She Does Know Jack

by Michaels, Donna

  Reluctance entered Jack’s eyes. “Fine, just Phil, but I’m not responsible for his safety. The rest of you stay here and do as my men say.”

  Arms folded across his chest, jaw set, feet shoulder-width apart, his stance meant business. Sex on a stick. Brielle’s pulse jumped despite the dour circumstances. He was so damn hot taking charge with his firm voice and flashing eyes. Jeez. She really was so easy when it came to him.

  Needing to derail that train of thought, Brielle turned and strode into the kitchen without waiting for Jack. She wanted a moment to de-Dodger her senses. If that were possible. Nodding to the men already investigating, she refocused and started searching for her purse.

  “Please be in here.”

  “Do you always wish out loud in an investigation?” Jack asked from behind.

  She stiffened. Shoot. That was quick. She was still hot-n-bothered…and gunless. He needed to know. Not the hot-n-bothered part. But the gunless…yeah. Please don’t kill me, she silently prayed, then slowly turned around. As much as she wanted to live, she had to tell him.

  “Only when my gun turns up missing.”

  He went still. Very still. And developed a small tic in his right eye. Oh boy. Not good.

  “Your gun is missing?”

  Deathly quiet, his tone sent shivers down her arms. Visible shivers. Dammit. She swallowed.

  “Yes.”

  The build up from holding back a response must’ve been too much because suddenly, his fist smacked the counter and rumbled through the trays of uneaten food. “How the hell could you let that happen?”

  Okay, that wasn’t so bad. All movement in the room ceased as his men glanced in their direction.

  “I didn’t let that happen,” she argued, drawing herself up to her full height, and the four-inch heels helped. They were nearly eye-level now. “I was forced to carry my Glock in—”

  “Glock?” he interrupted, then closed his eyes and cursed when she nodded. “Why the hell couldn’t you just be a damn contestant?”

  Her lips twitched. “Me? A little Miss Dance Instructor from Sacramento?”

  He opened his eyes and nodded.

  She laughed. “Sorry, Jack. I’m a gun-toting, security specialist with black belts in Tae Kwon Do and Kung Fu, and a degree in Criminal Justice.”

  Jack’s brows rose higher with each attribute, and so did her temper when he spoke.

  “Then tell me how someone as smart as you could lose their gun?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it and counted to ten. Twice. Now wasn’t the time to speak her mind. They needed to find Mandy. “As I was explaining before you interrupted, I normally strap my gun here.” She hiked up her skirt and pointed to her thigh.

  An appreciative gleam entered Jack’s gaze before his mask of cool indifference fell into place along with her dress. He glanced at the men still interested in their exchange. Or rather, her legs.

  “Get back to work,” he snapped. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s leg before?” He turned back to her and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, Brielle, we’re wasting time. Where are you going with this?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that whoever took my gun…knew about it.” She watched the vein in his neck pulse when he clamped his jaw tight. “I never carry my weapon in a purse, but was forced to tonight because my garter holster mysteriously vanished the other day—hence the running of fingerprints from my dresser.”

  “So, you’re saying someone who knows you use a thigh holster deliberately took it to get you to put your gun in a purse tonight?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” She stepped closer. “I came in here hoping my purse had gotten cleared from the table with the plates, but as you can see, it hasn’t.” She waved to their cold dinner littering the counter. “I just find it odd that mine’s the only purse missing. Mandy’s and your mother’s are still out there on the table.”

  Jack let out a breath and squeezed the back of his neck before he pulled out his phone and spoke into the radio feature. “Be advised, perpetrator may be armed. Repeat, perpetrator may be armed.”

  “Copy that,” crackled through several times.

  Jack slipped the phone into his pocket and stared at her. “Maybe you’d better stay with Matthew and my parents.”

  She blinked, surprised by the concern in his voice and eyes. “No. I’ve got to find Mandy and my gun.”

  He blew out another breath. “All right. Fine. Let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

  “I know.” Keeping her anxiety for the blonde in check, Brielle followed him from the kitchen. She knew the rules. Knew how to work a case. Worry for the victim held no place in this type of investigation. She needed a level head.

  “Rodriguez, what’s the status? Any luck with the cameras?” Jack asked when they approached the man in the foyer.

  “Negative on the cameras, sir. They’re all down.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing but snow on them. Hawkins is inspecting the equipment for the problem.”

  “Fine. What else?”

  “Nothing so far, sir,” Rodriguez replied. “We’ve got this floor covered and part of the west wing upstairs.”

  Jack nodded. “We’ll go up and start in the east wing. Keep me posted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jack took the stairs two at a time. An act much tougher for Brielle in her heels, but she managed to keep up. When they rounded the corner upstairs, they stopped in front of the first door in their hall and took up position.

  “I’ll go high and hit the lights, you go low,” Jack said.

  Brielle nodded, and together they burst into the room to find nothing. This went on for several minutes. She let out a frustrated groan. They’d swept through five rooms already with no sign of the blonde.

  “Where can Mandy be?”

  Jack shook his head. “No idea. But she’s still in this house.”

  “How do you know?” She moved toward him from the corner of the recreation room they were searching.

  “Because, the alarm is still on and only Rodriquez and I have the code to disarm it,” he explained. “That call I got earlier was from Rodriguez informing me the place was secured. So, I left the gathering room to reset the code, then came back.”

  “And gave Mandy her second scr…” Brielle paused to clear her throat. “Drink.”

  Jack’s lips twitched. “Yes.”

  “I hope she’s okay, Jack.” Brielle closed her eyes and swallowed. “If anything happens to her with my gun…” Her voice trailed off, too sickened to continue.

  God, she couldn’t think like that or she’d never be able to function.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  A warm finger slid under her chin and tipped her face up. When she opened her eyes, more warmth met her gaze.

  “She’ll be fine.”

  Brielle wanted to believe him, but knew the variables were too many. Anything could happen. “Thank you,” she said, before he nodded and dropped his hand. Her mind refused to slip into that Dodger haze. Not now. She had to think of Mandy. Instead, she ran through the activities of the night as she headed for the door. “I can’t believe I let myself be separated from my gun like some rookie.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jack said, following her to the next room. “Seems to me someone knew exactly how to get your weapon.”

  She stopped and shook her head. “That’s what scares me. Who? I don’t think the other contestants were aware I was packing a gun under my dresses on this show.”

  “Hell, even I didn’t know that.” He turned to her, a shocking amount of heat suddenly blazing through his eyes. “You didn’t have one on the night we…”

  She swallowed. “I left it in my room before I snuck up to dance.”

  “Oh.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Her breath caught. Oh Lordy. She longed to reach out and touch him—to clear the air, to taste him.

  “We need to keep searching.�
� He seemed to have trouble ripping his gaze away. But he did, then strode to the next door.

  Brielle swallowed down desire and disappointment, and discovered when mixed, they tasted bitter. She couldn’t take much more of his swinging moods. They were hell on her already frayed emotions.

  “Ready?” He asked when she took up position next to him. “This is Matthew’s make-shift studio.”

  Nodding, she swept inside when he opened the door and flicked on the lights. Several unfinished paintings on easels met her gaze. As she worked her way around the room, she marveled at Matthew’s talent. Even unfinished, the paintings were incredible, his use of colors stunning and his ability to capture the subject’s essence staggered the mind. Whether landscape, seascape or portrait, he caught the heart and soul.

  “Matthew’s something else,” she said, eyeing a portrait of Mandy. The love on the blonde’s face, and with which the portrait was painted, brought tears to Brielle’s eyes. She blinked them away, then checked behind the long curtains adorning both windows. Nothing. She twisted around to survey the room and gasped at the lone painting in the back row.

  Her hand flew to her heart-filled throat. “That’s…us.”

  “What is it?” Jack rushed to her side. “Oh.”

  Her throat burned with unshed tears. Matthew had captured everything she’d felt for Jack. Everything. Brielle swiped at her wet cheeks and gazed at Jack’s painted face, longing to touch, but didn’t for fear the paint would smear.

  The portrait of Jack holding her in his arms depicted the man and the mood that night perfectly. He gazed down at her, those mesmerizing blue eyes smoldering with all the passion that had flowed between them. She sniffed. That had been before she’d lost Jack’s trust. Before her heart had cracked open.

  “Brielle…”

  The hoarseness in his voice shuddered through her. She didn’t answer, didn’t move—couldn’t—not until she collected herself.

  “Brielle,” he said again, this time stepping in front of her, his finger gently forcing her to look up. “Is what Matthew painted…true?”

  She blinked. “I…what do you mean?”

  “Did you really feel that way about me?” His sapphire eyes searched hers, eager, hopeful and apprehensive at the same time.

  This was it. Finally, her chance to be honest with him. It was a new experience, and one she’d longed for over the past few weeks. “Yes,” she replied with all her heart, touching his hand.

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Taking a risk, she burrowed into him, then let out a small sob of relief when his arms closed around her and crushed her close.

  “I’m such a fool, Brielle,” he said into her neck. “I’m so damn sorry for doubting you—for not trusting you.” He drew back to stare into her eyes. “I’ve been burned before. Trust is a big problem for me. Can you ever forgive me?”

  She cupped his face and peered deep into his eyes. “Of course I forgive you.” Her smile spilled tears down her cheeks. “I know we should get back to work, but I want you to know that I understand about the trust thing. Matthew told me about Caroline.” Her thumb skimmed his lip when he opened his mouth. “I had a similar experience with Grant.

  Jack stiffened, grabbing her hands. “Who’s Grant?”

  “He’s a jerk I foolishly got involved with on a somewhat similar case. Turns out he didn’t care about me, only the combination to the jewel I had access to.”

  “Then he was a jerk.” Jack wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close again. “He should’ve realized you were the treasure.”

  Another wave of tears rolled down her face. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She sniffed and held him tighter. “We’ve both been used, Jack, and that made us foolish. You were right. I should’ve told you my real identity. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right from the start.”

  “No.” He shook his head and drew back again. “You were under orders, something I know all too well. I had no right to expect you to break them for me. None.”

  “I should have.”

  The lights went out, plunging them into darkness and bringing their confessions to a halt.

  “Shit, this isn’t good.”

  Jack’s words echoed her thoughts.

  “Rodriguez? Rodriguez, are you there?” he said into the radio. The blue LED face cast a small glow between them. “Rodriguez? Damn. Why isn’t he answering?”

  “I don’t like it.” Pulse thumping, Brielle turned to where she’d last seen the cameraman. “Phil put your light on. I know you’re operating off of a battery so we should be good.”

  After a click, the room lit up. “I’d forgotten about that, Miss. Good thinking,” he said. “Now what?”

  “Now we go check on my family.” Jack grabbed her hand and they scrambled to the door. “Douse the light,” he called over his shoulder as they entered the hall.

  After her vision adjusted to the dark, she turned and hurried to the stairs with Jack. The moon’s soft glow spilled through the high windows to reveal an empty foyer. She gave him the thumbs up, and they scurried downstairs. When they stepped off the bottom step, a faint rustling sound hit her ears. She stilled.

  Jack leaned in and whispered, “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes, sounds like it’s coming from the gathering room,” she replied in his ear and felt his roughened cheek brush hers in a nod.

  She slipped off her heels, then stealthily crossed the marbled floor, not stopping until they were outside the closed gathering room doors.

  “Briel—” The muffled cry came from inside and stopped Brielle’s heart.

  Mandy.

  God, she wished she had her gun.

  Now that she was shoeless, Jack bent down, pressing his mouth near her ear. “Once inside, you go left, I’ll go right. Here, take my gun.” Cold steel touched her palm, but she shook her head.

  “No,” she whispered back, positively refusing to allow him to go into a dangerous situation without a weapon. She was the idiot who lost hers, not him. “I’ll be all right. You keep it.”

  He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I don’t need it. Honest.”

  “Too bad. You’re taking it,” he said, voice full of the steel determination coiling his hard body. He released the clip to check it, then cursed.

  “What?”

  He tipped the chamber for her view. “It’s empty.”

  Son-of-a… Her heart nearly pounded through her chest. “What is going on, Jack?”

  “I don’t know, but I think we should go back to the dining room. I want you to stay there. I’ll bring Rodriguez back with me.”

  And she finally saw the side to him his mother had warned her about. The one where he didn’t want her in harm’s way. What surprised Brielle the most was her lack of anger. She understood his request. Was warmed by his request. He wasn’t trying to control her; he didn’t want her harmed. She meant too much to him.

  And that’s when she knew.

  She cupped his face and kissed him hard on the lips, then took advantage of his surprise and stepped back before he could pull her close. “You and I can handle this.”

  Jack opened his mouth as if to protest, then clamped his jaw tight in an apparent attempt to come to terms with the fact the woman he cared for could actually handle the situation. His gaze softened, and he reached out to touch her cheek.

  “I’m beginning to see, together, you and I can handle anything.”

  Unrestricted joy burst the last remaining bands from Brielle’s chest. She leaned into the hand on her cheek and nodded, never losing eye contact. “I see that, too.”

  Warmth entered Jack’s gaze, and he stared at her a moment before his expression turned serious. “You ready?” He searched her face for signs of reluctance.

  Brielle knew he wouldn’t find any. She was more than ready to rescue Mandy, take down the culprit who’d made her life hell the past few weeks, and then get on with her life…with Jack
. They still had more air to clear, and she wanted that. No more secrets. No lies. Just good old-fashion honesty. Brielle had already bared her body, now she was willing to bare her heart and soul to the man she’d fallen in love with.

  “You bet I’m ready.”

  His gaze narrowed slightly, no doubt detecting a double meaning in her tone. With a swift move, he brushed her lips with his. “Be careful.” Gaze intense, he lingered a moment before dropping his hand. “And don’t forget about the landing and stairs,” he reminded, holstering his gun.

  “Okay,” she whispered back, adrenaline rushing through her body. “On three.”

  He nodded.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  He opened the door and together they slipped inside the pitch-black room. With the heavy drapes closed, the moon’s light stayed outside, leaving the room in total darkness. She couldn’t even see her own hands.

  Experience and adrenaline kicked in and turned her into a calm, controlled machine, relying on her heightened senses. Tension crackled in the air. Someone was definitely in there with them. Listening for movement, she quickly recalled the furniture layout and made her way off the landing and into the room. About to investigate a noise to her left, a hand clamped around her shoulder.

  Without hesitation, Brielle grasped the wrist—noting the coarse hairs under her fingertips—and flipped the male assailant over her shoulder. His grunt echoed around her when he hit the floor. Hard. A similar struggle sounded to her right.

  Damn. That meant there were two culprits. Maybe more. She twisted her assailant’s arm to keep him on the floor and had her foot on his back as she listened for further movement.

  “Brielle, are you okay?” Jack called out.

  “Yes,” she replied a second before the lights unexpectedly came back on. Blinking at the sudden brightness, she took in the room’s clapping occupants, then glanced down when her assailant spoke.

  “That’s wonderful to hear, hun, but I’m not fine,” he said, trying to turn his head to look up at her. “Do you think you could release me now?”

  Brielle dropped his arm and gasped. “Uncle Franco?”