Terms of Engagement

by Kylie Brant

  And try to quell the inner voice telling her that Jack Langley might not be as easy to slip away from.

  Pushing the thought away, Lindsay went to the large bowl of fruit on the center counter and selected an apple. The oddity of finding fresh fruit in a man’s kitchen was second only to the feeling of displacement from being here at all. Hitching her hip on one of the stools lining one edge of the counter, she took a bite. She’d need nourishment to think, to plan her escape. Heck, who was she kidding? She’d need boatloads of luck, as well, something that had been in short supply for the last few years.

  “I put your bag in the spare bedroom.”

  She started at Jack’s voice behind her. For a big man he moved silently.

  “You’re eating. Good.” He went to the refrigerator, opened the freezer compartment and scanned the contents. “You’re going to need more than an apple to get your strength back. You haven’t eaten since breakfast at the hospital this morning, have you?”

  His words brought a sense of amazement. Was it only that morning she’d left the hospital? “No. But this is enough.”

  “For a four-year-old, maybe.” He withdrew a package and put it in the microwave to thaw. Then he got out two large potatoes and started scrubbing them in the sink. “I owe you a dinner, anyway. How do you feel about steak?”

  She opened her mouth to deny hunger but her stomach made a liar out of her. “Mildly interested, as it happens. What can I do to help?”

  “Grab a bottle out of the wine rack, round up a corkscrew and pour us a couple glasses.” As he spoke Jack wrapped potatoes in cellophane and turned on the oven. When the microwave dinged, he exchanged the potatoes for the meat and brought the package to the counter to unwrap it.

  Lindsay studied him carefully. If she didn’t know him better, she would believe he’d forgotten all about their bitter ongoing argument. That he’d put the events of the day behind him, in lieu of the juicy steaks he was busy unwrapping.

  Unfortunately, she did know him better.

  Slipping from the stool, she looked for the wine rack he’d indicated next to the refrigerator. Studying the labels, she selected a red she’d never heard of and started going through the drawers until she came up with a corkscrew.

  Maybe nerves and rampant paranoia were to blame, but she had a hard time believing that Jack had moved on from their earlier disagreement. Fiercely she wrestled the cork from the bottle. He thought he’d soften her up, she decided. Feed her, get her tipsy, and then, when she was least expecting it, start pumping her for information again.

  Just the thought had a wave of weariness hitting her. She extracted two wineglasses from a shelf above the wine rack and she carefully filled them. He’d discover her opinion unchanged, if that was the case. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but then closed it again.

  There was just something so…normal about watching him move capably around the kitchen. Not that she’d ever experienced having a man cook for her, but she could almost imagine they were any other couple just getting to know each other.

  Sliding his glass over to him, she ignored the stab of regret that came with the image. Nothing had been normal for her since leaving Wisconsin. Which was ironic, since she’d left in the first place because normal had equated with boring. Life there had been a stranglehold, every passing moment tightening its grip on her.

  She sipped the wine, letting the memory wash over her in a shower of nostalgia. When she’d left Ellison, Wisconsin, she’d felt like she could breathe freely for the first time in her life. New York had embraced her, with its diversity and endless possibilities. She hadn’t had to worry about not fitting in where everyone else seemed unique. There were no preconceived notions. No set boundaries so confining they threatened to choke her.

  And once she’d crossed Niko Rassi, there had been no going home again.

  The familiar pain swept over her, as sharp and ruthless as a blade. And because it didn’t pay to think of all she’d lost, she shoved the memories aside, locked them away. She needed to concentrate on the now. And that meant making sure she didn’t put anyone else at risk.

  Cocking her head, she watched Jack season the meat from a shaker. “What’s that?”

  “My own special concoction. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And since that seems a bit redundant under the circumstances, I’ll keep the recipe to myself.” Expertly he flipped the steaks onto the grill portion of the stove and turned it on.

  Lindsay drank again, watching him carefully over the top of her wineglass, trying to gauge his mood. It wasn’t anger in his tone. Not exactly. But there was something simmering inside him. Maybe not temper. But a steel core of determination.

  With an inner sigh, she set the glass down, her fingers toying with the stem. The edge of exhaustion was crowding in, but resolutely she fought it back. She’d catch a few hours’ sleep before she headed out tonight. She’d have to. Right now she felt like she’d do a face-plant if she so much as stood up too quickly.

  Picking up the apple, she took another bite and used a tried-and-true trick she’d developed. Pushed away the fear, the weariness, the worry and concentrated on the moment. It was no hardship. Whatever his mood right now, Jack was a pleasure to watch, his hands sure, his movements lithe and fluid as he moved around the kitchen checking on the food. It would be so easy to just unload on him. To tell him everything and believe that he could fix it. That there was a way out that didn’t include more death.

  The wistful little fantasy spun out, gilding the moment. She let herself imagine that everything she’d put in motion three years ago was over. And she and Jack were free to discover if there was more between them than overactive hormones and combustible chemistry. No sense of urgency. No impending doom. The surge of longing that accompanied the mental image nearly stole her breath.

  The shrill of a cell phone brought her back to reality with a jolt. She looked around, but Jack had carried her purse and bag upstairs.

  He took his cell out of his pocket and checked the ID before sliding it across the counter toward her. “It’s Jolie. I talked to Dace earlier about what happened this afternoon. I’m sure she’ll want to speak to you.”

  Her gaze flew to his guiltily. Of course Jolie would have heard. And was probably going out of her head worrying. She picked up Jack’s phone and flipped it open. “Jolie. I was going to call you later.”

  There was silence for a moment and then, “Lindsay? You’re with Jack? Well, thank God for that. I’ve been calling your phone for the last half hour. Are you all right? Dace said neither of you were hit, but—”

  “We’re fine. I’m just not close to my phone.” Supremely aware of the man nearby unabashedly listening to her side of the conversation, she turned half away from him. “Jack brought me to his place to feed me after I gave my statement.”

  “Good.” The relief in her friend’s voice fanned the guilt a little hotter. “I hope you aren’t planning to go back to your apartment tonight.”

  “I’m been offered a room at Motel Langley for the night. I plan to take him up on it.”

  “We were worried about that. You really have no idea who might have been shooting at you?”

  It was hard, very hard, to lie to her closest friend. “No. I guess the police will be looking into it, though.”

  “Dace and I are going to be tied up at the hospital for a while. I was going to offer our place, but if you’re going to be with Jack, that’s even better.”

  Something in the other woman’s voice alerted her. “How is Trixie?”

  “Always thought she was too mean to die.” Jolie’s voice shook a bit on the last word and she paused, as if collecting herself. When she continued again, her tone was steady. “But they’re talking hospice after the next thirty-six hours, so there are lots of arrangements to be made.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s been…complicated.” She might not know all the details of Jolie’s relationship with her mother, but she’d gleaned that much. “I wish I could
do something.”

  “You can answer your phone next time you get shot at.”

  That drew a laugh. “I could, yes.”

  “I heard about the engraved shell. It could just be a case of mistaken identity, but until we’re sure it’d be best for you to stick close to Jack.”

  “Well, I’m in his kitchen watching him make me dinner.” She spun around on the stool to look at him. “Can’t get much closer than that.” Now was no time to recall—was it only hours ago?—when they’d been as close as two people could get. A flush of heat crawled up her neck. It almost seemed as if those moments had existed outside of time. But it hadn’t taken long before reality had intruded.

  “Stay put until they figure out what’s going on. Here’s the doctor. I have to go. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” There was an oddly hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as Lindsay disconnected the call. Realizing she wouldn’t see her friend again added another fang to the regret gnawing through her.

  And knowing it was better this way—safer for everyone—didn’t lessen the pain appreciably.

  “Trouble?” Jack got out two plates and removed the baked potatoes from the microwave, setting one on each dish.

  She handed his phone back to him. “Sounds like Jolie’s mother isn’t going to last much longer.”

  “Yeah, Dace said. Good riddance.”

  Shocked, her gaze flew to his. Looking up from the steaks he was serving up, he shrugged. “Jolie’s told you about Trixie, right?”

  “A little.” He went to put a steak on her plate and she protested quickly, “No. Not the whole thing. I can’t eat all that….” She reached out for her plate but it was too late. A rib eye fit for a football player was placed next to the potato and the plate nudged over to her.

  Jack handed her silverware. “You need your strength. Eat.”

  Dubiously, she eyed the food even as she cut off a piece of steak. If she ate like this every day she’d need a forklift to get up the stairs to her apartment. Not that she was planning to return there, anyway.

  She took a bite of the meat. Chewed. Then closed her eyes in ecstasy. The meat was tender. Succulent. Lindsay concentrated on the individual flavors, trying to identify what he’d added to the seasoning. Swallowing, she cut another bite. “This is excellent. What’d you say was in that seasoning?”

  He dumped enough margarine on his potato to have his arteries slamming shut in protest. “I didn’t say. But if you’re interested in an information exchange, we could probably work something out.”

  When she went silent, he gave a sardonic smile. “No? Why am I not surprised?”

  Ignoring his sarcasm, she concentrated on the meal. “What did you mean about Jolie’s mother? She’s never said much to me, but I could tell their relationship is rocky.”

  “Rocky.” He picked up his glass for a drink of wine before continuing. “You could say that. I don’t know the whole thing. Bits and pieces from what Dace says. But apparently Trixie was an addict. Jolie landed in foster care when she was just a kid. Bounced around a lot. By the time her mother contracted cancer she was living on the streets. Jolie took her in a few months ago, but the old lady’s been a handful. Selling everything she can steal from their apartment for a fix. It’s been an ordeal, for everyone involved.”

  A wave of sympathy for her friend hit Lindsay. Whatever the complications of her relationship with her mother, Jolie had traumatic times ahead of her. Times when she could use the support of a friend. But Lindsay would be gone.

  There was a twist to her stomach at the thought. Better to be gone, she told herself stoutly, than to bring Niko Rassi into everyone’s life, especially at a time when Jolie would be distracted. Vulnerable. Better for everyone if Lindsay headed far, far away, hopefully drawing Niko after her. The thought had goose bumps prickling her skin.

  Jack got up and went into the other room, returning a moment later with a throw from the couch. He draped it around her shoulders. “Better?”

  She could only nod. The simple act of kindness had her eyes burning. He’d done far more for her than she had any right to expect. And yes, she had no doubt he was merely biding his time before attempting to pry more information from her, but that was the cop in him. He couldn’t help himself. It still touched her, more than it should have, to discover layers in the man. Sexy. Tough. Bullheaded. Generous. And now, tender.

  She didn’t want to reveal the emotions swimming too close to the surface, so she concentrated on finishing her meal. Or as much of it as she could. Shutting down thought and emotion to concentrate on the simple act of eating. Jack was right. She was going to need her strength.

  She was also going to need an incredible streak of luck.

  His cell rang again as she was getting up to clear the dishes. She loaded the dishwasher and wiped the counters. Other than a cryptic “Interesting” and “Anything else?” he was mostly listening, as he cleaned the grill-top implement he’d used to cook the steaks. He didn’t so much as glance in her direction, and some of the tension began to ease from her muscles. Maybe now would be the time to excuse herself and slip upstairs. Scout the exits and plan her escape for later that night.

  She sent him a sideways glance. It was nearly eight. Early, but with the day she’d had it wouldn’t seem unusual to plead weariness and head to her room for the evening. Nor would it be that far from the truth. She’d set her phone to silent alarm so its vibration would wake her at two. And while Jack was sleeping she’d be on the run again.

  Just the thought had exhaustion edging to the surface. But she beat it back, waited for Jack to get off the phone before saying, “I’m not sure how much longer I can remain standing.” That, at least, was the truth. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping tonight, I think I’ll turn in.”

  His dark gaze was enigmatic as it fixed on hers for a long moment. But his tone, when he spoke, was even. “Sure. Follow me.” They went down a short hall and then up the stairs, past one door. He indicated the next one. “You can use this bathroom. Your room is across the hall.”

  She glanced around before turning to her door. Only one window in the hallway. The placement of the bathroom meant there’d be none in it. She opened the door to the second bedroom and was relieved to see two windows.

  She let the blanket slip from her shoulders and folded it. Handing it to him, she began, “I want to thank you…”

  He waved off her words. “It’s not necessary. I’ll let you get ready to turn in and check on you later.”

  Her earlier relief was dampened a smidgen. “No, you don’t need to do that. Like I said, I’m just going to fall into bed.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  She watched him withdraw from the doorway and saunter down the hall, felt a tug of unease. Damn. Now she’d have to take the time to change into something resembling sleepwear, rather than catching a few hours in the clothes she meant to escape in. It meant she’d lose valuable minutes when she woke because she’d have to change again before leaving.

  She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Washed her face. Wondering the whole time at Jack’s easy capitulation. She’d expected him to wait until she was off guard before starting to push and pry again. It would be a mistake to lower her defenses.

  Padding back across the hall to the bedroom, she noted that it would be an even bigger error to think about their proximity. About the fact that after a few hours she was never going to see him again. And it was a huge mistake to let the sorrow from the thought well up in her until the tide of emotion threatened to drown her good sense. Her better judgment.

  Swiftly, she changed into a tee and yoga pants. They looked enough like sleepwear, she judged, but she could still wear them when she left later and save herself a few minutes. She didn’t know whether or not Jack was a light sleeper. If he was, the less she moved around in here prior to leaving, the better.

  When the knock sounded at her door, she opened it to find Jack lounging against the doorjamb. �
�Find everything you need?”

  Nerves jittered in her stomach. He’d used the intervening time to strip down to his jeans, as if he were planning on an early night, too.

  Or as if he were planning on joining her in the guest bed.

  Firmly, she shoved that errant thought aside. “Everything’s fine. I was just going to turn in.”

  “Did you take your medication?”

  She hadn’t.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  Blowing out a breath, she picked up her purse and started rifling through it. She’d shoved the bag of supplies in the bottom of it, she recalled, along with her money and her…She dug deeper into the purse, and then dumped it on the bed beside her, disbelief warring with panic.

  “I took the liberty of removing a few items when I brought your things upstairs.” Jack crossed the room and set the glass of water on the bedside table, then leaned against the dresser, watching her knowingly.

  Panic morphed to temper in one smooth stroke. Lindsay’s jaw clenched. She’d known he wasn’t one to give in easily. And she’d learned only a few hours ago that he was cursed with a suspicious nature. “Where’s my gun? And my money?”

  “They’re safe. But I thought you might think twice about sneaking out of here if I held on to both of them for you.”

  “You had no right!” She pushed away from the bed and in two long strides was inches away from him. “Get them for me now. Or I’ll take this place apart looking for them.”

  “How about an exchange?” The lopsided smile he gave her was marred by his steely tone. “I’ll tell you where they are. You tell me why Niko Rassi is after you.”

  Chapter 9

  The floor seemed to buckle beneath Lindsay’s feet. Roaring filled her ears. A knot formed in her throat and grew until it threatened to choke her. “I…” She could barely manage speech around it. “I don’t know what you mean.”