by Lili Valente
“Unfortunately, Jackson is closer to sorting out our destination than I anticipated,” Ian continued. “I’d hoped my contacts at the Titan group would be able to steer him in the wrong direction, but it looks like he’s decided to take matters into his own hands.”
Hannah frowned. “The Titan group. Those are the people who texted Jackson the picture of Harley.”
“Yes.” Ian stood, shaking out the front of his gray slacks. “I asked Alexander to wait to send the image until the timing was right for Adam to extract you from the island.”
“Adam’s the one who sent the text telling them to kill Harley, not Jackson,” she said, feeling like a fool. She should have questioned the text, and Jackson’s right-hand man, the moment she saw the kill order.
Deep down, she’d known that wasn’t who Jackson was. Not anymore. He loved her—madly maybe, but truly. She should have trusted in that love instead of letting fear send her running into the hands of her enemies.
Ian nodded, amusement curving the edges of his mouth. “Trust is such a fragile thing, isn’t it,” he said as if reading her mind. “So hard to gain and so easy to lose. You didn’t even stop to think he might have been framed, did you?”
Hannah dropped her gaze to the floor without bothering to reply. Obviously she hadn’t stopped to think or she wouldn’t be here right now.
“It’s all right,” Ian continued. “If anyone should understand how hard it can be to build trust, it’s my son. I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Perhaps one day you two will be together again. Assuming you’re the sister lucky enough to walk away.”
“You don’t get to do this.” Hannah glared at him, rage sweeping through her like a hot wind, banishing her fear. “You don’t get to decide whether Harley or I live or die!”
“But I do, sweetheart,” Ian said breezily, as the plane pulled to a stop. “And there’s nothing you or my son can do to stop me. By the time Jackson finds out where we are, one of you will already be dead.”
Adam emerged from the cockpit and Ian turned to him with a wave of one hand. “Escort Hannah to see her sister and then meet me in my office. We’re moving up the timetable. I want to have this finished before lunch.”
Hannah balked at the words. The man wanted to get the murdering out of the way so he could enjoy his noon meal. If she’d had any doubts that Ian was a psychopath—or beyond the reach of appeals for mercy—they would have vanished at that moment.
A wave of sickness tightened her throat, but there wasn’t anything left in her stomach. She hadn’t had so much as a drink of water since boarding the aircraft. She’d been too traumatized to think about asking for food or drink.
But now, as Adam led her from the plane and across a wild, overgrown lawn toward a mansion that made her father’s look reserved in comparison, she wished she’d at least asked for a bottle of water. She didn’t want to die with the taste of her own sickness ripe in her mouth. She didn’t want to face down a gun or a knife or whatever Ian had planned for her feeling weak with thirst.
If she was going to die, she wanted to die with dignity, standing tall and strong, meeting Ian Hawke’s cold gaze and letting him know that he hadn’t won. He could take her life, but he would never break her spirit.
The only person who could ever break her was Jackson because she’d loved him too much to hold him at a safe distance.
Loved him so much you turned on him at the first sign of trouble.
What kind of love is that? You should have talked to him, the way you were always insisting he talk to you.
Her inner voice was right, but there was nothing she could do about it now. As Adam led her into the tomblike silence of the giant home and up a curving staircase, Hannah just hoped she would live long enough to learn from her mistake.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jackson
Somewhere over Mexico, minutes after the line went dead without him knowing if Hannah had heard that he hadn’t given the kill order, Jackson forced himself to lie down. He was so wired and scared for Hannah that he knew rest wouldn’t come easy, but he had to try.
He couldn’t face his father burned out and exhausted.
Ian was always five steps ahead of everyone, but Jackson wasn’t the same relatively naïve kid he’d been growing up in his father’s house. He’d learned his share about outthinking his enemies, and this time he was fighting for something more important than a shipment of illegal arms or a good price on his latest black market investment.
He was fighting for Hannah’s life, and her sister’s, too.
If his father killed Harley, Hannah would never forgive him. He had to make this right. He had to think six steps ahead and be waiting for Ian when he turned the corner.
He was off to a good start—he’d already learned that Stewart Mason, his father, and Alexander Titan, of the Titan Group, had served in the same squadron in Vietnam. Therefore, he also knew that he couldn’t trust the intelligence he’d received from the Titan Group or hold on to his previously held beliefs about his father.
The realization had led him to dig beneath the surface, deeper into Ian’s past.
Turns out, Ian Hawke wasn’t the last living member of a Texas oil family, the way he’d led everyone—including his wife—to believe. He was a thug who had grown up in a Chicago slum and, before he was drafted, been well on his way to living a life of crime.
Yes, he’d been awarded his share of medals during his service, but he’d also been written up for insubordination dozens of times. If he’d been serving at any other time than during the least popular war in modern history, Ian would have been discharged before his second tour of duty.
Armed with nothing more than an Internet connection and better-than-average hacking skills, Jackson had unearthed a dozen skeletons in his father’s closet. It made him ashamed of himself for not looking behind the mask years ago. But Ian was good at pretending to be something he wasn’t.
He was also good at eliminating possible threats before they became probable ones.
Jackson had to assume that Ian would know he was on his way so they’d made plans to land at an airstrip on the opposite side of the island from the mansion his father’s subsidiary company had purchased last June. Jackson wanted to keep the news of their arrival from Ian as long as possible and hopefully gain entrance to the house unnoticed.
He refused to think about what would happen if his guess were wrong and the home was empty. He wouldn’t think about how much time that would waste or what might happen to Hannah while he was scrambling to locate whatever snake hole his father had crawled into.
He had to trust the intelligence he’d gathered and have faith that he was on track to saving the woman he loved.
But faith was harder to hold on to when he was alone. With Hannah, it had begun to feel natural to wake up in the morning believing he would continue to become a better man, one worthy of her good heart.
Now, as he drifted into a fitful sleep, he wasn’t sure what he believed. The only thing he knew for sure was that if his father killed Hannah, hers would be the last murder he would live to commit.
Jackson slept, dreaming of a sweltering battlefield where he hunted his father through a blood-soaked jungle and down a hole in the ground that smelled of death and decay. He dreamt of screams and pain and rats that burrowed into the bodies of wounded men, and he woke covered in sweat in time to hear Dominic’s half of an ominous sounding phone call.
“Tell him to stall as long as he can,” Dom said, his troubled gaze trained out the window. “We’ll land in half an hour and be at the house not long after. If he can put it off for even an hour, we’ll be there in time to intervene.”
Dominic sighed, shaking his head at whatever the person on the other line was saying. “I don’t know, Peter. I’ll figure something out. You just make sure Mr. Mason doesn’t make contact until he absolutely has to.”
He ended the call with a jab of his thumb and tossed the phone angrily onto the seat beside him, catching Jackson�
�s eye as he moved. “You’re awake,” he said, the frustration fading from his features, replaced by a carefully neutral expression that made Jackson wish he were on this plane with someone he knew he could trust.
“I am.” Jackson sat up, running a hand through his hair as he pushed the light blanket to the end of the couch. “Who’s stalling and why?”
“Your father made contact with Mr. Mason and told him he had the girls.” Dominic plucked his phone from the seat, tucking it into his front pocket. “Stewart was told to get to a secure computer and prepare for a Skype call in twenty minutes.”
Jackson’s hands balled into fists. “Do you think Hannah was right? Is Ian going to make Mason choose between them?”
“I don’t know,” Dom said, the muscle in his jaw leaping. “But nothing good is going to come from taking that call. The longer Stewart can put it off, the better. My associate, Peter, is trying to find someone in our network close enough to Key West to offer backup, but there’s a good chance they won’t get there in time. We may be on our own.”
“We should plan on it,” Jackson said. “There are already enough unknown variables. We shouldn’t go in counting on someone who won’t be there.”
Dom turned, pinning Jackson with a hard look. “And what about you? Can I count on you?”
Jackson’s expression darkened, but Dom pushed on before he could respond.
“I’m not trying to be an asshole. I believe you care about Hannah, but this man is your father. If it comes down to a choice between him and her, are you going to be able to do what needs to be done?”
“Hannah is all that matters,” Jackson said, holding the other man’s gaze. “I will do whatever it takes to get her out of there alive.”
“And Harley?” Dom pushed. “Because I’m not going in to save just one of them.”
“If I can save Harley without risking Hannah, I will. If not, I won’t,” Jackson answered honestly. “Like I said, Hannah is what matters. I’d rather spend the rest of my life begging her forgiveness for failing to save her sister than hating myself for letting Hannah die.”
Dom studied him for a long moment, doubt clear in his dark eyes. “The rest of your life, huh? You’re serious about that?”
Jackson fought the urge to snap that it was none of Dom’s business what he was or wasn’t serious about. Like it or not, Dominic was the only ally he had, and they didn’t have time to waste bickering amongst themselves. “I am. If she’ll have me.”
“You don’t think you’ll get bored,” Dom said in a cold voice. “Once you’ve smacked her around for a year or two.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched, but he refused to move—or speak—until the wave of anger summoned by the other man’s words had faded. “The things Hannah and I do together are consensual. Not that it’s any of your business, but more often than not, she’s the one who instigates a scene.”
“Right,” the other man sneered.
“For the past month, she remained on the island with me of her own free will,” Jackson snapped, unable to believe he was being forced to waste time justifying his and Hannah’s sexual preferences when her life was in danger. “Clearly, she doesn’t feel that she’s being abused.”
“Yeah, well things can get confusing for victims,” Dom shot back. “I’ve seen it before. They get beaten down so low they confuse the absence of pain with pleasure.”
Jackson leaned forward, no longer making any attempt to hide the heat in his gaze. “Hannah is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I haven’t beaten her down; she’s lifted me up. I am not a perfect man, far from it, but she makes me want to be. I love her and I would die before I would willingly hurt her again.”
He paused, making sure Dom was paying attention before he added in a harder voice, “You can choose to believe that or not, but don’t you dare call her a victim again. You’re insulting her strength and intelligence, and not much makes me angrier than that.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut. And assuming we get them both out alive and Hannah chooses to stay with you, I won’t try to interfere.”
“Good.”
“But I won’t sit by and watch it happen, either.” Dom pushed his armrest up with a rough shove. “Assuming she’s still in need of protection, I’ll ask for someone else to be assigned to her detail. I can’t watch a sweet woman like her flush her life and free will away. It’s too fucking depressing.”
Jackson sighed, the fight slowly going out of him.
Dom was obviously one of the many people in the world who would never understand the kind of relationship he and Hannah both craved. There were few people who did, which had always made it hard for him to imagine finding happily ever after.
Even back before Harley had made sure romance was the last thing on his mind, he’d been cautious when it came to love. He’d learned from experience that he wasn’t going to find long-term happiness with a vanilla woman, no matter how beautiful, funny, or likable she might be. He craved the thrill of Domination too much, needed the rush when his top came out to play with a woman who could handle everything he could dish out.
But she needed to truly be able to handle and enjoy it, to be tough enough to meet him as an equal in the game.
That’s what so many people didn’t understand: that a submissive can be every bit as strong as her Dom. Her strength simply manifests in different ways. He had never met that uniquely resilient, yet submissive, woman in his younger years, and even Harley had only pretended to want the same things he wanted. He had never believed he could find that forever kind of happiness with a woman until now.
Hannah was one in a million, the strong, sensitive, beautiful, clever, kinky-as-hell lover he hadn’t believed existed until she’d swept into his life. She was his hurricane and his touchstone. She was an endless adventure and the home he never thought he’d find.
She was…everything, but he hadn’t told her all the things that were in his heart. And now, if he failed her today, she might never know that she was the answer to everything, even the questions he’d been too stupid to ask.
“Listen,” Jackson said, his voice rough with emotion. “You do what you have to do. But right now we need to focus on saving two women’s lives. Can we put aside our differences and concentrate on that? Because I need Hannah alive a hell of a lot more than I need you to agree with my lifestyle choices.”
Dom’s nostrils flared, but after only a moment he nodded. “There will be a car waiting for us at the airstrip and I found a blueprint of the house.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “I’ve marked the places where I think they’re likely to keep prisoners and where we’ve got the best chance of getting in undetected. But why don’t you do a once over, too. See if there’s anything I’ve overlooked.”
Jackson took the phone from Dom’s outstretched hand, surprised to find their argument had made him more confident in depending on the other man for backup.
Stewart Mason could be paying this man more money than God for all he knew, but money couldn’t buy loyalty. Adam had taught him that. Knowing that Dominic cared about Hannah enough to start an argument with someone nearly twice his size made him trust that the man would do whatever he could to get Hannah to safety.
Now they just had to get there in time for him to eliminate the threat to Hannah once and for all.
Dom didn’t have to worry; Jackson was ready to do what needed to be done.
As long as Ian Hawke walked the earth, Hannah would never be safe. It didn’t matter that her father had likely committed a crime worthy of a heaping helping of vengeance. The moment Ian had started killing innocent people in his quest for revenge, he’d proven that it was time for him to be put down.
It wasn’t something Jackson was eager to do, but he had no other option. As he’d told Dominic, Hannah was his first priority and he would do whatever it took—including killing his own father—to keep her safe.
CHAPTER SIX
Hannah
Hannah was too busy memorizing the layout of the house and looking for possible avenues of escape to have time to anticipate what it would be like to see Harley for the first time in six years.
When Adam paused to shove open the bolt on the door at the end of a long hallway on the third floor, she was watching the mechanism slide and wondering if there was a way to force it open from the inside. She wasn’t thinking about reunions or the fact that somewhere beyond the door her long lost sister was waiting for her.
And then, Adam pushed her over the threshold and suddenly she was inside with the door closing behind her, staring into the eyes of her missing piece.
Hannah’s breath caught and pain flooded through her, leaving her entire body feeling bruised. There she was, rising slowly from the window seat on the other side of the room, the sister who had once been like a part of her own body and soul. With her hair bleached blonde and her skin a pale, creamy shade that bore testament to how little time she must spend in the sun, Harley looked different, but there was no doubt it was her.
Hannah held her sister’s troubled gaze, her gut twisting with love and regret and a fierce, bittersweet nostalgia, but the familiar rush of affinity never came.
This woman was no longer her other half. Jackson was her other half, and if she hadn’t come into his life when she did, the man she loved would never have found his way out of the hell Harley had consigned him to.
“I’m sorry,” Harley said, her eyes shining. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.”
“For what?” Hannah asked, not taking another step into the room, not ready to get any closer to Harley than she was already.
“I should have found a way to let you know I was alive.” Harley’s lashes swept down, sending the tears in her eyes sliding down her pale cheeks. “Dad told me I couldn’t because it would put you in danger. But I knew losing me would kill you, the way losing you killed me. I’ve missed you so much, moo.” She pulled in a breath, pressing her lips together as she swiped the wet from her face with her fist. “Please tell me you’ll forgive me. If I die here, I don’t want to die with you hating me.”