Jack acted first. He put the envelope back in his pocket and stood, taking Annabelle’s hands and lifting her with him. She went without argument. With a glance at Cassie, Jack led Annabelle out through one of the three doors that exited from the study, and entered the adjoining dressing room beyond. It had since been converted into a guest bedroom, and Jack led Annabelle to the bed and sat her down.
Then he knelt before her, favoring his injured leg.
“You’re all right, luv. I’m sorry that I brought it up. I just didn’t… realize, at first…”
“It’s okay, Jack.” Annabelle looked him in the eyes. “It’s been two decades, you know? I should be over it by now.” She shrugged, a helpless gesture.
It broke Jack’s heart. He pulled her into his strong arms and held her gently. “Anniversaries are the most difficult,” he told her, his breath caressing the hair on her head. “They always are.”
She nodded against his chest, finding that his shirt was damp against her cheek. She was crying. “I know,” she mumbled. “You should have seen me ten years ago.”
“I did see you ten years ago, luv.” He reminded her. And then it hit him. After a decade, he finally realized the truth of that situation. “That’s why you were in the bar.” She hadn’t been there to get drunk on her twenty-first birthday, as so many people in this country decided to do. She’d been there to get drunk so that she could forget her twenty-first birthday. And he had happily obliged her, buying all of her drinks and seeing her safely home.
He’d fallen in love with her that very night. It had hit him like a ton of bricks, unexpected and disorienting. When he’d gone to the bar that night, it was to make a mark. He’d been traveling back and forth between the States and Britain for a decade, being trained by Samuel Price, and still doing jobs in the UK whenever called upon. At that point, the reality of their situation had hit he and his wife and they’d recently agreed upon a divorce. His family remained behind in Essex, well hidden and protected, for the time being, by a combination of Jack’s money – and Sam’s.
Life was up in the air and Sam had sent him to the pub to do away with a man whose death, apparently, would help solidify Jack’s position in the Business. In that respect, it was like any job. There was a ladder to climb. Only, with this ladder, you kicked the rungs out from under you as you ascended so that no one could follow you up.
So Jack had gone to the bar, riding his bike on the way to relieve some of the fear that he still felt when doing jobs. It was a fear that Sam assured him would lessen as time went by, but never go away entirely. It was a bit of that fear, after all, that helped keep an assassin alive.
He’d entered the bar, scanned it, as he always did, and taken a seat near the back where he had a good view of the entire room.
And while he had been waiting, Annabelle had walked in with a couple of her friends. The friends, he had dismissed upon a cursory glance.
But Annabelle had taken his breath away. She was tall and lithe and her strawberry and blonde hair spilled down her back and over her shoulders like tumbling waves of spun copper and gold. Her skin was perfect. Her smile was nervous and unsure and the teeth behind it were straight and white. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes were sad.
She looked like an angel who’d fallen into the wrong place. She didn’t belong, and he could tell that at first sight. Her companions, who were both wearing less than she was and seemed perfectly at ease with their surroundings, fairly pulled her into the dimly lit pub. At one point, she’d waved her hand in front of her face, clearly bothered by the smoke, before she remembered where she was and clenched her hands behind her back to keep from doing it again.
It was clear to him that she meant to go through with whatever it was she was there to do and was determined not to let any other signs of her innocence show through. It was a hopelessly lost battle, however, as every man in the room had already zeroed in on her like moths to a flame. As if she could somehow develop wings and fly them out of their own personal hells, they gazed at her with mixtures of hunger and hope.
Including the man Jack had been sent there to kill, who was currently sitting alone, a beer to his lips, his eyes on the girl. Jack knew the man by sight, having been given his file the day before. His name was Benjamin Tadler; a handler gone bad, ruined by personal agendas and a fouled-up sense of justice. He’d broken a commandment of the Business by having one of his guns pull a personal favor. He’d orchestrated the killing of a girlfriend he believed had been cheating on him.
In the end, not only had the deed been found out by the powers that be, but to further the grievance of his actions, it had turned out that his girlfriend was doing no such thing.
Jack may have known who Ben was, but Ben had no idea who Jack was. It was one of the benefits of not being as big in the Business as someone like Samuel Price. He retained a small amount of anonymity.
Jack would find Ben later that night. He would track him down, beat the shit out of him, and then end his worthless life.
Later.
Jack had never felt emotions such as the ones that rushed him that night. He not only wanted to kill his target, but every other man in the bar. A sense of protectiveness and jealousy unlike any he’d ever experienced flowed through his veins like liquid fire. In the course of several decisive seconds, he’d mapped out the remainder of the night in his mind.
He would do his job in good time.
The fallen angel girl, whoever she was, would come first.
He remembered standing from where he’d been hiding in the corner and approaching Annabelle at the bar. She’d turned to look at him, already obviously steeling her nerves to tell him off.
But then she hadn’t told him off. Her eyes had met his and held. He’d had trouble breathing when he asked her and her companions if they would mind whether he joined them. Her two friends had agreed readily. Annabelle hadn’t said anything. Not at first.
And he had been unable to take his eyes off of hers.
Finally, she had smiled at him. Jack’s entire world flipped on its axis at that moment and he knew, as he had never known anything in his life, that he was lost for good.
He’d been right.
That was ten years ago.
Ten years ago, today.
As he held her in his arms, now, neither of them spoke. In the recesses of their minds, each of them thought of the past. Each contemplated years gone by and happenstance.
In their own ways, in their own perceptions of pain and pleasure, they each thought of anniversaries.
Several minutes passed, in that shared silence. And then Annabelle cleared her throat. “So… what did you get me?” She asked softly, her words muffled by his shirt.
Jack blinked and slowly allowed her to pull away. She wiped her eyes and offered him the hint of a smile.
Christ, he thought, as his breath caught at her beauty. In ten years, she hasn’t changed. And then he smiled back at her, once more taking the white envelope out of his back pocket.
He handed it to her and, this time, she took it, sniffling as she looked down at it. Then, as he watched, she held it up to the light shining through the window and attempted to see through the paper. He bit his cheek and shook his head.
“Why not open it, luv?” It would be a hell of a lot easier to see what was inside.
“Not as fun,” she told him, as if she could read his thoughts. Annabelle studied the small package carefully. He’d already gotten her the best present she could think of, but unfortunately, as things stood right now, she wasn’t sure she would ever get to see her Harley Night Rod again.
On that note, she pulled the top of the envelope away and tipped it over onto her palm. Two booklets of tickets spilled out and into her hand. She blinked at them and then turned them over to read the writing on the front covers.
“Holy mother,” she whispered. “No way you got me season Wild tickets.” Her mouth dropped open and she read the covers again. “No way!” She stood then, beaming brightly, he
r smile ear to ear. She held the tickets out at arm’s length, turning them left and then right in her hands. And then she drew them close again, holding them over her heart.
She looked up at Jack, whose own heart was hot in his chest.
“Thank you so much, Jack. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to cheer on my team in person.” She’d always been there, in some way, when she could manage it. Either at the gym, in front of their big-screen TV. Or outside the X-cel Arena, cheering along with the other left-over schmucks who hadn’t been able to afford tickets. She was always there for her team in spirit, at least. But now she could be there for real. The Wild were going to win the Stanley cup this season. She felt it in her blood. And she would be there to watch them drink champagne from it.
She held the books out, separating the two. Two books of tickets. Two people. “I suppose the stipulation is that you accompany me?” she asked, her eyes twinkling wickedly.
He grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” That’s why he’d purchased two books. The truth was, he didn’t care a lot for hockey, but for the fact that Annabelle loved it so much – and her enthusiasm was contagious.
She stared at the tickets a few seconds more and then sighed a contented sigh, her smile turning dreamy.
“Happy birthday, luv.” He said softly, suddenly all too aware of a growing need within him. It was her smile. He loved making her happy. It made him happy.
God, she made him happy.
And he wanted more. But a gift was a not a gift if something was expected in return.
Annabelle left the bed side and carefully placed the tickets in the top drawer of the dresser against the wall. Then she turned to face him as he stood and ran a hand through his hair. He smiled at her and motioned toward the door, indicating that everyone beyond it was probably worried about her, especially Cassie.
But just as he took a step in that direction, Annabelle lunged away from the dresser to knock him back onto the bed. It wasn’t an easy thing to maneuver. He was a big man, filled with ripped muscles from head to toe, and she’d had to put a lot of force behind her movement. The action had been made even more difficult to execute by the fact that she needed to be sure she didn’t shoulder him in the side, where he’d been shot – and she, herself, was injured.
She failed miserably. Both of them went down square in the middle of the mattress, but among groans and grunts of pain.
They laid there for a stunned moment, and then Jack laughed, wrapping one thick arm around her as he rolled them over, pinning her underneath him.
“Practicing up for the games, luv? Please tell me you don’t plan on jumping down onto the ice and putting any fans into the glass.”
Annabelle laughed and raised her head to capture his lips in hers. The kiss took Jack by surprise.
But only for a fraction of a second.
And then he took charge.
Chapter Thirty
Dylan eyed the door behind which Jack and Annabelle had disappeared several hours before.
Beatrice saw the worried expression on the kid’s face and stood up to make her way over to him. “She’s okay, dear. Trust me.”
She smiled a knowing smile and Dylan blinked. And then he blanched.
And Beatrice laughed. Cassie bit her lip to keep from doing the same.
Dylan looked away. And then he sat back in the couch and stared at the hard wood floor. He was too lost in the deep murkiness of his own thoughts to surrender to their teasing. Something was bothering him and it wasn’t the obvious.
He glanced up at the door again and swallowed. “What happened, anyway?” he asked, thinking of the sadness that had come over Annabelle when Thane had reminded her of her birthday. “Why was she so… Upset?”
Cassie looked down at her hands then, all traces of a smile leaving her expression. She leaned forward, setting her Diet Coke beside a paper plate containing a half-eaten slice of pizza. The antique coffee table was covered with the remains of the lunch they had ordered and eaten since Annabelle and Jack had gone off on their own.
Cassie leaned back and looked thoughtful then. She was unaware that everyone in the room was watching her now.
“I suppose there’s no harm in you knowing.” She spoke softly, but her voice carried clearly across the room. She stood up and nodded at Dylan. After a brief pause, he took the hint and stood as well. Then Cassie led him out of the study, down the hall toward the first-level bedrooms and the staircase that led to the second floor.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to one side, his gaze narrowing on the young woman as she led the Anderson kid away. Cassie Reid had no way of knowing it, but the truth was, Sam knew all about Annabelle’s secret. There were few secrets that Samuel Price didn’t know. And he found it very interesting any time people chose to give those secrets away.
Down the hall, Cassie led Dylan into one of the empty rooms and closed the door behind her. She turned to Dylan. “We’re sort of in this mess together and we all have our own secrets. She knows yours and she trusts you, doesn’t she?”
Dylan nodded, not understanding.
“Trust comes with knowing that the person you trust has empathy for you.” She explained, speaking in little more than a whisper. “Annabelle knows what you’ve been through. So, she knows you’ll be there for her. That you’ll understand what she’s going through should anything happen to her.”
Again, Dylan nodded.
“And you should know what she’s been through,” she continued. “For the same reason.”
Dylan swallowed now, shoving his hands into his pockets, his expression turning very serious. He was hearing what Cassie said with more than his ears now. His heart was listening too.
“Annabelle wasn’t born an only child,” Cassie began. “She had a twin brother. His name was Daniel.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. His pallor turned white, and then even gray. Cassie could understand why.
Annabelle didn’t have a twin brother now.
“Among other things, Annabelle’s father worked as a volunteer fire fighter in Lakeview, Louisiana. You know – one of the neighborhoods that really got ripped to shreds by Katrina.”
Dylan nodded, numbly.
“Long before Katrina came through, on their eleventh birthday, Annabelle’s father took her and Daniel to work with him. They wanted to see ‘Big Red,’ the new engine at the fire house, and since it was their birthday and all....” Cassie paused and made her way to a bed nearby, then took a seat, folding and clasping her hands in her lap. “While they were there, a call came in. A small plane had gone down in Lake Pontchartrain. It was on fire and, apparently,” she swallowed, clearing her throat. “Apparently, there were people trapped inside and the plane was very slowly sinking.”
Oh, Crap, Dylan thought. I’m not sure I want to hear this…
“To make a long story short, Ann’s dad took off and, Daniel, who was pretty sure he was Superman, snuck off to go with him. Mr. Drake didn’t know his son had tagged along. I guess he hid on the truck somewhere.” Cassie shook her head, as if watching the scene take place in her own mind.
“They got to the site and it was already crawling with every emergency medical technician or cop who could make it there in a reasonable space of time.” Cassie sighed and shrugged. “What happened next is sort of messed up, and the accounts differ a little. But, Annabelle said that her father’s friends came to the house all at once.”
“To tell them…” Dylan’s voice trailed off.
“To tell her mother that both her husband and her son had been lost in the accident.”
“How?” Dylan asked, not understanding. And, sort of not wanting to.
Cassie took another deep breath and let it out in another long sigh. “Daniel must have seen something that got to him. Maybe a face in a window. There were kids on the plane.”
“And he went in to save them.”
Cassie nodded. “And his dad went in after him. The plane pulled them bot
h down along with it.”
Sam felt the phone buzz in his front pocket and pulled it out to glance at the number. He grinned and then looked up to see Reid and Anderson make their way back into the room. It was obvious that she’d told him Annabelle’s secret, because the kid was white as a sheet.
Sam looked back down at the phone, popped it open, and put it to his ear. The others around him were just finishing up with cleaning away the remains of their lunch; tossing the pizza boxes and paper plates and dumping what was left of their Cokes and melted ice. Now they turned to watch and listen as he spoke into the receiver.
“Hi darlin’,” he said, well aware that he had an audience. He ignored them and turned to look at the door through which Jack and Annabelle had disappeared earlier. “Yep, he sure is.” His grin broadened and his eyes shone merrily. “Uh-huh.” He chuckled. “Sure, come on over. We’re in number seven.” He paused again and tore his eyes away from the door to glance over the eager faces of the others. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, smiling ear to ear. “I think it’s about time, darlin’. Don’t you?” He laughed again and closed the phone, re-pocketing it.
“What the hell was that all about?” Cassie asked.
“Who’s coming over?” Craig asked next. His trepidation level had just escalated. And for good reason. There were some powerful and persistent people who wanted him dead.
“Nothin’ for you to worry about, son,” Sam said, his low, casual drawl a dead-ringer for the shit-eating nonchalance of actor Sam Elliot, whom everyone in the room agreed that he resembled to a nearly baffling degree.
“Sam, wha’ ‘ave you brought upon us?” Beatrice asked, her tone gentler than that of Craig or Cassie before her.
Sam turned to look at her and bowed his head slightly in her direction. “Now, don’t worry, Bee. You’ll get as much a kick out of this as I will.” He grinned again and winked.
When Annabelle and Jack finally emerged from the room they’d claimed for an entire afternoon, it was to find everyone in the room seated on the two couches and love seats and staring at them with wide eyes. Jack’s hands found her upper arms and gripped gently.
Hell Bent Page 32
