“Well, she shouldn’t. Do you know she pleaded with me that day? She begged me not to get involved and I didn’t listen. I let her down.”
“Whatever happened before, you’re in love now, and about time.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t do love,” he insisted flatly. He sank into his chair and dragged his hands down his jaw. He still hated hearing Amory referred to as Olivia, it just didn’t suit her.
Celia stood and gently took his hands in hers, her expression knowing, and as was always the case she managed to cut straight to the chase.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself for something you did ten years ago. You’re a good man and you deserve to be happy.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Amory’s mood deteriorated as the day wore on, and even the fact Berishka and Novak had left shortly after breakfast hadn’t done much to lift her spirits. They’d confirmed they were coming back for a hunt in a few days, which hadn’t made her feel any better, despite the fact that further contact was exactly what they would need to bring Berishka down. That didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.
Waiting for Jackson to appear so she could show him just how much she was ignoring him was exhausting. By the time six p.m. came around, even William was giving her a wide berth as she slammed drawers and muttered under her breath. With a real chance to bring Berishka down, she needed to get her head in the game and spending time with Holly would be the best way to do that.
Having discovered that the reason she hadn’t seen Jackson all day was because he had gone out, she cheered herself up by cursing up a storm all the way to the pub to meet Holly. How dare he avoid her? Her rising indignation sensibly ignored the fact that she had been intending to do the exact same thing to him.
The pub was conveniently nestled into the fringes of the estate boundary, allowing her to stomp her way through the grounds. Her torch bobbed up and down with her vigorous steps and her frustration began to ebb away. By the time she made it to the pub and spotted Holly waiting with a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of her, she was feeling decidedly better. It was a typical rural English village establishment, complete with craggy locals, who ceased all conversation whenever the door opened. The “you’re not from round these parts,” was unsaid but implicit in their expressions.
Holly had chosen a corner booth where it would be possible for them both to sit facing the bar and keep one eye on their surroundings. A side effect of years on the job meant neither of them felt comfortable with their back to a room’s entry points.
“Having a rough day?” Holly asked wryly.
She gave her friend a warm smile as she sat and took a large gulp of wine. Feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep through her veins, she sighed loudly as she took in the details of the pub before stripping off her coat and jumper, the heat inside a stark contrast to the icy cold outside.
The pub was a pleasant surprise. Traditional Toby jugs hung from the dark beams across the ceiling and a massive collection of horseshoes surrounded the bar itself, yet the place felt clean and well-cared for. Fresh upholstery on the seats stopped the scent of the pub from tipping over from that blend of wood and ale into stale and musty.
She had been expecting more of a bistro pub, fancied up by the owners in an effort to attract the tourists visiting the estate, and if they were lucky a Michelin star to boot. She’d assumed that William wouldn’t have allowed an old-style pub to have space on the edge of his estate, but it seemed his influence didn’t stretch quite this far.
Having recovered from the shock of not one, but two, non-locals coming in, the regulars had turned back to their drinks and conversation. The sounds of their chatter created a perfect background for Amory to be sure she and Holly wouldn’t be overheard.
“Not great,” Amory finally replied to her friend’s question, filling Holly in on her stupidity and Jackson’s departure.
“Okay,” Holly said. “Firstly you know how I feel about this, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve kept things from him, but you have good reasons for doing so. Of course it’s going to be a shock, but if he’s a grown-up he’ll be able to understand.”
“Secondly,” Holly continued, “we need to decide how you want to look at this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to prioritize the professional issues or the personal ones? Because I hate to say it, but they are going to conflict.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking that. After everything. After Katja, can you really think I’d be so selfish as to put myself before everything that’s at stake?”
“Amory,” Holly said gazing levelly at her, “I don’t think you have a selfish bone in your body, and I don’t think you’d be selfish for putting yourself first. Everything you’ve done from the day I met you has been about putting other people first. If just once, and not just for anything but for him, you were the priority, I’d understand and support you. Anyway, on a tactical level I need to know how you’re going to handle this so I can plan.”
“What would I do without you, Holly?” Amory asked, feeling overwhelmed by her friend’s support. Without waiting for a reply she continued, “I need to do this, I let Katja down when I was the only one she trusted. While I can’t fix that, I can make sure her courage wasn’t wasted.”
“Let’s not debate why it wasn’t your fault again,” sighed Holly, “and focus on what to do now. So, professional advice it is.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, the way I see it, if Jackson comes back you have two options with him. Either way you’re good enough at what you do that the rest will go like clockwork. One, you can keep ignoring him and hope like hell the crazy chemistry you have together doesn’t drive you insane, or two, you can go with it and enjoy the moment.”
“And if he finds out who I really am?”
“That’s a risk whichever option you choose,” Holly said. “I know that’s blunt but you need to be prepared for it. Professionally you’ll deal with it. When he understands what’s at stake for his family, he’ll get on with it and play the game. Personally, he’ll likely be furious, and yes, he might not forgive you for a long time, but you’ll have to tell him eventually. Without that honesty the relationship wouldn’t have a future anyway.”
“Relationship?”
“Yes, relationship. Aside from the practicalities of hiding your past and your career from someone you love, you’re not the sort of person who could live with the lie.”
“I never said I loved him.”
“Maybe not out loud,” Holly said.
“That’s because I don’t. I just have a really, really stupid dose of lust.”
Holly just looked at her, clearly not convinced, and when Amory didn’t say anything else she spoke.
“You’re an all or nothing person, Amory. I’ve never seen anyone or anything affect you like this, affect your trust in yourself. If you don’t want to admit you’re in love that’s fine, just know that I’m here, whatever the emotional or professional fallout. No judgment, ever, I’m your best friend.”
By silent agreement they turned the conversation to Amory’s desire to move away from her undercover work, giving her some time to digest everything and regain her focus on the importance of completing this assignment.
“I could live with being someone else all the time, but I just don’t feel like I’m making any real difference anymore. For each person we bring in there’s always someone else ready to step up and take over. I want to work with young offenders and give them a chance to make better choices, at least I could see the difference rather than just statistics and victims.” Amory took a gulp of wine. “I can’t move on until we stop Berishka though. I owe Katja that much.”
They spent the next hour chatting about the jerk who had shoved a coin in Holly’s hand, telling her to call her mother and say she wasn’t coming home. Seriously, who said that anymore? Amory’s jaw ached from laughing so hard.
****
Her time with Holly had worked to
reset her balance and she felt in control again.
“Thanks.” she shouted as she climbed out of Holly’s car in front of the house. She shut the door harder than she’d intended as Holly waved her good-bye before she pulled away. She weaved across the drive, grateful that Holly’s covert status meant she could safely bring her here without raising suspicion. Well, that and the fact her friend had been happy to watch her drink almost an entire bottle of wine on her own. She wasn’t sure she’d have been up to the walk back if Holly hadn’t been able to drive.
Her heart quickened at the sight of Jackson’s bike—he was back. Unconsciously her pace quickened, her unsteadiness evaporating as she made her way in, abruptly stopping at the sight of Jackson sitting on the stairs, his jaws clenched. His dark eyes stared intensely at her, as if they could propel her backward through sheer force of will.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his eyes shining brightly.
How dare he disappear, then act like he was her keeper? She could go where she liked. Well, she wasn’t going to be answerable to him.
“Out,” she said as loftily as she could, slapping a devil-may-care smile on her face, even as her heart beat so loudly she didn’t know how he couldn’t hear it. She flounced toward him to head up the stairs. She was kick-ass and in control, and she was damned sure he wasn’t going to know he had any effect on her.
Her foot hit the first step with a muted thud when Jackson’s hand whipped out with lightning speed and caught her wrist. She gasped in shock as she stumbled back, only his grip preventing her from falling.
The tension ratcheted up as he frowned at her. She figured it was the kind of look that was designed to strike fear in the heart of anyone it was directed at, but she was used to dangerous men, and the combination of wine and indignation made her impervious as he barked his question again.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, yanking her wrist from his grasp and stalking upstairs.
The breathtaking image of him clad in his black leathers was etched into her brain. If it wasn’t for bravado that came after the best part of a bottle of wine, she knew she’d be in a puddle at his feet right now.
She made it as far as their landing before he caught up with her, raking his hands through his hair as he struggled to verbalize whatever thoughts he was having. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him expectantly.
“I was worried about you. You just don’t see how dangerous those guys are. I don’t talk about my past, but when you’ve had the experiences I’ve had, well, I see things other people don’t. These guys…” he said with a shrug.
When she didn’t answer he looked away, as though not really wanting to go on, before turning his gaze back to hers.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, voice cracking on the words.
Her arms dropped to her side, determination to keep him at arm’s length slipping away as she took in the dark shadows under his eyes and the sincere concern in his expression. She was used to dealing with people who lied and deceived. People who were focused on their own goals without any concern for anyone else.
He held her gaze, his raw fear for her somehow making him appear both vulnerable and determined. She could take care of herself, everyone in her life knew she could take care of herself. She had enough training and experience to handle just about any physical threat that came her way, which meant she couldn’t remember the last time anyone wanted to take care of her. Her heart warmed at the realization that he didn’t just want her physically, he really cared. Without stopping to question her actions she reached up, and grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket, pulled him to her with a quick jerk. As soon as his lips touched hers, fire ignited her veins and the desperate need for him that she had been holding onto so tightly was released.
****
Before Jackson lost all control of his senses he pulled away from Amory, and an amused sound rumbled through him at her moan of frustration. He might want her with every cell of his body, but he wasn’t about to take advantage of her when she clearly had a lot to drink. Chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, he held his hands in fists at his side, fighting hard to resist the urge to ignore his conscience.
“You don’t like it when I start things then?” she asked, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.
He growled with pure need and fought the urge to take her there and then. She had no idea how wrong she was.
“Have you lost your mind? Everything you do is sexy as hell. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. But I want it to be right, I need you to be certain, and with God only knows how much you’ve had to drink that moment is not now.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“I know what I want.”
He closed his own eyes for a beat, needing some distance from her temptations.
“Well, then, it won’t hurt to wait until tomorrow,” he said when he finally opened his eyes again.
He clenched his jaw as she opened her mouth to argue with him some more. What the hell was wrong with him? The woman he wanted, the woman he was starting to accept he might be in love with, was trying to persuade him to take her to bed and he was refusing her.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw. The clean shave from the night before was already giving way to a scruffy five o’clock shadow. It didn’t matter what she said. He wasn’t going to let her win this argument. He wanted to take her to bed so badly his body was almost throbbing with need, but he wanted more than a drunken fuck. Minutes before she was fighting him, didn’t want to even talk to him, and now she wanted to get naked together. He wished he was wrong, but he was too much of a realist to believe her change of heart was more than alcohol-fueled lust.
She must have read something in his expression because she shifted her stance, her shoulders slipping down and her hands falling from her hips.
“Will you at least stay with me tonight?” she asked.
Moving quickly, he scooped her into his arms, and lifting her easily he carried her across the landing to his room. He gently eased her onto his bed before helping her pull off her boots and jeans. He must be out of his freaking mind. He had turned her down. She was going to wake up in the morning, suffer serious hangover regret, and he’d have passed up his only chance. Shaking off the melancholy thought he stripped down to his boxers, pausing to take in the sight of Amory, his Amory laid out on his bed. God, that was something he’d wanted for so long his soul ached. He wasn’t going to waste time worrying about what might have been. He was going to focus on enjoying the simple pleasure of this moment.
The bed creaked slightly under his weight as he carefully climbed in next to her and he froze for a beat. When the sound of her even breaths told him she was fast asleep he shifted down, his body running alongside hers. For the longest time he didn’t dare move, almost afraid she was an illusion that would shatter if he did.
Finally, he curled his fingers around her hip as he shifted close enough for her back to rest against his chest, pausing at the ribbon of texture under his hand. A deep scar that hadn’t been there ten years ago. The soft smooth lines of her youth had developed into a firmer body with marks and scars that showed the passing of an entire decade. He wanted time with her, time to just talk and find out the history of each of those changes and more about the woman she’d become. He only hoped she wouldn’t push him away when the morning came.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Waking up in Jackson’s bed, Amory froze before realizing no one else was in it. As her initial panic passed she lifted her head to look around, only to sink back onto the pillow as she was swallowed by a sickening pain. What the hell was wrong with her? She knew perfectly well what wine did to her, yet she kept doing it. On spirits she could drink anyone under the table, but wine always knocked her sideways.
She squinted at the door which began to open and groaned as light flooded the room.
“Feeling healthy?” Jackson said with a go
od-natured laugh.
Of course he’d be a morning person, she thought sourly. If she wasn’t in so much pain she’d probably be embarrassed by her behavior the night before, but right now she couldn’t care about much beyond the punishment her body was wreaking on her.
“I want to die,” she muttered.
“I come bearing gifts.”
“Ungh.”
There was no gift in the world that could motivate her to open her eyes again. Everything hurt, everything.
“I’m assuming what you actually meant was, ‘Wow, Jackson, thanks, you’re amazing’,” he said, thankfully keeping his voice low.
She sniffed her disagreement, not wanting to make the effort to speak again, but the scent of rich coffee reached her. Although usually a tea drinker, there was nothing like a cup of coffee to help with a hangover.
“Coffee, gimme.”
“Ah, such delightful manners.”
The bed shifted with Jackson’s weight as he joined her on the bed.
“Take these first.”
She eased one eye open to see him sitting stretched out next to her, holding two painkillers in his outstretched palm and a glass of water in the other hand.
“Thank God,” she said, taking the tablets gratefully.
“You’re welcome,” he said, clearly amused by her suffering. “Although you could just stick with calling me Jackson.”
They drank their coffee in silence, and she tried desperately not to remember the way she had thrown herself at him.
“Umm...”
“Yes?” Jackson replied, the smile clear in his voice.
“Umm ... last night,” she began, embarrassment crawling across her skin.
“What about last night?”
She could feel his eyes on her but didn’t dare look. Was he really going to make her say it?
“I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
She stiffened. Great, she was mortified, and he didn’t think it mattered at all. Just his rejection to deal with then.
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