Bad Nights

by Rebecca York

  He explained something of Wade Trainer’s background to Morgan. “He’s never had nearly enough cash to finance an operation like his militia. We’ve always thought the funds were coming from a third party.”

  Morgan nodded. They discussed the problem while they ate, but she saw Jack getting more and more restless. Finally he set down the unfinished part of his sandwich. “I get the feeling I’ll have a better appetite after the session. Let’s go up and get it over with.”

  “You sound like you’re anticipating an unpleasant medical procedure,” Morgan answered.

  He shrugged. “Whatever. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

  ***

  Excitement coursed through Wade Trainer. He had the bastard now. His first impulse was to wake the men immediately. Then he reminded himself not to go off half-cocked. Barnes—no, Jack Brandt—had put one over on him before. The guy was tricky, and Wade had better have his ducks in a row before he went over there.

  Starting with scoping out Rockfort Security. He Googled them and found the firm’s address in Rockville, Maryland. Not so far away, which made sense. There were three partners: Jack Brandt, Shane Gallagher, and Max Lyon. Those other two must be the bastards who’d pinned Wade and his men down in the cave and set the fire at the mouth while they got away. He confirmed the assumption by finding their pictures on the Web site, along with a head shot of the super-prick, Jack Brandt.

  He had to keep himself from throwing a glass paperweight against the wall before continuing.

  When he was more in control of his anger, he read Jack Brandt’s biography. In a lot of ways, it followed the general pattern of what Brandt had told him. But he was definitely a former Navy SEAL, unless he was lying about that on the Web site.

  Switching to the other two guys, he found out that Shane Gallagher had been a cop, and Max Lyon had been an officer in the Army MPs. They’d formed the Rockfort Security Agency about a year ago. How the hell had the three of them hooked up?

  Well, that wasn’t important. The important thing was making them wish they’d never tangled with the Real Americans Militia.

  Various scenarios ran through his mind as he called up a map, checking the exact location of the agency. It was in an industrial park a little north of downtown Rockville.

  Would they be stupid enough to be in the office now? And was the woman, Morgan Rains, with them? That would be a nice bonus, if he could capture her.

  While he was at it, he put her name into the Web too and found that she taught at a local university. As he stared at her self-confident face, he imagined stripping her and strapping her to his torture table. The idea aroused him. He got up and locked the office door, then unzipped his fly, grabbed a handful of tissues, and let himself enjoy the fantasy of what he would do to her.

  ***

  Morgan and Jack returned to the bedroom where they’d had the first session.

  “As I said, we’ll start the same way,” she said to Jack as she sat down in the chair she’d occupied earlier. “Then I’ll take you back to Trainer’s office—in a safe way.”

  “How?” he asked as he took the opposite chair.

  “I’ll distance you. You won’t actually be there, but you’ll see it on TV.”

  “TV?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “Well, an imaginary TV over there.” She gestured toward the far wall.

  She saw his hands gripping the chair arms and knew he was forcing himself to do this.

  “Comfortable?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll start. Like before, look up to the line where the ceiling meets the wall.”

  When he’d directed his gaze to the line, she said, “Relax now. Relax now. We’re going back to that beach.”

  She saw his features soften.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. What do you see?”

  “Sailboat. Dolphins,” he answered in a dreamy voice.

  “Okay, now you’re going to get up from your chair and come inside the beach house.”

  She saw him shift in his seat.

  “Come on inside, and take the chair across from the big television screen on the wall. Are you sitting across from the TV now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Use the remote to turn it on. We’re going to watch the Wade Trainer militia program. Three days ago. That’s the day that somebody caught you sneaking around the compound. You won’t actually be there, but you can see everything that’s happening. Just like it happened before. But you’ll be at the beach house. Nothing you see can hurt you.”

  He grunted.

  “There’s no threat to you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you see yourself in the picture?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Peeing.”

  She made a low sound. “I don’t need to know about that. Skip to breakfast.”

  “Okay. I’m eating breakfast in the mess hall. They’ve got pancakes today. They’re pretty decent. But I always make sure I have protein. Scrambled eggs.”

  “Then what?”

  “Inspection. Trainer’s going over my stuff with a fine-tooth comb. I think he wants to find something wrong. But he ends up giving me a superior rating.”

  “After that?”

  “We’re supposed to go to the firing range.” He paused.

  “What?”

  “I start walking with the rest of the men, but I tell Trainer I have a bad stomach. He lets me go back. Lucky he doesn’t make me shit in the woods. I go back to the main compound. I go into the bathroom and stay there for a while. When I come out I make sure nobody’s around. Then I go to Trainer’s office.”

  “Have you been in the office before?”

  “Yes. He’s called me in for talks on his theories about why the U.S. Government has gone bad. I always nod and agree like I think he’s a master of philosophy.”

  “Have you been there alone before?”

  “Yes, I’ve used my lock picks to open the door and slipped in to poke around.” He laughs. “I figured out his password. McVeigh. His hero, apparently. Not very imaginative.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “I check again for a tail. Nobody’s there. Then I sit down at the computer. I get into his email account. I’ve been there before. He’s on the mailing list for a lot of nut groups. And one guy in Delaware. Someone who calls himself G. Washington.” He stopped short. “Wait a minute. I guess that’s why I thought of George Washington in the cave. But I couldn’t make it make sense.”

  “What?” Morgan asked.

  “Never mind. Hasn’t happened yet. I’m coming in in the middle of Trainer’s conversation with the guy. Could G. Washington be his moneyman? I fix that address in my head. Must report that to Rockfort. There’s also a message from someone named Yarborough. I read it. Then I scroll through his mail looking for messages from either one of them. Both have been talking to him a lot. I’m memorizing the Yarborough guy’s address too. I want to read more of what they have to say, but I think I’ve been in the office long enough. Also, I can’t stay away from the firing range forever, so I get back out of the mail and onto his desktop. Then I hear a stealthy noise in back of me. I’m starting to turn, when thump…”

  He gasped and slumped to the side.

  Morgan hadn’t been prepared for that. She’d told him he was safe here with her. Apparently she’d been wrong.

  Leaping out of her chair, she crossed to him, kneeling at his side.

  “Jack, wake up now.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Jack, wake up now,” she ordered, hearing the panic in her voice as she gave the command. She’d been sure she could bring him out of the trance with the suggestion, but it was like they weren’t even in the same room.

  “Jack. Jack!”

  His face had turned pale, and he had stopped breathing. Morgan’s heart was in her throat as she
leaned over him.

  Chapter 24

  The door slammed open with the force of a gunshot, and Shane Gallagher barreled into the room, his gaze zeroing in on Jack.

  “What the hell?”

  Morgan looked at him in panic. “He stopped breathing.”

  Shane pushed her out of the way and leaned over his friend.

  “What the hell did you do to him?”

  “Nothing. He was in a trance; he was fine until just now.”

  Shane gave her a look that could have killed. Drawing back his hand, he slapped Jack across the face, then slapped him again.

  Morgan gasped as she watched his shock treatment. She wanted to scream at Shane to stop, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  It felt like eternity hung in the balance. Probably it was only seconds. Finally, Jack coughed, and his eyes blinked open. He focused on Shane, who had drawn back his arm for another slap but dropped his hand to his side when he saw Jack’s eyes open.

  Jack’s gaze swung to Morgan. “What happened?”

  She was too choked to speak. Reaching for him, she pulled him close, not caring what Shane Gallagher thought. For a moment she clung to him, and she felt his arm come up and rest against her side.

  “Are you okay?” she asked urgently.

  “Yes.”

  The response sounded automatic, and she thought maybe she should give him air. Reluctantly she backed away again.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured as she searched his face.

  “What happened exactly?’ he asked again.

  “What do you remember?” she countered.

  His gaze turned inward. “You and I were doing another session. I was on the beach like before. Then we went into the beach house and turned on the television set like you suggested. You told me I could see the day that they captured me, but that nothing would happen to me.” He gave her a questioning look. “What went wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I hope we can figure it out.”

  “What I do know is that you’re not doing that to him again,” Shane broke in, his voice hard-edged.

  “What—were you lurking around outside like you didn’t trust me?” she asked as she picked up on the hostility in his voice. It was bad enough feeling like she’d made a serious mistake. It was worse having someone look at her with accusing eyes.

  “My ex-wife taught me it’s dangerous to trust women.”

  “All women?”

  He sighed. “Okay. Forget I said that. I thought somebody should be on duty in case you screwed up.”

  “I didn’t screw up.”

  “How would you put it?”

  Jack dragged in a breath and let it out. “Mind if I come up with a theory?”

  “Let’s hear it,” Shane answered.

  “The session took me back to Trainer’s office, where I was trolling through his email.” He looked at Shane. “I’d already gotten his password. I’d decided I’d better get back to the rifle range. Then everything went blank. Later—I mean in real life—I woke up in his interrogation room. I must have been out cold. Whoever came up behind me must have whacked me on the head, and I guess I repeated that experience in the hypnosis session.”

  “That could be it,” Morgan mused.

  Shane jumped back into the conversation. “Yeah, well, whatever happened, it wasn’t worth it.”

  Jack straightened in his chair. “Yes, it was.”

  Shane gave him a questioning look.

  “I got two names we need to check out ASAP. One’s a guy who calls himself G. Washington. Obviously not his real name.” He looked at Morgan. “Actually, I remembered that name in the cave, but I didn’t know what it meant. Then we got busy.”

  “What’s the other one?” Shane demanded.

  “Yarborough.”

  “Yeah, that sounds phony too.”

  “Why?” Morgan asked.

  “Because it means a bridge hand with no card higher than a nine, the implication being that it’s a name with no real reference.”

  She nodded.

  “But I have the email address for both of them,” Jack continued. “Yarborough is yarborough@slicknet.com. And the other guy is commander@gmail.com. We can see who they really are.”

  “Maybe.”

  Jack ignored him and plowed ahead. “You said you were checking into electronic funds transfers. Maybe we can link one of them to the Cayman Islands account.”

  “If they use the same email for banking business as for subversive chatting.” Shane looked from Jack to Morgan and back again. “Maybe I’ll get on that,” he said.

  And despite the crack about not trusting women, maybe he’d figured out that he should leave her and Jack alone, Morgan thought as she watched him leave the room and close the door behind him.

  She’d wanted to talk to Jack in private. Now that she had the chance, her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak, but she managed to say, “I’m glad you’re okay.” Then, to her horror, she started to cry. Trying to hide her tears, she turned away.

  But not before Jack saw. He heaved himself out of the chair and reached for her. Folding her close, he lifted her into his arms, then sat back down in the chair, cradling her against himself.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured as he stroked her.

  “No, it’s not,” she managed to say before the tears came harder and faster. “My… idea almost killed you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Because Shane woke you up.”

  She leaned in to him, struggling to contain her sobs. She knew why this was happening. She was in a fragile emotional shape, and seeing him pale and lifeless had made her insides knot. Maybe it was because she’d watched her husband die. And then when Jack had stopped breathing, the horror of those terrible moments had come flashing back to her.

  A few days ago, her dead husband had been the most important man in her life. Now she knew that everything had changed for her. She still wasn’t willing to put a name to her feelings for Jack Brandt, but she understood that they were deep and powerful.

  ***

  Jack closed his eyes and cradled Morgan against his chest. Lowering his head, he stroked his lips against her hair. He was a man who’d guarded his emotions for years, but this woman had brought out tender feelings that he’d thought were long dead, and he wished he could wipe them away. He was wondering what he could say to her that would distance the two of them.

  What would she think, for example, if he told her about his mother? To make extra money, she’d taken jobs cleaning the houses of officers on the bases where they’d lived. Until his father had found out she was also making arrangements to sleep with some of the officers—also for a little extra money. His father had kicked her out of their quarters before getting a divorce. That was when Jack had been fourteen. He’d kept that dark secret to himself all these years. He hadn’t even told Shane and Max.

  And Morgan? He suspected that it wouldn’t matter to her. She’d say it was something his mother had done—not him.

  He smiled as he continued to stroke his lips against her hair, loving the texture.

  He’d told himself that making love with her was a mistake. He’d told himself that he was bad for her. He’d told himself a lot of things, but all he could think of now was the look of panic—and then relief—he’d seen in her eyes after Shane had slapped him and he’d come back to himself.

  “I did that… to you. I’m so… sorry,” she said between sobs.

  “You didn’t do it,” he answered as he stroked his hands up and down her arms.

  “Of…course I did. Shane…”

  “Forget about Shane. He was upset.”

  “Because he wants to protect you from me.”

  “I don’t need protecting.”

  He knew she was going to argue with him again, and the only way he could think of stopping her was to tip her face up and lower his lips.

  She went very still as his mouth touched hers. Maybe he had intended the kiss to be comforting, but the m
oment their lips met, he knew he’d been kidding himself.

  He wanted her. More than just physically.

  He couldn’t admit the emotional part, and at the same time, he couldn’t deny the physical component.

  He focused on that.

  He liked the taste of her. The texture of her lips. The heat of her body, the way her arms crept up to circle his neck. In response, he gathered her closer as he turned his head first one way and then the other to change the angle of the kiss, then change it again, feasting from her.

  His tongue played with the seam of her lips, asking her to open for him, and she did, so that he could explore the line of her teeth, then stroke the sensitive tissue on the inside of her lips.

  His heart leaped when he heard her make a small sound deep in her throat. Accepting the invitation, he dipped farther into her mouth, his tongue doing a slow dance with hers.

  He was beyond caring what the right thing to do was. If they’d been sitting in a chair without arms, he would have shifted her in his lap with her legs draped on either side of his. Instead, he stood and carried her to the bed, lying down with her in his arms, settling her on top of himself so that his erection was pressed intimately to the cleft at the top of her legs.

  Even through their layers of clothing, her body seemed to melt into his. She lifted her head and looked down at him. Their gazes locked for long moments before she lowered her head so that she could bring her mouth back to his.

  He felt urgency building inside himself, and at the same time he felt as though they had all the time in the world to make her understand that he didn’t fault her for what had happened a while ago.

  “You gave me a gift,” he whispered.

  “Of what?”

  “Of knowledge. I’d lost important memories, and you gave them back to me. And don’t tell me it was the wrong thing to do. We both know it was right.”

  They stopped talking, and he let sensations flow through him, building to a steady, insistent passion. Dizzy with it, unable to speak of what he was feeling, he used his hands and mouth to show her.

  They clung together, swaying on the bed, and he knew that if he’d been standing he wouldn’t have been able to keep his balance.

  When his fingers found the hem of her T-shirt and pulled upward, she lifted her torso away from him so that he could pull the shirt over her head and toss it away. Then he worked the catch at the back of her bra, sending that garment after the shirt.