Strong Enough

by M. Leighton

  Maybe it’s because of who she is. Maybe it’s because of the way I’m having to go about this. Maybe it’s because she’s actually a decent person. Or maybe it’s something I haven’t even thought of. I don’t have an answer. I only have a potential problem. And problems of any kind are never a good thing. Not in my line of work. I make sure to deal with them decisively and immediately. It’s just one more thing that makes me the best at what I do.

  When I cut the engine, Muse finally tears her eyes away from the passing landscape and glances straight ahead. “Where are we?” Her puckered brow shows her confusion.

  “Atlanta.”

  “But why are we at a club?”

  “I need to speak to someone here. I won’t be long. Stay put. Keep the door locked.”

  I get out and slam the door shut before she can ask any more questions. Not that she’d really expect an answer at this point. I just feel like her inquisitiveness would only aggravate the way I’m feeling. And that’s a liability I can’t afford.

  Once inside, I glance around the interior of the club. A few dozen people are crammed onto a dance floor, rubbing against one another. I’ve never understood their desire to do that. I’m more of a loner, a “let me take you into a dark corner” kind of man. Plus, I don’t like crowds. I’d never work in a place like this, but I can see how Gavin does. He’s a congenial kind of guy. You’d never know by talking to him that if you cross him or someone he loves, he can be one sadistic son of a bitch. I guess we all hide our real selves behind some kind of mask. Mine is one of indifference.

  I make my way toward the back-lit bar that stretches out to the left. Doesn’t look like much has changed. There were two hot bartenders back there the last time I was here. There are three tonight, which makes sense for a weekend. I remember two of them. I never forget a face, especially dangerous ones and beautiful ones. And this one is beautiful.

  A pale oval face smiles out from a long, straight sheet of dark hair. Olivia. She’s petite in a voluptuous way, a lot like Muse. But while this girl is beautiful, she has zero effect on me. The only thing that’s making my dick hard lately is a talkative redhead with jewel-green eyes and a body that begs a man to tear it apart with lips and tongue, piece by delicious piece.

  Dark eyes meet mine and she smiles. I nod at her and she looks away, tipping her head in the direction of the back of the club. I follow her gesture and see her husband standing in the doorway of his office. His name is Cash Davenport. Gavin’s boss and the owner of this place. I make my way through the crush of bodies, aiming for him.

  I glance back at Olivia to nod my thanks. She winks at me and then slides her eyes back to her husband as she deftly mixes a drink in a silver shaker.

  As I approach Cash, I can see that he’s still looking at his wife. The expression on his face reminds me of the way a man might look at the sun when he sees it for the first time, when he’s spent his whole life in the dark. They’re that kind of couple, the kind that nothing comes between. The kind that lasts forever. The kind that survives anything. And they’ve had their fair share of obstacles to overcome. The thing is, they’re tighter than ever, it seems. More in love than ever.

  When I stop to his left, Cash finally tears his eyes away from his wife to smile and offer his hand. “Jason! Good to see you, man.”

  I nod, taking his hand for a quick shake. “Thanks. I hate to drop in on you like this, but I’m looking for Gavin. Have you seen him?”

  I can tell by the way his sharp brown eyes narrow momentarily that he knows I’m here for work that he probably doesn’t want to know too much about. He knows more than most already, I think. And he knows that people who know too much usually end up in danger. And Cash Davenport isn’t the kind to take that kind of thing lightly.

  FIFTEEN

  Muse

  Jasper hasn’t been inside the club for even five minutes when my bladder reminds me that I haven’t used the bathroom since we left. And after coffee and water this morning, then water on the trip, I feel like I might float away any minute. And it’s only worsened by the fact that I have nothing but darkness and quiet to distract me from it.

  Taking the keys from the ignition, I get out, touch the handle to lock the doors and head for the front of the club. A big, ’roided-out giant greets me when I poke my head through the door. His smile is warm in a gentle way, making me think that it’s mainly his size that’s intimidating. I return his smile and step up to him.

  “I’m waiting for a friend, but I really need directions to your ladies’ room.”

  He winks at me and nods to the back corner of the club. There are lighted red male and female signs on the wall. I thank him and start off in that direction.

  A dance floor full of people stands between me and the oasis for my bladder, so I take a minute to determine the best route and the path of least resistance, which appears to be skirting the crowd by way of the bar to my left.

  Just as I’m deciding on my course, a deep, attractively accented voice sounds from very near my right ear. “Something I can help you find, miss?”

  I clutch my racing heart. I didn’t even know someone was standing behind me. I whirl to find a tall, incredibly handsome man looming over me. “Oh God! You scared the bejesus out of me!”

  “That wasn’t my intention, but I’m glad I did. Damn me, but you’re beautiful!” he says with a rakish grin that has probably wrestled thousands of uteruses into submission. Mine is aware, but not as affected as most, I’m sure. My female body parts are securely under the influence of a drug called Jasper. “Please say you’re here to see me.”

  “Who’s ‘me’?”

  “Gavin Gibson. At your service.”

  “Sorry, Gavin, but I’m just here to avail myself of your . . . facilities.”

  In the landscape of his tanned face and beneath his crop of short black hair, his eyes are startlingly blue. They twinkle with mischief and pure masculine confidence. And charm. Loads of charm. “Can I pick the facility?”

  On any other man, suggestive lines like these might seem cheesy, but not this guy. They just seem flirtatious, genuine and highly complimentary.

  “Afraid not, but I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me.”

  “I’d be willing to accommodate you in any way you could dream up in that pretty little head of yours.”

  The Australian lilt to his words gives them an innocence that precludes that sleazy vibe most Americans would emanate at this point. I can’t help smiling back at his unflappable determination.

  “As much as I—”

  My words are interrupted by a heavy-cream voice and a tingle of recognition.

  “Do you mind?”

  Gavin’s merry blue eyes flit to a position just above my head. They would tell me Jasper’s position if I didn’t already know, if I couldn’t already feel him with every dancing red blood cell. I don’t know how he does this to me—makes me forget everything except for him, makes me feel nothing except for him—but he does it. Consistently. Effortlessly. Thoughtlessly.

  He’s so close at my back that I can feel his body heat. For a second, I feel like closing my eyes and sinking into it. Into him. He’s like a talented hypnotist who has somehow managed to invade my every thought, my every emotion, my every jangling nerve.

  “Jason!” the man in front of me exclaims happily.

  Jasper leans into me, his chest brushing my back as his long arm shoots out from behind my shoulder to accept the handshake of the Aussie. When they finish, Jasper withdraws his arm, but I feel his other hand come to rest at the curve of my waist, the fingers tensing, urging me to step back.

  I don’t resist. The action brings me against his side, our bodies in full contact from shoulder to thigh. My skin tingles with awareness and I fight the desire to lean farther into him, to be absorbed.

  Jasper doesn’t glance down at me, but he doesn’t have to for me to see the dark and dangerous expression on his face. The normally blank mask that rests over his features like
a veil is gone, revealing a fierceness that takes me aback. It’s as though he’s mentally ripping the other man to shreds.

  What the hell?

  “Gavin,” Jasper responds quietly, his low voice filling the space with an intimidating rumble.

  Gavin’s eyes flicker to me and back up to Jasper. One black brow rises and he asks simply, “Yours?”

  I feel Jasper stiffen against me before he replies. “Certainly not yours.”

  His fingers flex against my side again, like a reactive twitch, and I wonder to myself if this could possibly be about me.

  The mere suggestion warms me like hot chocolate—from the inside out. It’s not an overtly possessive gesture, but for someone as cool and aloof as Jasper, it’s enough to melt my heart and curl by toes. I glance at his face once more and when he quickly flicks his gaze to me, I see that my suspicion is correct. He looks ready to kill.

  And I couldn’t be happier. My lips tremble with my suppressed smile that, if set free, would rival the sun in brightness.

  Sensitive to the undercurrent, Gavin crosses his thick arms over his wide chest, his face adopting a friendly, non-threatening expression. “I got your message, mate. No worries.” He nods, holding Jasper’s eyes for a few seconds before he continues. “What brings you back into town?”

  Jasper doesn’t answer right away. Rather, he looks down at me again, this time the harsh lines of his face softening ever so slightly. “Did you need something?” he asks me.

  “I came in to use the restroom. This is our first stop since we left. Remember?”

  He has the good grace to at least look a little sheepish. “Oh. Sorry. They’re back there,” he points out, indicating the back corner. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

  I nod and move to walk past him, but before I lose myself in the crowd surrounding the bar, I glance back at the duo. “Nice to meet you, Gavin.”

  His smile is wide and immediate, and every bit as flirtatious as it was a few minutes ago. “The pleasure was all mine, pet.”

  One quick peek at Jasper’s face shows that stony, furious glint in his eyes again, his mouth a hard line, his brows pulled low. It’s the most transparent I’ve ever seen him.

  This time I do smile. I don’t even try to hide my pleasure. I’m rewarded with a scowl and a growling sound that’s so loud I can hear it over the music. I feel like giggling as I walk away. So I do.

  As I’m weaving my way through the knot of people waiting for a drink from a couple of gorgeous bartenders, I see yet another handsome giant making his way through the throng. His dark blond head stands several inches above the tallest man in the crowd. He’s big, easily big enough to be a bouncer, but still not quite as big as Jasper.

  His nearly black eyes are focused behind me as I approach, giving me a chance to take in his authoritative presence. He seems in control, in command, like he’s a master surveying all that is his. It makes me wonder if he owns the club.

  When I get closer, his gaze flickers to me. He smiles and nods, to which I smile and nod in return. There’s no attraction in his expression, just a polite curiosity.

  I hear a feminine voice rise above the fray, calling, “Cash!” The guy’s head whips around and I see his face soften the instant he finds the owner of the woman’s voice. I glance back to see which one holds his heart, because it’s easy to see that she does. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

  I’m not surprised when I see him leaning in to speak to the beautiful brunette behind the bar. She looks as love-struck as he does and I’m aware of a pang of envy that stabs me somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever find my happy ending, my Dirty Dancing Johnny, my Sixteen Candles moment. My Officer and a Gentleman exit.

  I pause at the entrance to the hall that leads to the bathrooms and I glance back across the bar. I can easily make out Jasper’s head as he follows Gavin to the door. Just before he disappears into the night, he turns. As though he could feel me watching him, his eyes find mine. Unerringly, across the top of a sea of people, they click to a stop on mine. His blank expression is back and I think with some amount of dismay that, as much as I’m beginning to wish he could, I doubt that Jasper will factor into my future at all, much less in a romantic-gesture kind of way.

  I shake the thoughts from my head and turn to swing open the door to the ladies’ room. I’ve got other things to worry about right now. I’ll have Jasper to mourn another day.

  SIXTEEN

  Jasper

  I’m optimistic that Muse will keep the questions to a minimum when we’ve gone thirty minutes without her opening her mouth. But I know better. That’s why I’m not entirely surprised when I hear her tentative voice.

  “Who was that guy—Gavin?”

  “Somebody I work with from time to time.”

  “Is he a bounty hunter, too?”

  “No.”

  “What does he do?”

  I sigh. Loudly. “Among other things, he manages that club.”

  “Ah. And what do you two do together?” I throw her a look that, even in the dark, I’m sure tells her that I’ve reached an end to my loquaciousness. I see her lips thin and her brow furrow. “Time’s up. Got it.”

  Her voice is sharp with an underlying note that sounds something like hurt. I feel another stab of an emotion dangerously close to guilt. Even if I wanted to tell her everything, to answer all her questions, she’d then hate me for telling her. She’d wish she’d never asked. Then she’d wish she never met me.

  She’d be better off, of course, if she hadn’t. But she did. She’s part of a world and a set of circumstances that are far beyond her control. She’s an innocent in this game. Even without all the details, I know this to be true. I can feel it in my gut. And my gut is never wrong. I hope that holds true where her father is concerned. I’d hate for him to be the first time my gut is wrong.

  As the GPS starts to take us off the main roads and into subdivisions and residential areas, Muse gets quieter. She could be asleep. But she’s not. The only thing that gives her consciousness away is the way she’s twisting the hem of her T-shirt between her fingers. Otherwise I might think she was dozing with her head leaned back against the rest, facing out the passenger window.

  When I pull to a stop, she glances over at me. Her eyes are big and shiny and she looks near tears. Impulsively, I reach for the fingers of one busy hand. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Muse gives me a weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers tremble inside mine. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Liar,” I accuse softly.

  Her expression doesn’t change. She doesn’t make a sound or make a move. She just stares at me, like she’s willing me, begging me, maybe through the connection our hands make, to give her courage. Strength. To promise her everything will be all right.

  “I know you’re not going to like this, but I want you to stay here while I go check it out first.” Before I can even get halfway through the sentence, she’s shaking her head.

  “No, I’m going.”

  I knew that’s what she’d say.

  “Fine. Just stay behind me, okay?”

  “Why? What do you think is going to happen?”

  I shrug. “Hard to tell. In my line of work, you learn to expect the unexpected.”

  “All right, I’ll stay behind you. Let’s just get this over with. I need to know he’s okay.”

  I release her hand and we both get out, meeting at the front of the car. Muse trails behind me by a foot or so and stops on the top step while I approach the front door and use the clacker to knock.

  The door swings open quickly, like someone was expecting us. A man fills the entrance. He’s just over six feet tall, has salt-and-pepper hair and looks fit and trim in his Dockers and pressed white shirt.

  “Jasper King,” he says flatly, no surprise coloring his tone.

  “Colonel Harper,” I reply, addressing the man I used to work for, the man I used to respect. The man I used to trust.

 
SEVENTEEN

  Muse

  “Dad! Ohmigod! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cry, pushing past Jasper and throwing myself against my father’s sturdy chest. He hugs me tightly and I let the sandpaper rasp of his cheek and the light scent of Old Spice soothe my nerves, nerves that have been frayed for eight long days.

  “I knew you’d come,” he says, his voice gruff in my ear. “And I knew he’d bring you.”

  I lean back to look questioningly into the familiar face. “What do you mean? How do you know Jasper?”

  My father’s shrewd, gray eyes leave mine to settle on Jasper where he stands behind me. I can feel his presence like a current of electricity tingling along my spine.

  “We’ve worked together before.”

  I turn to glance back at Jasper. His blank expression, his tiger eyes are glued to my father’s. They’re unfathomable, as they so often are, but there’s an animosity, a coldness pouring from him like an arctic breeze.

  “How did you know I’d find him? I mean how . . .”

  “He knew they’d send me. Because I’m the best one for the job,” Jasper interjects. His voice is icy, his beautiful lips thin. Fingers of unease dance down my spine.

  “Who’s ‘they’? And what do you mean ‘send’ you?” I ask.

  When Jasper doesn’t answer me, I look to my father. They’re engaged in some kind of silent standoff, each man staring at the other, neither moving a muscle.

  “Muse, honey, why don’t you wait for me in the kitchen? I need to speak with Jasper.”

  “Dad, I think after all that’s happened, after all I’ve done, that I at least deserve some answers.”

  Finally, he looks at me again. “You’ll get them. I promise. Eventually, I’ll tell you everything. In the meantime, you’ll just have to trust me.”

  In his eyes I see the immovable force that I know my father to be. Some of the reasons that I love him—his protectiveness, his rock-solid reliability, his unconditional love of me—are also some of the things that frustrate me. When he gets it in his head that he’s doing something to protect me, he’s unshakable. Even by me. And this is one of those times. I can see it in everything from the firm set of his jaw to the stubborn angle of his chin.