Page 61 of The Book of Lost Hours

Moira scoffed at him, emboldened by the alcohol. “Like who? You?” she asked sarcastically.

There was a pause. He set one hand on her knee. “Well… you are my girl.”

There was a look in his eyes that burned just like the whiskey. She cleared her throat. Tried to move away.

“I should probably…”

“Not yet,” he said, cutting her off.

“But I…”

“Lisavet…” he murmured.

She froze at the sound of her name and then all of a sudden Jack’s lips were on hers. They were hot and wet and tasted like whiskey and nothing else. She pushed him away in alarm.

“Jack. What are you…”

He shushed her and kissed her again, harder this time to compensate for her struggle to pull away.

“Jack, no. This isn’t…”

“This isn’t what?” Jack asked, his voice purring seductively.

“We can’t do this,” Moira said. “I don’t want…”

He caught her arm, jerking her against him. “It’s okay. You’re not with Ernest anymore. This is allowed.”

“That’s not what I…”

Her words were cut short by the invasive presence of his mouth on hers once more.

One of his hands roamed over her, inching farther and farther up her leg.

She was truly trapped, her body wedged between him and the arm of the sofa.

This wasn’t about her anyway. It was about Jack and his need to feel powerful.

It was about Ernest. Jack’s desire to take something that was considered his.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he moaned as she finally relented and kissed him back.

How long? she wanted to ask. Was it when he’d cornered her into working for him? Or maybe when he’d first met her, scared and shaking, locked away for weeks under his orders? Had it been sometime like that? She heard a clicking sound as he unbuckled his belt.

“Wait,” she said, turning her head away. “Not here.”

“Huh?” Jack said impatiently.

“I think I deserve the bedroom at the very least.”

The bedroom, where it was quiet and dark and where she could pretend this wasn’t happening. That he was somebody else.

Jack chuckled at her and lifted her up off the sofa. A brief second of reprieve before his lips crashed against hers again. He pulled her dress up over her head as he walked her steadily backward and shut the door behind them.

J ACK WAS a heavy sleeper.

As the sun rose through the blinds in the morning, it took several minutes for him to wake up.

Moira stood beside the window, looking down at the streets below.

She had taken a cigarette from his nightstand and flicked the lighter as loudly as she could, hoping it would wake him.

He began to stir slowly just as she took her first breath of smoke.

“You’re up early,” he said with a small groan.

“I don’t sleep much.”

He sat up, taking in the sight of her standing in the window.

She was wearing his shirt from the night before, the cuffs rolled up.

She could tell he liked the sight of her in it.

That it did something for him. She smirked at his predictability and took another drag.

She kept her eyes focused on the window as Jack got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants.

He came up behind her, turning her face with one hand so he could kiss her on the lips.

As if they were really lovers. The subtle taste of whiskey was still there, faded now.

“Last night was something special.”

“Do you use that line on all your secretaries?”

“Now, now. You know you’re not like those other girls.”

Of course she wasn’t, Moira thought bitterly. They had been caught off guard, surprised by the sudden, sinister turn of his demeanor, whereas she had known all along what kind of man he was. And yet the end result was the same. He pushed and they folded, knowing they had no choice in the matter.

“Get dressed. I’ll drop you by the boardinghouse so you can change before work,” he said, already headed for the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

Moira hummed a response, waiting until he was at the door before speaking again. “So. Who else knows about what you did in Okinawa?”

He stopped walking. “What?”

“Okinawa. Those girls. I saw it in your memory while you were sleeping.”

He turned to face her, his movements heavy. “You read my mind?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Jack. You know I can do that.”

Of course he knew. He’d just been arrogant enough to assume she’d never use it on him.

“Moira. I don’t know what you think you saw…”

“Did you know that that kind of behavior is a war crime, Jack?” Moira examined her cigarette lazily as he drew closer to where she stood. “You know. I wonder what your superiors would say if they knew. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t like it. It might even make them reconsider your promotion.”

Jack’s hand closed around her throat so fast she didn’t have time to react. Her skull cracked against the wall, and she dropped the cigarette, her hands flying to his wrist.

“Listen here, you little bitch. I don’t know what you’re trying to do but you can’t prove anything.”

Moira laughed at him as best she could, struggling for air. “Does treating women like this make you feel powerful?”

His grip tightened.

“What are you going to do, Jack? Kill me? Shelley knows I went home with you last night.”

She wasn’t certain this would be enough to prevent him from snapping her neck. But apparently he wasn’t completely above self-preservation because he stopped.

“What do you want?” he snapped. “You want something, don’t you? That’s why you brought this up?”

“Your job.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I want your position. After your promotion is final.”

“You want to be the director of the Temporal Reconnaissance Program?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“Yes. And I want to move the TRP to the New York office.” Away from him. Away from Ernest. Someplace she could actually have a life.

Jack let go in surprise. She slumped against the wall, using the windowsill to drag herself upright.

“You’re a secretary,” he said, sounding disgusted.

“Now, now, Jack. I’m not like those other girls, remember? I know the time space better than anyone. Better than you ever will.”

“Do you know what people will say if I give you that job? What they’ll think?”

“They’ll assume I’m sleeping with you. Which is what they’ve always thought. And now I have. But if I were you, I’d be more worried about what they’ll say if they hear what I know about you.”

“No one will believe you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Should we find out?”

Jack stepped away. He studied her from head to foot, still pulsing with anger.

“This is blackmail.”

“Yes, it is. But I’d say it’s fair, don’t you think? You give me a promotion and in exchange, I’ll make sure you don’t lose yours.”

Another long pause. “You sure you want to do this? That’s Ernest’s position. You’d take it from him?”

“Find him something else.”

“Something else?”

“Something better. In a different department.”

“There are no other positions open.”

“Then make one.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“You’ll be the head of the CIA, Jack. Create a new department for timekeeper relations or something. Call it the Office of Temporal Diplomacy. I don’t care.” She paused before adding, “Relocate him to the Boston office.” Close to Amelia, but far from Jack. Far from her.

Jack shook his head in disbelief, the anger still there but waning.

“Fine. You can have the job. Ernest will go to Boston and head up this new department. But I’m not transferring the TRP to New York.”

She shrugged and turned back toward the window. “Then no deal.”

“Moira…”

“I’m not staying in DC,” she said sharply. Staying here wasn’t an option. There was nothing left for her here. “You wanted eyes and ears in the office, anyway, right?”

“Right, but I didn’t plan on transferring the whole department out there.” Jack reached out and toyed with the hem of the shirt she wore, some of last night’s hunger surfacing. “Besides, now I’m not sure I want you to go at all.”

Moira pulled away. “New York. Or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.”

His expression hardened again. A reckoning with the fact that, in one single night, their entire dynamic had shifted.

No longer would he be able to exercise such control over her life as he had before.

It was too late to fix things with Ernest, but she might still be able to salvage a life for herself with what little remained.

She would go to New York. Ernest would go to Boston.

And Jack would stay in DC. She hoped that, with the three of them apart, no longer looking over one another’s shoulders, Ernest and Amelia would be safe.

“Is that all?” he asked sarcastically.

“One more thing,” Moira said, smiling smugly. “If I’m going to be the director, I’ll need a watch.”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “You can’t honestly think that I would—”

“If I don’t have one, people will ask questions,” she pointed out. “It will make them suspicious. And we don’t want that.”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you will not enter the time space, is that understood?”

She faltered slightly. That would defeat the whole point. “Jack—”

“Those are my terms,” he spat back. “If you take so much as one step into the time space without my approval, I’ll find a reason to have Ernest killed. I’ll have you arrested, and I’ll deploy every last man I’ve got to hunt down that child of yours. Is that understood?”

Moira refused to let him see her shaken. She’d gained too much to let him win now. So she fixed a conniving smile to her face and extended a hand to him. “Then we have a deal?”

He ground his jaw, his large hand encompassing hers in a firm, begrudging handshake. “Well played, Miss Levy.”

He let go of her hand and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Moira took another cigarette from the carton and lit it, savoring the taste of smoke and victory.