.” He watched Hafner’s hands rest on Jillian’s hips, his fingers splayed possessively.

  “What about Ron and Tony?”

  His fingers made a fist. “Ron’s down the block. Tony’s the one who asked for help.”

  Hafner looked exasperated. “Can’t you handle it by yourself?”

  He leveled a gaze at Hafner in lieu of the blow he’d like to level at his head. “You asked me to be in charge of security, Klaus. Now let me do my job.”

  Hafner’s eyes were belligerent, but at last he nodded. “I’ll make your excuses. Perhaps Jillian took ill suddenly, and of course, I can’t leave my guests.”

  A brisk nod was the best he could manage as he struggled not to touch her—or punch Klaus. “That should work. With me, MacGregor.”

  There was gratitude in her gaze, mixed with equal parts of wariness. Looking down on the pale skin at the part of her hair, she seemed somehow vulnerable. Cullinane placed one hand at her back as they walked out.

  Touching her was definitely a mistake. He yanked his hand back as if burned.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  What the hell was he doing? She’d lied to him, pushed him, rattled him as no one had in years...

  “Not here.” He grabbed her hand, half-dragged her outside and around the building until he spotted a shadowed corner in the rear.

  “Cullinane, what’s wrong? What are we looking for?”

  He spun her around, backed her against the building, trapped her hands at shoulder level with his own. Stopped himself as long as he could, struggled to hold onto the last remnants of his detachment. Though darkness enshrouded them, he could still see her eyes widen, her lips parted slightly, her breasts rising above the sparkling fabric with every breath. Fringe shimmered, outlining the curves his hands ached to touch.

  But he could still picture Hafner’s hands on her, and a primal instinct to erase them, to imprint himself, grabbed him by the throat.

  But still he tried to resist her. “You’re trouble, Jillian. I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “I don’t want anything.” Yet her eyes were bright with a desire that matched his own. He grasped her taut waist, thought about Hafner’s hands cupping her ass. He grappled for the control to walk away. This was crazy. He shouldn’t want to mark her as his.

  But he did.

  “Don’t lie to me, Jillian. Not about this. Tell me to leave you alone. Tell me you don’t feel this.” He bent to her, to those lips he’d hungered to taste. He made himself pause a breath shy of contact.

  She had one last chance to move away.

  Instead, she moaned, soft and breathy—then she closed the gap. Gripped his hair and dragged his mouth to hers.

  God. “I don’t want you. I don’t want this.” Hot, edgy hunger prowled through him, a craving like nothing he’d ever felt.

  “Liar.” Her tongue slicked over his.

  Then it was too late.

  He had to have more of her.

  He hauled her against him, her lush breasts against his chest, her nipples hard points, furious at the boundaries of clothing and skin. Goddammit, he was drowning in her, heedless of who he was and where they were, blind craving all he knew, all he could feel.

  * * *

  Lost. All Jillian could think was that she was helpless to fight how he made her feel. Hafner’s hands on her had disgusted. Cullinane’s hands sent her head spinning. She tightened her fingers on his dark mane, clawed her nails against his warm flesh.

  He shifted, parting their mouths for a split-second. She whimpered, pulling him back. He took her deeper—hot, clever tongue swirling and luring, tempting her further into madness.

  Oh, but such a fine madness it was. He stole her breath, the feel of his hard body against hers driving her higher, higher... His teeth scraped down the cord at her throat, and her knees gave way. Strong arms were all that kept her standing. He sucked gently, nipping lightly on the tender flesh where neck and shoulder met, his hard cock rocking against her softness.

  Goosebumps prickled over her flesh.

  She sighed, and Cullinane bent her over his arm, licked a long, sinuous stroke over the curve of her breast.

  She was a heartbeat from climbing his body, wrapping her legs around his waist and begging—

  A crunch on gravel. Voices coming close. In seconds, they would be seen.

  He went preternaturally still. She mourned at the loss.

  His chest heaved, his eyes glittering with need. He looked as shell-shocked as she felt.

  “Christ—” Confusion warred with anger in his gaze.

  Movement behind them caught her eyes. She pressed her fingers to his lips. “It’s Tony. He doesn’t see us yet.” She couldn’t look at him again, was appalled at what had just happened. She pushed away, and he let her. She struggled to compose herself as she turned her back on the man who’d just rocked the foundations of her world. “I’ll head that way,” she nodded toward the left, “and do what you told Hafner we were going to do.” While I try to recover my mind.

  “Jillian...” His voice was rough, a little unsteady.

  “Don’t—please.” Damn it, she ached for him. “I don’t— This was just...” She had no idea how to explain what had happened. Her reaction to him was too deep, too raw for words.

  “A mistake,” his grim voice intoned.

  He was right. Somehow that didn’t stop it from hurting.

  He nodded curtly. “I’ll go this way, then rejoin Hafner. Get Tony to drive you home.”

  Home. Jillian wanted to laugh. Instead, she walked away on unsteady legs.

  * * *

  Cullinane made his way around the building and spoke to Tony. “MacGregor’s checking a disturbance out back. Take her to the compound when she makes it to the front. We’ll be along soon.”

  The man nodded. “Sure thing.”

  Cullinane did his damnedest to force his insides to match the mask he’d pasted on, but he had to pause inside and buy a second to get a grip on what had just happened.

  What the hell was that all about? But he knew.

  He wanted her. So badly he was ready to take on Hafner over her.

  Jesus.

  All that was important, all that he would allow to matter, was the operation. So close—too close to screw up now.

  But no woman had ever gotten to him like that. She’d stolen inside and walked away with a piece of him he had to get back. He might want her bad enough to howl, but she was a liar. And he was a fool to let her get close.

  Crossing the crowded floor in long strides, he spotted Hafner’s table. Hafner looked up and frowned. He murmured to his guests, then approached.

  “What are you doing here? Where is Jillian?”

  “I sent her back.”

  “Why?”

  “Her job tonight was finished. I can handle it from here.”

  “I say when she’s finished, Cullinane.” Hafner’s voice rose, attracting attention.

  “Keep your voice down.”

  Hafner’s eyes sparked. “Don’t tell me what to do. I pay your salary, damn it. You bring her back now.”

  “No.”

  A feral gleam lit his gaze. “It’s her, isn’t it? You want her. You can’t stand the thought that she’s mine for the taking. You’re jealous.”

  “She’s no one’s for the taking.” But it was true—he was jealous as hell. And insane for feeling it.

  Haf
ner’s eyes narrowed. “If I say she’s mine, she’s mine.”

  “She’s not a hooker, she’s a bodyguard.”

  “Goddammit, Cullinane,” Hafner roared, “I want her here now.”

  Cullinane grabbed his arm, propelling him toward the alcove leading to the restrooms. Once out of sight, he yanked Hafner up by the lapels. “Shut the fuck up. She’s not a bitch in heat, and you’re not her master. Now leave her alone to do her job. If you can’t keep your zipper closed around her, I’ll have her off the property so fast your head will spin, got it?”

  “Don’t threaten me, Cullinane,” the low voice warned. “Not even you can threaten me.”

  Watch it, Drake. He was walking a thin line, disaster yawning ahead. Slowly he loosened his fingers from the fabric, setting Hafner away from him but never breaking the stare. “You’re losing sight of your business, Klaus. You’re letting those long legs keep you from thinking straight. Maybe that’s what someone wants to have happen, ever think of that?”

  He could see the moment when temper turned into comprehension. Hafner’s stance eased, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

  Hafner smiled the smile of a predator. “Damn fine legs, though, don’t you agree?” Cocking his head, he probed Cullinane’s gaze warily. “I still think you want her as much as I do.” Clapping one hand to Cullinane’s shoulder, he smirked. “Nice to know my stone-faced protector is human.” He turned to go back, then stopped suddenly and whirled, pointing a finger, eyes hard and determined. “She’s mine, though, if I want her—remember that. Nobody touches her but me.”

  Cullinane stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, his own body still vibrating with adrenaline and the gut-punch of desire.

  Get out, Jillian, while you still can. You need protection.

  From both of us.

  * * *

  Jillian stood in the moonlight, staring off in the distance, seeing nothing. She’d circled the parking lot by rote, her body still thrumming like a plucked string, unmet need clawing at her.

  Fool. Idiot. Weakling. From the first, he’d exerted a magnetism that had drawn her steadily closer to the flame. Like some sorcerer practicing his black arts, Cullinane conjured something from deep within her she had no idea how to kill. She’d thought she’d done well at suppressing any attraction, but tonight, in mere seconds, it had roared to life, a forest fire consuming acres of ground in a flash.

  She didn’t know what to do except stay away from him as much as possible. Anger hadn’t helped, icy disdain made no impression, whatever it was within her that sought its match in him was beyond anything she’d ever tried to control before.

  But she had to. Before she had no other choice but to leave.

  And live the rest of her life with the guilt.

  “Jillian?” Tony stepped forward. “I called you twice.”

  “Sorry. I— Never mind.”

  He looked at her oddly. “Something wrong? Anything I need to check out?”

  “No.”

  “Cullinane told me to drive you back. You ready?”

  No, I’m not ready for any of this. I thought I was, but I’m scared. Scared it’s all spiraling out of my control. Scared I’m about to fail.

  She lifted her chin, wrapping the remnants of icy control around her. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  She’d whistle past the graveyard until she could figure out how to disarm Cullinane’s most potent weapon.

  Himself.

  Chapter Eight

  Hafner lounged against the black leather sofa, tie off, shirt half-unbuttoned. Waving negligently with the glass in his hand, he indicated the bar on the near wall. “Have a drink, Cullinane.” Nudging the ornate wooden box on the smoked-glass tabletop with the foot propped next to it, he smiled expansively. “How about a cigar?”

  “No, thanks, Klaus. I’m ready to turn in.”

  “You ever a Boy Scout, Cullinane?” Hafner studied him through spirals of smoke. For a man ready to go several rounds in the restaurant earlier, Hafner showed no signs now that he’d ever been ruffled.

  “My neighborhood was a little short on the amenities.”

  “Mine, too.” Hafner looked into his drink, swirling the dark liquid. “I’ll never go back.” He gestured around the room. “My parents’ whole house could have fit in this space.”

  Cullinane nodded. His, too. “So you weren’t a Boy Scout, either?”

  Hafner chuckled. “Lifting wallets was a little more my speed, at that age.” His gaze rose to Cullinane’s. “Or feeling up girls.”

  The atmosphere thickened, as two dominant males remembered the earlier clash, a topic better left unexplored. Cullinane refused to drop his eyes, knowing a lot was on the line at this moment. Hafner’s respect for him had come because the man couldn’t bully him. Cullinane yielded only when he wanted to yield, and Hafner had thus far side-stepped any full confrontation. He suspected Hafner didn’t want to find out that he might not win.

  Hafner broke off first and leaned his head back on the overstuffed cushion, sliding lower in his seat and closing his eyes. “Let’s talk about the next shipment.”

  So typical of him. He slept little and expected those around him to keep his erratic hours. The middle of the night was high noon for him, a man who’d gotten soft letting others guard him, who’d lost the sharp physical edge he’d once used as a weapon. Cullinane and his men had to keep their bodies honed, and that meant rest and proper care. Hafner forgot that when the night specters beckoned.

  Cullinane sat down. “What’s up?”

  “It’s going to be trickier than usual. Some of the boats will be coming in with specialty items I don’t usually carry, along with the coke. We’ll need to set up carefully to off-load the coke but not disturb the other stuff, then finish filling those boats with part of the outgoing shipment.”

  “What kind of specialty items?”

  Hafner’s sly smile made his scalp crawl. “Biological weapons.”

  Cullinane barely blinked. “You’re planning, of course, to help load those particular boats.”

  A wide grin creased Hafner’s face, then he laughed out loud. “I can’t shock you, can I, watchdog?” He shook his head. “Never let ‘em see you sweat, do you, Cullinane?”

  He couldn’t believe Hafner was serious, but he had to be sure. “You really think our people are prepared to handle them?”

  “They’d better be, but that’s your job. You make sure we have what we need.”

  “I’ll need figures on quantity and space required.”

  Hafner nodded. “I’ll get them to you tomorrow or the next day.”

  He’s really going to do it. The bastard was insane. He’d damn sure upped the ante on the operation. Not only was the stuff lethal, but Hafner would get the book thrown at him if he were caught.

  And he would be caught this time. Cullinane would make sure of it. He’d lock Hafner up and throw away the key himself.

  Cullinane met the gaze of a madman, wily as a fox but dangerous as they came, a true sociopath. The lives of most other human beings meant nothing to him and his ilk.

  Jesus, he was tired. Slapping his palms down on his thighs, Cullinane rose. “Well, I’m calling it a day. Unless you have something else?”

  Hafner studied him for a moment, smiling oddly. “Jillian is lovely, isn’t she?”

  He refused to rise to the bait. “I suppose.”

  Hafner’s smile was at odds with the gleam in his gaze. “Sweet dreams, watchdog.”

  Words unspoken passed between them.

  “I’m sure they will be. Good night.” He turned and left.

  * * *

  Jillian heard the fight break out in the game room the next day. Headed down the hall to see why J.T. and Rabbit were going after each other, she’d almost turned the corner when she heard the deep voice cut through the fracas like a hot knife through butter.

  She couldn’t hear the words, but Rabbit’s protest came through, loud and clear, followed by J.T.’s own.
Cullinane’s tone of command stopped them before they could get rolling again.

  Rabbit’s sullen shout echoed, “Fine, just fine. I’m outta here.”

  Stepping back into the library next door, Jillian saw the boy rush past, face screwed up in anger. Before she could make her way back into the hall, she heard Cullinane and J.T. headed her way.

  She hadn’t seen him at all that day. He’d even changed his workout time to avoid her. He wasn’t likely to want to see her now.

  J.T.’s voice quavered, “I’ll show him who’s bad.”

  “Are you so sure you can’t talk it out?” Cullinane asked.

  Jillian’s jaw dropped. Mr. My-Way-or-the-Highway was talking compromise?

  “He’d never listen. He only understands fighting.”

  “Fighting rarely solves anything, J.T. There’s usually a better way.”

  J.T.’s skepticism came through in his tone. “I never thought I’d hear you say something soft like that.”

  Cullinane chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with being soft sometimes.”

  Jillian sat down before she could fall down.

  “You’re never soft,” J.T. said.

  “I’m not saying I’m any example to follow, J.T.” Sadness crept into Cullinane’s voice. “The best man I ever knew was strong enough to be soft sometimes.”

  “Was that your dad?”

  “No. It was my grandfather. I never knew my dad.”

  “I did, but mine don’t care what happens to me. He left us a long time ago, after Mary Beth came.” His voice lowered. “I was too much trouble.”

  “I doubt it was you. Maybe he cares. Sometimes people just make mistakes. He’d care if he could see you now.”

  “I wouldn’t give that asshole the time of day.”

  “Then that’s your loss, and his, too, if you ever get the chance and let it pass. You can’t live your life looking back over your shoulder, though. You have to go on from where you are now. And where you are, J.T., is that your mother needs you. She’s taken care of all of you by herself for a long time now. You’re older. You need to be helping her, not hanging out with losers like Rabbit.”

  “Rabbit’s no loser—he can beat anybody around.”