Jackson’s dark mood lifted. Maybe he’d be leaving Gateway sooner than expected, and it wouldn’t matter if his cover got blown.
“We are now fully certain that this group is planning a revolution,” Ike continued, tethering Jackson’s hopes, “but our expert is an encryption specialist, not a Five Percenter, and he can’t tell from the lyrics alone when the violence is due to break out. Here’s the bad news: Over twelve thousand website visitors acknowledged Zakariya’s top picks, which suggests the imams have more of a following than we ever suspected. The majority are located on the east coast, with the largest concentration, not surprisingly, in the D.C. area.”
Foreboding reared its grizzly head, chasing Jackson’s optimism back into hiding. Judgment Day was beginning to sound more like a reality than a doomsday prophecy.
“This afternoon,” Ike continued, “I’ll be having an earnest discussion with incarcerated rapper, Hakim Allah, who’s a self-professed Five Percenter. Decoding the music buys him a lighter sentence. Let’s hope he sheds some light into the details we’re missing.”
The team’s gaze shifted to Toby. “At your suggestion, Burke, the fire marshal will descend on Gateway tomorrow at midday. I doubt the leaders are violating any laws, but you can use that distraction, Maddox, to search Zakariya’s office this time. Try to find out where those propane tanks are headed. If the addresses match any of the domain names of those following Zakariya’s playlist, then we’ll have enough implication to start arresting and questioning suspects. That’ll strengthen our case against the clerics.”
“You got it.”
“And, by the way, gentlemen, I’m going to be a father in February.”
The addendum elicited an astonished silence. Ike no longer looked into the camera. The tips of his ears turned pink as he pretended to wipe dust off his keyboard.
Toby broke the awkward moment with a, “Hooah! Way to go, boss.”
A slow smile split Jackson’s face. He suddenly realized why Ike had been so damn cranky for the past couple weeks. The specter of fatherhood had obviously terrified him. Eryn had shared with him that Ike’s parents had left him to be raised by an abusive older brother. She must have been working on Ike’s confidence lately, enough that he was now feeling sufficiently positive to share his news with the team.
“I’m happy for you, Ike,” Jackson said, grinning at the mental picture of Ike toting a baby in one arm, his favorite long-range rifle in the other. “You’ll make a great dad.”
“Yeah, well...” The team lead scratched his chin and changed the subject. “About the journalist—”
“Magadalena.”
Ike shot him a look with his eyebrows raised. “Right, her. You tell her we will hold her personally responsible if your identity is leaked to the press.”
Jackson forcibly exhaled. “It’s out of her hands at this point.”
Ike persisted. “Tell her we want twenty-four hours’ notice, at least. The second she learns her boss is going public with his disclosure, she contacts Toby, and he pulls you out of there. I don’t care what’s going on, Maddox. I’m not going to leave you in there to defend yourself against those thugs and the clerics’ reprisal. And now that we know a senator’s involved, there’s no stopping this exposure.”
“I appreciate that, sir, but like you said, we need enough evidence to guarantee the imams’ indictment.”
“And we’ll get it. This week,” Ike assured him.
“Good luck with Hakim Allah,” Toby tossed out.
The incarcerated rapper was the one who needed luck, Jackson thought as Ike ordered them to enjoy their day and disappeared.
Jackson logged them out. He knew he ought to be fretting that his cover was about to be blown; instead, his thoughts were down at the beach where two important females awaited him.
He was out of his chair and opening the door when Toby drawled, “If you don’t get a piece of that today, Stonewall, I swear you’re going to have some competition.”
In the blink of an eye, Jackson was leaning over his colleague and breathing fire. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
Toby’s dark blue eyes mocked him. “Relax, man, I would never trespass on your territory. But seriously, I’ll watch the kid for you so you can give it your best shot.”
“Don’t be crass,” Jackson said, striding out of the office and across the hall to his room.
A minute later, they bumped into each other out in the hallway, Toby in his Hawaiian shirt and cut-off jeans, Jackson in his swim trunks. Toby raised an inquiring eyebrow, and Jackson felt his face heat. “I accept your offer,” he said, shortly. “Give me half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Toby rolled his eyes. “A body like that should be hammered for at least an hour str--”
Jackson stuck a warning finger in his face. “Don’t say it.” Disgusted by how easily his colleague pushed his buttons, he stalked toward the sliding glass doors, ignoring Toby’s wicked snicker.
“My mom was always sad,” Naomi divulged, her shovel sliding into the sand as she carved out a castle moat.
Lena tore her gaze from the dancing water to the profile of the girl sitting next to her, head bowed in concentration. She had promised herself she wouldn’t exploit the child by asking questions, but, as it turned out, Naomi didn’t need any prompting. Her words suggested all kinds of tragic situations.
Maybe Lena could allow herself one tiny question. “Why was she sad?”
Naomi shrugged. “She missed my dad, I guess, ’cause he was in Iraq. But whenever he did come home, my mom got mad and sometimes she’d cry or go for walks by herself.”
Oh, dear.
“He thinks you’re hot, you know,” the girl volunteered, squinting against the sun to smile up at her knowingly.
Pleasure tingled to the ends of Lena’s extremities only to fade away with a throb of regret. Whether Jackson could forgive her now depended, in large part, on what happened with his investigation. She had her own concerns to fret about—her interview with Davis, whether Peter would blow Jackson’s cover, whether she and Jackson would ever have the chance to reconcile.
It seemed ludicrous to hope for any kind of a relationship between them now, sexual or otherwise.
“I think I’m ready to wade,” Lena decided, hoping to raise her flagging spirits.
Naomi scrambled to her feet. “I promise it’s not muddy at all unless you go out deep,” she encouraged, running into the shallows and diving under the surface.
Lena took off her tulle blouse and draped it over a chair. Wearing just her royal blue tank top and jeans rolled to her knees, she waded cautiously into the water which closed with welcoming coolness about her calves. “Wow, this feels great,” she admitted, wondering if she’d done the right thing to turn down the offer of Silvia’s swimsuit.
Movement up at the house had her glancing up. Her heart leapt to see Jackson, bearing an armload of towels on his way down. Toby followed him carrying a cooler, but Lena only had eyes for Jackson, whose smooth bare torso made her heart race.
As Abdul Ibn Wasi, he had appealed to her in a powerful, but illicit way. As Jackson Maddox, there wasn’t any dimension of his being that didn’t strum a chord of admiration and desire.
“You’re staring,” Naomi taunted.
“Am not.” Lena turned and splashed her. Naomi splashed her back then gasped in remorse when she realized she had soaked Lena’s tank top. “It’s okay. I can get this shirt wet.” She looked back up at the stairs.
The memory of Jackson’s skilled tongue turned her bones to Jello as she watched him come closer. To think that just the other night she had gripped the table and begged for his possession. A shiver of longing rippled through her, pearling her nipples and heating her face.
There was no hiding her response from Jackson’s sharp gaze as he stepped off the last set of stairs. Blocking Toby’s view of her, he deposited their towels on one of the folding chairs and strode into the water toward them.
“You t
wo having fun?” he asked, his gaze dipping toward her sodden top.
“Yes,” they chorused.
Compunction at not accepting Jackson’s ultimatum wrung Lena’s womanly parts. Say it’s not too late, she begged silently. Seeing him like this, in his off-duty life, interacting with his daughter, he appealed to her so powerfully, she simply had to have him, had to learn all there was about him, to feel him possessing her utterly and completely.
“Swim with us, Dad,” Naomi ordered, tossing water on him.
With a mock roar of outrage, he charged his daughter, tackling her into the shallows. They fell together with a splash, and the displaced water billowed toward Lena, soaking her jeans to her thighs.
Shocked, she returned Toby’s mocking gaze as he settled into a chair to salute her with his beer. Oh, what the hell. She was probably going to get a lot wetter before she got dry again.
She dove in after them.
Chapter Fifteen
“FYI, it’s 3 P.M.,” Toby called, having glanced at his phone.
Lena, sitting in the lounge chair next to him, looked down at her clothing, which had repeatedly been soaked and dried in the scorching sun, over the course of the day. Now, she was wet again. Thanks to the cold beer she’d sucked down, she felt both wonderfully content and sensually stimulated as she watched Jackson draw Naomi about on her float.
She could not remember a single day in the past ten years that she had enjoyed more. Having frolicked for hours in the river with the two of them, sharing comfortable conversation and a picnic of chicken salad sandwiches and strawberries, the last thing she wanted was to return to the reality she’d created for herself these last two weeks.
At Toby’s remark, Jackson looked over at her, his expression conveying reluctance. “You should probably head out,” he commented. Leaving Naomi to sunbathe on her float, he waded out of the water. Sunlight glimmered on the droplets snaking down his powerful chest, making him look like a dark-skinned Poseidon.
Lena’s heart expanded. Was it possible for him to appeal to her any more than he did? Everything he had said and done today had an immediate, corollary effect on her pulse and her emotions.
Naomi’s head popped up. “Oh, man! Can’t she stay a little longer?”
Can’t I? asked a plaintiff voice in Lena’s head.
“We both have to get ready for work, sweetheart.” Jackson’s firm yet gentle tone made arguing pointless.
Lena admired his assertiveness, while his words elicited a pang of compunction.
“Plus, your grandmother will be here within the hour,” he added, unwittingly providing her the impetus to leave. “Stay here with Mr. Burke while I find Lena something to wear and see her on her way.”
“But there’s nothing to do,” Naomi protested, flopping back on her float.
Toby stood up unexpectedly, whipped off his sunglasses, tossed aside his straw hat, and started tackling the buttons on his colorful shirt. “I’ll tow you to the other side,” he offered.
Naomi squinted at the opposite shore. “You can’t swim that far.”
But one glimpse at Toby’s broad bare back, and Lena was pretty certain that he could.
“Let’s go,” Jackson urged as Toby dived into the water and seized Naomi’s raft.
“Daddy,” she shrieked with mixed delight and terror. “He’s kidnapping me!”
“You’ll be safe,” Jackson called with confidence. “Say good-bye to Lena.”
Good-bye as in they’d never see each other again?
“Bye!” Naomi called out.
With a poignant farewell, Lena recalled how she’d never gotten to say good-bye to Alexa. “Good-bye, Naomi. I had a great time today.”
As Jackson draped a towel over her shoulders, he sent her a searching look. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She dredged up a smile. “Naomi’s great. I like her a lot.”
He cut a glance at his daughter, who lay back, smiling up at the sun as her float moved farther into the slow-moving river. “I missed too much of her childhood,” she heard him say in a gruff voice. “But that’s going to change.”
Regarding his pained expression, Lena realized she was seeing his vulnerable side. Her heart seemed to crack in half. “Do you miss your wife?” she blurted.
His startled gaze made her curse her inquisitive nature, but then his words reached her ears and she was glad to have asked.
“Honestly, since we met, you’re the only woman I think about.”
The sand burning the soles of Lena’s feet was the only indication that she wasn’t floating inches off the ground. The time had come to bury her pride, once and for all. “Can we start over again, Jackson?” she pleaded.
A slow smile drew back his lips and carved dimples into his cheeks that turned her giddy. “I’d like that,” he agreed.
In the next instant, he caught her hand in his and tugged her toward the stairs. Feeling like a teenager, Lena hurried up the zigzag staircase at his side, wondering with a pounding heart, what starting over would look like.
He led her into the cool hallway at the back of the house. “Come on in,” he said, waving her into a tidy bedroom with a queen-sized bed. She knew it was his by scent alone. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. I’ll find you something to wear home.”
He started sifting through his drawers then froze as the door clicked shut and Lena dragged her tank top off over her head. Fire leapt in his gaze as it jumped to hers, then dropped to her naked breasts, following the path of her jeans as she peeled them deliberately over her hips and down her legs, dragging her underwear off with them. “I need you to finish what you started the other night,” Lena requested, in a voice thick with longing. Something about Jackson brought out the tigress in her, and she could care less about modesty at the moment.
If he didn’t make her his, right here, right now, she would self-combust.
Thank you, Jesus, Jackson thought. Shutting the drawer he’d been riffling through, he approached her wordlessly, backed her against the door, and crushed his mouth over her questing lips.
The kiss was as blistering as the sun outside. With their tongues entwined, Jackson cupped the cool, soft mounds pressed against his chest. Circling the velvety peaks with his thumbs, he brought her nipples into stiffness, eliciting a sexy whimper that drugged him with desire.
Somewhere along the way, his plans to court her slowly, while savoring every moment, had gone up in flames. With Lena, self-control and planning ahead were proving impossible. Breaking off the kiss, he stroked the length of her arms, twined his fingers with hers, and drew her toward the bed.
She followed him willingly. With a hint of color in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, she sank gracefully onto the mattress and scooted to the center to make room for him. The vision she made, with her legs slightly parted, tan lines highlighting her private parts, made him pause just long enough to strip off his swim trunks and take a mental picture. He would savor the memory later. Fully naked, he crawled over her, using his upper arms to push her legs apart. “So beautiful,” he muttered drinking her in.
“Jackson.” She arched in languorous invitation.
With a growl, he lowered his mouth to her naval, swirled his tongue into the hollow there and tasted salt from the river. He measured the cradle of her hipbones with his lips, lathed the brackets between her thighs and her vulva, approaching the tempting pink flesh that peeked out between the plumper mounds. When he finally licked the tender petals, her cry of satisfaction hit him like a drug being mainlined to his veins.
If only he had all the time in the world to learn what pleased her most. For now butterfly flicks of his tongue and the finger he stroked into her dewy opening seemed sufficient. When she drove her hips eagerly against his hand, he added a second digit. Her muscles gripped him, betraying her eagerness.
“Please, I want you inside me this time.”
He wasn’t about to deprive himself again. Retrieving a condom he had found in his shaving
kit, he ripped into the wrapper with his teeth. “It’s been a while,” he confessed, embarrassed by his fumbling hands. Prophylactics never seemed big enough. But her eyes, wide and luminous, were mercifully focused on his face.
With the condom covering him, he settled between her open thighs and gazed down at her. Breathing fast, she kneaded his shoulders as if caught up in the immediacy of the moment. He could see the pulse beating at her throat.
“Magdalena,” he murmured, watching for the least hint of discomfort as he advanced his penetration inch by inch. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
“More.” Her lusty answer was almost his undoing. He stilled, afraid of coming too soon.
She undulated, drawing him deeper still.
Pleasure wicked up Jackson’s spine and nearly made his head explode. “Promise me,” he rasped, “this won’t be the last time.” As much as he didn’t want to think of Davis right now, he was terrified of what the future held in store for both of them. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Her eyes locked with his. “I promise.”
Surrendering himself to sensation, he pushed all the way inside her.
Lena had to be in heaven. She’d never experienced this sense of absolute, delectable fulfillment. It was shockingly titillating, outrageously erotic. A primal rhythm pulsed at her core, emitting a slippery heat that allowed them to defy the laws of geometry. God, he so felt incredible inside her!
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.”
He moved, igniting a relentless craving in her to be driven over the brink. “Take me there, Jackson,” she pleaded, coaxing him to keep up with her.
What he made her feel when he moved transformed her into a creature of impulse and appetite. Every foray of his body into hers, whether fast and hard, or deep and slow, was exactly what her body wanted.
“Perfect,” she breathed when he shifted to a different rhythm. A light layer of sweat coated them both, enhancing the slippery collision of their bodies. “Don’t stop,” she begged him as he fought for control. “Don’t ever stop, baby.”
The Guardian Page 17