He raised the bourbon glass and motioned for her to pick up her wineglass. “To us, for surviving.” They clinked glasses, and then she took a sip of the wine. It warmed her from her mouth to her stomach.
“I say we eat and don’t talk about anything too grim until we’re finished with our meal,” he suggested.
“Sounds perfect to me,” she replied. She cut into her steak and took a bite. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Not heaven.” He grinned. “Just the Woodbridge Hotel.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Marjorie looked at him in speculation. “Are you wealthy?”
“I suppose in some social circles I’d be concerned wealthy,” he replied.
“Family money?”
“God, no.” He laughed, as if finding the very thought amusing. “More like lucky money.”
“What does that mean?” She cut a piece of asparagus and tried to tell herself she really wasn’t that interested in his life, she was only making dinner conversation.
“I left home when I was sixteen. I continued to go to school, and after school I worked whatever jobs I could find. I slept in bus stations, showered in truck stops and did everything I needed to survive.” He set his fork down and stared just over her shoulder, as if lost in the maze of his past.
“I managed to get through college on scholarships and still working whatever jobs I could find. When I graduated I had a little nest egg put away and I invested it in a company one of my roommates was starting up, a computer security company.
“By the time I joined the police force the company was widely successful and my buyout gave me more cash than I knew what to do with. Since that time I’ve invested smart and been lucky with those investments.”
“So, if you’re so rich, what are you doing working for the FBI? Why work at all?”
“The job is in my blood.” His eyes flickered the dark blue that made her want to plumb their depths. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. She couldn’t imagine anything else she’d rather be doing than working this job. She liked taking bad guys off the streets and making sure they were locked up where they belonged.
“I especially like the profiling aspect of the job, although I seem to be failing miserably at the moment,” he added.
“The very best profiler wouldn’t have enough information to work well in these circumstances,” she replied. “And we said no talking about work while we ate.”
“Right,” he said easily, and took another sip of his bourbon. “I will say this, though—this is the first time I’ve felt completely relaxed, completely safe, since the night of the motel shooting.”
She raised a brow. “You didn’t feel safe at my house?”
“To be perfectly honest, I wondered when the bad guy or guys would figure out where you lived and attack us there.”
She sucked in her breath at the very thought of the sanctity of her little home being compromised.
As they finished the meal, rain pattered against the windows and an occasional rumble of thunder was heard, but it was obvious the storm was passing and would soon be gone.
Once they had eaten they moved to the sofa. He sat first and patted the space right next to him. As she sat next to him he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“It’s been one hell of a night,” he said softly. “Was the car your personal vehicle?”
She nodded, trying to ignore the fresh scent of soap and male that emanated from him. “But I’m not worried about it. I have good insurance.”
As she thought of the car...the bullets and how lucky they had been...a new chill took form in the depths of her, a chill that forced a shivering she couldn’t control.
“Hey.” He pulled her closer against his side. “It’s over for now and we’re still here.”
Unexpected tears burned at her eyes and as they fell down her cheeks she swiped at them with an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I suddenly feel like an emotional mess.”
He tightened his arms around her. “You’re crashing, darlin’, and it’s okay to do it right here in my arms.” His voice was a soft caress that only made her tears flow faster.
Instead of attempting to suck them up, mentally realizing she couldn’t do anything to stanch them, she turned so that her face was in the front of his robe and she sobbed into the fresh scent as he held her tight and caressed her back.
He didn’t say a word and she was grateful for his silence. All she needed were his strong arms around her and the safety of his nearness.
When the tears had finally stopped, she sat up and swiped her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Her gaze searched his. “I was just so scared,” she admitted painfully.
He smiled and gently reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll tell you a little secret—I was positively terrified.”
Her eyes widened in astonishment. “But you seemed so cool.”
“Inside I was quaking like a young man meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time.” Once again he reached out, this time to place the palm of his hand on her cheek. “Fear is good, Maggie. Fear is what keeps us alive. If you had no fear, then I wouldn’t want you as my partner. You’d be dangerous not only to yourself but to me, as well.”
She curled against him once again and released a deep sigh.
They were safe for tonight, but what happened tomorrow? Were they at risk staying in her home? They certainly couldn’t stay here indefinitely.
Tomorrow new arrangements would have to be made, but she wasn’t sure where they could go to escape the danger that felt as if it moved closer and closer.
Chapter Ten
Jackson didn’t want to move. With Marjorie snuggled against him on the sofa, finally relaxed enough that she was no longer crying or shaking, he was reluctant to break the embrace.
But he knew they had to talk about the case, to discuss what had happened tonight and what it might mean. Hopefully tomorrow Roger Black would have a list of everyone in and around the Mystic Lake area who owned a motorcycle, and with that list he and Maggie could potentially figure out who had chased them through the rain with the intent to murder them.
She must have sensed that his thoughts were going in darker directions, for she sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, as if preparing for the discussion they had to have.
“It’s obvious that the guilty party lives in or around Mystic Lake,” he said.
She nodded. “I agree. Unfortunately we talked to dozens of people today, so it’s impossible to single out any one person we might have spooked.”
He frowned. “You know what bothers me about all of this? We aren’t the only FBI agents asking questions. We aren’t the only law enforcement people investigating. So why target us specifically?”
Her frown mirrored his. “What are you thinking? That these attacks are somehow personal and not about the case at all?” She shook her head. “You aren’t even from around here, and I can say with confidence that there’s nobody who cares enough about me to kill me.”
Nobody cares enough about me.... The simple, stark words once again touched Jackson’s heart despite his desire to the contrary. He raked a hand through his hair and tried to remain focused on the real topic of conversation.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s just a crazy thought. But Black has deputies walking the streets, and nobody has tried to kill them. Don’t you have an agent working with you...Agent Forest?”
She nodded. “Adam Forest. But he hasn’t been in touch with me about any threats or near-death experiences. Should I call him and double-check?”
“Not tonight and not from here. I don’t want either of us using the phones here, or our cell
phones for the night. Call me paranoid, but I don’t know the enemy well enough to know what his resources might be.”
“That’s a scary thought,” she replied.
“Better safe than sorry. We get to just talk to each other until it’s time to go to bed.” He looked at his watch. It was already after ten, but he didn’t feel the least bit sleepy.
What he felt like was taking Maggie into his suite, stripping the oversize fluffy bathrobe off her body and making love to her, but he knew it was not only a natural reaction to stress, but also a bad idea all around.
Still, the spicy pear scent of her, the softness of her hair and the memories of her sweet curves pressed tightly against his own, stirred that primal desire that Natalie Redwing had spoken of so eloquently.
“I just think you’re wrong in believing this is anything personal,” she said. “We have been the face of the investigation since it began. If our perp is from Mystic Lake, then the law enforcement there might be his friends or relatives, while we are strangers and easily disposed of.”
He grinned. “Not so easy, after all. We’re cats with nine lives.”
“I’m not willing to trust our luck a third time. We need to figure this out, Jackson.” Her eyes were so emerald and so earnest.
“We aren’t going to figure it out tonight,” he replied. “I arranged for a late checkout tomorrow so we have until noon to get out of here. I suggest we both sleep as late as possible and prepare for whatever surprises come next,” he suggested.
“And there will be surprises, won’t there?”
“Probably,” he replied honestly.
“Should we plan on going back to my house or figure something else out instead?” she asked with obvious worry.
Once again Jackson released a deep sigh. “To be honest, I don’t know the answer to that. It worries me that somebody found us in my motel room and then again on the road in your car.”
“But nobody would be able to get my address from anyone at headquarters, and I’m not listed in the phone book. My neighbors don’t know me well and certainly don’t know what I do for a living.” A wrinkle creased her brow. “I still think we’d be safe at my place as long as we don’t unintentionally lead anyone there.”
“I’m not willing to take that chance,” he replied. “An internet search would cough up your address in an instant to somebody who was digging around for it. I think we need to go off the grid altogether,” he said. “I’m thinking a motel somewhere and we don’t tell anyone where we are.”
“What about a car?” she asked.
“Do you trust Agent Forest?”
“With my life,” she replied without hesitation.
“Then when we’re ready to leave here tomorrow, call him and tell him to get us a rental under one of his friends’ names, nothing that can be tied back to you or me. I’ll make sure the fees are paid for in cash and we’ll do as much work as we can out of your house. Let Roger Black and his men handle things in Mystic Lake under our advisement, but we stay away from that place until we have some better leads on who is willing to kill us.”
He got up from the sofa and went to the well-stocked bar, where he poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Let’s face it, darlin’, at the moment we’re just too hot, too visible to be seen in Mystic Lake. It’s time to lie low and see what shakes out.”
She unfolded her legs from beneath her. “I know you’re right, but it makes me mad. I want to be out there. I want to have the pleasure of handcuffing the person who shot up my car.”
“How about you go to bed and dream about it,” he said. “You look tired, and it’s been a very long day.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked as she stood and tugged her robe belt more firmly around her slender waist.
He picked up his glass of bourbon. “I’m going to finish this and then I’m going to hit the hay.”
She smiled at him. “Those beds don’t look like hay. They look big and luxurious and have pillow tops and cloudlike comforters.”
She sighed and he took great delight in her obvious pleasure. “Then I’ll just say good-night, Jackson.”
“Good night, Maggie. Sleep well and we’ll figure things out in the morning.”
She disappeared into her suite and closed the door behind her. Jackson walked back to the sofa with his glass of booze and sank back down amid the accommodating cushions.
The bourbon was good, smooth and spreading warmth through him, but his thoughts remained dark. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on here than the investigation of the case of Cole and Amberly. But damned if he could figure it out.
Maybe it was actually a better idea to go back to Maggie’s house rather than hide out somewhere. If the perp was as good as Jackson suspected he was, then eventually he’d figure out where Maggie lived, and some sort of attack would happen there.
They could be bait. They could be prepared and instead of chasing after their tails just wait for the bad guy to come to them. It was risky and he had to make sure Maggie was on board, but it made more sense than any other plan that had entered his mind since they’d arrived at the hotel.
First thing in the morning he’d contact somebody to set up a security system at her place. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Twice they’d had close calls, and if they intended to stay at her place, then he wasn’t going to make any careless mistakes.
They would be ready for the attack when it happened, and once they knew who was behind it they’d maybe get the answers they sought as to what had happened to the missing couple.
He finished his bourbon and carried the glass to the sink, then headed for his bedroom. He’d declined turndown service. He didn’t want a maid coming in and disturbing their conversation by leaving a chocolate on the pillow and turning down the sheets.
His gun and holster were already on his nightstand and he took off his robe and slid naked into the bed. The mattress was heavenly, with just enough support to be comfortable.
He turned off the bedside lamp, and the only illumination was the faint moonlight that spilled in through the window, an indication that the storm had moved out of the area.
Closing his eyes, he tried to empty his mind, but flashes of the evening shot off like a kaleidoscope of pictures and scents and feelings.
He loved that Maggie had been so excited about the room, but he also knew she was a woman who didn’t need this kind of opulence. She liked simple things, but he had a driving need to give her more.
It was crazy—she obviously didn’t need anyone to take care of her, and yet he wanted to. He wanted to make sure her fridge held more than protein bars. He wanted her to have scented bubble bath and cable television.
He’d never felt like this before and he wasn’t at all sure if he liked it. What he needed to do was solve this case as quickly as possible and hightail it back to his real life.
He smelled her before he saw her, that sweet pear scent that instantly aroused him. She stood in the doorway of his room. “Maggie?” he said softly.
“I’m looking for a nice Southern gentleman named Jackson,” she said, her voice slightly husky.
“That would be me,” he replied, his chest suddenly tight with anticipation.
“I thought you might be interested in a night of uncomplicated sex with a woman who isn’t looking for anything more than this night and this night only.”
“Maggie...” He said her name in hesitation. God, he wanted her. He thought he might even need her. But he knew things she didn’t know, things that would forever stand between them and make any future impossible.
He didn’t want her to pretend that she could be a one-night kind of woman if at heart she wasn’t.
“It would only be a one-night deal,” he finally managed to say.
�
��I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied. Before he could respond she shrugged out of the robe, leaving her gloriously naked in the moonlight.
Chapter Eleven
There was not a fiber in Marjorie’s being that felt any hesitation as she approached the side of Jackson’s bed. She knew that probably part of what had driven her to his room was the fact that they’d both nearly died, that she was probably suffering some innate need to connect and affirm life.
But there was also a huge dose of desire that had been burning inside her soul for him that she’d finally decided to give in to. The primal energy that Natalie Redwing had spoken of had exploded, and she wanted to burn in those flames.
When she reached the side of the bed, he threw back his covers to invite her in. She didn’t hesitate. Even though she knew he wasn’t a man for her lifetime, he was the man she wanted for this night.
She slid between the sheets and instantly he drew her against him. His naked body was hot and hard against hers as their lips met.
The kiss was wild, desire untamed and unleashed. Their tongues lashed against each other. He tasted of command and possession and bourbon, and she couldn’t get enough of his mouth.
At the same time their hands moved frantically, caressing naked flesh in exploratory strokes. She loved the way his broad back felt beneath her fingers, the muscles that moved and bunched beneath the palms of her hands.
His hands played down her back, as well, forcing a shiver of pleasure to sweep through her as he used first light and feathery touches and then harder, more determined ones, sliding down to the base of her spine.
Their kisses continued until finally he slid his mouth down her jawline and she gasped for air, feeling as if he had stolen all that there was in the room with his intimate nearness.
His body was hard and she liked the way her soft curves fit against him. She’d expected complete mastery, a sense of utter possession. What she hadn’t expected was the tenderness.
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