Rude Awakening

by Veronica Chadwick

  Butler chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment then with a deep sigh, shifted his gaze from Lucas back to Jaimee. “They’re hidden listening devices that…”

  “Bugs.”

  “Yes.”

  “You bugged my house.”

  “Yes.”

  “My phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get them out. Now. Send someone to my house and clean them out right now.” She said it through clenched teeth as she struggled not to scream and cry and throw up. Her heartbeat seemed so loud, pounding in her ears, every other sound was muffled, even the sound of her own voice.

  Butler had the good sense to look ashamed. She couldn’t look at Lucas again. Not without falling completely apart.

  “We can’t yet, Ms. Turner. You’re still in danger and it’s our job to keep you safe.”

  “Safe.” The laugh that bubbled up from inside her sounded a little hysterical now. She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Willing herself to pull it together, to fight against the intense desire to sink into herself, the need to mentally shrink away from the pain expanding inside her.

  “Could we please go discuss this somewhere private?” Butler asked quietly. “We’ll tell you everything and explain what happens next.”

  She opened her eyes and pinned him with a look she could only hope made him understand the fury that swirled within her at that moment. “What happens next is I’m leaving. You go ahead and watch all you want, follow me, do whatever you have to do but stay the hell away from me.”

  Lucas stepped between her and the door. His hands fisted at his sides, his expression stern and resolved. “You’re not going anywhere, Jaimee.”

  She met his gaze boldly and marveled at the fire raging in his eyes. What right did he have to be angry?

  “Why do you care?” she snarled and went for the jugular. “You’re just their hired whore. You did your job. Oh, sorry I wasn’t the bad bitch I was supposed to be so that you could get your rocks off busting me now that you’ve won my trust and love.” It was almost undetectable, the small twitch of a grimace in Lucas’s expression. Other than that he didn’t respond. He just stood there. Watching her. “Move on to the next fuck and fry.”

  He moved too quickly. Her upper arm was clasped in his steely grip and he was moving her from the room and down the hall before she had time to process his actions and evade him. In the interest of her own self-preservation she bit her lip to keep from screaming at him and calling more attention to the scene. She didn’t resist, didn’t acknowledge the people watching him manhandle her. Although she didn’t know why, what was a little more humiliation added to everything else. Butler strode behind them, grumbling under his breath at Lucas about having some tact and compassion. Ha! Too late for that shit.

  Finally they ended up in an office at the end of a long hallway. Lucas pushed her into one of the leather chairs facing a wide cherry desk. Butler closed the door behind him and locked it, then sat in the high back leather office chair behind the desk and turned sideways away from her. Lucas stood in front of her, leaning back against the desk, and glared down at her.

  “The Collective is a criminal organization that has its tentacles in several illegal activities, Sheppard & Zachary being one of the largest firm fronts. As an associate CPA for the firm, Brent Turner was a pivotal member of the organization. Mr. Turner was a dumbass and embezzled eighty-eight point four million dollars of the organization’s money and put it in a Swiss bank account in your name. But, of course, Zachary caught on to him. So…” He paused and looked away from her. A muscle pulsed in his clenched jaw. Suddenly numb, Jaimee watched him, waiting for him to finish.

  “So…” Michael Butler swiveled toward her. His voice was soft but his expression savage. “Turner took the information he had, addresses, names, incriminating company files that were supposed to have been destroyed, the access codes for the Swiss account and God knows what else and tucked it away on a flash drive in a black day planner and hid it somewhere. Then he offered an unsuspecting homeless man a hot meal and a ride. He killed the man…suffocated him, we believe…and used his body to fake his own death. Now he’s after that day planner and possibly you. He’s not stable.”

  Jaimee stared at him, trying to process what he was telling her. “Brent is alive?” Her voice sounded far away, muffled.

  “Yes, ma’am. He is,” Butler answered gently.

  “Oh God, he killed someone.”

  “Yes.”

  Her mind was racing. Months. Brent had been gone for months, nearly a year. Let her believe he was dead. Let her grieve and…oh God…move on. She was an adulteress now. And he took a life. Actually killed someone. If things could get worse she didn’t want to know. She’d been married to a man she never knew. A murderer. She wanted to go somewhere warm and curl up and disappear. Her heart hurt so badly.

  “But he never contacted me.” Her voice trembled and she swallowed.

  “Actually he was the one who tried to break into your house that night.” Butler leaned back in his chair.

  Memories of the things Lucas had done, had made her feel, flooded her body. Heat crawled up her neck and she crossed her arms over her chest in a lame attempt to hide her body’s reaction. She resisted the urge to glance at Lucas.

  “And you didn’t tell me in order to keep me safe, I suppose.”

  “Correct.”

  Jaimee shook her head, struggled to process the information, the shock. She steeled herself and finally looked up at Lucas. “The night, after the break-in…you wouldn’t touch me after that.” Her voice was hoarse, full of pain. “You avoided me. Because I was still married?”

  “Yes,” he bit out then met her gaze.

  His expression wasn’t smug as she had expected. It was surprisingly gentle, softening as he knelt in front of her and wiped a tear she didn’t know had fallen from her cheek. Oh God help her, she wanted to buy in to his kindness, his tenderness.

  “We’ll find him. I won’t let him or anyone else hurt you.”

  It was all a lie, she reminded herself. That fact was inescapable.

  “Yeah?” She looked into his eyes, trying to decide whether to speak her heart or shield it. Hell, it was in a gazillion pieces now, what was the point of trying to protect it? “That’s going to be difficult for you, Lucas. You hurt me more than anyone else could have.”

  “Jaimee,” he whispered hoarsely. When he raised his eyes to hers again they were sharp, dark and clear. “I will try to explain everything…in time. Right now I just need you to do what we ask you to. The Collective thinks you know more than you do. They want you. If they get a hold of you they will torture you until they’re satisfied. Baby, that would take an excruciatingly long time. Finally, they’ll let your body die long after they’ve destroyed your mind and soul. I won’t let that happen. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe whether you like it or not. Do you understand me?”

  The weight of reality was crushing her. It was so hard just to inhale. It hurt so badly. Basically, she had no free will at this point. He and Brent had taken even that from her.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good.” He brushed away another tear, his fingers lingered on her cheek before he stood.

  “I have the day planner. I found it hidden in the back of my metal cabinet at school. I hardly ever go into it and I keep it locked.” Without actually meeting Lucas’s gaze she lifted her head. “Weeks ago I noticed some papers and things that had been in my tote were lying on the desk in my office instead. Now it makes sense. I normally keep the keys to my desk and cabinet in my tote. Brent would have known that. But I had moved them to the top drawer of my desk so he didn’t find them.”

  “Where is the day planner now?” Agent Butler had leaned forward in his chair.

  “I moved it to a desk drawer. I meant to turn it over to you but my mind has been so cluttered lately. I’m sorry.”

  “Not a problem, Ms. Turner. Someone will go with you an
d pick it up.”

  Jaimee nodded and faced Lucas. “Lucas, when this is all over…?”

  “Yes?”

  She swallowed and looked down at her hands clasped together. She couldn’t look into those fathomless dark eyes anymore. She was afraid she might drown in them. Losing herself in this jumble of hurt and questions and confusion was not an option. No matter how much she wanted to just give in to all of it. It would be so easy, but it would destroy her.

  “…I never want to see your face again.” The words sounded as tattered as her heart and she couldn’t look up at him, she wouldn’t sacrifice herself to some imitation of love again. Never again.

  *

  Edward Zachary set his granddaughter off his lap as he stood and wiped pumpkin innards from his hands with a nearby dishtowel. “Allen, help your baby sister with her pumpkin. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, Grandpa,” the boy answered.

  Zachary smiled and ruffled his hair as he passed him. Good kid. He met his wife in the kitchen doorway and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, dear, it shouldn’t take long.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll help the children finish up their pumpkins.”

  He patted her cheek before walking away. His smile faded as he made his way through the house to his study where his men were waiting. He didn’t say anything until he’d crossed the room and sat comfortably in his chair. Neither did they. They knew better.

  “What was so goddamn important that you felt the need to interrupt my family time? I was carving Halloween pumpkins with my grandbabies, for Christ’s sake.”

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Zachary, but we thought you’d better be made aware of what happened tonight.”

  Idiots. He could tell by looking at them that they’d screwed up the whole mission. How hard was it to kidnap one little girl anyway?

  “Go on. I’m waiting.”

  “The Feds showed up. Crenshaw is dead. They have the girl. The man we thought was her boyfriend is an undercover agent. Lucas Grayson. We’re getting intel on him now.”

  Why did they need him to tell them step-by-step what they needed to do as though they were mentally challenged children? Did they think he cared if Crenshaw was dead? If Crenshaw was dead he deserved to be dead.

  “This is why Ms. Turner’s lover should already be dead. Now that his cover is blown he’ll either go deep or he’ll retire, either way it’s just going to take more time and more expense. I don’t like paying for nothing.” He stood with a heavy sigh of disgust. “Get the girl. Keep her alive. Kill the agent if need be.” He crossed to the study door and held it open for the men then followed them to the front door. “Do not come to my home again without an invitation. I hired you to do a job, gentlemen. Get it done without a handholding. I don’t believe I need to remind you of the consequences of disappointing me further.”

  “No, sir,” they said. Stepping outside into the cool October air, they turned just in time to see the door slam in their faces.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “…never want to see your face again.”

  Jaimee’s words were burned into his brain. All along he knew this would happen, prepared for it, steeled himself for it. What he wasn’t prepared for was how violently her pain would affect him. It was agony for her. Jaimee didn’t hide her emotions, no matter how hard she tried. Every one of them was there in her crystal gaze, in the devastated expression on her beautiful face.

  At the traffic light Lucas glanced at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road ahead of them. The night was giving way to a stormy morning. Her face was shadowed and stark in the dusky light as she sat motionless, staring blankly straight ahead. Every breath she took was too controlled, as if she was concentrating on each inhale and exhale. Her hands were tight fists resting on the little purse in her lap.

  It was just beginning to drizzle. Rain, like little tears, slid down the windshield. Fitting, considering Jaimee hadn’t cried. Not really. A few errant tears had escaped but she was holding it all in. Trapping it behind the anger. Inevitably a flood was coming. He wanted to hold her through that storm, soothe the pain, touch her and make her forget all about it. Not possible. He’d caused it. He nearly punched Whitman for putting her in there and leaving her in the first place. He’d threatened to hunt the two fuckers gossiping like a couple of old women and feed them their own testicles, if they had any. This was his own damn fault. He never should have touched her. And yet, he wasn’t sorry.

  He wished now he’d let the mug hit him. God knows he deserved it; he deserved that and much worse. But she didn’t. And the last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad because he was bleeding. And she would. Open-hearted and generous to a fault, she was just good. She was too good for him. But she was his, even if she didn’t accept that right now. He could give her time. He couldn’t give her up.

  “There are other men watching the house,” Lucas said quietly as he pulled into her driveway. “I’ll be downstairs. You’ll be safe, Jaimee.”

  “I know,” she murmured without looking at him.

  If she would just talk to him, give him a chance… There was so much he wanted to say to her, to explain, but it would be a waste of words. Right now anyway. She didn’t wait for him to open the door for her or to protect her from the icy drizzle. She got out and walked toward her home, keys in hand. He fell into step behind her and she stiffened as if she was afraid he might touch her. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to, he wouldn’t. He’d give her space if it killed him. And it just might. Which was why he kept his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  She hesitated at the door and met his gaze, pulling her jacket together over her chest like a shield. The cacophony of emotion in her eyes was like a punch in the gut. He found it hard to breathe. For a moment he thought she might say something. Anything.

  He stared down at her, at war with himself over whether to say something to her at this point. Before he could make up his mind she turned away from him and pressed her lips together, her brows furrowed. Quickly, she unlocked the door and moved to step inside.

  “Wait,” he said more harshly than he’d meant to. She stopped but didn’t look at him. “Stand right here. Don’t move,” he commanded.

  Lucas moved into the house ahead of her. The security guy was just putting his things away in the living room as another tech was bounding down the stairs. Lucas turned and motioned for Jaimee to come in. With an irritated scowl and sigh she stepped in and closed the door behind her.

  “Mornin’, Agent Grayson,” the tech said much too cheerily, and then nodded at Jaimee. “Ma’am.”

  He was probably in his late twenties, chewing gum and sort of bouncing on the balls of his feet. Too hyper.

  “Done?” Lucas resisted the urge to snarl.

  “Yep. Master bedroom. Master bath. Swept clean,” he answered as he gathered his equipment.

  Lucas just nodded.

  “The P2P has been removed from the PC too. Deleted without a trace. Like we’d never been there.”

  Peripherally, he could see Jaimee’s head snap up to glare at him with unmistakable disdain and he gritted his teeth.

  The tech gave Jaimee a tight smile, cleared his throat and continued. “Uh…I noticed you were in desperate need of a defrag so I went ahead and ran one. Also, did a virus update and scan. Should be good to go.”

  “My computer too?”

  Lucas clenched his jaw tighter, ignoring the aching protest of his molars. “Yes.”

  “Okay, you’re set.” The security guy came into the hallway from the living room carrying his things. He was an older man and wasn’t interested in staying any longer than he had to. Good. “Windows are secure. Sliding glass door too. Just don’t open any of them. I had to do a rush job. No time to install a code panel. A window opens…the cavalry arrive en force. Got it?” The question was asked of Jaimee with one of the man’s bushy eyebrows raised.

  “I got it.” Her shoulders sagged a little.

  “Good.”
He glanced from Lucas to Jaimee and back again. “If you’re done with us we’re out,” he said uncomfortably as he moved toward the door.

  Lucas just nodded, let them out and locked the door behind them.

  Jaimee stood on the second step, her body so stiff she had to ache. Her hair was damp from the rain. Tendrils curled, clinging to her cheeks. Her lips were full and pink, her eyes red rimmed from refusing to cry. She was achingly beautiful. But it was painfully obvious by the way she narrowed her eyes as she stared down at him that she didn’t want to talk. “What did he do to my bedroom and bathroom?”

  “He removed the transmitters. The rest of the house is still wired for sound. The phone too.”

  “But my bedroom and bathroom aren’t?”

  “Not anymore.” He looked up at her, trying with all his heart not to take her right there on the stairs, show her exactly how much he wanted her. That would be a colossal mistake. Maybe she did need to be held, but more than that she needed to feel safe now. Debugging her sanctuary was something. He was trying to at least give her something.

  “You can go too. I don’t want you here.” The bleak expression in her eyes and the tone of her voice were in direct contradiction with her words. If she kept looking at him with all that hurt and need in her eyes he was going to lose his waning control.

  “Go to bed, Jaimee. If you need anything I’ll be here. Or pick up the phone and start talking. Or, you could always just open the window.” The last he said derisively as he turned away. His irritation and frustration with the whole situation was clear as was his own pain but he didn’t have the inclination to mask them anymore.