He focused on his brother. “Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I'm just fine.” He smiled, refilling his cup.
It'd taken all his willpower to leave Brielle at dawn, but he knew he had to get back to his room. He hadn't wanted anyone to catch him leaving—not the contestants, not his brother, not his men, and especially not the cameras. He'd deliberately pulled Rodriguez from hall duty last night, sending him up one deck to guard the stairway. Guilt flashed through him, but Jack washed it away with a sip of coffee. His men had slept in worse conditions.
"I can see that.” Matthew chuckled as he walked back to his chair and sat. “It looks good on you."
Jack frowned. “What does?"
"Happy.” Matthew winked.
"Yes, we are,” Danni said as she and Mandy breezed into the room.
Jack looked beyond them, hoping, waiting ... yearning to see Brielle again. That woman had become more than a distraction. She'd become all-consuming—every thought, every movement, every nerve ending needed her. It was as if she'd awakened him—as if he'd never really lived until they'd touched.
Jack winced. I've turned into my sentimental brother.
He looked at Matthew, who grinned knowingly at him. Brielle had turned him into a romantic, but he didn't mind. Their shared feelings had opened up new doors to him, and Jack planned to explore every single one with the sexy, leggy brunette.
"Good morning,” she greeted the group. Her gaze met his, stealing his breath as she neared.
His body hummed to life, screaming for her touch. He did his best to keep his hands to himself when she brushed him to grab a cup.
"How's the coffee?” Her eyes smiled into his.
"Perfect” He thrilled at the sight of the blush creeping into her face. “Sleep well?"
"Like a satisfied kitten,” she replied in a low voice while reaching for the sugar. “You?"
"Like a log.” He smiled, his ears picking up her sigh.
"I wish we could break away for ... more.” She blinked the longing from her eyes before she turned and joined the group.
After a statement like that, it took Jack a moment to find his legs. Damn, but she was potent. He followed her to the table and dropped into the chair next to her.
"So, what are we doing today?” Mandy asked as the cook entered with breakfast.
"I'd thought we'd get in a little more swimming and things before we head back at two.” Matthew smiled at the girls as he spoke.
An image of Brielle in her bikini flashed through Jack's head. Another afternoon of sweet torture. But today would be worse ... much worse. Today, he had knowledge of her hidden treasures. Gut twisting, he ate breakfast and plotted new and exciting things to do to her once they were alone.
He glanced sideways at her and swallowed a groan when she bit into a strawberry. The memory of those lips around him hardened his groin. He had to be alone with her. Could they sneak more time on this yacht? No, it would be more feasible to steal away tonight at the mansion. Of course, how the hell he'd do that hadn't come to him yet, but it would.
Her fingers stroked his thigh. He clenched his jaw against the heat rapidly consuming his insides. Hard and throbbing to take Brielle, he called on his reserve of willpower to control his center.
The rest of breakfast went by in a blur. His hand made its way under the table to deploy some maneuvers of his own. Caressing Brielle's silky skin, he inched upward, following the curves of her inner leg. If her hand hadn't stopped him, there's no telling what his hunger might've driven him to do.
"Why don't we play a game of pool before we hit the water?” Matthew's question gained Jack's attention and he noted the others chorused in agreement.
Thankful his shirt was untucked and would hide the result of Brielle's ministrations, he stood.
"Jack, we need to talk,” she whispered as she rose.
"Yes, I've got a few things I need to say to you too.” His mouth watered at the thought.
"Not about that.” Her sobering gaze followed the others from the room.
He frowned. “Is something wrong?"
"No, yes ... I mean, no.” She shook her head, eyes clouding with uncertainty. She stopped him just inside the recreation room. “There's something I've been trying to tell you—that I need to tell you, Jack."
"Go ahead. I'm all yours.” He smiled, hoping to encourage her past the apprehension he saw flicker through her eyes.
"I'm not—"
"Jack,” Rodriguez interrupted on the radio. “You're needed in the salon."
"Damn.” He scowled at the device before returning his gaze to Brielle. “I'm sorry. Can it wait?” His heart contracted at the disappointment in her eyes.
She opened her mouth, then nodded. “It'll have to. I understand. You go ahead."
He hesitated until she smiled. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes. I promise. We'll talk then."
"Hey, Brielle, come on.” Danni waved from across the room. “You get to be on my team."
"Okay,” she answered them both, her gaze dropping to his mouth before she turned and walked toward the pool table.
Ten—he'd be back here in ten minutes. Jack sprinted upstairs to the salon.
"This had better be good, Rodriguez.” He strode into the room, interrupting three of his men.
"It is, sir. Look what we've found.” Rodriguez moved away from the table he'd been blocking.
Jack halted. “Shit!” His pulse shot through the promenade deck above them. “Another note. What does it say?” He approached with a frown.
Rodriguez cleared his throat. “Be careful what you wish for!"
His heart stopped. Brielle's dare. “Where'd you find it?"
"Right here.” Rodriguez pointed to the table.
Jack swallowed a curse. “Out in the open like this?"
"Yes, sir."
"Damn! Whoever's doing this is getting bolder.” His concern for Matthew's and Brielle's welfare skyrocketed. He glanced at the surveillance camera. “Did you check the feed?"
"Yes, sir. There was nothing.” One of his men stepped forward, motioning toward the corner. “This camera and the one in the hall had been shut off."
"Son-of-a-bitch!” Jack slammed his fist—hard—onto the table. I'm sick of this already. Something fell onto his sneaker, then bounced. “What the...?” His heart rolled.
A listening device.
The room grew deathly quiet—as if holding its breath. He peered closer. Alarm shot up his spine. The bug wasn't their brand, therefore—it wasn't theirs. Using a napkin, he picked up the bug and dropped it on the table next to the note.
"Rodriguez, inform Matthew's guard of the situation and tell him no one is to leave the recreation room. The rest of you, I want this ship searched from top to bottom. I'm sure this isn't the only bug on board. Log what you find and where you find it. Then you can explain to me how you missed them when you swept this ship!” Hands behind his back, he walked around his silent men, then stopped to glare. “And if there's bugs, then there's recording devices. Find them!"
"Yes, sir!” His men scattered from the room, scurrying past Rodriguez already talking on his hand-held in the hall.
The urge to check on Matthew and Brielle himself, seized Jack, but he would do them better service by continuing with his search. Her disappointed gaze flashed through his mind. He shook it away. Their talk had to wait. It couldn't be helped, and he was certain she'd understand. He was close to uncovering something—he could taste it!
An hour later, when he regrouped with his men back in the salon, his spine stiffened. No one would look him in the eye. “Report."
"We found ten bugs, sir."
"Where?"
"In here, the lounge, dining room, gym, recreation room, sun deck, discothèques, and two of the contestants’ rooms,” Rodriguez informed.
"Did you find any recorders?"
Rodriguez hesitated. “Yes.” Then looked away.
Jack's heart dropped. Instinct told him he wouldn't like the answer to the question
he knew he had to ask. “Where?"
"In Brielle's room."
Chapter Fifteen
Where was Jack?
Brielle bit her lip as she glanced at her watch for the tenth time since he'd left. He said he'd be back in fifteen minutes, but a whole hour had passed.
Something was wrong.
Her stomach knotted. Was he hurt? Did he need her help?
She eyed the door, apprehension tempting her feet.
"You're up, Brielle,” Matthew said, stepping in front of her. He looked in her eyes and frowned. “Something wrong?"
"I don't know. I've just got this awful feeling, Matthew,” she replied in a whisper, careful not to let the other's hear. “Jack was supposed to be back an hour ago."
"Well, why don't you go look.” He glanced at the girls, busy pouring a glass of wine. “I'll cover for you."
"Thanks.” She thrust the stick in his hand and headed for the door.
"Where do you think you're going?” The guard crossed his arms and blocked her exit.
She raised a brow. “To the bathroom. You got a problem with that?"
"Boss said no one is to leave.” He remained immobile.
Alarm wrapped its fingers around her spine. Something was wrong. She didn't have time for this crap. “Look, I like you but I will take you down in order to go."
He touched his earpiece and nodded to something he'd heard. She frowned. What the hell was going on? Her gaze bounced around the group. Everyone here was fine.
"Okay, Ms. Bennett. You may go. You're presence is requested in the salon.” He stepped from the door.
Hurrying to the salon, Brielle glanced in every room she passed on the way, praying she didn't find Jack hurt ... or worse. Her heart grew heavier with each step. By the time she reached the stairwell and ran into Rodriguez, her nerves were shot.
"Where's Jack?” she asked, not liking the dark look on the man's face. “Is he all right?"
"He's waiting in your room, Ms. Bennett."
Brielle blinked. In her room? Not the salon? Had she been overreacting? She looked at the messenger's thin lips and decided she hadn't.
"Please, come with me."
Frowning, she took the steps two at a time and didn't slow her pace until she reached her room. Jack and the rest of his men stood in front of her bed. They turned when she entered.
"Jack, what are you doing here?” Brielle went to him, relieved to find him unharmed, but his cold gaze stopped her dead. She shivered, waiting for his reply.
"The question is—what are you doing here?” He grabbed her arm, then nodded for Rodriguez to close the door, trapping her inside with the four of them and two cameramen.
"Jack? What's going on?” She tried to glance behind them but they blocked the bed from her view.
"You tell me, Ms. Bennett.” He cocked his head and scowled. “If that's your real name."
"What?” She frowned, not understanding what had happened to the loving man who'd left the recreation room earlier.
"I want to know who you are and why the hell you've bugged this ship.” His grip tightened on her arm as he nodded to his men to move away.
Her heart dropped. All her bugs and recording devices littered the bed. Her gaze shot back to his. “Look, Jack, I can explain—in fact that's what I've been trying to do."
"I'm all ears, sweetheart,” he said, his grip painful.
"You're hurting me.” She looked up at him, not recognizing the stranger before her. “Jack."
"I heard you,” he said, but didn't lessen his hold. “I asked you a question. Who the hell are you?"
"My name is Gabrielle Chapman."
His eyes narrowed. “Franco DeMarco's niece?” He released her with a curse.
"Yes,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I'm undercover working the same case."
His gaze snapped to hers. “You're working this case?"
"Yes.” She searched her brain, trying to find the right words to make this go easy. “I'm sorry. I begged them to let me tell you, but no one would listen."
"Them?” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “Who's them?"
"Matthew, my uncle and your parents.” She watched his anger grow with each name.
"They all know?” He rasped.
She nodded, bracing for the onslaught. “They hired me to keep a watch on the girls at the bachelorette mansion.” She stepped toward him. “I'm only trying to help, Jack."
"Help? Is that what you've been doing?"
She flinched at the hostility in his tone. “Of course. Why are you so angry?"
"Why am I so...” He stopped and clenched his fists before hitting her with a direct look. “Tell me, Ms. Chapman, was I part of your job?"
"Okay, boys, I think this is where we leave.” Rodriguez and his men ushered the protesting cameramen from the room.
"No,” she answered when they were alone. “You were never part of the job, Jack.” She went to touch him, but he moved out of her grasp. Pain drop-kicked her heart.
"I can't believe I let myself wide open for this shit again.” He turned to face her. “Why didn't you tell me last week when I asked you to leave the show?"
"I tried to, but you opened your mouth and said some hurtful things and oh, I don't know, I thought I'd better stick to the rules and keep it quiet.” She fought to remain calm. Jack had every right to be angry. Giving rise to her own anger would do them no good.
"You're some piece of work.” He shook his head, smiling without mirth. “That's a very convenient claim. Sorry, not buying it, sweetheart.” He looked down at the bugs and recording devices on her bed.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I ... I don't know what else to say.” She wanted to touch him, to tell him she loved him, beg his forgiveness, but knew he was in no state of mind to listen.
He turned to her, eyes haunted by her betrayal. She reeled back as if hit with a physical blow. His pain seared her heart.
"Did you have a good laugh at my expense? Was it all a lie, Brielle?"
"No!” She shook her head vehemently. “No, Jack. I already explained that. None of it was a lie. It was very real. You know I care about you deeply. I'd never—"
"Spare me the deep feeling bullshit,” he spat, cutting her off as he paced across her floor. “And don't give me that crap about none of it being a lie—what about your name?"
"Well, yeah. Of course I lied about that. I'm undercover.” She smiled, hoping the humor of the situation wasn't lost on him. It was. Brielle sighed. “Look, my name and occupation were a fabrication, but you've worked undercover before. Surely, you understand my position? This was just like at The Limelight."
He blinked. “You were the insider."
"Yes.” She searched his face, looking for a speck of understanding to grasp onto. His silence punctured her heart and drained the hope from her soul. Not even a crumb. “Jack, please."
"Please, what, Brielle? You played me.” His fist hit the wall. “How the hell do you expect me to feel? I thought I'd finally found the right woman. How stupid could I be?” He smacked his palm off his head.
Her heart strangled at the pain mirrored in his eyes. She wanted to scream. You're not wrong! I am that woman! But the words couldn't get past the lump lodged in her throat.
"I thought, finally, a woman who doesn't lie.” He snickered, rolling his eyes. “Boy, was I ever wrong. You're the most deceitful woman I've ever met."
"Jack, that's not true. Nothing I've said or done to you was a lie.” She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at the truth she knew was in her eyes. “Nothing."
His gaze narrowed. Hope and trust sparkled for a moment, then faded as a frost set in. “You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Well, except for your responses to the sex we had last night."
She dropped her hands, willing him not to continue.
He looked her up and down. “I know you didn't fake that."
Stumbling back as his hateful words sucked the breath from her lungs, she blinked, un
able to stop the tears. “I can't believe you just said that."
"Why?” He stepped closer. “Because it's the truth? At least I tell the truth, Brielle. You should try it sometime."
"I think you'd better go before you say something you'll regret.” She walked toward the door.
"Too late.” He sneered. “I regret ever meeting you, Brielle Chapman."
His statement halted her feet, and she swung around to face him. “I don't believe you mean that, Jack. You're just hurt and upset, and I'm sorry. But I'll never believe you meant that."
"Believe what you like, Ms. Chapman,” he spat. “When we get into port in a few hours, I don't want to see you again."
"Sorry, Jack.” Her chin rose under his glare. “I can't do that. I gave my word to your family and mine, and I'm not leaving until my job is done."
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Leaning closer, he paused an inch from her face. Hot breath hit her in angry spurts. “Whichever comes first, the end of this case or the end of this show, I want you out of my life."
Her heart protested, but she swallowed the objection. “Whatever you want, Jack Anderson, you're calling the shots."
"Ha, that's rich,” he scoffed. “If I were, then why wasn't I told about you?"
"Your parents seemed to think you'd be worried about me and feel the need to protect me.” She held his gaze. “I don't think we have that problem now, do we?"
"Nope.” He shook his head, then about-faced toward the door.
Her heart cried out. She couldn't let him walk away. Pain was making him act like a jerk. She made one more attempt to reason with him. “I really did try to get their permission, Jack. I even tried to tell you without their permission last night and this morning."
He opened the door and for a moment, Brielle thought he was going to keep going, but he stopped and turned to face her.
"You should've tried harder.” The door slammed behind him, effectively severing their relationship.
Staring at the knob—willing the door to open—she stumbled backward and sank onto the bed. He's not coming back. Her fingers closed around the listening devices responsible for ruining her life. “You stupid...” She threw them against the wall, and watched them bounce to the carpet, lifeless. Sobs wracked Brielle's body as she slid to the floor and joined them—abandoned.
Meet Your Mate Page 18