by Becky McGraw
“It’s the only way we’re going to catch them. The only way she’ll ever be safe again.” The frustration in the agent’s voice was tangible. “I think the decision should be Ms. Sharpe’s.”
No, the decision was Jaxson’s, because he was the one hired to protect her, and there was no way in hell he was going to go along with this.
“Call back if you have anything else.” Jax disconnected the call.
“What did they say?” Fallon demanded when he tossed his phone down on the sofa.
“Nothing important,” Jax lied then huffed a breath. “The FBI still doesn’t know who is after you, so we can’t go back. That’s probably why your father was given that case.”
“You’re lying—I heard what he said.”
Jaxon’s eyes flew to hers and there was fear in their brown depths, but determination too. That fear transferred to him and sliced through his body. He knew what she was going to say even before she said the words.
“I need you to take me back to Washington.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“No fucking way!” Jax growled, as he pushed up from the sofa.
“Either you take me back to Washington, or I’m booking a flight and getting a taxi to the airport,” Fallon replied calmly, as she stood.
Jaxson grabbed her shoulders to glare down at her. “You. Are. Not. Going. Back.”
His anger and fear soaked into her body, but Fallon refused to let it sway her. She was scared too, but dammit, she wanted her life back. If going back to Washington to serve herself up as bait is what it took to get it back, she was doing it, whether her surly bodyguard agreed or not.
After meeting Jaxson’s mother, seeing how he acted with her and the men he used to work with, hearing one of them tease him about being bitten by a bug, presumably the love bug, Fallon decided to give him a chance to prove her assumptions about him wrong in case she’d overreacted. He’d had two weeks to show her exactly what the night they had sex meant to him, what she meant to him if anything.
Fallon knew now without a doubt that Jaxson Thomas’ interest in her ended at the job he’d been hired to do. When this job was over, he would be gone from her life and on to his next adventure. She’d been stupid to think, to hope, otherwise. What that night meant to him was satisfaction of a need and acceptance of her offer of her body as the price for his forgiveness. She thought he’d forgiven her now, which was a relief, but he certainly didn’t want her. Her heart would eventually get over the silly attachment it had formed with him and she’d move on too.
“I am going back with or without you. I’d feel safer with you, but that’s your decision,” Fallon said, peeling his fingers back to step away. “I’m sure the FBI will provide me with protection if you don’t go with me.” She walked toward the hallway to go pack her things, but felt Jax following hot on her heels as she entered the bedroom.
The door slammed behind her and she spun. The look in Jaxson’s eyes scared her as he stalked two steps to grab her shoulders, turn her to push her back into the door.
“I won’t let you go get yourself killed,” he growled, his head already in motion toward hers. Fallon’s body melted when his lips touched hers, but his hips pinned her to the door as he ravaged her mouth, not seeming to care that she couldn’t even respond because he was kissing her so fast and hard. She tried to move her hands up to his shoulders but couldn’t, because they were trapped between their bodies. His heart pounded against her palms, almost as hard as her own drummed.
Jax shoved his hand under her shirt, scorched a path up to her bra and shoved it aside to cup her breast. Her nipple puckered in response and he swallowed her groan. His other hand slid down her left thigh to her knee to jerk her knee up to his side as he settled his rock hard erection at her core. A shiver worked through him, but he didn’t stop devouring her mouth.
His thumb raked over her nipple and an electrical shock rocked her, sending all the moisture in her body to sizzle at the top of her thighs. Well most of it. The rest rushed up to her eyes for some reason to burn there. Jax circled his hips and his erection worked the heavy bud between her legs into a frenzy. He kissed her deeply, his tongue danced over hers as his hands set her body on fire.
But it wasn’t enough. The heat in her eyes burned hotter and left a scalding streak down her cheek. She tasted the salt, and Jax must’ve too, because he froze. Dragging in breaths, he pulled away, easing her leg to the ground and Fallon’s body slumped against the door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes glazed and dilated as he reached up to run his thumb over her cheek. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I did…I just want you so damned bad.”
“I’m just sad,” Fallon replied, biting her swollen lower lip when it trembled. The emotion near her throat was so thick she couldn’t swallow it, but she did manage to keep it from shooting up to join the unwelcome tears.
His eyes softened, and his palm flatted on her cheek. “What are you sad about, babycakes?” Jaxson asked, his thumb gliding over her lower lip when she released it.
Oh, God that name.
Tears welled up again and she looked up at the ceiling to roll her eyes and disburse them. She was a freaking thirty-year-old woman, a federal judge. She was not going to turn into a sobbing teenager. She’d done enough of that when she actually was a teenager. Dragging in a shuddering breath, Fallon forced the tears away to look Jaxson in the eyes.
“It’s nothing. I just can’t do this. I need to get back to D.C.” She pushed off the door, and tried to move past him, but he grabbed her arm.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded softly.
Sucking in a deep breath, Fallon blew it out then turned to face him. “I’m sorry this is all there will ever be with us.”
His hand fell away, and her body deflated. The surprised look on his face told her that she’d been right in her assessment of their status. “Are you taking me back home, or do I need to book a flight?” Fallon asked shortly. He didn’t answer, just stood there boring holes into her with his eyes. “Are you going to answer me? Or is that my answer?”
Jaxson looked like he woke up from a trance when he suddenly shook his head, dragged in a shuddering breath met her eyes again. “You’re not going anywhere without me. And why do you think this is all there is with us?” He waved his hand between them. “As hard as you’ve made it for me these last two weeks, as hard as you’ve made me with your damned teasing, I’ve kept my hands to myself to focus on doing my job, which is keeping you safe.”
Fallon’s heart jerked in her chest, and she turned toward the bed. “I’m pretty smart, Jaxson—I get what you’re saying. I’m past the horny teenager stage though, so I like a side of emotion with my hot sex.”
She sure felt like a horny teenager around him though, and that had to stop right now. Fallon made it as far as the dresser and opened the first drawer to pull out her underwear, before his long legs appeared in her line of vision and he kneed the drawer shut, before putting his knuckle under her chin to lift it. His eyes held hers like an open socket, dragging her inside to see the raw man that existed there.
“I hated you for five fucking years, despised you. Suddenly, you’re in my life again and I have to protect you when I really want to strangle you. And then you’re so damned beautiful it hurts me to look at you. You’re smart and successful, caring and ethical, not the judgmental, big-mouthed prude with a silver spoon I’d built you up to be in my mind all those years. Can you see where that might be confusing?” he asked, his eyes intense. When Fallon didn’t respond, his hand dropped from her chin and he leaned against the dresser. “I’m still trying to work things out in my head, but that’s damned hard when all I want to do is bury myself in your body. That’s the reason I haven’t touched you again—it’s not because I don’t want to. That and the fact I’m trying to focus on watching both of our sixes alone. At the end of the day my main goal is to keep us both alive.”
Fallon huffed a breath. That was sure a mouthful, and
yeah she could definitely understand where he stood now. She’d probably hate her too if the roles were reversed, and be just as confused. Fallon had hated herself for the last two years she’d known the truth, but kept it to herself because of her father. She hated her flighty younger sister and her father more though, for putting her in that position. There was just too much history between her and this man for things ever to work out. Forgiving was one thing, forgetting was something entirely different.
“It’s probably better if I just pack my things and call a cab,” Fallon said, trying to force lightness into her tone. She waved her hands down her body. “I’m still alive, so you’ve done your job, big guy. What happens after this is not on your watch.” Fallon tiptoed to lean in and kiss his cheek. Jaxson tensed, his leather and wood scent brought heat to her eyes again, but Fallon fought it back as she eased back to her heels. “Thanks for everything, Jaxson. I’ll call Senator Greenwood when I get home and give you a glowing recommendation.”
Jaxson’s jaw worked and his eyes got suspiciously bright. “I don’t want a recommendation, because I’m not even sure I’ll stay with GAPS once this is over. What I want is you to let me keep you alive until the situation is resolved and give me time to get my head straight. Can you do that, Fallon?”
All that would do is give her extra time to become more attached to him, maybe even tumble over the cliff she was balancing precariously on now. It was masochistic to say yes, to prolong what she knew would eventually come, but Fallon couldn’t make herself say no, not to this man to whom she’d done so much harm.
“Yes, I can do that.” His relieved smile was worth every minute of agony she knew she’d suffer when he figured out like she had it was never going to work.
Jaxson’s arm snaked around her waist and he gently pulled her into his hard body. Fallon’s insides quivered when his eyes turned to liquid silver as his mouth descended towards her and his lips met hers in the slowest and sweetest kiss she’d ever had in her life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Oh! My car is back!” Fallon squealed, as Jax pulled up to the curb down the street from her house and stopped the van.
She wondered why he parked so far away, but she wasn’t complaining. She was back at her house, which looked to have been totally repaired while she was gone, and so was her car. Fallon grabbed the door handle, but Jax’s hand clamped on her arm to stop her.
“Wait—let me go check it out first. Stay here,” Jaxson growled, releasing her arm to remove the keys from the ignition.
On the way back to Washington, they’d stopped in Virginia to meet a man named Chris Cassidy, a charming blonde man with a thick southern drawl, who according to Jax was also a former SEAL and GAPS employee, so Jax could pick up even more equipment. Fallon had no idea what was in the large canvas bag he’d thrown into the back of the van, but the men stood behind the van talking about it for almost an hour before they got back on the road.
When she heard the back door of the van open, Fallon assumed Jaxson was getting something out of that bag. But his weapons bag, only a little smaller, which stayed by his side like a man purse, was back there too. He could be getting a cannon out of that bag to set up on her front lawn for all she knew, and it would not surprise her one bit.
With every mile they got closer to Washington, the edgier and quieter her bodyguard became, focusing on their surroundings like he expected the mobsters to appear out of thin air. Fallon knew the danger that waited for her here, and she was afraid, but determined too.
She was not going to let that trial be remanded to her father, and she was going to help the FBI help her get her life back. Jaxson seemed just as determined to keep her safe until she’d accomplished that, which gave her comfort and confidence she might just be alive to live that life when she got it back.
Considering the shoulder holster and gun he’d taken to wearing when they left Florida, along with the one strapped to his ankle under his slacks which she’d seen when he put on his shoes, she had no doubt if anything happened he’d take care of business. Right now, her bodyguard was the stone-faced warrior who’d rescued her in Cancun. Fallon missed Jaxson’s smiles and sarcasm, but she felt safe with the former SEAL beside her. This man would keep her safe until this nightmare was over, or die trying.
A chill zipped through her, turning her blood to ice in her veins. God, please don’t let him die, or me either. Fallon wanted to be able give him the time to get his head together he’d asked for after this was over to see where it went.
Until then though, Fallon needed to be all business too, have her own focus to get through this trial to prove the point that she would not be intimidated to East Coast Willie. He was not going to win, and his nephew was not going to get off easy in her father’s courtroom.
Jax appeared at the front of the van and walked toward her car with a long golf club looking thing in his hand. Unsnapping her seat belt, Fallon sat on the edge of the seat. Bright sun reflected off the end of the club to blind her and she realized there was a mirror on the end of the shaft. She watched as he shoved the end of the club under the chassis of her car and walked slowly all the way around it, staring at the mirror.
He stopped on the far side of the car and frowned, seeming to focus on something there then disappeared so she assumed he must be on all fours looking underneath now. Fallon’s fingers dug into the dashboard until Jax stood again, but he didn’t come back to the van, he walked quickly toward the house with his cell phone in his hand.
Fallon’s heart kicked, because she knew from the tense muscles in his broad back that Jax had found something. Her hand went to the door handle, but she paused.
Stay here.
She released it to sit on pins and needles, while watching Jax stand on her stoop to inspect the doorframe of her house, but he didn’t try to open the door. When he got on his knees, Fallon saw there was a brightly wrapped box on her doorstep. Leaning in he sniffed it, then shot up to his feet and jerked the weapon out of his shoulder holster before striding back across the yard like a stealthy panther scanning the area as he made his way back to the van.
He got inside, tossed the club into the backseat and the van was cranked and in motion before he even inserted the keys into the ignition it seemed. Fallon slammed against the back of the seat as he shoved his foot the floor. Hand shaking, she quickly fastened her belt.
“What’s wrong?” she asked her heart in her throat.
“I don’t give a damn what the FBI said, you’re not staying at that house. Zane is calling Senator Greenwood to see if we can stay with them. And he’s getting a couple of the guys to come help me.”
“What did you find? What was that present on my doorstep?” Fallon asked, her heart pounding in her ears now, fear twisting her gut. Jax just ground his jaw, his knuckles practically white on the steering wheel. She turned in the seat to put her hand on his forearm. “Jaxson, please tell me so I know what’s going on!”
He glanced at her and his eyes were dark, the blue almost occluded by his dilated pupils, his agitation practically a force field around him.
“What’s going on is those terroristic bastards have an ass-whooping coming to them if—when—I catch up to them,” he replied, through lips that were ringed white they were pinched so tightly. He twisted the wheel and the tires squealed on the roadway as he rounded the corner onto the road that would bring them to the interstate.
Fallon was determined he was going to expand on his answer, even though she didn’t really want to hear, because she had a feeling she would pass into the horrified stage of her fear. Her fingers dug into the armrests beside her seat. “I need to know what to watch out for, Jaxson. Tell me what you found!”
“A fucking pipe bomb if the gasoline I smelled is any indication. Probably just like the one they put under your car and attached to the ignition. The front door of your house was wired with C4 too, but not very professionally.”
Her hair stood on end, a terrified whimper bubbled at the center o
f her throat, but Fallon refused to let it push past her lips. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart.
“What is C4?” she asked.
“Plastic explosives.” The two words pinged off the walls of the van then settled as terror inside her brain. It looked like Willie was getting desperate to kill her now, and sickness settled in her stomach, because she knew if there wasn’t a mole inside the FBI who told him she was coming back, there was only one person who could’ve told him.
But Jaxson continued, upping her fear factor, “I imagine if those devices were disabled, and that was removed, there would be more presents for you inside the house.” He glanced over at her. “But the good news is, the alarm system I had the repair contractor install is working perfectly. That tells me, he had to have allowed the C4 to be installed on the door, before the alarm was armed.”
“You think the mob paid him off too?” Fallon asked, her voice shaking with her body. His response was a raised eyebrow. All the starch left Fallon’s body and she collapsed back against the seat to cross her arms over her chest. Was there anyone in this town immune to the reach of East William Crifaso’s intimidation and bribery?
It needed to stop, and Fallon was the only one who could do that.
She and Senator Greenwood were going to have a long, private conversation when she got to his home. Much longer than the argument she’d had with her father on the phone in the bedroom before they left Florida, when she called to tell him she was on her way back to Washington to hear the Crifaso case.
Fallon, the trial is in my courtroom now. Please do not upset the apple cart. I’ve dealt with these mobsters for years—just let me handle it. You stay wherever you are until this is over.
When she told her father she didn’t care about the mob’s apple cart, she wanted to upset it, and had every intention of doing that by being the judge presiding over Peter Crifaso’s trial, his response, “I should never have gotten you appointed to the bench. They tried to tell me…” told Fallon everything she needed to know about Judge James Sharpe. His words, the desperation in his tone, confirmed everything she’d suspected for years, but didn’t want to admit.