by Becky McGraw
Her father was in the mob’s pocket too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jax drove for what seemed like hundreds of miles, but was only about twenty, following the directions Fallon gave him, which were identical to the ones Zane had provided. He turned onto a long tree-lined country road in Gig Harbor near the Naval Ship Yard. The thick woods on his left worried him as far as being suitable for a sniper hide, but the sparse multi-million dollar estates on his right eased the tension in his body a little. Most of the mansions were set well back from the road and he could see they were all on the water, which gave them better security in the rear. He hoped it would be the same at Senator Greenwood’s estate.
“We’re getting close,” Fallon said, tapping his forearm. “Slow down, that’s it up there,” she said pointing off in the distance.
Jax didn’t see it at first, but when he did, he stopped breathing. The palatial home wasn’t just on the water, it looked to be on twenty acres or so too, and every inch was surrounded by a six-foot wrought iron fence with spikes on every post. Trees dotted the yard, but nothing substantial to provide cover for tangos, or sniper hides. When he stopped at the callbox in front of the brick and wrought iron gate blocking the driveway, Jax relaxed because it appeared to him that Zane’s assessment that it a secure place to bring Fallon was right.
Now, if he could just convince her to stay here and let her father hear that case so he could keep her safe, it would be all good. But Jax knew that was as likely as him dropping her off here and letting Chris and Rick protect her while he went back to Virginia like Zane suggested.
Not happening. Like he’d told Zane, he would gladly accept more help. That meant extra sets of eyes to watch out for Fallon and watch his six, but Jaxson wasn’t going anywhere.
The exit suggestion came because Chris informed Zane after they met in Virginia for him to pick up an ARF kit and other equipment, that Jax appeared a little too emotionally attached to the situation. Add in that Zane now knew about Jax’s side-trip to Colorado to get the Arab death squad off his tail, since Jaxson had informed Jon, and Zane had plenty of reason to want him off this assignment. His meltdown on the phone with Zane after he found the explosives at Fallon’s house probably hadn’t helped either.
But dammit the horrific mental images of Fallon being blown to bits, images that were magnified to 3-D in his mind because Jaxson had seen that kind of thing happen firsthand during his time in the teams, made him want to vomit in the yard. He still might do that once she was safe inside this estate. If he hadn’t done the check, hadn’t found the explosives. Jaxson blew out a breath. He had checked, and Fallon hadn’t gotten blown up—she was safe. Thank God, he’d checked. Rolling down the window, he jabbed the speaker button.
He glanced over at Fallon and she was looking out the side window, seeming unaffected now. She had a sense of calm determination and resignation about her that Jaxson wished he could imitate. He was determined to protect her, but calm was the last thing he was feeling.
I like a side of emotion with my hot sex.
Well, babycakes, you’ve got that now in spades, Jax thought, as he pushed the button again and again, until an impatient voice answered. “Yes, may I help you?”
“Jaxson Thomas and Judge Sharpe here to see Senator Greenwood.”
There was no response, but the heavy gate slid left, and Jaxson finally breathed again when he drove inside and watched it shut behind them. He drove the quarter mile down the blacktop driveway to the horseshoe in front of the house. The right side of the huge front door swing wide and a well-kept gray haired woman appeared in the doorway to wave.
Fallon waved back and smiled as she grabbed for her door handle, but Jax stopped her.
“Let me come around first and walk you to the house,” he said, and she looked at him through narrowed eyes, but she waited.
Jax pulled his weapon from the shoulder holster, as he slammed the driver’s door and walked around to her side to help her out. They were at a relatively secured location now, but he wasn’t taking any chances they were followed as he stopped to scan the yard along the perimeter of the fence line, before he opened her door. Blocking her from view from the west side of the property, which seemed the least secure, Jax walked with Fallon up to the six steps to the front door, before he re-holstered his pistol and shut the door once they were inside the house.
Fallon and who he assumed was Mrs. Greenwood hugged in the wide marble foyer and Jax blew out a breath.
“Zane told us about the trouble you’re having, and I’m so sorry Fallon,” Mrs. Greenwood said, before pushing her away to look at her. “I thought with the bodyguard that Zane sent to protect you—” The derision in her tone made Jax flinch, but Fallon cut her off quickly.
“Oh, Jaxson has protected me—very well. William Crifaso and his goons have tried their best at every turn to get rid of me.” Fallon stepped back and turned to wave a hand his way. “It’s only because of Jaxson that I’m still alive to continue to be a thorn in his side. I’m about to request a meeting with your husband to tell him that and thank him for his recommendation.”
Mrs. Greenwood’s blue eyes dropped to Jax’s toes then slowly glided up to meet his. Her red lips curved up at the corners and Jaxson wondered why her unlined brow didn’t move when she smiled. Why there were no lines beside the obviously middle-aged woman’s eyes?
Probably for the same reason she wore those huge diamonds like icing on her body, and wrapped it in the perfectly-tailored suit that probably cost more than his Charger. This woman wore the scent of money as perfume. She was a socialite and could have anything in the world she wanted. The same kind of woman he’d thought Fallon was before he’d gotten to know her. He was sure she’d been raised just the same way, but he was so damned glad she hadn’t turned out like Mrs. Greenwood.
Fallon’s affectionate smile, the pride and confidence in her words, punched Jax in the gut as she walked over to take his arm. “Mrs. Greenwood, I’d like you to meet my handsome shadow, Jaxson Thomas. The man GAPS assigned to be my bodyguard.”
Mrs. Greenwood’s eyes fixed on his holster. “Well, I can see now why you’re not worried. The same reason we no longer worry about Missy now that she’s run Zane to ground.” The woman’s shrill, tinkling laugh grated on every nerve in Jax’s body, but he held his even expression.
Run Zane to ground? Mrs. Greenwood’s description made his former teammate sound like a fox who had been cornered in a hunt led by her daughter. Knowing Zane like he did, her description might not be far off the mark at all though. It would take a crafty huntress to run Zane Alexander to ground. Jax hoped to meet that woman soon.
“Speaking of which…” Mrs. Greenwood grabbed Fallon’s shoulders. “Zane and Missy are coming to dinner so you can meet them.” She glanced at Jax, then wrinkled her nose as she looked back at Fallon. “I think Zane left a dinner jacket here that would fit your bodyguard.”
A dinner jacket? Jax had never worn a dinner jacket in his life—plenty of flak jackets, but never a sports coat. He wondered if that was a common thing for Zane—to suit up for dinner.
A short dark-haired woman suddenly appeared beside Mrs. Greenwood as if she read minds. “Miranda will show you to your rooms, and I’ll tell my husband you’d like to meet with him, Fallon. Paolo is outside getting your luggage right now, and he’ll deliver it to your rooms”
Fuck! Jaxson turned and ran to the front door. He flung it open, and sure enough, Paolo was trying to heft his weapons bag out of the back of the van.
Working at Deep Six, being bored out of his skull for two of the four years he’d worked for them managing that security detail assignment at that luxury hotel, had made him rusty—careless.
A SEAL never let anyone else handle his weapons. Hell, he never let them out of his sight, and Jaxson had done just that. Heart pounding, he sprinted down the stairs to shove Paolo, a thin, dark-complexioned man in a mint green lawn shirt, aside. Leaning inside the van, Jax yanked his weapons bag an
d the ARF Kit out to put one on each shoulder then bounced them to balance the weight.
“Sorry, I’ve got this,” Jax said, thinking the man’s wide eyes and expression meant he’d scared him.
The man’s eyes widened even more before he grinned. “Muy macho like Mr. Zane.”
Was that Spanish? Jax’s insides froze. Or fucking Italian? The only foreign language Jaxson knew was Farsi, and only a little at that, so he couldn’t be sure. He huffed a breath as he turned toward the house.
Something else he needed to do was vet the house staff here. Jax had no idea there would even be house staff. The Prince had servants, but the wives managed them and they had been vetted before he took the job. This type of set-up was totally foreign to him. He knew Zane would’ve had no reason to do that until now either. He was going to fix that problem right now. But Jaxson would be damned glad when his teammates got here to help him.
He jogged up the steps to the front door and looked up to see Fallon standing in the doorway, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Get back in the house,” he growled shoving her inside then slamming the door, before he rounded on her. “You are not to be in the doors, windows or outside this house at all without me—you got that, babycakes?” he grated.
Fallon gasped, looked over her shoulder then stalked up to poke him in the center of the chest with her finger. “And I told you not to call me that,” she hissed, before stepping back. “I won’t go outside, trust me, I’ll probably be in the library with Senator Greenwood until dinner. Your room is up the stairs at the end of the hallway. Miranda laid a jacket out for you on the bed. We’re having drinks in the parlor at six.”
“Where is your room?” Jaxson asked, banishing the pet name from his brain so he didn’t accidentally call her that in front of anyone else. God forbid he should do that in front of Zane.
She looked surprised. “First one at the top of the stairs to the left.”
“Then we’re switching or I’m moving in with you. You aren’t going to be the first thing a tango finds at the top of those stairs.”
“A tango?” she repeated, looking confused.
Jax grabbed her shoulders. “A bad guy, an intruder—a freaking mobster who wants your pretty red head on a spike in his living room.” Her face blanched, and her shoulders shook. He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry for scaring you, but I need to anticipate what could happen to keep you alive.”
“The only reason you’re scaring me is because you look scared. I’m not used to seeing you afraid,” Fallon said softly. “Ever since you found those bom—” He put his finger over her mouth, so she didn’t say that word.
Jaxson wasn’t used to being afraid. The stuff that he’d faced on the missions he’d had in the teams had been a hundred times worse than this, to places nobody wanted to go, and he wasn’t afraid at all. Because he knew the teams had taught him to be the best of the best, adaptive in all situations—to figure shit out with a cool head.
Right now? Jax was about as far from cool as a man could be. He was scared to death he’d fail and this woman would die as a result. He’d lose her forever.
Jax needed to get his shit together, because Fallon was depending on him. In this reactive knee-jerk mode of operation where he let his emotions run the show, he was destined to fail. Even though his skin felt like red ants were biting the underside, and the acid in his stomach was a burning hole there, Jax schooled his features and found his calm.
“You’re mistaken,” Jaxson said, with an arrogant snort. “I’m a decorated Navy SEAL lady, so fear is not something I’m familiar with. What I am familiar with is making sure you’re secure here. That being said, I need to talk to Mrs. Greenwood so she can arrange for me to meet the staff as soon as possible.”
“I think she’s in the kitchen talking to her cook about dinner,” Fallon informed, her brow furrowing. “But why do you need to talk to the staff?”
“To make sure they’re not tangos,” he replied.
“God, you’re paranoid aren’t you?” Fallon asked with amazement.
“No, I’m just extra careful,” Jaxson replied with a wink, stroking his finger over her lower lip. “Especially with those I care about. Ask my sister, and my mother.”
Yes, he’d meant to say it, because it was true.
Her shocked expression told him now probably wasn’t the time to tell her that, but Jax had just realized that was his whole problem here. Why he’d been so freaked out over the explosives, so desperate to get her away from her house. It was why this assignment was different from any mission he’d been on.
Those mostly nameless people he’d rescued or killed on those other missions were simply rescues and targets down. He never allowed himself to think of them as people. Jax didn’t get close to them or want to know them personally. That allowed him to remain detached if something went wrong. Most of the missions were one hundred percent successful. The Green Teams were just that good. One or two times though, someone didn’t make it out with them, usually because they were already badly injured before the teams got there. By keeping himself detached, Jaxson could deal with the situation.
Jax was about as far from detached from this situation and Judge Fallon Sharpe as a man could be. He knew now why the stakes were higher here for him personally. If something happened to Fallon, he would be devastated for a long time—maybe forever.
But he was in too deep to tell Chris he’d been right.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chris Cassidy and Rick Mann looked as uncomfortable as Jax was in the sports jackets they’d brought with them because Zane had pre-warned them they’d have to dress for dinner. Zane himself wore a sharp and obviously very expensive blazer, but he didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He sat near the head of the table beside the senator, seeming to be perfectly in his element. That shocked Jaxson to the core, because the Zane Alexander he’d known in the teams had just been one of the guys.
That Zane had eaten nasty sewage-tinged mud pies at Camp Swampy, he’d rubbed sugar cookies, which were actually sand pies, into his now perfectly combed hair during sand drills, just like the rest of them had while in BUD/s. On missions, he’d eaten what was readily available while they trekked for days through thick jungles, sand dunes, and up goat paths into mountains to get to their targets, just like the rest of the team. The menu there definitely did not include the filet mignon, which he’d eaten from the gold trimmed plate that sat before him.
This Zane Alexander, the man holding Senator Greenwood’s attention, was not that man.
He was a socialite as surely as the haughty senator’s wife who sat across from him, picking at her dessert like she was actually going to eat it. She’d rolled the same dime-sized piece she’d cut of the slice of pie around on her plate for the last thirty minutes.
Fallon’s hand dropped on Jaxson’s thigh under the table and electricity zipped through the end of his dick. Not now, babycakes, Jax thought, reaching under the table to trap her hand under his at the same time he glared at her.
“You okay?” she asked, with a glance toward Mrs. Greenwood and then Zane.
“I’ll be fine when this is over,” he replied, glancing down the long table at their host again. “How long do you think the trial will last?” He knew now this was the best place for them to be right now, but he couldn’t wait to get out of here. This was not his world.
Jax wondered exactly what Fallon and Senator Greenwood had found to talk about for four freaking hours while sequestered in his library. They’d even missed the six o’clock cocktail hour, and Zane, Missy, Chris and Rick hadn’t gotten there until it was time to go into dinner. It had been just him and Mrs. Greenwood for an entire hour, and he wasn’t even drinking. Trying to make small talk with her had been tough since they had zero in common.
When Anna called to talk about some strange hang-up calls she’d been getting, he’d grabbed it like a lifeline, escaping out onto the patio to talk to her. Since his sister decided she was joining
the FBI, she’d evidently become almost as paranoid as he was. Or she was looking for excitement where none existed. To him, she’d seemed pretty damned bored and restless in Florida. He couldn’t say he blamed her, because he’d felt the same way during their two weeks there too. Now, though he had all the excitement and intrigue he could stand.
“Probably no more than two weeks. That’s how long William’s trial lasted. Unless Peter has the good sense to try to negotiate a plea deal to lessen his time.”
Jaxson met her eyes. “Let’s hope he decides that tomorrow then.”
“You that ready to be rid of me?” Fallon asked with a light laugh, but Jax heard the sadness in her words.
Jax cared about Fallon, and he knew exactly what she was asking, but he just didn’t know yet. There was a lot to figure out. If GAPS got the security contract with that shipping company, he could very well be OCONUS for a long time. That didn’t lend itself to a good relationship any more than being in the SEAL teams did. If GAPS didn’t get that contract, they wouldn’t have work for him, so he’d have to head back to Texas. Deep Six was a more well-established company at this point, so he knew they would have an assignment for him. They had jobs for him, more than they could handle, if Slade was right.
If he did go back, hopefully he’d get a better assignment than the boring security detail he’d been on so long with the Prince. He’d ask for one. But now wasn’t the time to open that can of worms. He had other things to worry about right now.
Forcing a smile, Jax squeezed her hand under the table. “No, but I’m ready for you to be out of danger.” So I can get rid of the ulcer I’m developing from worrying about you. “Rick and Chris and I are going out for a little while tonight.”
“Where are you going?” she said, a tremble in her voice.