by Cait Jarrod
Jake didn’t know which was worse, his mother being quiet or yelling.
Howard’s stern eyes locked on Jake.
The room quieted.
Here it comes, the onslaught of questions.
“Where in the hell have you been, boy?” Howard switched his fierce glare to Paul. “You knew your brother was alive?”
Paul cleared his throat. “I just found out.”
Howard inched toward Jake. Elizabeth clasped his arm, stopping him. “He’s here. That’s all that matters.” She tiptoed through the crushed glass and collapsed into Jake’s arms. “I thought we lost you. I assumed when we buried Jennifer, we buried you too.” Elizabeth gasped between sobs. “Oh Jake.”
Jake wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he had done countless times. “I’m sorry.”
As a young child, his mother often left him at the Englands when she worked. Elizabeth, a second mother, became his only mother years afterward. He peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder, regarding the only person he knew as his father. His hair had thinned, but he was still spry. “Dad.”
Through his stern face, moisture brightened Howard’s eyes. He didn’t speak, only nodded.
Elizabeth backed away from Jake’s embrace. She dried her tears with her hands and judged Paul. “You should have told me. I would have fixed his favorite food.”
“Mom,” Jake interrupted, “any food you fix is my favorite.” He assumed the words would comfort Elizabeth; instead, she buried her face in her hands and wept. Howard crossed the room, diverting the broken glass, and pulled her into his chest. He met Jake’s gaze. “We’re glad you’re here, son, but after dinner, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Hugging his wife, he said, “Jake, I should kick your ass.”
Paul disappeared. In short order, he returned with the supplies to clean up the mess. “Why don’t you three head into the dining room? I’ll clean up.”
Jake guided them to the dining room table. Once there, his mother’s tears subsided, and she stared across the table. As if she needed confirmation as to what she saw. “You’re alive?”
“Yes.”
The dinner was uneventful, then they headed outside to the patio for after dinner drinks.
The men seated at the patio table, Howard eyed Jake, the sternness in his eyes back. “What’s going on?”
A rattle halted their conversation. Elizabeth stood on the outside of the sliding doors, and the glasses on the tray she carried shook.
“Mom,” Jake and Paul said in unison.
Her usually pink face paled, and the tray in her hands lowered. Paul raced to her side and grabbed the tray before it tumbled on the unyielding bricks of the patio. Paul deposited the tray on the table.
“Mom,” Jake began.
“Jake, what you put your father and me through is reprehensible.” She sucked in a shaky breath.
“Mom.” Paul separated his mother and Jake. “He didn’t have a choice.”
Elizabeth glared at Paul then beyond him to Jake. “No choice?” her voice squeaked.
Jake hated what had transpired causing them so much heartache. He knew firsthand what it was like to lose someone so close. The day he was told that he had to fake his death to preserve his life he had argued the decision because he knew the grief his parents and Paul would endure. Still, he agreed, knowing that one day they would see him and, he hoped, forgive him.
“No choice?” His father’s deep voice questioned from behind.
Jake looked at his father staring at the river. Howard’s hand shook as it passed through his hair. Jake knew where he picked up the habit. Howard faced Jake, the disappointment palpable on his face. “Your girlfriend died, and you leave your brother to pick up the pieces, and us to think you were dead, gone from our lives forever.”
“Dad, it’s not that simple.”
“Explain it to us.” His mother moved closer, her green eyes waiting for answers. “We suffered as if we had lost you. Why?”
This was what he expected when he first entered the house, them demanding answers. “Please sit and let me explain.”
His dad returned to his seat, and Paul helped his mother into a chair.
Jake tucked his head and paced the length of the patio, his hands firmly on his hips. “What I have to say has to stay between us.”
He waited for confirmation before telling them in detail what transpired, the same story he conveyed to Paul. How his girlfriend betrayed him by being the mistress of a terrorist he was investigating. He slumped into his seat, waiting for the aftermath.
Tears fell. “Oh, Sweetheart,” Elizabeth gasped. “I wish I had known what happened.” Standing, she approached Jake and pulled her son into her embrace. “I could never stay mad at you. I’m grateful that you’re here.”
The comfort, the forgiveness, and the unrestrictive love crashed down on him. He held his mother tightly as he shed unwanted tears.
Howard patted him on the back, followed by a hug. “We love you, son.” Man of a few words, yet he managed to say a mouthful.
Paul’s cell phone rang, and he shuffled away from the table. After scant minutes of listening, he regarded Jake and grimaced.
“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth inquired when Paul disconnected.
“Pamela’s mother, Vivian, had a car accident. She’s not expected to make it.”
Chapter Nine
“Damn, cell phones with no reception.” Pamela slung it across the room. “I need Steve.”
The hospital door opened as the cell phone flew, thunking against the wall.
“I’m not Steve, but will I do?”
She wiped the tears from her face and looked at the man beside her bed, the one she had depended on for the last few days. The man who felt like home, yet didn’t bother to come see her last night. Surely, Jake had heard about her mother’s accident when Paul received the news. “Jake.”
“I take it Steve didn’t have good reception.”
She shook her head, and her eyes drifted to his hand touching the bare skin on her arm. She craved more. She ached to feel him against her. If only she could lose herself with him, all the bad stuff would go away. The stupid bearer bonds that someone believed she had would disappear, the threatening notes would cease, and people she loved would stop getting hurt.
“Sorry about your mother.”
Her bottom lip started to quiver, emotions playing havoc with her sanity. No matter how much she yearned for Jake to hold her and take her cares away, she didn’t intend to give in to temptation. They had tried that once, and it hadn’t worked.
But, right now, she couldn’t see past the want. In emotional turmoil, she needed a way to lessen the emotional pain, the confusion. She sucked in a breath, trying to fortify herself against her impulses. It took all her strength not to grab him, pull his body to her, and melt into him.
Tears leaked from her eyes, and she closed them. The pain, the anguish from all the crap, barreled down on her. How much more could she bear? Her mother, despite the fact she left her, was hurt because of Pamela. She opened her eyes and spilled her thoughts. “It hurts so badly,” she sobbed. “Make it stop.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, Jake eased her to him.
She fisted her hands into his button down shirt and buried her head against his chest. “Jake, make it stop,” she said, her voice escalating, and then the tears poured. The faucet had turned on, and she couldn’t find a way to turn it off. “It’s my fault my mom is having emergency surgery. It’s my fault! I can’t even go see her. The bully FBI agents in the hall won’t let me.” Her fist hit his chest. “Make it go away, Jake, make the pain go away,” she bawled.
Jake kissed the top of her head, and his arms squeezed tightly around her, but the trembling in her body didn’t cease.
“Pamela,” Jake’s voice was gentle, so tender. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She shifted until her eyes met his. “Jake, it’s not me I’m worried about, don’t you see? It’s everyone around me gettin
g hurt. It kills me. I don’t know what to do to stop it. I don’t have the damn bearer bonds they think I do. I have no idea why I’m being put in this mess.”
Jake handed her the hospital issued box of tissues from the TV tray.
Pamela blew her nose. “Jake, I live a good life. I’m actually a goody two-shoes. So why in the hell am I being punished?”
Jake cupped her face and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, drying her tears. His eyes locked with hers. “It’s not your fault. You have to stop feeling guilty.”
She moistened her lips. If he would just kiss her as he did in the alley, she’d feel alive, and this awful feeling inside would subside, if only for a moment.
His lips touched hers, the contact sending warmth through her body. She craved this, coveted it. Her lips parted, and his tongued moved inside. The pain started to diminish. He withdrew, then turned his head and covered her lips again. Her hands slid up his chest to his neck, tugging him closer. His fingers slid beneath the flaps of the hospital gown, touching her back as he pressed her into him. A low moan vibrated through his chest, reaching out and grabbing her tender and very sensitive nipples. She yearned for more. Climbing his body right here, right now sounded good. Yet, as much as she wished for more, she knew they had better stop.
He must have thought the same, since he pulled away. His lips were wet from her; his eyes were dilated because of her. Her lust bade her onward. She sucked in her lips, caught her breath, and resisted the urge.
They had already established they couldn’t do this again. Why exactly was that?
He cleared his throat, and one of his hands slid through his hair while his eyes were glued to her gown. She glanced down. Her nipples were erected, still aiming at their desire. She started to cross her arms over her chest, then stopped. Let him look his fill. When his eyes shifted, they didn’t meet hers. “We can’t. We’ve said it before.” He stood and moved to the far wall. “I can’t.”
“I know.” What more could she say? He was supposed to protect her, not tempt her.
“I had myself under control, but when you looked at me with those big eyes, begging for me to help…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute,” the pain from what was happening in her life disappeared. Fury was taking hold. “You kissed me out of pity?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders drooped. “Yeah.”
How could he make such a heartless comment? She didn’t need this. She had enough unrest. “Get the hell out of my room!”
He raised one hand. “Let me rephrase.”
She didn’t care how he said it. The meaning remained the same. Thank goodness, they weren’t somewhere he could have given her a pity fuck, a pity kiss was bad enough. “Jake, you need to leave.”
A ringing sound came from the floor. Jake bent down and gathered her phone and its protective sleeve a few inches away. “Great case. Your phone appears to still work.”
He grinned, but her disappointment kept her from seeing the levity in the situation. “I’m not available.” She was ticked enough to spit nails, and she didn’t like to spit.
“It’s your dad.”
“What? You’re looking at my caller ID? Isn’t that a little bit nosy? Oh, wait. You’re FBI, that’s what you do.” She sounded like an ungrateful kid, but so what? He had crossed the line.
“Jake Gibson.”
“What are you doing?” Pamela yelled.
“I’ll let her know, sir.”
“Let me know what?”
Jake closed her cell and tossed it on her bed. “Your mother is out of surgery. She’ll have to live with one lung, but plenty of people do.”
That brought her back down to reality. Elbows on her knees, Pamela cradled her head. She had crucial matters to put her emotions into, rather than Jake’s reaction to her. Her mother had survived. Marge would be okay. What happened if another person was hurt? Then it occurred to Pamela, maybe her mother’s accident had nothing to do with her. Paul didn’t know any details about the accident when he stopped by yesterday evening. She blew out a breath, letting go some of her antipathy. “Jake, do the authorities think that my mother’s accident has anything to do with me? I haven’t heard any details.”
His intake of air confirmed what she believed, but she waited for him to answer. “A man driving a motorcycle pulled out in front of your mother. She over-steered to miss him and ran head on into an oncoming truck. From an eyewitness, we know that the motorcycle was at fault. Also, the witness was able to give the locals a description of the driver. They described a leather jacket with a Black Scorpion on the back.”
Pamela dropped her hands. “I can’t believe this. Where was Nicholas? Why wasn’t he driving her?”
“An agent briefed him. Nicholas claims to have been in his hotel room while Vivian ran an errand.”
“That late in the evening?”
“Not too late. Around eight.” Jake stepped close to the bed. “What?”
“Mom never likes driving late in the evening. She says after four o’clock everyone is off work and driving like lunatics.”
“Maybe she changed her mind.”
“Maybe. Can you take me to see her? The hospital has discharged me, but the agents in the hall said they have orders for me to wait for you before I could leave.” She hated that they had shared a kiss, had fought, and now he would be her bodyguard, requiring her to ask him for favors. “I want to see Marge, too.”
“No problem, but given the circumstances, you won’t be able to linger. There’s a wheelchair in the hall with your name on it. I’ll give you time to change.”
“Seriously, I have to use a wheelchair?”
“Yes. How’s your head?”
“It’s tender when I touch it, and the headache isn’t too bad.”
Jake disappeared into the hall while Pamela changed clothes. She had wanted to change before he arrived, but her mind had been so focused on her mother and Marge that she hadn’t thought twice about it. At least, Jake did get her mind off her troubles, if only for a few minutes. Calling Vivian Mom hadn’t escaped her attention either. The word flowed off her tongue as if she’d used it all her life. She changed out of her hospital gown and put on the lavender sundress Celine had brought by for her.
A knock on the door, and it opened slowly, and then Pamela slid into the wheelchair.
Jake pushed Pamela to the gift shop where she purchased two flower arrangements, then they headed to the elevators, while four agents followed. Within minutes, Jake opened the door to Marge’s room.
Marge sat up in bed eating a snack. “Pamela.”
Pamela sprung out of the wheelchair, placed one of the flower arrangements on the bedside table, then hugged Marge. “You look good.”
Pamela kissed Marge’s cheek while Jake kissed the other side. “There’s the lively young woman we know and love,” Jake said.
Marge smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Jake.” She looked at Pamela. “How’s your mother, sweetheart?”
“She’s out of surgery. I’m going to see her next. The doctors believe she’ll be okay.”
“I’m glad.”
Pamela felt thankful too, but what that woman put her through, she didn’t know if she could ever forgive.
As if Marge could read her mind, she said, “Sweetheart, we all do things that we’re not proud of. Your mother loves you. There’s no doubt. She just has a hard time showing it.”
Pamela picked up Marge’s hand. “You were the only one who acted like my mother.”
“But give her a chance, Sweetheart.”
Pamela longed to curl up in Marge’s arms now and hear her say everything would be okay, just as she had done every day for a month after her mother had left. Her eyes flicked on her bandage. “Does your neck hurt?”
“It’s a little sore. I’ll have a scar.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Jake shuffled, and Pamela watched him walk to the w
indow. Something was eating at him. Maybe he felt bad for what he said to her. She smiled. Let him wallow in regret.
“At least you have a window. I’m in a dungeon,” Pamela said.
“Speaking of which, time to leave.” Jake spun around and grabbed the wheelchair. His actions were what she perceived as the typical FBI agent, no chitchat, a just business persona.
“Your dad will be back shortly. I should get some sleep before he returns.”
After giving Marge a quick kiss on her check, Pamela climbed back into her wheelchair. Next, they learned from the information desk that Vivian would remain in the recovery room for another couple of hours. They walked into the waiting room looking for her father, but found Nicholas. He paced the length of the room.
“Nicholas,” Jake said. “How’s Vivian?”
Nicholas’ faced turned pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Pamela stood and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
His eyes shifted from Jake, and he looked at Pamela as he rubbed his hands together. “I’m just worried about your mother.”
“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she? I mean that’s what Dad told Jake.” Pamela situated the vase of flowers on the nearby table.
Nicholas nodded. “So they say.”
Nicholas rubbed his hands on his pants then he wiped his forehead. When he lifted his arm, a big wet spot appeared under his armpit. He’d sweated through his shirt and suit jacket. “Nicholas, you look flushed. You probably need to shed your jacket.”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
She didn’t care much for Nicholas Wine. The main reason, she had blamed him for years for taking her mother away from them. Though Vivian didn’t marry him for a few years after her parents’ divorce, he still moved her to the other side of the country, which made their strained relationship even harder to mend.
Jake patted the wheelchair. “Let’s go.”
Pamela glared at him, then plopped down on the seat. Her headache was almost nonexistent now. She wished her heartache would go away as well.
When they approached the door, Jake turned and looked at Nicholas. “Got any more of those Now and Then books?”
