Black Jack

by Lora Leigh

  Pain filled Angelica’s voice then.

  “Perhaps I was trying to protect you, Mother.” Lilly couldn’t imagine any other reason. “Have you considered that? Someone killed Father and obviously tried to kill me.”

  “Which only tells me you were somehow involved in his asinine little games,” Angelica threw back furiously. “Were you, Lilly? Is that what nearly got you killed? Please, God, tell me your father hadn’t drawn you into that paranoid probe he launched into Harrington’s?”

  “Mother,” Lilly said wearily, not wanting to get into this with her. She had been outraged when her father suspected his own share holders of stealing from the company. The shareholders had been friends.

  “Actually,” Desmond breathed out roughly. “We suspect your father had developed a bit of dementia perhaps. I mean, to think that someone within Harrington’s or perhaps a shareholder, was still embezzling funds from the companies. He refused to accept that whoever had stolen the money had gotten away, or that they were no longer trifling with the accounts.”

  Dementia?

  Lilly stared back at her uncle as she fought to hold in her shock. There was no way anyone could have believed her father had been ill.

  “Father wasn’t ill,” she finally stated, the feeling of betrayal that filled her centering on her uncle. “Is this how you convinced Mother to marry you? By spreading such lies about Father?”

  “Lilly!” Angelica gasped. “How dare you say such a thing.”

  Lilly shook her head as Desmond’s lips thinned, his gaze narrowing on her angrily.

  “Evidently, Father was dealing with much more than I knew before his death,” she informed them both tightly. “How could you have believed for even a moment that Father was ill?”

  Angelica stared back at her for long moments, her breasts rising and falling quickly as tension thickened further in the air.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Angelica finally whispered. “You didn’t see him as he truly was, Lilly. You saw your father, and as a child, you excuse inconsistencies.”

  Lilly lifted her hand to halt the coming tirade.

  “I refuse to discuss this supposed illness,” she snapped. “You and I both know there was nothing wrong with Father other than a family that obviously refused to believe in him. And I well understand how he felt if you were so bold as to question his sanity to his face. My God, Mother, simply because we dare to oppose you or because we create a few waves doesn’t mean we’re in any way mentally deficient.”

  “No, but when you throw away a title, wealth, and a stable home for the life you lived for six years, then there is no doubt in my mind that you were mentally unbalanced,” her mother shot back loudly. “Did you read that file, Lilly? Did it even connect in that selfish little brain of yours what you did to us for six years? You deprived me of my daughter. You deprived yourself of your family. For what reason? At least give me that. Why would you do such a thing?” She was yelling by the time she finished. Her mother’s voice and expression were filled with such tormented fury that Lilly had to fight the tears that filled her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered painfully. “If I knew, Mother, then I would tell you.”

  But would she?

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, Lilly had a feeling she wouldn’t tell her mother the truth. Whatever had driven her away from her family would have had to be a threat to them as well.

  “That’s all well and good.” Desmond’s shoulders tightened as he once again crossed his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t change the fact that your actions now are unacceptable, Lilly. You have gone irrevocably wild since connecting with Travis Caine again. This association must end immediately.”

  Lilly blinked back at him. She had the most insane urge to laugh in both their faces.

  “I’m no longer sixteen, Uncle Desmond,” she told him calmly. “Travis is a connection to the memories I’ve lost and whatever drove me from my family. Ending that association is not an action I’m willing to take at this time.”

  She had a feeling it wouldn’t be an action she was willing to take at any time, but wisely refrained from making mention of that fact.

  “I warned you she would refuse to listen to reason,” Angelica said. “Caine has somehow managed to bewitch her.”

  “Oh my God, Mother.” Lilly did laugh this time. “Bewitch me? This isn’t the Middle Ages, you know, and Travis Caine isn’t some sort of wizard.”

  “He’s a criminal is what he is,” her mother argued. “An element that has always attracted you. You were forever attempting to converse with the less desirable elements that attended any party you were invited to. No matter where we went it seemed you were attracted to the shadows. I warned your father you would come to a bad end if that habit continued.”

  Arguing with her mother was fruitless. She and her father had often discussed her mother’s inability to ever admit she was wrong, and the trials in loving one who perceived that they had no faults.

  “Lilly, you’re not fully healed,” Desmond said softly, his expression still filled with censure as he watched her. “Until you’re well enough to understand the decisions you’re making . . .”

  “Don’t patronize me, Uncle Desmond,” she warned him then. “I’m not a child, nor am I a simpleton.”

  “Then stop acting so foolish!” her mother said.

  “I’ve had it.” Lilly turned for the door and began walking across the room. “This discussion is over.”

  “Don’t you dare walk out on me, Victoria!” her mother demanded furiously. “I won’t have it.”

  Lilly ignored her.

  Striding from the room and up the stairs, Lilly couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps her uncle had somehow managed to deceive her father. Or worse, could he have killed his brother?

  Stranger things had been known to happen, she thought. Desmond had obviously wanted his brother’s wife. Desmond had never married. He had no children. He had dedicated himself to his brother and his brother’s family. Or had he simply dedicated himself to his brother’s wife?

  That was sickening. The thought of it had her stomach churning as she stalked into her bedroom, slammed the door closed, and locked it.

  Could Desmond have actually killed his brother?

  God, she couldn’t imagine such a thing. And knowing her mother’s complete obsession with appearances, she simply couldn’t imagine Angelica would have gone along with something so horrible.

  That didn’t mean she hadn’t done it.

  Pacing to the window, she stared beyond it into the shadowed, cool depths of the gardens below and fought to make sense of what was going on around her.

  It was obvious Travis felt Desmond or Jared was involved in her father’s death, and the attempt on her life as well.

  Now, why would a “facilitator,” a man who was no more than a criminal, really, care about proving whether or not anyone was involved in anything?

  She frowned at the thought. That didn’t truly fit the personality of the man known as Travis Caine. A blood-monger. A man who had no problems killing in the name of his so-called job.

  A mirthless smile twisted her lips at the thought. He acted more like an agent than a criminal.

  But he’d made several good points. One being the fact that her father had trusted her with much more information than anyone had ever suspected.

  Part of that information were the login and passwords for the Harrington financial vault that they kept on a secured server in the Harrington Manor.

  She turned and stared at the laptop on her desk.

  It wasn’t secured. Anyone could have tapped it and could spy on any information she pulled up. She needed the ability to secure it, and she needed to do so quickly.

  Was anything in this house secure though? She turn
ed slowly, her lashes lowered, her gaze taking in the areas that could possibly hide a camera. Finding electronic bugs would be much harder . . .

  The memory flashed in her mind. She had stored a secured laptop as well as a variety of devices used to detect audio or video surveillance.

  She remembered wrapping them in protective pouches and placing in the cabinet that sat in the corner.

  Sitting down on the bed, she pulled her boots off, careful to keep her demeanor cool. Something warned her that her bedroom was indeed bugged in some manner. She was more prone to suspect the audio versus the video, though. Not that video bothered her over much.

  She almost laughed at the thought. She had visited the French Riviera more than once and made use of the nude beaches there. She had never been particularly shy about her body, just rather picky about sharing it.

  She would slip out tonight and get the items she needed. She could manage a few hours without getting caught, just not another all-nighter.

  Strange, she felt no sense of trepidation about spying into her family’s finances. A part of her was too determined, too intent on finding whoever had murdered Father and was now determined to kill her.

  She was a threat to someone. Enough of a threat that they hadn’t been convinced she had died in that car crash. They had gone looking for her, and somehow, they had managed to find her.

  That had been yet another mistake on their part.

  The first had been in killing her father.

  The second in forcing her back here to the life she had obviously walked away from.

  As she headed for the bathroom and a shower, a low knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” Turning, she watched the door as it opened slowly.

  “Fresh towels, ma’am.” The petite housemaid entered the room, her arms laden with towels as she moved for the bathroom.

  Lilly stepped back as the young woman moved into the bathroom. Dressed in the customary gray skirt and white blouse her mother insisted on for the house servants, she moved quietly and as unobtrusively as possible.

  Servants were forced to just about tiptoe around her mother. Her mother believed that servants shouldn’t be seen or heard unless there was no other choice.

  “Thank you.” Lilly stood back as the young girl moved from the bathroom once again.

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.” A shy smile and the maid scurried from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Lilly shook her head at the girl’s skittishness before entering the bathroom herself.

  She laid out a towel and clothes before turning to the shower and adjusting the water. Stripping her clothes, she tossed them to the counter before pulling open a drawer for a hair clip to hold her hair out of the water.

  The folded piece of paper lying on top of the clips had her pausing and staring at it suspiciously.

  Pulling it free, she unfolded it carefully and stared at the words printed there.

  Discretion is the better part of valor in any game.

  Remember who you are, but never forget what you were, because that will be the only way to survive. Now, please, be kind enough to flush.

  Her eyes narrowed on the last line before she glanced at the toilet and sighed heavily before crumpling the paper to a small ball and doing as requested.

  It wasn’t as though the note held surprising information. She was well aware that she needed to play a more subtle game than she was currently playing—that of learning who she was while keeping her family unaware. She hadn’t been doing a very good job thus far.

  For the rest, she just might be screwed. She remembered well who she had been before the past six years; it was after that that she had a bit of a problem. If her survival depended on remembering who she had been during those six years, then she was definitely screwed.

  Now, if she could just find a way to force those lost memories free, then perhaps the answer to finding who had killed her father, and who was trying to kill her, might lie there.

  One thing was for certain, she was going to have to remember soon, or she would end up truly dead, rather than simply pretending to be.

  Chapter 9

  two days later Travis rode his Harley into a deserted warehouse lot and eased into the old brick building with its cracked and shattered windows and decaying wood doors.

  The team was waiting for him. Noah, John, Micah, and Nik were lounging on their cycles while Jordan waited in the black SUV, the passenger’s side door open as he watched the entrance with narrowed, neon-blue eyes.

  His driver was the red-haired little hellion who seemed to drive the commander insane on the best of days. Tehya was the jokester of the unit, the agent that wasn’t really an agent but an integral part of the unit nonetheless.

  As Travis pulled the bike to a stop amid the semicircle created around the SUV and swung off the seat, he wasn’t surprised by the air of speculation that seemed to emanate from the group.

  The three married agents, Noah, Micah, and John, were watching him warningly. They had tried to warn him over the past days about the deepening involvement between him and Lilly, but it wasn’t something he wanted to hear. Warnings weren’t what he needed. What he needed were solutions, and he hadn’t found any yet.

  “I have to get back by evening,” he informed Jordan as he approached the men, who were now standing by the open door. “I’ve been invited to the Harringtons’ estate by Lilly for a little get-together they’re having.”

  “The French ambassador.” Jordan nodded. “He’s a good friend of the Harrington family. Desmond and the deceased Harold Harrington were classmates of his for several years at Eton. The party is an excuse to discuss business with their American counterparts in a setting where their wives can also participate.”

  “A dress-up party,” Nik snorted.

  The Russian knew well the type of parties the Harringtons frequented. Like Travis, he’d been to several get-togethers hosted by the Harringtons or those of their social set before his induction into the Ops.

  Nik had been a member of Russia’s political and social elite. He’d been a husband, a father, and a man on the fast track to a leadership position until he had pissed off the wrong political group.

  Nik and Travis seemed to have that in common. Once, they had been a part of society, they’d had power, wealth, and ideals. Those ideals had been the cause of their “deaths.”

  “So why are we meeting here instead of at the safe house?” Travis turned to his commander, then glanced around the warehouse casually. “And I notice Elite Two’s Commanders aren’t here.”

  Santos and Rhiannon had the potential to become pains in the ass, if anyone wanted his opinion.

  “This Op is under the jurisdiction of Elite One, just as their agent is,” Jordan reminded him, his tone brusque. “They’re only allowed in an advisory position. And we’re meeting here to ensure that that status remains uncorrupted.” The tight, merciless smile that pulled at Jordan’s lips was telling.

  Well, now, wasn’t that surprising. Travis bet that wasn’t sitting well with Rhiannon in particular.

  “Commander McConnelly is making waves,” Jordan continued. “She contacted Elite Command last night to report that she believed, based on the meeting three days ago with Night Hawk, the viability of the mission is in jeopardy. I was in a vid-conference with them this morning with my own report.”

  “And what was your report?” Travis asked, trying to hold back his suspicions and his anger.

  “I didn’t throw her to the wolves if that’s what you’re asking. But get Lilly under control, Travis,” Jordan growled. “You and I both know she’s regaining partial memories. Make sure she doesn’t become a danger to the Elite Ops or the order for cancellation will go out, Travis. She’s a civilian now. Elite Command won’t let her walk around with bits and pieces of our se
crets in her head.”

  That was what Travis liked about Jordan. He was a hell of a commander. He played by the rules laid out by the head of Elite Ops, Elite Command, and did the job he had taken on, but he also understood people and his men in particular.

  “From all appearances he has more than a handle on her, Commander,” Micah, the Israeli contribution to the unit, said. “She’s been sneaking out of the estate every night and heading to Black Jack’s after Travis’s butler goes to bed, and strutting back into the estate the next morning as though her family weren’t in a rage because of it.”

  And they were screaming with rage, Travis was sure of it. Desmond Harrington had demanded, more than once, that Lilly terminate her liaison with Travis, and each time, she had refused.

  “Elite Command’s psychologist doesn’t believe Lilly’s going to be able to keep that calm demeaner she has much longer,” Tehya said at that point. “Dr. Lasal has been reviewing the reports sent in by each of you, as well as Jordan’s and Commander McConnelly’s. She believes the parts of Lilly’s memories that are being repressed may be about to break free. She doesn’t expect that her memories will return in full, though. Bits and pieces could be more damaging than remembering nothing, Travis.”

  Travis shook his head, his lips to curling in a mocking sneer. “Lasal’s intentions are good, but she worries too much about things that may not happen,” he growled.

  “Her cover was breached, Travis,” Jordan reminded him quietly. “We were lucky to save her. But Elite Command and the Ops can’t risk discovery. She’s a weak link. If there’s any chance she’ll expose the Ops, then she’ll be canceled. None of us want that, but we can’t allow her to become a risk to the unit either.”

  “I agree with Travis. She was a damn good agent,” Noah pointed out then, “Personally, I think if she gets her memories back, she won’t spill our secrets.”

  “Are you willing to bet Bella’s and little Nate’s lives on that, Noah?” Jordan asked, referring to Noah’s wife and infant son. “I’m not certain I am.” Jordan had been Noah’s uncle in that life before the Ops. He still retained that blood tie with his nephew, and reminded him of it whenever he needed to.