His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. In a silky, dangerous tone, he addressed her. “Oh, I’m sure you have time to look at Mary Beth’s drawing. After all, you’re not going anywhere...” His gaze was impossible to ignore, the cold steel now white-hot, his jaw flexing. “Are you?”
Alice’s forehead wrinkled.
Jillian swallowed. “I...guess not.” Stop playing with me, Cullinane. Let’s get it over—whatever you intend.
Apparently he was in no hurry. For several minutes, they remained with the children, the surface conversation convivial and pleasant, the silent duel beneath making Jillian’s skin crawl with nerves. Alice kept glancing over at her but didn’t say anything. Finally, he excused them both and led her inside with a firm hand locked on her arm.
In the breezeway, Ron stopped him to ask questions about his car. When Cullinane reached into his pocket for his keys, she broke away, putting distance between them.
“Solly, escort MacGregor to her quarters.” His voice rose a fraction, directed, she had no doubts, at her. “I’ll be right behind you. Wait there for me.”
Clearly an order, not a suggestion. She was trapped for now. Full daylight was hardly a propitious time to sneak out.
Once inside her room, she locked the door, tempted to shove furniture in front of it. He’d probably bring in a battering ram if she did. In his current temper, there was no telling, but she decided not to tempt fate. Straightening, she lifted her chin. She was not a child to be afraid of being disciplined. She’d meet him head-on.
Besides, she remembered, he could be watching her right now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering. Glancing around the room, she began searching for the camera locations.
* * *
Cullinane would have to deal with Hafner soon enough. It was paramount to assess his frame of mind and just how well the gamble had paid off. Climbing the stairs toward Jillian’s room, he questioned again what he’d done.
If Hafner hadn’t bought his story, not only Jillian but he himself was in danger. As he’d told her before, Hafner truly trusted no one. It had taken Cullinane a long time to work himself into a position where he was as close to trusted as anyone had ever been. But close might not be enough now.
Hafner had risen to his current stature on the backs of others. Having killed off foes and friends alike, he was always ready to suspect others of the same intentions.
Cullinane’s gamble had been risky, but he’d had no choice. The minute Hafner suspected Jillian of trying to kill him, she was dead.
And probably not quickly or mercifully. Hafner had killed no one, at least not directly, since Cullinane had been around. That didn’t mean he’d never done it; the Bureau knew otherwise. He’d just never been caught. Some of the stories were chilling. No matter if Cullinane had hated Jillian, he couldn’t condemn her to such a fate.
And he didn’t hate her, unfortunately. Life couldn’t be that simple, that clean.
But she’d lied, and she was still lying. He had to get her to tell him the truth, then he’d decide what to do with her. His options, though, were limited.
Please, Jillian, for your sake—for my sake. For the sake of any future we might ever have had...tell me the truth.
He knocked on her door. No answer. He tried the knob. It was locked.
“Jillian,” he warned, his voice low. “Don’t jack with me, not now. Open this door.”
A long pause ensued. He was reaching for the master key in his pocket when the door opened.
Another time, he would have laughed. Though he never truly knew what to expect from her, in some ways, she was utterly predictable. Redheads and temper. Whiskey eyes spit fire at him.
But the fire barely covered the nerves.
She was afraid, and he wanted nothing more at this moment than to take her in his arms and forget all that was on the line.
Instead he went on the attack. “Why were you alone with Hafner? Whose idea was it?”
“None of your business.” She gave him her back.
“It is my business, and you know it. What were you doing with your weapon out?” Please, Jillian, talk to me. Tell me it isn’t what I think. Help me save you.
A negligent shrug. “You said it yourself. I heard a noise and was going to investigate. It’s my job, after all. I’m a bodyguard.”
He lost it. “Damn it, Jillian, stop lying to me.” He grabbed her arm and whirled her around, grasping her shoulders in his hands, desperate to impress the seriousness of the situation upon her.
Touching her was a mistake. His fingers itched to draw her nearer, his heart worn by the switch from last night’s magic to being enemies today.
“Talk to me,” he said wearily. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Her gaze remained downcast.
He shook her again, but gently. “I know you’re hiding something.” I know you were going after Hafner. He’d give a lot to be able to tell her he, too, wanted Hafner dead, but he didn’t dare. She was too much of a wild card.
“Look at me, Jillian.” When she refused, he gripped her more tightly, softening his voice. “Please. Talk to me. Make me understand.”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his. His heart pounded with the urgency of his need to know, with the hope that, at last, she was going to explain. For them to have any hope of a future together, he had to hear the truth from her own lips.
Caught between the powerful draw they shared and all that conspired to separate them, the poignancy of the moment suffused the very air around them—shimmering with haunting promise, pierced by stiletto-sharp agony.
And then he knew, could see it in her eyes that she would say nothing, do nothing to save them. All that could have blossomed between them was drowning in a sea of lies.
Cullinane dropped his hands and stepped back, resigned to the knowledge that from here until the end of the operation, he would have to be her jailer and she his prisoner. Instead of trying to survive this together, she was driving them further apart.
Heart-weary and drained, he walked away. When he grasped the door knob, Cullinane halted, fighting not to lean against the door in defeat.
“Don’t try to run, Jillian. You won’t make it.”
Without looking at her again, he left.
* * *
Jillian couldn’t walk the floors any longer, couldn’t continue fighting the demons in her mind. She had to act. Moving swiftly to her closet, she selected a change of clothes.
Then she switched off the light, casting the room into darkness, feeling her way back to the pile of clothing. A little hard to see me in the dark, Cullinane? Yet even as she dressed in comfortable dark pants and shirt, she felt a twinge of unease. She didn’t like it that he’d had her under surveillance, but she couldn’t kid herself that he hadn’t taken a risk for her today, a big one.
Why? Why would he do it? Especially after the way they’d parted this morning. Though he hadn’t voiced the words, she was almost certain that he knew exactly what she’d intended—so why hadn’t he turned her over to Hafner? What did he have planned for her now?
Was she a prisoner in her room? She’d already decided to test that, to see how far her leash would run. There had to be some way out of the compound. She wouldn’t find it, languishing in her room.
Opening the door cautiously, Jillian scanned the hall, feeling the comforting weight of her Walther at her back, hidden by the roomy shirt she left untucked. Cullinane hadn’t taken it from her yet, but he’d obviously had a lot on his mind. He’d remember it soon, so she’d have to figure out where to hide it.
But just in case she found a way to leave tonight, she wanted it with her.
No sign of Solly or anyone else. Cursing her unfamiliarity with the monitoring system to which she’d not been given access, she wondered who might be watching her now. Her best avenue was likely to appear to simply be heading to the kitchen for a snack.
The place was very quiet; she wondered where Cullinane was
right now. He had the stealth of a panther; she’d better not assume he wasn’t somewhere close. He’d certainly done a good job of sneaking up behind her earlier at the fishing camp. She’d never heard a sound.
Traversing the hallway, she passed the library and heard Hafner’s voice through the slight crack of the door and stopped to listen.
“—watch on Cullinane. He’s behaving oddly. I don’t like it. What?” He laughed harshly. “No, it’s not just that he’s standing in my way with her. There’s something else going on.” He cursed vividly. “If I knew what it was, I’d have already taken care of it. All I know is my gut tells me to pay attention. It’s what’s kept me alive this long.” Cold and impersonal, his tone belied the words that sent a shiver down her spine.
Hafner fell silent, listening.
Jillian went very still, hoping no one would interrupt and no one saw her on a monitor. But she couldn’t leave, even so; she had to hear this.
Hafner sighed. “You may be right. Perhaps he has his eye on taking over. It’s the problem with capable men, and Cullinane has certainly been that, but I’m far from ready to retire yet. I don’t like to think of losing him to an unfortunate accident on the next operation. He’ll be deuced hard to replace, but he knows too much.”
Jillian’s breath caught in her throat. Oh, my God. Cullinane was in danger. She had to...
Had to what? Warn him? Why? What did she actually know that could help him? And why would he believe her?
Footsteps sounded in the hall, just as Hafner told his listener goodbye.
She took a few long strides to cover ground, then slowed her pace to appear casual as she turned the corner. Alice was coming her way and stopped, looking at her curiously.
Jillian summoned a casual smile. “Just out for a midnight snack.”
Alice put one hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, Jillian? What happened today?”
“Nothing.” She couldn’t involve this woman. Alice had enough on her mind. Then she realized Alice had been crying. “What about you? Are you all right?”
Alice sniffed, pulling at the tissue in her hand. “I wish I had it together like you.”
Together? Jillian stifled the urge to laugh. She squeezed Alice’s shoulder. “I have no idea how you juggle all you do.” Alice needed a friend, and Jillian was the only candidate.
But right now, she was desperate to run away from this place.
“I wish I had the nerve to leave here. But I can’t.”
“Why not?” Come on, come on. Jillian jittered.
“I owe it to Klaus. He’s done so much for me. And I could never support the kids on what I could make.”
Alice was a kind woman. She had to help somehow—but quickly. “You’re miserable here, Alice.”
“I can’t put what I want ahead of what they need. I have to be strong enough to stay and take control. I wish I were as sure of myself as you are.”
Sure of herself? What a laugh. For one instant, Jillian was tempted to confide in the other woman. In an odd way, she and Alice faced the same dilemma. What was the right thing to do for those you love? How much of yourself did you give up to do it?
But how long could she afford to linger and listen? What if Cullinane trapped her in her quarters? Without the ability to move around, she’d never be able to get close to Hafner...or to get out.
Jillian forced herself to stand still and listen a few minutes longer until Alice left, but she listened with only half an ear. Round and round, the questions spun in her brain:
What did she do about Cullinane? Was he in danger?
And was it her fault?
Chapter Twelve
Cullinane returned to his rooms after leaving the grounds to call Alonzo. He hadn’t been tailed, but that was the only good news from this very long day. As was his daily habit, he swept the rooms to assure no bugs had been planted while he was out.
Now he knew who she was, but knowing only made his job harder. Her first name really was Jillian. She’d been smart, though—MacGregor was her mother’s maiden name. A tough connection to make on the computer, unless you knew what you were looking for. Simple for her to remember, but hard for them to trace with no other identification.
Jillian Blake, that was her real name. Jillian Marianna Blake.
Sister to Belinda Blake, Hafner’s murdered mistress.
So now he knew. Now he understood. Now he even sympathized.
But it only made things worse.
As did the fact that she’d spent time in juvie for shoplifting, had a dubious history dancing just on the right side of the law. Best he could tell, she and her sister had been orphaned in middle school, and while Belinda had done well in foster care, Jillian had been in constant trouble, then finally ran away at fourteen, taking ten-year-old Belinda with her.
Belinda, however, had returned a few weeks later, apparently brought back by Jillian after a brush with a pedophile. The foster parents had eventually adopted her, but Jillian had taken off again as soon as Belinda was safe.
No surprise there. He nearly smiled. She was not good at taking orders. But God knows what those years had been like for her or how she’d survived.
Stepping toward the window, his thoughts matched the unsettled weather outside. Remnants of a hurricane boiled up from the coast, turning the night as restless and angry as Cullinane himself. For the first time since entering, he noticed that Alice had straightened the room he’d left so hastily this morning. Folded neatly on the foot of his bed lay Jillian’s black swimsuit, and he faltered. Would Alice tell Hafner? He didn’t think so—her gratitude for his help with J.T. would prevail, he hoped.
The memories of last night seemed years ago...yet he’d never forget a single second. He’d be haunted by Jillian to the end of his life, but now his chances of anything else with her were more remote than ever.
He understood now why she’d lied to him at every step, marveled at the courage she’d demonstrated in showing up at the compound, in tackling this alone, no backup at all, somehow cobbling together her own damned impressive training.
He understood and might even have done the same himself. His respect for her had only increased, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t—couldn’t—trust her. He now knew she was more dangerous than ever.
Because this was personal. She wasn’t simply a hired killer. Jillian was bent on revenge for her sister’s murder. She was skilled and dangerous and obsessed. She’d shown a nerve and valor any man he’d ever known would be hard-pressed to match, but that nerve had its roots in a single-minded goal that put his own in peril.
He wished he could talk to her, explain that he understood, but that would lead to inevitable questions from her about why he sympathized when he was Hafner’s right-hand man. Maybe if she’d come clean with him of her own free will, he could consider telling her a little, asking her to join him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she would hold back, thinking about his involvement what she surely must. But he’d taken a huge risk for her, and she had to be aware of that. He’d gone past reason and begged her to tell him the truth so he could help her. Those actions gave her a signal that she had to answer.
That was as far as he could go for now. Until and unless she took the next step and gave him her truth without being forced, he could never give her his own. And without her truth, he had no choice but to keep her under constant watch, now more than ever. It would simplify his life if he could send her away and keep her from interfering until this operation was over in a few days. But he doubted now, after what he’d learned, after seeing Jillian’s determination in action, that she’d ever give up trying to kill Hafner, unless she were dead first.
He couldn’t let that happen, nor could he let her take Hafner down. Not this close to the end. His only choice was to keep up his juggling act with Hafner and keep Jillian near.
And hope to God he could keep her safe.
Never had he wanted more to catch a glimpse of her, if only on the monitors
—but he could still remember the devastated look on her face when she’d seen the bank of screens. Though his observation had only had to do with longing and not surveillance, he couldn’t betray her by looking now, though she’d never know.
He’d watch her again—he’d have to—but only to guard her.
Tonight, however, he’d leave her in peace.
* * *
Jillian waited until long after the household was asleep, the hallways silent and dark.
Then she crept down to the library to use what she suspected to be an unmonitored phone line. So far at sea, so much out of her element, she needed to get her bearings. She hadn’t brought a cell phone of her own with her into the compound because she had no backup to call.
But there was one person she could contact, not for help but for balance. It would still be far too late in San Diego, but she had to try. Perhaps Hiroshi’s calm guidance would steady her as so often before.
“Yes?” his voice, so quiet and still, sounded wonderful.
“Hiroshi,” she began, “I’m sorry it’s so late. I-I had no choice.”
“What is wrong, Jillian? Why do you call? Are you in trouble?”
Yes. Oh, yes, but it’s trouble of my own making. “No, I was just worried about Loretta. How is she?”
“Loretta is not well. You should come back. She worries. It has been too long that you are gone.”
“But my promise...I have to keep it.”
“Promises, kept or not kept, will do her not so much good as to see you, to have you near. Come home, Jillian, and cease this quest for vengeance.”
“I...even if I could live with myself for giving up, I can’t...” She stopped, thinking she heard a noise in the hall.
“Jillian?”
No more sounds, but she didn’t dare take a chance on anyone tracing Loretta or Hiroshi. “I have to go now, sensei. Please—tell Loretta I will be back soon.” Please, God, let it be true.
“You are strong enough to meet any challenge, but I ask you this one thing: what will this quest of yours cost your soul?” He’d never approved of her plan or her methods. It was a sign of his concern that he still watched over Loretta for her while she’d been gone. “Come home, Jillian. Bury your vengeance. Let your sister’s soul rest.”
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