Page 42

Jack

The obscured moonlight over the water carries an eerie quality tonight.

The sand curls between my toes. On the corner of the stone wall bordering my property, a black video camera rotates.

I flick my fingers in the direction, fairly certain someone is sitting in the security room watching.

There’s an earpiece in my ear. I don’t need to hold the phone to my mouth, but as a precaution, I do.

If anyone is nearby attempting to listen in, the device should muffle my words.

The wind whistles, and the palms sway and bend. The sand whipping my ankles burns.

“The boat’s fully loaded in Mexico.” Ryan’s update is expected. But worry gnaws. My fear is this will be an observational operation. We’ll learn from it, but this will not lead us to the source. Some undercover operations can last years.

“Same crew?”

“Mostly.”

“Can you tell what the cargo is?”

“Drugs. Packages in plastic wrap. Could be heroin. Fentanyl. Unless one breaks open, can’t be certain. Some of it’s packed in crates. There are clay statues too. I’d bet drugs are packed inside. Maybe they were originally packed to go through customs, and they got a ride on this alternate ship.”

“DEA is aware?”

“All appropriate parties are in the loop.”

“Is there a plan to bust them?” Coast Guard could approach them as soon as they hit US waters. But I could see how it would be helpful to observe their unloading procedure.

“Powers that be are currently debating the best approach.”

Up at the house, the bedroom lights on the third floor flicker on. It’s late. Sophia and Ava must have finished watching their television show.

“They might keep this operation going for a while,” Ryan says.

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. That’s exactly what I don’t want to hear.

“Jack, you there?”

“I don’t mind if they take their time on the drug piece of this, but I need to get information on my end. I need a list of the involved parties from Sullivan Arms.”

“You know, it’s looking more and more like your family’s company is a small piece in a much bigger chess game.”

Fuck . “Any girls on the boat?”

“No.”

“That’s good.” Human trafficking had been my fear because of how they treated Sophia.

“Just because they aren’t on this boat doesn’t mean it’s not going on.”

“I know. They’ll be cautious with this shipment.” It remains unnerving that Victor trusted I me.

“That’s the reason the feds may let this shipment run its course. Build trust.”

Right. I’ve been a CIA informant for over fifteen years, and sometimes I swear they collect information for the sake of filling a library. Nothing ever seems to happen. But then, sometimes, an order comes through and plenty happens. There’s nothing more I can do.

“How’s Indie?”

Ryan fills me in on his sister. She’s living at the center, and she told him that a shadow had fallen over the entire complex since Reid’s death. But Ryan believes the incident has helped fortify Indie’s determination to remain clean. We disconnect, and I head inside.

I pause at Sophia’s bedroom door on my way upstairs, but her shower is running, so I continue up the stairs.

A dark shadow passes outside. My hand falls to my waist and a phantom holster. It’s been months, and I’m still not used to having a full security detail.

Upstairs, I pass through the suite. There’s a library in the space where I relocated Ava’s office.

She seems to enjoy working from up here, although Sophia has now identified the library as one more room she needs to modernize.

Decorating has never been my thing, but it’s keeping Sophia’s mind occupied, so I’ll let her have at it.

The master suite has his and her bathroom and closet ensembles. The light pours from Ava’s bathroom. I head into my bathroom and prepare for bed.

When I climb into the bed, Ava is lying back on a pillow.

The bruises on her face are changing color, a deep purple immediately below one eye and a musty yellow on the perimeter.

She’s wearing an old threadbare gray t-shirt, even though there’s a drawer full of silky chemises and nightgowns in her closet.

“Done with work?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“You work a lot.” She rolls onto her side. Her palms are together, as if she’s praying, resting on the pillow. Her bracelets clink from the movement, and a sliver of moonlight reflects off the silver. I reach over and toy with a charm hanging from one of the bracelets.

Her statement hits like an accusation, but cognitively I’m aware it’s only because it’s the old, rehashed argument between Cassandra and me. An argument that went on and on for years until she no longer cared enough to fight.

“Ryan and I were talking.”

“He’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Of course, I’m probably one of his biggest clients and a silent investor in his firm, but he’s one of the few in my life who I trust would be there for me even without the financial benefits.

“Do you go out there to talk to him so no one can hear?” My gaze flits from the ceiling to her and back to the ceiling. Cassandra would have assumed I was talking to a woman and using Ryan as cover. But Ava has a different perspective. “Who are you scared of?”

Now I roll onto my side and mirror her position with my hands. There’s a pillow between us.

“Why am I here, Jack? Are you really so scared that you think the ground floor of your home, with a state-of-the-art security system and men patrolling the grounds, isn’t safe?”

Why the hell do I have her here? It’s a fair question, one I’ve avoided considering.

“I would have assumed it’s for sex, but you haven’t touched me in days.”

“You’re hurt. You were in an accident.” Does she think I’m a monster?

“I know.” Her lips curve up on the ends.

She’s not wearing any makeup at all, and as always, I’m struck by her raw beauty.

Those enormous eyes are like a portal into a caring soul.

She’s seen the worst in humanity and she’s dedicating her life to helping others climb out of hell.

“And you’ve taken phenomenal care of me.

” She reaches across the bed, like she wants to touch me, but the distance between us is too great. “But I’m all right.”

“You got lucky.” Ryan’s team sent me photos of her car. She’s so damn lucky she walked away from that wreck. My throat tightens, and I force myself to swallow.

“But why am I here? In your bed?”

God, she probably thinks I’m some twisted, sick perv. And I suppose, maybe I am.

“Jack, just say it. Whatever you’re thinking. Whatever you want. I’m only here for another week.”

Christ. I close my eyes and exhale loudly. “I already told you. When you were in that wreck, I relived Cassie’s death.”

“And me… sleeping here… makes you feel like I’m safe.”

It’s not a question. She says it like she’s completing my thought. I slowly nod and open my eyes, expecting to see judgment, like she thinks I’m being ridiculous. But there’s none. Only warmth. Maybe fondness.

“Was Cassandra murdered?”

“Not officially.”

“What does that mean?”

“The person who hit her car died. But his wife no longer lives in the US. And his medical records show he had terminal cancer.”

“You’ve been following up on them?”

“After Sophia was abducted, I asked Ryan to look into the case again. She lives in Barbados with more money than a police officer would have earned from his life insurance.”

“Ryan is working on tracing those funds?”

“He’ll figure it out. It’s a slow process.”

She squirms, sliding closer on the silk sheets. This time, she reaches me, and she lightly caresses my cheek and along the ridge of my jaw. “My accident wasn’t because of those people.”

“I know. I watched the video from the intersection. Your accident was your fault.”

Her nose scrunches. “You watched?” She shakes her head, and I can practically hear her telling herself I overreached. “But you still don’t feel that it’s not related.” She taps my head. “Up here, you know it’s not.” She presses my sternum. “But here, that’s not what you feel?”

“If I could, I would take you… and Sophia… and ship you off where no one could find you. Not until this is all over.”

“Will it ever be over? Will you ever feel safe?”

I can’t bear to look into her questioning eyes, so I close my eyelids.

I swallow. “It’s not about my safety.” It’s the people I care about.

Hell, they could kill me tomorrow, and I wouldn’t give a damn.

Except Sophia needs me. She has one parent.

And Ava… I can’t explain why I feel so protective of her.

Or drawn to her. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I wanted her.

By anyone’s standards, my plan for claiming her was unconventional.

But I thought one month would be sufficient. More than sufficient.

“You can’t be responsible for the whole world, Jack.”

Oh, but I am. She can’t understand. I can’t tell her everything. The same way I couldn’t tell Cassie.

Her palm flattens against my cheek, and she inches forward.

My heartrate increases, beat by beat, as the frisson of energy courses between us.

Her full, soft lips press against mine, and her nose brushes my nose, playfully.

I reach beneath the covers for her hip and find smooth, bare skin and the coarse strip of what I assume is a thong.

She’s sore and bruised. This won’t go anywhere but touching her feels right.

“Tell me about Reid.” I had Ryan pull information on him.

His rap sheet includes charges for possession of narcotics and dealing narcotics.

He should’ve been in prison, but his family obtained an excellent lawyer.

They also paid for multiple rehabilitation programs. What I don’t understand is Ava’s connection to him.

“Is he the one who got you hooked on drugs?”

“No.” She rests her head on the pillow beside mine. Her hands resume the praying pose, but I don’t remove my hand from her. I crave her warmth. “We had friends in common. The wrong kinds of friends.”