Back off, Mackenzie.
He knew the distraction had to be from the meds they were giving him. Something about freeing the bioavailability of testosterone and activating his growth hormone production to aid healing, they had explained.
So far the symptoms had come exactly the way Izzy had described them.
Frowning, Hawk finished his croissant and took an-other one.
Outside, the storm hammered on.
“Do you have far to go?”
He shrugged.
“Sorry. I ask too many questions.” Jess frowned at him. “I’m probably not supposed to ask. What you do is some kind of military secret, right?”
Hawk stood up and reached for his backpack. “I’d better shove off.”
“Take some coffee with you.” She filled a big insulated travel mug and added milk.
Just a splash. No sugar. Exactly the way he liked it.
Suddenly the room felt too small and far too intimate. Hawk took a step back. “The road is out down the coast.” He handed her a map with the problem area circled in red. “You’ll have to detour west a few miles. I marked the turns for you.”
She frowned at the map for a few moments, then pulled a pair of reading glasses out of her purse. “Say one word, and you’re a dead man,” she muttered.
The glasses were pink with blue stripes, and for some reason Hawk found them sexy as hell. “Aren’t you a little young for—”
“Not a word.”
Hawk watched her study the map. “Okay, I’ll shut up about—about the things you’re wearing. By the way, Izzy had your Jeep checked out last night. Nothing major was broken, but he had a few things replaced, including your bumper. Your treads were worn on the right front tire, so he took care of that, too.”
“Thank you,” she said gravely. “Things have been a little tight financially . . . but never mind about that. I fixed this for you.”
Hawk realized that she was holding out a plastic bag.
“What’s this?”
“You’re going to need energy today, so I put in two apples and a jelly donut.”
As he took the plastic bag, her wide, generous smile warmed the room.
To his shock Hawk felt a tiny moment of regret at leaving.
But he didn’t have time for anything soft and pleasant. The wind was growling and the headache ratcheted up a notch as he zipped his jacket and stashed her plastic bag of food. There was no reason for him to delay any longer.
“Watch those turns in the rain,” he said. “That Jeep of yours is tough, but it’s no Ducati.” Then he shouldered his backpack and headed outside without saying goodbye.
Packed and dressed, Jess stood in the elevator and watched the big metal doors close.
For some reason she couldn’t get the tall, unsmiling lieutenant out of her mind.
Stupid. Worse than stupid.
She was smart enough to know that the man had danger written all over him. Any doubts had vanished with painful clarity when he loomed out of the darkness and pinned her against the wall in a chokehold. All because she’d gone for a smashed granola bar in the bottom of her suitcase.
Of course, he’d warned her that he was a light sleeper.
“Fine,” she muttered. And stop apologizing for the man.
Jess tapped her foot nervously as the elevator stopped at floor after empty floor on a slow descent. Someone appeared to be playing a joke with the buttons.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She hated elevators. Every stop jangled her nerves a little more.
The doors closed again. With a little lurch, the elevator started down once more while Jess stared at the floor indicator.
Just before leaving, she’d found out that the hotel manager had filed an angry protest about her report, which meant her records would be checked and rechecked, every name and detail verified.
And Jess was suddenly tired of the pretenses, tired of traveling three hundred and forty-five days a year under an assumed name.
But three years at a small liberal arts college didn’t provide the background for technical or professional work, and the thought of working in sales left her cold.
One floor down, the elevator doors opened again. A man in a leather coat and small, expensive designer glasses got on, studying her avidly. “You here with the orthodontists’ convention?”
“Afraid not.”
He looked her up and down, then shrugged and stepped off at the next floor.
As the doors slid shut, Jess felt a stab of anxiety. She gripped her suitcase, frowning when the lights flickered several times. Probably from the storm, she thought nervously. Maybe she should get off at the next floor and walk down.
But when the doors opened again, she was stunned to see Hawk walking toward her. “I can’t get away from this place. Damned orthodontists’ convention has the stairs blocked six flights up and six flights down. They’re gathered in every corner discussing implants and root canals.”
Jess barely heard. She was too busy watching the floor button and wishing she had taken the stairs.
“Something wrong?”
“Not a thing.” Absolutely, definitely, her mind snapped at him. She wanted out, and it was getting harder to hide her anxiety. “The lights—they went off a few times,” she said tensely.
“Probably from the lightning.” Hawk hit a button and the elevator doors closed. “The wind’s picking up, too.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Not that it matters. These hotels always have backup power sources.”
Jess nodded calmly, but her nails were digging into her palms. Taking deep breaths the way she’d learned in a dozen relaxation classes, she watched the floor indicator click downward. Suddenly the piped-in elevator music broke up into static.
Another fragment of Jess’s reason fled, victim of the old terror. The man behind her was irrelevant, a mere sliver of her memory as she capsized beneath a wave of panic.
It wasn’t fair, she thought wildly. After months of therapy, she had finally managed to condition herself to face small spaces and crowded rooms. She had closed herself inside closets, even taken short elevator rides so she could resurrect her blurred memories.
By now those memories should have been healed and forgotten.
Have to learn how to behave, little girl. Strict rules and strict procedures make good behavior for everyone.
Jess shook at the memory, feeling the darkness and four walls close in on her, just the way they had in the clinic where she’d been sent, years before, rebellious and stupid as only someone of sixteen can be.
Just memories.
She closed her eyes. She wasn’t crazy or stupid. She damned well knew the difference between then and now, and the clinic was just a memory.
But knowing didn’t help. The walls were closing in on her again, and she was fighting to breathe.
Jess’s palms began to sweat, and her throat felt dry.
With a lurch, the elevator came to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered and then went out.
chapter 9
Hawk hit the DOWN button. When the elevator didn’t move, he tried the red EMERGENCY button.
Nothing happened either way.
Air hissed down the elevator shaft. A set of dim interior lights flickered on. Judging by the interim lights, there appeared to be a backup generator at work, but Hawk didn’t plan to wait around for a repair crew. He opened the instrument panel and checked the wiring.
When the control panel provided no help, he banged loudly on the wall, but there was no answer. The three cell calls he placed to Izzy were equally unsuccessful.
Damned storm.
As wind roared down the overhead shaft, the elevator rocked slightly. “Hang on, because we may be here for a few minutes.” Flipping out his cell phone, Hawk tried Izzy one more time, cursing when the signal dropped again. He checked the opposite wall panel for an emergency phone, but the line was dead. “Hell.”
When Hawk turned around, Jess was wedged into the
corner, her purse clutched to her chest.
“We’re safe here. This is not a big deal, Jess.”
She just stared at him, her face sheet-white.
Hawk remembered then what she’d said earlier about keeping her doors open. If she had space issues, being caught in an elevator like this had to be gut-wrenching. “Look at me,” he said roughly. “We’ve got plenty of air, plus auxiliary power for the lights, and we shouldn’t be here long. No doubt Izzy has already checked and located the problem.” At least, Hawk hoped he had.
Jess’s fingers shook and her handbag dropped to the floor. “Small spaces—no air.” She closed her eyes. “I have to get out. Now.”
“Try taking a deep breath.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.” When her eyes opened, her gaze kept slipping to the closed doors. Hawk put one finger under her chin, lifting her face. “No, here. Look at me.” He felt the tension gripping her body. “Breathe. Stay calm.”
There was panic in her eyes. She looked desperate, like a swimmer losing strength right before going under. “I—I can’t breathe. It’s too small, too tight.” She twisted away, her trembling hands moving frantically over the walls.
“Jess.” He pried her fingers away from the wall. “Listen to me. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Her teeth chattered, and he pulled off his jacket, smoothing it around her shoulders.
With great effort she seemed to refocus on his face. Her fingers gripped his shirt. “They’re going to come soon. We won’t be locked in here, will we?”
He chose his answer carefully. “I’m sure they’re already working on a repair. We’ll be out of here soon, honey.”
Something tore loose and rattled down the elevator shaft, clanging against the metal roof. The elevator cables creaked loudly.
White-faced, Jess lurched back and dug at the doors, trying to pry them open. Blood streaked the ends of her fingers and tears mottled her face.
When Hawk tried to pull her back against his chest, she fought him blindly.
“Jess, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”
She was oblivious, her fingers tearing wildly at the door, leaving dark smudges of blood on the metal.
“Jess, stop,” he said in a low, viciously controlled voice.
“Open the door,” she rasped. “Even a crack. Then they’ll hear us.”
“I can’t force the doors, Jess.” Hawk gripped her hands against his chest. “Listen to me. Trust me.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand.”
The wind was howling overhead as he cradled her cheeks between his callused palms. “I do understand. You’re claustrophobic, right?”
“You have to do something. Please,” she whispered.
“I’m trying, honey.” Even when she twisted, slamming one elbow against his ribs, he didn’t release her. “Tell me what happened, Jess. Tell me what did this to you.”
“Why do you care?” Jess stared at him gravely.
“Because I think you need to tell someone what happened.”
“Psychological unburdening?” She gave a broken laugh. “If you only knew how many things I’ve tried.” She turned away, her body rigid. “It won’t help, believe me.”
“Try.” His voice didn’t rise. “First you have to remember—and then you can start letting it go.”
Jess sighed. “If only remembering didn’t hurt so much. . . .” She squinted up at the ceiling. “My father was in the Navy, gone most of the time.” Her mouth flattened. “Secret work, I guess, to places he could never mention. My mother couldn’t cope after he died. My sister was the strong one, while I . . . I had behavior problems. An eating disorder.” Her shoulders lifted, then fell. “Alcohol on occasion. Maybe on lots of occasions.” She looked away again, but Hawk turned her face gently back to his. “I just couldn’t believe how fast it happened. One day they were both there, and then it was only Summer and me left.”
“Go on.”
“You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“Generally, no.” His thumb traced the little hollow beneath her cheek. “I’m waiting, Jess.”
She took a hard breath. “Eventually the people from foster services sent me away for treatment, out to a clinic in the middle of nowhere. Their specialty was something called ‘reality-based behavior modification.’ ” Hawk saw emotions churn up, chasing across her face like angry clouds. “There were ten rules in that place. Ten things that could never be done. I broke four rules my first week.”
As she spoke, her hands twisted restlessly. Hawk slipped his arm around her shoulders. “What did they do to you?”
“The director said that it would save everyone time and trouble if I learned the house rules right from the start. I laughed when she told me that, because I thought it was going to be detention or garbage duty, humiliating things like they do to you in school.”
Hawk waited, trying not to show his tension. “But it wasn’t.”
Jess laughed bitterly. “The director marched me outside and locked me in the storage shed. I was crammed in between two lawn mowers and a wall of gardening supplies. I’ll never forget the smell of gasoline and peat moss.” Her shoulders slumped. “I yelled until my throat hurt, and I pounded on the door for an hour, but no one came. It was only a matter of time until I stopped yelling, like all the others.”
Hawk didn’t know when he moved, drawing her grimly against his chest. “How long?” he asked gently.
“Three days.” Her hands clenched. “Three days, eleven hours, and twenty-six minutes.” She trembled, her hands closing on the front of his shirt. “All those years,” she whispered. “And it still feels like yesterday.”
Hawk didn’t answer. He was too busy fighting an urge for cold, premeditated murder. “Maybe you and a few friends should pay that clinic a visit,” he said harshly.
“There’s nothing left to visit. The director died two years ago, and the clinic is closed, all the staff gone. They’ve rented out the grounds to a training school for guide dogs.” She managed a small smile. “The dogs were beautiful. You know what they say, Not with a bang but a whimper.”
Hawk cursed so inventively that her eyes widened.
At least the cursing made him feel better as he ran a hand over her hair, wishing he could erase her bleak memories. “Didn’t you tell anyone? What about your sister or the people at foster care?”
Jess winced as he brushed her bloody fingers with the corner of his shirt. “I told them afterwards. My sister was furious, and the foster care people were . . . upset, but they sided with the clinic. After all,” Jess said bitterly, “they were the professionals, right? They had a clinic and they had all the training and the degrees.” Her head sank back against the wall. “What’s that thing they say? Something about what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. My time in that shed did make me stronger, even if I left a piece of my childhood behind there. Summer’s one of the few people who know what really happened. Now you know, too.”
“The whole damned place should have been put out of business,” he said harshly. “Then the director should have been horsewhipped and locked in the shed herself for a few days.”
She looked startled by his fury, and he concentrated on relaxing, blanking out the violence of his emotions. At least she seemed to be calmer now.
Too bad he wasn’t.
“Jess, do you have any more food in that bag of yours?” It had occurred to him earlier that she made it her duty in life to feed people, even when she couldn’t buy a decent pair of shoes.
“Food?” She frowned at him. “You’re hungry? Now?”
“I am,” he said gravely, relieved to see her lower her head to look at her bag.
“Food . . . yeah. Great idea.” She took a deep breath and seemed to focus inward as she abruptly sat down on the elevator floor, unzipped her purse and dumped all the contents onto the floor. Sitting probably made the space seem larger, higher, Hawk realized. “There must be something here that will help.” She sorted through bagged pretzels, toothpas
te, and a pile of receipts neatly organized with colored paperclips. Now her hands were barely shaking at all.
Leaning past her, Hawk pulled a deck of cards out of the pile and sat down. “While we eat, we can make use of these.” He opened the box and shuffled the deck expertly.
Jess watched his hands move. “Cards?”
“Not just any cards, honey. We’re talking poker here—the most perfect test of intellect and guts devised by man. Texas Hold ’Em, aces high. Get ready to lose your shirt—and any other articles of clothing that happen by.”
He was relieved to see her eyes widen in something besides panic, and her mouth slid up in the glimmer of a smile.
She glanced up at him, her eyes smoky, considering . . . then just a little reckless. She took another deep breath, then focused on the floor in her immediate range of vision. “Okay. Ten minutes. I’ll take it ten minutes at a time. Go ahead and deal the cards, partner.”
Fifteen minutes later Hawk had lost four dollars and eighty-six cents at poker. Jess had surprised him with her flair for the game, occasionally losing a hand, then catching him with a burst of sheer bravado.
The woman definitely knew how to bluff.
Making herself comfortable, she removed her fashionable pink stiletto heels and shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor, studying her cards, while Hawk concentrated on trying not to notice her long, slender legs.
She toyed with her hand, frowned, shifted. Every few seconds she glanced up, trying to read Hawk’s face.
Not that she’d succeed. No one read his face, whether playing at cards or anything else.
He leaned back against the wall, enjoying the snappy play almost as much as her artless questions about poker rules.
“Hit me,” she said breathlessly.
He did.
“Flush.” She shot to her feet and danced in a little circle.
Princess Page 7