by Lisa Durkin
Nicole straightened and sobered before addressing Rory. “Oh Congresswoman, would you be so kind as to field that question?”
“I have no idea what made you do such a cruel thing to your best friend.”
“My ass, Morgan, tell your new boyfriend about the ad you listed in the campus newspaper the week before you ran your white Irish ass across that lawn.”
“I was just trying to be helpful; I don’t know what you mean.”
“Fine, I’ll share. The prior week I had begun receiving a string of very disturbing phone calls offering all kinds of, shall we say, instruction of an adult nature,” she explained dryly.
“An adult nature?” Jackson asked.
“Yes. It seemed that my caring friend here believed that I needed instruction in the art of fellatio. She placed an ad, with my phone number and full name, for a ‘Head Instructor’. Everyone on campus saw it, including the administration. It ran in the school’s help wanted section and listed, in detail, the methods of instruction to be utilized.”
“I was thinking of poor Jim.” She shrugged but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Those calls were hilarious. I think I still have the answering machine tapes in the attic at home.” Rory laughed. “Remember the one we swore sounded just like your economics professor?”
Nicole smiled and nodded. “I got an A that semester.”
They were relaxed and quiet on the drive back to DC. Jackson glanced at Rory. She had a happy expression on her face as she stared out the window, her head leaned back into the rest. She had such a pretty glow.
“I had a good time tonight.”
She smiled at him. “Me too. Thanks for hanging with my crazy friends. I hope they didn’t scare you off.”
“It was pretty shocking, Squeaky.” He held his palm out over the center console and Rory placed her hand in his. They intertwined fingers and he caressed hers before lifting it to his lips. “Actually I think it probably sealed it for me,” he stated.
Her head lolled to the side to face him again. “Sealed it?”
His eyes were on the road. “Yeah, sealed it. I thought maybe I was falling in love with you before. Now I’m sure.” There was a moment of silence before he turned and looked into her eyes. He could tell it was a shock. Her eyes were wide as she stared back at him. He knew how she felt. This was the first time in years that this was happening to him too. Or had it ever?
“Don’t freak out. You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know that.” He looked back at the road.
He pulled the car into the parking space and came around to open her door. “You okay?” he asked as she stepped out. She had been quiet the rest of the ride home.
She looked up at him. She was shocked and intimidated by his admission. Panic had flared, but she tried to beat it back. She didn’t know exactly how to proceed. She wasn’t quite to a place where she could consider responding in kind. She felt it in every fiber of her being that she wanted to give him that. He filled her, body and holes, and she wanted to be there with him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. In lieu of words, she smacked a loud kiss onto his lips, thinking that some levity would probably be a good ingredient.
He smiled back, seemingly relieved that she wasn’t on the verge of a heart attack. “Come on, it’s cold out here.” He shouldered both their bags.
As he inserted the key into his door, Rory tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to her and she silently pointed behind them, to her door that stood wide open.
Jackson’s reflexes were lightning fast. In one silent motion he opened his door and lifted her through it to the safety of his condo.
“Stay here,” he murmured as he went tearing up the steps. When he came back Rory recognized that the gun he sported was a nine millimeter Glock. Her dad had owned one just like it. She had shot it a time or two. All the FBI agents she’d had the misfortune of working with carried one too. That must be why he kept it. It must have been his service weapon. He quickly checked the clip and gripped it.
“Stay here while I check it out,” he whispered. His gaze was steely and every muscle in his body seemed harder, more rigid. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it until I tell you to.”
“Maybe we should just call the police. I don’t want you in danger.”
“I’ll be fine. Call the police if I’m not back in ten minutes.”
Weren’t those statements contradictory?
She nodded silently, feeling numb. He slipped out and she locked the door behind him. She walked over and propped herself on one of the bar stools, taking her phone out of her purse. She gripped it tightly in her hands, tracking the minutes closely.
She couldn’t believe this was happening again. Why the fuck was her door open? And it was wide open, not pulled closed like last time. She considered how it could have happened and strained to remember every detail of their departure yesterday. Had she pulled it closed? Had she locked the door? This had never happened to her before in her life. Maybe it was the door. Maybe there was a mechanical problem or a strange atmospheric pressure kind of thing going on. Or maybe aliens had invaded and entertained themselves in her pad while she was out, she chastised herself. She rubbed her forehead hard as she cursed silently.
Her hands were shaking. She was both cold and sweating with fear. She stood and approached the door, looking at the phone to keep track of how long it had been. Four minutes. She put her ear to the door to listen for any noise. She paced back and forth.
Two more minutes passed and not a sound. She crouched next to the door. Her heart was in her throat, fear threading through her body. What if this was Roan? That bastard was mean. She had been wary of him since the day she’d met him, on pure instinct. He was rumored to be crazier and meaner than his brother Aidan, or so she learned from the feds. And she had seen firsthand what that could mean.
The first tear slid silently down her cheek. She wiped it away and rose to look out the peephole. She blew out a hard breath and paced some more.
“Rory, open the door, it’s safe.” She heard Jackson on the other side of the door and raced to open it.
She threw her arms around him. “Thank God!” He moved her inside and locked the door behind him. He placed his gun on the counter and hugged her tightly.
“It’s okay,” he offered while he held her. “I checked the entire place and there’s nobody there.”
She listened intently, peering into his eyes. “Oh good.”
“But I want to be sure. I want to call the police and have them come and take a look, maybe try to lift some prints.”
That idea made it too real. “Do we have to? It’s probably just the door, or we forgot to lock it…”
Jackson looked at her with sympathy. “Baby, I closed and locked that door myself when we left, remember? I had your keys.”
The bottom fell out and the shockwave of fear that ran through her must have shown, because Jackson grabbed her and held her close.
Rory lay in Jackson’s bed staring at the ceiling. It was two in the morning and she was finding it very difficult to sleep. After the wonderful weekend they had it pissed her off that they had to come back to this. Her heart was beating fast from the adrenaline. Jackson’s head was next to her shoulder, his arm draped across her. She could feel his even breathing, his gentle heartbeat.
The police had come and gone. They had taken her through the condo to make sure nothing was missing or out of place. They had taken both their reports and asked all the same questions that Jackson and Rory had already thought of. There was nothing to be done. There was no sign of forced entry and no reason to investigate. It was probably just a mistake; they must have thought they locked the door but had somehow left without securing it. Even though it was the second time, and Jackson clearly remembered closing and locking the door. The two police officers tried not to seem condescending, but both Rory and Jackson could tell they weren’t really taking them seriously. Rory understood. She could hear her dad joking ab
out some of the crackpot calls they got at the station.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to encourage sleep. Scary thoughts and possibilities ran through her mind. She remembered when Shane had been assigned to her after she came home from the hospital. The lead agent, Tagg, had explained that Aidan’s group was ruthless and revenge was part of their business. They were going to protect her, he had vowed. Rory remembered staring at him blankly, having no faith that anyone could protect her after what Aidan had done. She didn’t care. She was numb and didn’t know how she was going to go on living anyway.
She slowly rolled onto her side and looked at Jackson’s handsome face in the dim light. She really hadn’t cared since then, if she were honest with herself. Things had improved in increments but had never really returned to normal. In all areas of her life, except work, she had been dead. Aidan had succeeded in that manner in killing her.
She had given up. Her own protection seemed futile and really, if she were completely honest, the idea of them finishing things had seemed a relief. She had grown more understanding of people who’d taken their own lives. That’s why she didn’t hesitate to send Shane away. That’s why she was lax with her own security. How many times had Jackson admonished her in the past weeks for his ability to walk in on her?
Things felt different now. Jackson had woken her up. He made her enjoy life again, even got her thinking that maybe she didn’t have to be alone. He calmed her. Granted not all her panic and PTSD were gone, but they were better. He soothed her while simultaneously exciting her. She searched her memory to find a time when anybody had felt this good to be around. She could find none. Not even her marriage had offered her this sweet harbor. Now she had something to be afraid for, losing Jackson. He said he was falling in love with her. And she already knew she had leapt from that cliff.
Chapter Seventeen
He dragged her into the first-floor bedroom. The pain in her head was so great she started to feel the black fading in again. Her eyes went in and out of focus. She couldn’t stand or walk because of the dizziness and her ribs were so battered that any movement sent shooting pains through her midsection. Breathing was horribly painful. Her left arm was useless and numb. She held it to her stomach. He had continued to have sex on her throughout the day, although she couldn’t keep track of how long it had been. At one point she could remember waking, as if she had passed out. He enjoyed hitting her. She was covered with blood, her tattered and torn clothes hanging from her. He had broken her teeth with that last punch in the mouth.
She was exhausted and her mind despaired of how to end this. She still hadn’t seen her father. As he dragged her by the hair she whimpered and cried, but had little energy to do much else.
As he opened the door to the bedroom, he dumped her on the floor, her head bouncing off the hardwood. In her weakened state she wondered where the furniture and contents had gone. This had been her parents’ room. She heard muffled sounds from the corner and gathered her energy to look.
She slowly opened her eyes and was met with the single most terrifying and heartbreaking sight she had ever seen. Adrenaline soared through her exhausted and abused body. She screamed and began begging for the life of her father, who was tightly secured in a wooden kitchen chair in the corner. His mouth was covered with duct tape and his battered eyes were bulging at the sight of her. She reached out to him but was met with a swift kick to her abdomen.
“Now you two are going to answer all my questions about your fun and games with your friends at the FBI. And I wouldn’t get any bright ideas. The first one to give me any shit dies.”
“Daddy!” Rory’s scream woke her. She was shaking, sweating and grasping the duvet. She searched the room to gain her bearings. Jackson wasn’t beside her and she could hear the shower running. She fell back against the pillow and breathed deeply to settle herself. She hoped he hadn’t heard her; she didn’t want him to know she’d had another nightmare.
She looked at the clock. Not enough time for a run this morning. She dragged her tired ass out of bed and headed for the guest bath. She would shower there and try to calm herself before she had to face Jackson.
“So it’s settled, you’ll call the FBI today.” Jackson searched her face in the backseat of the livery car. He had been insistent all morning that she talk to the FBI. He didn’t like the brush-off the police had given them, although he said he understood it. He’d said the FBI would be different. They would look at this situation in the context of her case. They could check records, look at data the police wouldn’t have. If she didn’t call the FBI, he would. He’d said he’d already decided.
She gave him a pained look. “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Jackson. I’d really rather not.” She hated the FBI and really was not anxious to invite them into her life again, what with the bang-up job they did last time. He gave her an incredulous look. They had been going round and round about this all morning. “Okay,” she acquiesced, holding her hands up. “I’ll call.” She muttered a curse under her breath.
Jackson held the door as they entered the building. “I’m going to bring you lunch in your office today. If you haven’t called by then, we’ll call together.”
Rory smirked at him. “Yes sir, thank you, sir,” she quipped.
Jackson stopped and turned to her in the hallway. “I’m sorry, but I’m worried about this and I want you to take it seriously. I don’t want to take any chances where you’re concerned. You know how important you are to me.”
Rory looked into his eyes and remembered his amazing admission of the night before. It warmed her heart. She placed her hand on his cheek.
“You are too sweet. For you, I’ll call this morning first thing and get it over with. I promise.”
Jackson didn’t back off. “Okay, and I’ll bring lunch and you can tell me everything they said.”
Third ring. After the fourth she was hanging up; she had already decided. She had called the Bureau as promised to Jackson and they had put her through to Agent Tagg’s cell phone. A feeling of dread had set up residence in the pit of her stomach. Fourth ring.
“Tagg,” the voice came over the line.
Shit. The wave of despair that shot through her at hearing that familiar voice gave her pause. She closed her eyes as her breath caught. She was immediately thrown back in time three years to when he was in Cleveland, the head of the team trying to take Aidan down, fucking with her life.
“Tagg,” he said louder.
“Agent Tagg, it’s Rory Morgan,” she said evenly.
“Congresswoman, I had heard you were in town. Welcome to DC and congratulations on your appointment.” He sounded cheerful. She found that instantly irritating. She was sure his life had continued as it always had after he left Cleveland. That must have been nice for him, she mused bitterly.
“Thank you,” she said, shaking her head and cursing herself for actually asking for him. She should have just left a message. Better yet, she should have asked for a fresh agent, one with whom she didn’t share a horrible past.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I need to report something to the FBI,” she began, breathing out. “I’ve come home twice to find my door open.” She said this quickly; best to rip off the bandage.
“I’m not sure I understand, you’ve come home to find your door unlocked? What exactly has happened?” And to his credit, he sounded as if he immediately took her seriously. She related the tale and described both situations to him in detail. When she was finished she waited impatiently for him to respond, certain that he would brush it off as the police had.
“I see,” he began slowly. “I’m glad you’re telling me about this.” That response made the hair on her arms stand to attention.
“The police didn’t think it was suspicious,” she offered, realizing that was the third time she had repeated that piece of information.
“I understand. Congresswoman, knowing what I know about your past, I’m more apt t
o take everything seriously. I don’t want to frighten you, but in my world coincidence doesn’t exist.”
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure yet. Look, this is probably nothing. But let me do some investigating that could help us decide if we have anything to worry about. When it comes to your late husband’s family, we’re better safe than sorry.” Damn, he actually said that. She closed her eyes and gripped the phone harder. “Let me check some things out and I’ll get back to you quickly. In the meantime, just to be safe, try not to stay alone if at all possible.” Her blood pressure shot through the roof.
“Okay,” she managed. “Thanks, Tagg.”
“Shane Sutton’s in town. He and I will pull some info together and we’ll be in touch.”
She ended the call and threw her cell phone on her desk, placing her face in her hands. Panic wasn’t going to help anybody. Show no fear, show no fear. She chanted her mantra and tried to relax. It could be nothing. And if not, we’ll deal with it. We’ll deal with it. She realized she was thinking in “we” terms. She smiled to herself as her anxiety softened.
“Take your hair down,” Jackson demanded breathlessly as they knelt on her mattress. They had immediately found their way into her bedroom upon returning home, shedding their clothes along the way. “I love your hair,” he said, running his hands through the long strands as she freed the clip at the crown of her head.
Rory’s phone rang as he took her lips hard.
“Ignore it,” she said as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. She ran her fingers over his nipples. He moaned as she pinched and rolled them between her fingers.
She bit his neck, sucking and licking as she went lower. He tasted so good. She couldn’t get enough of the hot sex they had and she could tell he felt the same way. Any time they spent away from each other was like a catalyst to the explosive need they felt when they were together again. She licked even lower and bit his nipple. She was rewarded with a groan and a swift slap on her ass, to which she gasped and leaned into his hand. He caressed and slapped her hard again.