The days passed and her training was almost over when Jack caught up with her one day after lunch. When she was once again with Gabe. He had the world’s most perfect timing.
“Caroline, might I have a word?” Jack asked.
She should have known she wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. “Fine.” She turned to Gabe. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
Jack watched Gabe walk down the hall and out of sight. “I hear your training is going well,” he said.
“So I’ve been told,” she said. “Although the cafeteria was a curious assignment.”
“I’m sure you’ll receive a rank and role appropriate for your experience once you’re finished.”
A delicate sidestep. “What do you want?”
She could still read him. His tics, his habits. He was in no mood to beat around the bush. Perhaps seeing her with Gabe had lessened his desire to make small talk.
“If you’re going to keep treating me like shit, I have a right to know why,” he said. “I haven’t said a word about your…relationship with that man, nor about the fact that you refuse to live with or even converse with me.”
The jealousy practically seeped out of his pores, the tiny puppet continuing to dance. And she’d barely done anything at all, which made it easier to continue doing it. “I wasn’t aware you had a right to dictate my behavior.”
“I don’t. But I’d like a little acknowledgment. This hasn’t been easy for me.”
Poor baby. “I’m supposed to worship at the altar of your magnanimity? No thanks.”
“You know what I mean. You haven’t told me anything.”
Oh, he wanted to know what had happened during their year apart. Like she was ever going to talk about that. She’d found a way to block it out and no one could make her dredge it up again. Not even him. “You’ve got spies. You can get the story from them. I’m sure The Fed kept meticulous notes.”
“I don’t care about what anyone else has to say about it but you.” His tone softened. “None of this can be easy. Let me help you get through it.”
“I don’t need you for that.”
“Oh, right. You’ve got your hero boytoy. How foolish of me.”
Interesting. Jack remained convinced she spent more than her lunches with Gabe. And oh, was his possessiveness palpable. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
“How old is he? Twenty-five?”
“Like you have any room to talk. I seem to remember you having your fair share of young, vapid groupies before you met me. And not that it’s any of your business, but he’s thirty-four.”
“Any man who’s fucking my wife is my business.”
Yes, much more than lunch. She didn’t correct his mistaken impression. It didn’t hurt to keep playing. “Gabe was there for me when no one else was, including you. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”
“You don’t think he had something to gain from it?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, a free ticket to a rebel stronghold, maybe?”
He didn’t trust her friends. Even more interesting. And they’d passed muster anyway. “This free ticket resulted in a fractured nose and broken cheekbone thanks to Corporal Buchanan. To say nothing of that bit of emotional abuse that you insisted was a run of the mill interrogation. You have no idea what his motivations are.”
“Neither do you.”
“That’s it, I’m not having this discussion with you. I don’t owe you any answers, I don’t have to talk to you, I don’t have to see you, I can go on my merry way if you want.”
Jack closed the gap between them and cupped her cheek in his palm. “I miss you, baby. Don’t you miss me?”
Dammit. She should have seen that coming. Whenever she got pissed at him he often resorted to physical affection to get her to cave. His skin was warm. And soft. He knew damn well what he did to her when he touched her. She couldn’t get tangled in that web. Caroline swatted his hand away. “No,” she said. “I don’t. And don’t call me that. Ever again.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “I know it.”
Jack was the only obstacle preventing a quick exit down the hall, and Caroline tried to get around him to leave. He grabbed her arms to keep her from squirming away. Her sleeves rode up and he clamped his mouth shut.
Her scars were showing. The prisoner number was visible. And he’d seen it all.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Caroline, what happ-?”
She yanked her arms away and pulled the sleeves down, unable to keep her hands from trembling. “Don’t touch me.”
He closed his eyes, pressing one hand to the wall. “What did they do to you?” he whispered.
“None of your fucking business.”
Jack couldn’t hide the anguish in his voice. She did her best to ignore it. Another trick, another trap he’d pull out of his repertoire to suck her back in. “Please…talk to me.” His voice caught. “Even if you don’t want to be with me, please let me help.”
Caroline regained her composure the best she could. “No. Stay away from me. If you can’t handle that, I’ll find someplace else to go.”
“No, you can stay. I want you here.” He reached out to her. “Caroline, I’ll never-”
No. She wasn’t ready for confession time. She didn’t want to know how that sentence was going to end. Caroline scooted away, shuffling down the hall as fast as she could. He didn’t follow.
* * * * *
Jack had been avoiding her. Doing his best not to set her off. He was trying to take Dr. Haddad’s advice to heart and give Caroline her space, but it was getting harder and harder. He spent his days in his office wishing she was with him – in any capacity – and his nights tossing and turning knowing every hour they spent apart made the distance between them increase.
And those scars…he didn’t want to think about the others. The ones he couldn’t see, whether they were physical or not. He’d failed to notice that she was always in sweaters or long sleeved shirts when out of uniform, in spite of San Diego’s quite temperate weather. When she’d been in Congress she’d picked up the habit of rolling up her blouse sleeves at every opportunity, even during the winter, but not anymore.
He needed to keep his distance. To respect her wishes. But would it kill her to talk to him? He knew she wanted him; he could tell by her demeanor, by the way she held her head. And especially by the way she reacted every time he touched her, no matter how insignificant the contact. He didn’t give a fuck about whatever she had going on with that asshole Morton. She’d figure out soon enough that she needed to be with her husband. Where she belonged. But she might need a little help along the way.
Jack McIntyre could play the game and play it well. Always could, always would. So if he had to be a little more forceful than necessary, he’d do it. Forget his boundaries and fuck her inhibitions. When he saw her returning to her apartment alone one night, he knew he’d found his opportunity.
She rolled her eyes the instant she saw him. “What do you want?”
Was he that predictable? He’d barely bothered her at all in the past couple of weeks. But she’d probably figured out how often he trailed after her like some lost little duckling. Fuck that. Now wasn’t the time to be pathetic. Now was the time for decisiveness. For action.
“You’ll be finished with training soon,” he said. “Just wanted to check in.”
“By following me home from dinner? Do you do that with all the recruits?”
Jack made a mental note to follow up with the rest of the trainees, just to prove her wrong. Or right. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I do now.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I get bored.”
Caroline fiddled around in her pocket for her keys. “Training is fine. Everything’s fine.”
She was lying but she was getting better at it. Few things depressed him more than watching a sincere person cross over into the contrived. She’d never been one to skirt the truth. But so much had changed. He could have hardly expected her to remain the sa
me. He moved closer to her and she backed away. Was she afraid of him?
“Come on, Caroline. I’m not going to try anything.”
“Leave me alone,” she said softly.
She didn’t want him to leave her alone. She wanted him to stay. He seized the moment, closing the gap between them until she was backed up against the wall. Hours of working off grief and frustration had left him much stronger and much more determined than he’d been before.
“Is that what you want?” he whispered. “For me to leave? Tell me, does Mr. Morton hold your attention? Aren’t you afraid you might get sick of him? What are you going to do when that happens?”
She gave him a halfhearted shove. “You’re full of shit, McIntyre.”
Oh, he’d touched a nerve. Maybe he could touch more than that if he played his cards right. “Don’t you miss me? We used to have such a good time together. You were unbelievable. You’d blow my mind, again and again.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
It would get him everywhere. He just had to keep trying. “You always craved me even when you were pissed as hell at me. Tell me, how does Gabe measure up?”
She blushed. His wife hadn’t been with many men, but she’d sung his praises on multiple occasions both before and after they were married. His sexual confidence could still throw her off, at least temporarily.
Caroline shook her head back and forth. “Gabe is enormously skilled in bed,” she said. “Fantastic. Absolutely no complaints. He knows exactly how to treat me.”
Goddammit, she was pushing his buttons on purpose. It made him sick to think about that asshole touching her. That privilege was for her husband alone. Jack held her firmly against the wall, his mouth against her ear, tracing his fingers across her lips. “I always gave you what you wanted. What you needed. You don’t need him.”
“I sure as hell don’t need you.”
She kept her hands plastered to her sides. Remarkable restraint. His techniques weren’t working. Every tactic he tried pushed her further away. He could feel it, the emotional and sexual tension between them…still they seemed miles apart. Jack pulled back and slammed his palms against the wall above her head, his aggravation bubbling over.
“Goddammit, Caroline,” he thundered. “Enough of this bullshit. Fight for me! Fight for us!”
She shoved him. “I don’t want to!”
“Why not?” he asked. “What did I do? What the fuck did I do to deserve to be treated this way?”
Caroline grabbed his shirt, trying to push him away before stomping on his foot. At least she wasn’t wearing stilettos. He yelped in pain and backed away from her. “What the hell was that for?”
“Stop playing your fucking mind games, McIntyre. I don’t want you. Not anymore.” She pointed an angry finger in his face. “Try that shit again and I’ll cut your dick off. Understand?”
His foot hurt like a motherfucker but he’d accomplished his goal. “Your body tells me more than your words ever will. You still want me.”
Caroline frowned. “You are such an arrogant jackass. Leave me alone. I’m with Gabe now. You’re nothing to me. You hear me? Nothing. You know what I got from you during our relationship? Sex and jewelry. That was it. And I don’t need you for either one of those anymore.”
Jesus. Every time. Every fucking time he made a move she’d jab right back. Fuck the cards. Right now the hand he’d been dealt was for shit. He had to fold and walk away, which was exactly what he did before she had a chance to cut him again.
Chapter Ten
He thinks he has me beat. And he doesn’t. I’m not going to let him win.
Her husband had been an asshole. Pulling that kind of shit, trying to manipulate her. Trying to rip her damn clothes off, more likely. She’d had to strike back. She couldn’t let him in. To bring him into her heart or into her bed would be mutually assured destruction. Jack was easy to swindle, easy to wound. His ego could so rapidly deflate at the mere mention of sex. Especially if he thought Caroline was having it with someone other than him.
If only she could forget about him and his goddamn hands. On the way to the cafeteria to work with Boone, on the way to the commissary to pick up supplies, on the way to her apartment before dinner…she spent most of the day peeking over her shoulder, convinced he was one step behind her. And not entirely sure she’d stop him if he tried anything. When she finally got a chance to catch up with the guys during their meal, she could no longer conceal her anger.
“I’m not being treated fairly,” she announced.
Gabe gave her a weary glance. Yeah, he’d gotten an infantry assignment. The one she wanted. And he looked tired all the time so they must have been working him hard. They hadn’t chatted as much lately; the five of them would get together for meals but Caroline finished quickly so she could get back to work. Her skills in the kitchen remained pretty damn shitty and she had to put in twice the effort to get anything done.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“He thinks this is Private Benjamin. This is a big joke to him.”
“You mean the commander,” Gig said.
Of course she meant Jack. She tried to keep her complaining to a minimum but her friends knew her favorite target. “Yes. He’s manipulating the hell out of this situation. Starting with that kitchen assignment. That shit was personal.”
“In what way?” Gig asked.
Caroline flailed around for an explanation that didn't sound totally lame and found it impossible. “Because,” she said. “He's the only person on this base who knows I can't cook.”
Jones laughed. “Believe me, Princess. We all know you can't cook.”
“You need to stop overanalyzing everything,” Gig said.
He was one to talk. He’d gotten a similarly sweet assignment working on covert operations and military intelligence. “What do you mean?” Caroline asked.
Jones and Crunch both busied themselves with their food, which left her only one other option.
“Gabe?”
He turned away from her and didn’t say anything, and Gig pulled her to the side of the table.
“You’re bringing this on yourself,” he said.
“Huh?”
“You asked to be treated like any other candidate, any other soldier. You’re getting what you wanted and you can’t handle it.”
“He’s not treating me that way. He’s constantly reminding me of our past.”
“You can’t expect him to forget,” Gig said. “Especially when you’re just as likely to fall out of your proper role when you’re speaking with him.”
Jesus Christ. Having a penis sometimes gave men the inclination to say really stupid shit. “Excuse me? My proper role?”
Gig sighed. “You know what I mean. You two have a history. And you’ve made it clear that you don’t want it to be a factor, in anything. So keep it that way.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t wearing a metaphorical apron all the damn time. “What recourse do I have when he gets out of line?”
He sighed again. “You don’t have a choice, Gerard. He’s in charge. Either suck it up and learn how to deal with him, as his wife, ex, whatever, or accept that there are boundary lines that will always be in flux.”
Caroline gritted her teeth, thinking of the night before. Jack had come dangerously close to crossing one of those lines. She didn’t want to admit that she kind of enjoyed it. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to. You have to learn to deal with it better.” Gig patted her hand. “You’re almost through basic training. Then you’ll be able to turn your attention to something else. Focus on the things you can control.”
“Yeah,” Jones said. “Like this pie. You make this pie, Princess?”
Caroline stared at the little bit of baked magnificence on her own tray. “Spent all morning on the meringue.”
He took a bite. “Tell me again how you managed to swing the officer candidate track and you’re whipping egg whites all day.”
Crunch elbowed him in the ribs. “She does have a law degree, jackass.”
“And you’ve done a great job of convincing everyone that I’m a good leader or something,” Caroline said. “Although I’m not sure how that translates to dessert preparation.”
Jones laughed. “I was faking.” He started to stand up. “Lemme set those dudes straight.”
Crunch pushed him back into his seat. “Don’t be that guy, Jonesie.”
Caroline shoved a giant gob of mashed potatoes in her mouth and smiled. “Yeah, Jonesie, don’t be that guy,” she said, after she was done chewing.
“Man.” Jones shook his head. “I’m gonna be a fucking private and Princess here is gonna be baking goddamn cookies and leading us all.”
Caroline stuck her tongue out at him. “Gabe got to be an officer candidate too. Don’t forget that.” She turned to Gig, realizing he’d gotten lost in the shuffle. He, Jones, and Crunch were in the enlisted ranks. “You cool with that?”
Gig nodded. “Easier that way. I was on that career track in Chicago and couldn’t stand all the bullshit that went with it. I’d be happy with sergeant.”
Jones picked up his own fork of potatoes. “Did you help make these?”
Caroline grinned raffishly at him. “Don’t look so panicky. I didn’t do anything to them.”
“You sure?”
Gabe smiled at her. “They taste pretty good to me.”
She laughed. “All I did was the prep. Despite all this extra time in the cafeteria I still can’t do much in the kitchen.”
Jones and Crunch chuckled but Gig dug into his potatoes in what she assumed was a show of solidarity.
“We remember,” Gabe said.
Caroline thought of Boone, who was likely waiting for her to get back and help with planning the next day’s meals. “The guys who make the food are pretty cool,” she said. “Have you met them?”
Phoenix (The Bellator Saga Book 4) Page 10