The Choice

by Jean Brashear

  Meanwhile, a third contingent of the task force would be boarding shrimp boats and seizing the contraband, while the overseas busts went on, as well.

  The plan ought to work, but Cullinane had been at this game too long to believe it would be that simple. Even if he didn’t have Jillian to worry about, a thousand things could still go wrong.

  And he did have Jillian to worry about, the first order of business getting her to go along with a plan she would hate.

  A plan that neatly removed her from the action.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Cullinane stared out into the darkness, composing arguments he hoped would sway the most determined woman he’d ever met.

  He was so close. He was so tired.

  So much was at stake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jillian prowled the boundaries of her room. Where was he? He’d said he’d come to her later to talk about tomorrow. Hours had passed with no sign of him. She’d give him a few more minutes, then she was headed toward his rooms to beard the lion in his den.

  Torn between anger and unease, she paced, thinking about tomorrow. Cullinane was FBI, but there would be others, he’d said—ATF, the Coast Guard, perhaps the DEA and local authorities. A lot of people involved. A lot to go wrong.

  She’d hoped Hafner would approach her and give her another chance to find out his plans regarding Cullinane, but he hadn’t. With no idea what he’d meant to ask of her, she’d just have to stay alert and watch him closely while keeping an eye out for danger threatening Cullinane. She had her weapon, she had her skills. She’d be all right, she just had to stay loose, remain observant.

  And she had to pry details out of a man who’d survived in deep cover for a very long time.

  Jillian stopped pacing and stared out her window at silhouetted treetops against the glow of security lighting. She had a lot to think about, but Cullinane had much more. With the dread and nerves she was feeling, how much more must Cullinane be experiencing now, with two years of his life on the line? Her anger faded in the light of her worry. He must be strung pretty tightly tonight. Even a stone man couldn’t keep it all at bay.

  You don’t know how much I want him...nothing short of dying will stop me from taking him down. His words returned to her, the haunted shadows in his eyes. Yes, Cullinane had to be feeling this night deeply. She didn’t know why, but this was personal for him, too. They only differed on their solutions to the problem of Hafner.

  Tonight, Cullinane just might need a friend.

  She’d go to him, but she’d be calm. She would listen. She’d been so caught up in her own feelings that she hadn’t stopped to consider how this all weighed on him. He had a lot to juggle, even without the threat to his life—or the complication of her single-mindedness.

  Making her way down the hall, she tapped softly at his door.

  “It’s not locked.” She barely heard his voice, muffled by the door. Slowly, she pushed it open.

  He leaned against the window across the room, looking out, his reflection in the glass weary and troubled. He spoke without turning, his voice low and somber. “Hello, Jillian.”

  “How could you be sure it was me? A little risky, don’t you think, leaving it unlocked?”

  He smiled faintly. “I’d have bet everything I own on seeing you tonight.”

  “I’m so predictable?”

  He pushed away from the window. “No, you’re that stubborn and determined. I knew if I didn’t come to you, you’d show up here, demanding answers.” Coming to a stop before her, he looked down, eyes shadowed but somehow fond.

  Jillian stared at his lips, realizing she longed to feel his kiss once again. Wanted to reach up and cradle his head against her, to soothe the lines of worry from his brow.

  She did neither. “Would I have gotten my answers?”

  “The ones I’m free to give.” His voice was quiet and sad and weary.

  Jillian suddenly wanted to forget all that kept them apart, all the reasons they were at odds. For just a little span of time, she wanted to give this noble man the gift of her silence, her support.

  Tomorrow might bring anything—there could be sorrow and pain, even death. When her heart seized at the thought of his strong heart ceasing to beat, she placed one hand on his chest, reassured by the quickening thump beneath her fingers.

  They might never have any more than this. There were no guarantees; she knew too well how cruel fate could be. Whatever hadn’t been resolved between them would still be there tomorrow, but for now, he’d been alone long enough. Two years was a long time in the belly of the beast.

  “Jillian, I can’t...”

  “Sh-h.” She placed her fingers over his lips. “I’m not asking for anything you can’t give. Just one more taste of the magic, Cullinane. I need it. I think you do, too.”

  “Drake.” His voice low and urgent, his eyes yearning. “For tonight, call me Drake, Jillian. Just this once, I’d like to hear my own name.”

  Her heart squeezed. So long alone. She rose to her toes and pulled his head down to hers. “I want this night with you. No duty, no obligations, no one else but us. This one night, Drake. It might be all we ever have.”

  Drake yanked her close, kissing her with all the urgency he felt. It might be utter insanity, but she was right—this could be all they ever had. He’d done everything he could to take care of tomorrow.

  He wanted this night, too. Needed it, needed her with an urgency that bordered on madness.

  He pulled away, already aching to return. “Tell me, Jillian,” he whispered. “Tell me how you want me to touch you. I don’t want you to ever forget this.”

  Tears he’d never thought to see from this strong, self-contained woman shimmered, threatening to spill. He felt them in his gut, he wanted to drink them from her lashes, to bathe away her pain with his tongue. An aching stole over him, a tenderness he’d never known until he’d met this fierce warrior queen, until he’d seen her pride, her refusal to accept defeat, her valor in facing down incredible odds.

  “No, Drake, let me be the one. For too long, you’ve been alone.” She took his hand and led him to the bed, rising over him, her eyes soft and warm. “Let me make love to you tonight. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

  Relax. Whenever Jillian touched him, relaxation was the last thing on his mind. Drake nearly laughed, but her fingers stroked his face, slid into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. Her slow, teasing touch soothed, calmed...aroused. He reached to drag her down to him, but Jillian pinned his wrists at his shoulders, eyes sparkling in challenge.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. This is my show for now.” The smile he’d seen too seldom now gleamed with mischief. “Don’t make me have to hurt you.”

  A slow, taunting rub over his fly elicited a heartfelt groan from him. Being in the unaccustomed position of submission was erotic. Hell, yeah, she could have her way with him. He’d get even later.

  Then rational thought deserted him with the first rake of her nails. Eyes sparkling, she grasped his shirt in both hands and ripped it open, buttons flying across the bed. He gritted his teeth not to flip her over and drive within the sweet, warm promise he knew was waiting.

  The tests didn’t end there. Relax, hell. Jillian was bent on driving him out of his mind.

  Not that he was complaining.

  Her silky hair brushed his chest, and her hot mouth searched out sensitive spots he’d never known he had. She slicked her tongue over his nipple, bit lightly with her teeth, and he almost came off the bed.

  He jerked his hands from her grip and dragged her mouth to his, rolling to bring her under him, but Jillian resisted, her breathing heavy, her lips plump and swollen from his kiss. With eyes that promised dark delights, she shook her head.

  “Oh, no, stone man...” On a wicked smile, she rose and clasped the straining length of him. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Drake bucked beneath her. “Jillian...”

  One delicate brow arched. “I
wouldn’t make idle threats, if I were you.” Her playful smile warned...and promised. She reached for the fly of his jeans with nimble fingers that tugged at buttons and danced over his cock at every opportunity. With each button, his mind slipped a notch, his control weakening, his will scorched by fingers of flame.

  When his buttons were mostly open and his mind mostly gone, her clever fingers slid his briefs down so slowly he was ready to beg her to end the agony.

  Jillian smiled, her heated gaze clear that she understood exactly the cost she exacted. Licking her lips slowly, making him groan and strain against her hand, Jillian bent and took him in her mouth, fiery silk brushing his belly.

  Drake growled, thrusting into the warm, wet heaven. “Jillian, if you want anything left, you’d—” His nostrils flared as her tongue licked slowly up his length, swirling around the head. He choked back a moan.

  Jillian paused, her expression that of a woman who knows her power. Running her tongue over her lips to taste him, she rose to her knees and pressed his shaft against the silk of her panties.

  Drake grabbed her and rolled, bringing her beneath him so fast, her eyes widened in surprise. “My turn.”

  With the same lack of care she’d shown for his shirt, Drake jerked her blouse open, scattering the second shower of buttons.

  Jillian laughed, low and throaty, her eyes ripe with challenge.

  God, what a woman. He shoved aside a quick stab of sadness that they only had tonight. She was so damn perfect for him, his equal, his tormentor, his completion. He’d never met anyone to match her. They might only have one night, but he’d give her the best of himself in these stolen hours.

  Unhooking the scrap of lace over her breasts, Drake paused to admire, imagining the weight of them in his hands. Slowly, reverently, he placed one hand over each, her heated skin shocking his palms.

  Jillian arched against him, her hips rocking, pleading. He fought to restrain himself, to make this last as long as he could. Caressing her breasts, he lowered his mouth to bathe her lips with a slow stroke of his tongue.

  Jillian’s lips parted, but he didn’t claim them yet, instead teasing her with light, flicks at the corners, tickling the sensitive skin just at the inside of her mouth. Jillian inhaled sharply but remained very still, her body quivering slightly, her eyes open and watching.

  For such a fierce woman, she was oddly almost shy, her delight in his touch hesitant and surprised. He cradled her face in his palms, wanting somehow to let her know what she meant. “You...heal me, Jillian.” He’d never felt this for anyone else. She was unique, a treasure he wanted to keep and to cherish for a long time to come.

  If only fate would let him.

  Her whiskey eyes melted, moisture shimmering. He could see the war within them, the same longing he felt to have done with the battles, with all that divided them.

  A remnant of reason tugged at him, reminding him with hateful clarity that his soul was not his to give to her, not this night. Dreaded duty and responsibility reared their ugly heads, but Drake tamped them down, promises weighing heavy on his heart.

  Then the time for teasing was gone. They still had battles to fight, and he could not forget tomorrow.

  But for now, it was still the night.

  He used every means at his disposal to call to the heart of her, to bring her pleasure she would never forget. Stripping them both with abandon, Drake’s craving to feel her grew until at last, he could press skin to skin, heart to beating heart.

  He heard Jillian’s fevered panting, felt a fine trembling take her. He willed her closer, rousing every last nerve to tingling need. He wanted her as desperate for him as he was for her.

  Jillian felt his sorrow, felt the change sweep over him. Where playfulness had reigned, now desire claimed its due. “Come to me, Jillian. Let me have all of you,” he whispered, his heated breath stirring the tender flesh at her core. His fevered caresses, the strokes of his tongue lashed her higher and higher, her nerves screaming for mercy. He was taking her far beyond their night of magic, luring her farther and farther from solid ground.

  White heat flashed through her body, rippling beneath her skin. “Drake, I can’t—” His tongue slid inside her, and she came apart, back bowed, legs trembling, gooseflesh prickling over her skin. Breathless and spiraling, Jillian watched him rise over her, his dark beauty an ache in her heart.

  The silver eyes of the sorcerer gave way to the haunted gray velvet of a man in need. More naked than she’d ever seen him, Drake’s soul shone out from those eyes, asking her to meet him.

  Still flying high, Jillian yearned to hold him, to cherish him, to push away every barrier fate had put between them. When he slowly entered her, filling her to aching completion, slow tears fell, and her heart cracked in her chest.

  For no matter that she needed him desperately, and he needed her...

  They still had to face tomorrow.

  And each knew, only too well, that these might be the last, precious moments of goodbye.

  * * *

  Jillian stirred, and Drake tightened his arms around her, turning his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. Wished for a way to cheat fate, to buy time before she awakened.

  Once she did, the questions would begin.

  And when that happened, he’d have to begin pulling back from this, resume the mask of Cullinane and play games once again. He’d give a lot to be able to just tell her what he needed and know she’d comply, but he understood the power of Jillian’s guilt, the strength of her sense of honor and duty.

  He understood because he had demons of his own. Tiny voices, crying out for justice.

  He could push her, could see if what they’d found together was strong enough to challenge the chains that bound her to her quest, but he was reluctant to put their own fragile bond to such a test so soon.

  He’d never thought love would be his lot, had given up the dream long ago, yet with Jillian....

  Life certainly had its ironies—with the worst possible timing, after so many years alone, into his life had walked a woman he wanted to keep.

  A woman he still wasn’t sure he could trust.

  It wasn’t that Jillian was faithless or weak—on the contrary, her loyalties were so strong, her sense of responsibility such a part of the very air she breathed, that it would be agonizing for her to choose between what she believed she owed those she cared for and what she might want for herself.

  How could he not understand the struggle? It was his own.

  So he would say nothing of what he felt for her yet, though it might mean he never could. If he were lost in this battle today, he’d never get the chance, but that was his burden, one he would not load upon slender shoulders that already carried too much weight. The future he wanted with her was a precious burden he’d take alone into the fight.

  And having admitted it to himself, Drake felt both fear and strength. Jillian filled up the hollow spaces inside him, the empty shell. Her vitality and spark lit up the dark corners of a soul long ago resigned to the cold. The fear came from at last having something to lose.

  For a very long time, he’d had a mission. He’d wanted to live to see it completed, but outside of that, Drake’s life was worth very little, there to sacrifice in the service of his duty but meaningless to anyone else.

  Jillian had changed all that. Now he wanted to live, to see what they could be together. But even more than his own life, a chill invaded his heart at the thought of danger coming to her.

  That’s why he had to convince her to play this his way. More than his own life, he wanted to preserve hers. There were too many dangers lying in wait on this day, too many possibilities for her to be harmed. Though he knew very well she could take care of herself, still something within him needed to protect.

  The best way he could think of to accomplish that was to convince Jillian to leave the compound. He thanked his lucky stars for Alice and her children. Jillian would never leave on her own, but she might be persuaded to do it t
o protect them.

  Just then she rolled closer, her face nuzzling into his throat, her warm breath tickling his skin. “Drake?” she murmured sleepily.

  “Sh-h-h,” he whispered, wrapping her in his arms. “Sleep. It’s not morning yet.”

  Sliding one hand across his belly, she snuggled closer. Half-hard already, his response was immediate. Drake battled the temptation to tilt her head back for a kiss, to lose himself inside her once more.

  Then he felt her awakening and knew it was too late. She pushed her hair away from her face, drowsy whiskey-brown eyes opening. “Hi,” she murmured, smiling.

  “Hi, yourself.” He stroked her hair.

  For one suspended moment, their eyes met in memory, in silent wonder at the power and magic of what they’d shared.

  All too soon, awareness returned, shadows stealing back into her eyes as they stole over his heart. “We don’t have much time, do we?”

  Drake shook his head.

  “Drake...”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “I know. And I think you’d better forget that name for now. We can’t afford a slip.” But the moment she nodded, cold invaded his heart. Cullinane was back. Time to face the end.

  “It’s happening today, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes. In the morning. Before Hafner’s up.”

  “Where do you need me?”

  Here goes nothing. “I have one big worry that I can only trust you to handle.”

  Her expression was solemn, but her eyes gleamed pleasure. “What is it?”

  He sat up against the headboard. “The other children will have left for school, but Mary Beth will still be here—and Alice.”

  “You need me to watch them.”

  “I need you to take them away from the compound. Pretend you’re driving Alice to the market and take Mary Beth with you.”

  Jillian’s dark eyes narrowed. “You want me away from Hafner.”

  Yep, knew it would get dicey. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

  “But it’s what you mean. You don’t trust me not to take him out.”