by Anya Summers
Jack didn’t offer an apology or explanation as he accepted the bottle of Biofreeze. Instead he gave her a curt nod, his face stern and unreadable, then left without a backward glance. When he was gone, she shut and locked the door behind him, and slid down against it.
What the hell was she going to do about him?
Chapter 9
The night was cloudless, allowing the shimmering blanket of stars in the Milky Way to shine down. In the heart of downtown Jackson with the city lights, the full brunt of the starry solar system was diminished. But after an easy thirty-minute drive out, like to Carter’s ranch or Cole and Mason’s lodge, or up in the high country, the stars were endless, illuminating the sky in iridescent blue and purple. The clouds of the nebula of their galaxy always made Jack feel small.
He loved lying out under a starry sky with nothing but nature surrounding him. It had been ages since he’d had a chance to go camping, or do a stay up at Cole’s private cabin.
It was one of the reasons why he’d never moved away from Jackson Hole. As much as growing up here had sucked with his parents, it was home. After their deaths, Jack found his footing. Mainly because he had Spencer, and Spencer’s parents, who took him in and fostered him until he was old enough to be on his own. He still considered Spencer’s parents his adopted family.
And he couldn’t believe he had told Rayna about his past. That was information he never disclosed to women. Ever. There wasn’t a single sub in Cuffs & Spurs who knew about his past. He tried thinking back to any of the women he had dated for more than a few nights—not that there were many—and he couldn’t recall mentioning his past even when the women had asked.
So why had he told Rayna?
Jack lowered his gaze from the stars and surveyed the alley junction points in back of the club, only to find a big wad of nothing. But that was true of most stakeouts. He was in his truck, the lights out, key in the ignition if he needed it. He had both his badge and his Glock with him. His arm was giving him enough problems that he didn’t have his shoulder holster but his belt with a leather holster instead.
He scanned the area and sipped his Dr. Pepper. This late at night, he tried to minimize his coffee intake, as much as he preferred it to the sugary soda. But for stakeouts, he needed the caffeine one way or the other.
Rayna had been cautious when they had discussed their pasts. But Jack understood her hesitancy. In WITSEC, a person had to cut all ties with their past and keep their true identity a secret, because the only secret between two people that could be kept was when one of them was six feet under. Jack wished he could inform her outright that he knew who she was and that he was there to protect her. But he wasn’t in charge of this operation and had to toe the line with Agent Carson.
He ached for her; for what he knew about her past. Perhaps he had told her about his parents because, in a way, they were kindred souls. They both had lost their parents, their families, and had been forced to strike out on their own at a young age.
Jack understood all too well the sense of loneliness, even with his friends’ support in the intervening years. He’d been orphaned at sixteen. Neither of his parents had family who would take him in or cared one way or the other. His dad had been a mean, angry drunk and his family had cut ties with him before Jack was born. And his mom had distanced herself from hers, mainly at his father’s urging. Typical abuse pattern behavior of isolating the victim.
Orphaned and alone, Jack had been taken in by Spencer and his family. They had kept him from entering the foster care system. And he was grateful to them for what they’d done: taking him in, making sure he finished high school and then went on to get his criminal justice degree and attend the police academy.
But he’d been a ship alone in still waters—until Rayna. He had to admit that he had always been rather fascinated by her. Not merely because she was a beautiful woman, but now that he knew her true identity, he understood what he had always seen in her gaze because it was the same in his, reflected back to him in his bathroom mirror, an aching loneliness at being truly alone in the world with no blood ties to anyone. It didn’t matter that he considered his friends his family, that they always made sure he had a place to go for the holidays when he wasn’t working. But he typically ensured he worked then, that way, he didn’t have an opportunity to feel sorry for himself.
And now that he had tasted her, he craved more.
Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He couldn’t get over the way she had felt in his arms. Like she belonged there. When she had ended their kiss and danced out of arm’s reach, he’d been too befuddled by it to stop her. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him this deeply, if ever.
It had been only a kiss, tame by comparison to some of his encounters here at the club. And yet not a single scene he’d performed in the last year held a candle to kissing Rayna.
Jack’s truck was backed into a space along the outer perimeter wall of the club. He was parked in the middle of the lot, away from the lights so no one saw him, but he was able to see out. So far, he had been in this spot for three hours with nary a blip. A few drivers took the back alley but were gone in seconds, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
I’ll be damned. After hours of nothing, his gaze stalled on the shadowy outline of a person, leaning up against the brick wall of the old iron works factory that had been rehabbed into loft apartments in the last half a dozen years.
The figure stood far enough out of the light cast by the corner street lamp to keep their features hidden from sight. Jack keep his gaze on the individual, especially once it became apparent that the person was attempting to remain hidden in the shadows.
Jack switched the lever on his overhead light so that it wouldn’t turn on when he opened his door. He undid the strap on his holster securing his firearm and kept his hand on his gun but didn’t draw it. He silently exited his truck and shut the door with a quiet click, so quiet, the sound did not reverberate in the lot. Keeping his upper body bent, shielding himself with the cars, he made his way to the man in the shadows.
From the shape of the individual, it definitely was a male.
Jack made his footsteps noiseless as he crept closer, trying to discern the individual’s features. He was a good twenty feet from the guy, unable to distinguish his face, when headlights beamed down the alley. The perp melted back into the shadows from where he’d been standing until Jack could no longer spot him.
That was his cue.
Jack sprang up from behind the silver Mercedes he had been crouched behind just as the car turned down another alley, taking the extra swath of light with it. He withdrew his firearm and ran the short distance across the pavement, his feet pounding the concrete, and spied the man looping down the alley away.
“Halt, Jackson PD!” he shouted. The sound reverberated down the alley.
The guy turned, and an explosion rang out. Jack dropped to the ground. The bullet whizzed by him and struck the brick building with a loud crack and spray of dust.
The fucker was armed.
Nor did the suspect stop after he’d fired at him. Of course not. Why did they always fucking run?
Jack sprang back up onto his feet, ignoring the pain in his arm, and raced after the suspect.
He had no doubt that the individual was up to no good, whether they were after Rayna or just out to cause mischief. His instincts told him it was the latter, but he didn’t know if it was Travino or one of his goons. Nor did he know whether this was a diversion and Travino was back at the club, waiting for Rayna to exit.
Jack pursued him down one alley and up another. The perp didn’t take another shot at him. The man zig-zagged, trying to throw him off the scent. The bastard was fast. In normal pursuits on foot, the perp would be slowing or at least beginning to slow down because they weren’t conditioned for long distance running. But not this asshole.
This, right here, was why Jack ran six miles a day, every day. Not because he loved running—most mor
nings, he hated it—but he did it without fail so he could pursue idiots like this one. Jack chased the man as he darted across traffic along Broadway and headed from the small downtown area toward the residential section of town.
Jack didn’t want this asshat anywhere near the people in his town. The buildings of downtown gave way to streets lined with houses and pine forests. The road darkened as they ran, without the extra lights from downtown lining the street.
The jackass took a left up ahead, going down a residential lane. Jack sprinted. His feet pounded the roadway. His lungs burned, his breaths harsh as he trailed after the perp.
Jack took the turn at a dead run then scanned the street. The son of a bitch had vanished in that ten second delay. He was mindful of the fact that the man was armed and more than willing to take a shot at him. Jack kept his firearm gripped in his hand as he slowed down. He crept stealthily from house to house along the dimly lit street, searching the shadows. He listened to the sounds all around him. The rustling of a nearby animal in the bushes. The blare of a television from a house he passed. The sound of a distant car as it drove down Broadway.
Jack trudged down and then back up the street. He checked over fences, behind bushes and hedgerows, and nada. The man had vanished like a ghostly specter. The bastard had either left the scene or was hiding so well, Jack couldn’t locate him. And Jack did not have the foggiest idea where he might have gone.
Shit.
Jack stowed his firearm back in its holster and plodded back toward town. He kept an eye out, scanning every street and shadow he passed. But the guy had disappeared without a trace, leaving him with more questions than answers.
Jack made it back to his truck and climbed inside. He took a swig of warm Dr. Pepper to wet his dry throat as he yanked his phone from his back pocket.
He hit the programmed number for Carson, who answered on the second ring.
“Agent Carson.”
“We have a problem.” Jack didn’t even say hello. He was far past any pleasantries.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Carson said with deprecating laugh.
“Someone is watching the club Rayna works at. More specifically, the back alley where the employees park their cars. I need you to send some of your team to search the area east of Broadway and Gros Ventre. I lost him in the neighborhood. Not that I think he will go after unarmed civilians, but who am I to say?”
“You weren’t able to apprehend him?”
“I tried. He got the jump on me, asshole took a pot shot at me, and escaped. But this isn’t the first night he has been here. Last night Rayna saw the same man when she left the club. You need to put people on these streets, station them up above for surveillance so we can catch him.”
“What does he look like?”
“That’s the problem. He keeps to the shadows in the alley so you can’t get a good look at him. From what I ascertained, I would say he’s perhaps two to three inches shorter than I am which would put him at roughly six feet, dark head of hair, fast on his feet, probably a buck eighty, give or take a few pounds.”
“Fuck. Well, you could have just described Travino. Do you think he knows where she lives?”
“Not sure, Carson. I haven’t seen a thing on the surveillance cameras I installed. I’m going to need to go over today’s feed while I was here watching the club. We need more men on this. I can’t be everywhere at all times.” And if they weren’t careful, Rayna would end up dead.
“You need to get closer to Rayna. Sleep in her damn house if need be. Travino can’t get her. I won’t let him. Let me see what I can do to get guys installed on the surrounding buildings. You’re right that we need more men. I wish I knew how the fuck he was finding her.”
“I do too. I want to bring my partner in on this, and perhaps a few others. I know you want to keep this as secret as possible, but I can’t be everywhere. I could have used some fucking back-up tonight,” Jack snarled.
Carson sighed. “I hate to admit that you’re right, but you are. Let’s meet at the station tomorrow, say at ten, and we can add a few more you trust in on this case. In the meantime, and from here on out, you need to be her goddamn shadow.”
“And I’m supposed to do what, seduce her? Make it like we’re dating so I have a reason to be at her place all the time?” Jack snapped at Agent Carson, mainly because he wanted to do that without the case, and it rankled him.
“Hurt her and I will kill you.” Carson’s anger blazed through the phone.
“Is there a bit of unrequited love going on here, agent? Is that why you’re so adamant about saving her? Because you’re acting awfully territorial.” Which Jack would have understood. Since he’d kissed her today, he was feeling a mite territorial himself when it came to Rayna.
“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t consider her a good friend, more like a kid sister who has been through more hell than anyone should ever have to, and I want her safe. Do what you can to get closer to her. Though that doesn’t mean I’m telling you to bed her, or that I won’t string you up by your goddamn toes should you hurt her in any way.”
Jack ran a frustrated hand over his face. “You know, this would work out a hell of a lot better if we told her that Travino is here. She has a right to know her life is in danger. That she needs to be on her guard.”
“No. She’ll run. She promised me as much last time. And, knowing her as well as I do, she meant it.”
“Then we convince her to stay. Tell her that’s it’s better for her to stay where we can protect her.”
“She won’t buy it.” Carson sighed. “Do whatever you need to do to get closer and keep her safe. We can worry about the fallout later—as long as she has a later. That is my biggest concern.”
Jack wanted to argue that it was the wrong call, keeping her in the dark this way. Except it wasn’t his call to make. If he defied Carson’s orders, who was to say he wouldn’t yank him off the case for insubordination? Jack believed that Rayna trusted him which, when it came to life or death situations, could mean the difference in a huge way.
Get closer to her. There was only one surefire way to do so.
He did desire her. Jack couldn’t lie about that fact. And he wanted her more than he had realized, too. But, Christ, she would loathe him if he slept with her under the pretense that he was interested and she found out he had pursued her for something other than his interest in her personally—like it was a game he had used to bide his time as he watched over her.
Except, what if it wasn’t a pretense? If he pursued her for real? He had already been tossing it around in his mind, the idea of seducing his way into her bed. Jack wanted Rayna with a singular obsession he didn’t fully understand. But what better way to protect her than if he was at her side all the time?
“Let me see what I can do. I will see you in the morning. Call me if your people find him.”
“Will do, Detective.” Carson disconnected the call without saying goodbye.
Jack grabbed the hidden waist holster from his glove compartment, lifted his shirt, and wrapped it around his waist. Then he undid his belt and pulled the holster off before reaffixing his belt. He removed his gun from the holster and checked to ensure the safety was on before he slid it into the hidden holster. What with someone taking pot shots at him and watching the club, there was no way he was heading inside unarmed. It would be just his luck that he would leave his firearm locked in his glovebox, and the man would be back when they left the club. Being without the means to protect Rayna would be a little like being caught with his pants around his knees in the middle of Sunday mass.
He shoved his badge in the right front pocket of his jeans, grabbed his keys and his phone, then exited his truck and headed into the club through the back entrance. He scanned the area before he went inside. As far as he could tell, the suspect had not returned.
With a final look, he walked inside, ensuring the door was firmly closed behind him. He rode the elevator down to the club. The doors opened
and the strains of a Nine Inch Nails song played through the loudspeakers. At the side of the bar, he spied Rayna threading her way through the bar top tables like a pro and headed into her section. He slid onto a stool and waited until she came over.
“Didn’t expect to see you here. What can I get you?”
“Some conversation.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want something to drink or not?”
He almost smiled at the way her back shot up. And he itched to tan her backside to show her the proper way to address a Dom. The hell if his dick didn’t twitch at the thought. “Blue Moon draft and a water.”
That way, he could once again make it look like he was here for a night out and not stalking her.
Rayna nodded and scurried away, but not before he noticed the flush in her cheeks. Hmmm. Was she as affected by him as he was by her?
Jack ignored the rest of the crowd and kept his focus on Rayna. She deposited his beer and water, not stopping to say another word to him. And he let her go, content for now that he knew she was safe.
A few of the subs glanced his way with hope in their gazes and he shook his head. He hated to see the disappointment bloom across Faith’s sweet face, or the hurt in Paige’s eyes, but he didn’t want them. They were lovely women and he’d enjoyed scening with them on plenty of occasions, but now they didn’t even cause his dick to stir.
Rayna on the other hand… His gaze followed her heart-shaped ass. She was efficient when she walked, with a grace and slight sway to her hips that nearly had his tongue hanging out. Seducing her wasn’t going to be a hardship. Not if this afternoon’s kiss was any indication.
Jack stayed throughout her entire shift. He knew she got off at midnight tonight, because Spencer was keeping him apprised of her schedule. When she finally ventured back over to get his tab, he clasped her wrist. “Sit a moment.”
She tugged at her hand. “Jack, I can’t. I—”
“You want me just as much as I want you. I felt that today. I’m not sorry for kissing you.”