Savor the Danger (15 page)

A projectile zipped through the air and struck the house with enough force to splinter a piece of brick. Confused,
Alani turned to look, but Jackson knew that sound and reacted without thought.

He shoved Marc away from him and in the same movement drove Alani down. They hit the ground together with bone-jarring force. Keeping her head covered, Jackson rolled and came up with her on the porch, near the picnic table. He upended it so that it shielded her.

“What in the—”

“Bullet.” Gun in hand, on high alert, Jackson waited, but all he could hear was Tobin's loud, thundering escape.
Shit, shit, shit.
“C'mon.”

Keeping her shielded with his body, he half crouched, half ran with Alani into the dubious safety of her house. He tucked her into a corner away from the windows and hit the light switch, sending the kitchen into darkness again.

“Jackson?”

“I'm right here, babe.” Rarely did he have to engage in polite conversation in these situations. “Stay down, okay? Someone's shooting at us.”

“I didn't hear anything!”

Her panicked tone pulled his gaze like a lodestone. “It's okay. But you
will
stay put, understand?”

Nodding, she brought her legs up to her chest. “Are you positive it was a shot?”

“Shush.” Finger on the trigger of the Beretta, Jackson sat near the patio doors, his back to the wall, and waited. He kept his gaze on the door opening, his ears prickling.

Nothing.

And then, too close for comfort, he heard another shot, this one lacking the benefit of a silencer. The resonating “pop pop” of gunfire echoed over the quiet night, followed by a curse before everything went silent again.

Dropping back against the wall, Jackson worked his jaw. Maybe Tobin hadn't gotten away after all, but what did he have to do with anything?

“It went wide,” Jackson said aloud, as much to himself as to Alani. Tobin had been fearful. Of what? Who? “Either the shooter sucks, or someone interfered with his aim.”

“Interfered?” she whispered. “I don't understand.”

No, he didn't, either. Yet. Jackson chewed on his thoughts. Why use a silencer one second, then not the next? “Two guns,” he concluded. “Two people?”

“You're not making any sense.”

“I know.” He got to his feet but stayed hunkered down. “Woman, don't you dare move, do you understand me?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, her pale face reflecting the moonlight through the window over the sink, Alani nodded. “I get it. You don't have to beat it into the ground.”

Prickly to the bitter end. Unable to appreciate her moxie at that particular moment, Jackson said only, “Good. 'Bout damn time.”

He lunged to the other side of the patio doors and shoved them shut, then secured them. Finding the draw-string for the vertical blinds, he closed them. If no one could see them, then they wouldn't be such easy targets. He darted over to Alani. “Come on.”

She took his hand and, following his lead, hurried around the doorway of the kitchen and into the hallway.

Once there, away from windows, he led her down the hall toward the bedrooms, but again held back. “Stay right here while I check things.”

“Okay.” Her hand squeezed his. “Be careful.”

“Yeah.” She released him, and he went into each room
but found nothing. After snagging his jeans and stepping into them, he grabbed up his socks and boots and came back to her with a blanket. “Get comfortable.”

“Here in the hall?”

“Shit just got real, babe, so yeah, for now you wait in the hallway.” When her shoulders slumped, Jackson put one hand to her nape and tugged her into his side. She shivered, as much from nerves as anything, he knew. Holding her close, lending her his heat, he helped her wrap in the blanket. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Adrenaline pumping, he kissed her mouth, quick but thorough. “Trust me, okay?” He dug out his cell and hit a button.

Trace answered on the first ring.

“We're fine,” Jackson told him without preamble, “but someone—two people, actually—shot at the house. One silencer, one not. Tobin was here, somehow involved—”

He heard Alani gasp.

“—skittish as hell, and when the shots came, he high-tailed it out of here. We're safe for right now, but I wanted you to know.”

“Stay put,” Trace said. “I'll be right there.”

“Not necessary.” Jackson rubbed Alani's shoulder. “I'm taking her out of here.”

“Do not move with my sister, Jackson.”

Impatience gnawed on him. “Waiting for you will just hold us up.” And he wanted Alani tucked away somewhere safe. “I know how to evacuate. I know how to watch for—”

“Yeah, you do. And if it was anyone but Alani, I'd be fine leaving it up to you. But she's my sister, and I'm already on my way.”

Jackson drew a breath, glanced at Alani's upturned face and wide-eyed uncertainty, and nodded. She didn't need to witness a pissing contest between him and her pushy brother. “Yeah, all right. But make it fast.”

He disconnected the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Wrapping both arms around her, he hugged her into his chest. With his chin on top of her head, feeling very much the macho protector, he asked, “You all right, honey?”

Seconds ticked by—and she pushed him away. “Don't you
ever
speak to me like that again.”

Confused, Jackson glared at her. “What the hell?” If this was her idea of hysterics, it made no sense. “All I did was ask if you're okay. You're shaking all over and your face is whiter than my ass, and you—”

She threw up her hands. “You shouted at me in front of Marc. You
ordered
me into the house. You—”

“We could both see through your nightgown.”

“You were nasty and—what?”

“Could see you.” Jackson leaned closer, his lip curled as he fingered the fine material of the nightie. “Everything,” he stressed. “This damned fetish-inspired, virginal sacrifice gown didn't hide a single detail.”

“Virginal sacrifice?
Fetish
inspired?”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged. “I know that's where my mind went.”

Her mouth opened twice, but she said nothing. She looked down at herself. “It's opaque.”

“Yeah, well, not so much when you've got the light behind you.” He brought up her chin. “I had my hands full dealing with your boyfriend. I didn't need you flaunting yourself on top of everything else.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” she snapped. “And
you
were naked! Right out there in the yard!”

Jackson shrugged again. “I don't give a shit who sees me.”

“That was obvious!”

“But I don't want anyone ogling you.”

Irritation brought color back into her cheeks, and she thrust up her chin. “I don't care.”

“About?” It sort of tickled him that she'd forgotten her fear in favor of bitching at him. He'd take her angry over terrified anytime.

“Whatever the circumstances, I don't want you to use that tone with me.”

“I'd already figured someone else was lurking out there besides Tobin.” He put his hands on her and, mindful of the remaining threat, savored the narrowness of her waist contrasted to the gentle flare of her hips. So sexy. “My
tone
was meant to get you to safety.”

She flipped back the silky fall of her hair. “It failed, now didn't it?”

“Yeah.” He drew her hips closer to his. “So next time someone has cut your electricity and someone else is shooting at us, I'll try to politely ask you to keep your sweet little ass inside—as I nicely instructed before I left the room—so that my attention won't be splintered.”

Her whole face tightened…and then suddenly she grinned.

More hysterics? Wary now, he said, “Alani?”

She fell into him, her face against his chest. “You were
naked,
Jackson.”

She did seem hung up on that. “Clothes weren't a priority at that moment.” Protecting her would always be his top consideration.

“What if you'd had to fight Marc?” Her voice sounded high and quick. “With your…your…”

“Family jewels?”

She gasped. “…exposed, and your…” She gestured at his lap.

“Dick?”

Her mirth expanded until she choked on her humor. “Yes, that. It was just sort of…out there.” She snickered. “Vulnerable.”

“Yeah.” He pressed
it
against her warm, soft body. “Not my preferred way to fight, but I wouldn't let it slow me down.”

“Thank God I don't have neighbors living close.” Her shoulders shook as she fought off more nervous giggles.

He didn't mind. Because her hair fascinated him even at the worst of times, he smoothed it back, tangled his fingers in it and smiled. “That damned Tobin almost pissed himself when I busted him. You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you?”

That snuffed her humor real quick. Suspicious, she asked, “What did you do to him?”

“Not enough. And now he's gone, even though he's somehow got a role in this whole shit storm tonight.”

“Your language is deteriorating.” She put her arms around him and rested her face on his bare chest. “In the future, I will try to concede to your expertise and do as you ask—but only if you ask. No more orders.”

“I'll do my best on that.” He couldn't make any promises. “Don't crucify me if I slip up now and then in the heat of the moment, okay?”

She nodded. “Actually, if I hadn't heard Marc, I would have stayed tucked away. I'm not stupid. But I peeked out and you two were chatting so…amicably, I thought it was all a big misunderstanding or something.”

“Nothing amicable about it.” Apparently she hadn't seen him punch Tobin. “The bastard said he had some
half-ass plan to scare you back to him, but I'm not buying it.” Jackson related the conversation to her, then said, “You actually told him what happened to you?”

“No. Not all of it. Just that I'd been briefly kidnapped. He thinks it was for my brother's money, not so I could be—”

Jackson didn't need her to say that she would have been sold for sex. “He knows about Trace?”

“Marc never met him, but since Trace backed me when I started up my design business, most everyone knows I have a wealthy brother. Trace drops in at my office sometimes, and we're out to lunch together a lot.” Her fingers moved up and over his pec muscles. “Of course, he doesn't know what Trace does for a living, or anything like that. When he kept pressing for us to get…closer—”

“When he wanted in your pants.”

“—I felt like I had to tell him something, so I said I'd been held for ransom.”

Jackson mulled that over. “And he thinks Trace paid?”

“Yes.” Her eyes closed and she kissed him, just above his right nipple.

The brush of her lips on his skin drove him to distraction.

“None of that, woman. I'm working.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” She smoothed his chest. “You're just so…edible.”

God. He cupped her nape and turned up her face. “Trace is on his way. We have to move out of here tonight, soon as he gets here.”

“I thought you insisted on being with me because we weren't supposed to bother my brother.”

“Unnecessarily.” Her safety was very necessary.
“You'll be able to grab a few things, but not a lot, so start thinking about what you'll need.”

She nodded, licked her bottom lip, then bit it. “Where will I go?”

Jackson had an easy answer for that, and despite the circumstances, it filled him with satisfaction. He kissed her, quick and to the point. “You go with me.”

If not always, at least for now.

I
T HAD TAKEN
no more than a perfectly aimed kick to throw off the shooter's aim, sending the shot wide of the mark. Firing a bullet near his head had kept him from attempting retaliation.

That shot had missed on purpose; who wanted to deal with splattered brains and lengthy justifications? It'd be tough to stay anonymous if there were dead bodies to explain.

The shooter was gone. But for how long?

The scant light of stars and moon weren't sufficient for using the binoculars. Jackson had wisely killed the lights in the house and yard, and the neighbors were far enough away that their lights didn't reach. The only activity visible was the arrival of headlights from a car.

So Jackson had backup. Figured. There was no reason to stay out in the humid, bug-happy night.

Before packing it in, the spot was cleared so that few would know what had transpired. Only someone highly trained would detect any evidence of surveillance—and Jackson more than qualified as highly trained.

Would he put the puzzle pieces together? Not yet. Not completely.

But he would know he had a shooter on his tail.

Time to go. For now. When the time was right…then they would start this all over again.

 

T
RACE ARRIVED WITHOUT
D
ARE
, which was one small blessing. When the three of them got together, their machismo was enough to choke a body.

Dealing with Jackson on his own was enough to tax her wits. She didn't need the testosterone in triplicate.

Trace came because he loved her, she knew that. Yet when he arrived, he was all business and barely spared her a glance once he saw her unharmed.

Unlike Jackson, who kept a gun in a holster at the small of his back, Trace wore a shoulder harness over his T-shirt. It bisected his body and emphasized pronounced muscles. Around his waist he wore a heavy utility belt laden with…stuff—nylon cuffs, a deadly knife, a stun baton, extra ammunition…

She'd never before seen him like this. It unnerved her a little. Jackson took it in stride, as if he'd seen Trace so heavily armed plenty of times.

“We'll get Tobin,” Trace said to Jackson. “I already have someone on it.”

“Not Dare?”

Trace shook his head. “He was driving straight home to Molly after leaving your apartment.”

Fascinated, Alani said, “So you guys have other people working with you?”

Both men stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. Trace had an arrested look on his face. Alani thought he might have been weighing the odds of telling her the truth versus covering up with a fabrication.

But Jackson took her question in stride. “The less you know, the better.”

“Another of those situations, huh?”

“'Fraid so.” Jackson rolled a shoulder. “Just know that your brother has contacts everywhere. When necessary, he can call in a favor or two.”

Assuming the favor wasn't illegal? Or did a request from Trace supersede even that consideration? Alani knew he had cultivated associations in all facets of law enforcement and many within the political arena.

In so many ways, her brother was a most astounding man.

“But you didn't just hear that,” Trace said. He scowled at Jackson for the disclosure, then entered the kitchen. With the house still unlit, he went to the kitchen window. Booted feet planted apart, he leaned to look out at the yard. “Could you place the shooter?”

“Yeah.” Jackson kept her behind him. “Voices carry across these big yards, so taking that into account, I'd say about a hundred yards.” He nodded at her farthest neighbor to the back. “Somewhere behind that house.”

“It's for sale,” Alani told them. “It's been empty for a few months now.”

“Perfect place for a shooter to dig in.” Trace headed for the door. “Get her packed. I'll be right back.” He went out the door in a low sprint.

Over Jackson's shoulder, she watched Trace blend into the thickest shadows. “He'll be safe out there alone?”

Jackson grunted. “Worry for anyone he runs into, not for Trace.”

Her hand fisted in the waistband of his jeans. “The shooters?”

“Shh. Relax. They're long gone.”

Tiredly, she leaned against Jackson. Her life had been so much simpler before the cloak-and-dagger drama. “So what's the point then?”

“He's gonna check out the area around that house, see if he can pick up any clues, that's all. It's what I would have done if…” His voice trailed off, and he fell silent.

Guilt weighed on her. Her uncomplicated, mundane
life was so at odds with what Jackson did for a living. “That's what you'd have done if you hadn't been babysitting me, right?”

Keeping watch out the window, Jackson reached back for a hug. “If there wasn't an innocent to be protected.”

“You wish you were out there now, don't you?”

Her morose tone brought him away from the window. His expression probing, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. “I'm exactly where I want to be.”

“Stranded on the sidelines with me?” Trying to be realistic, Alani accepted that the contrasts of their lives could be a deterrent to a lasting relationship. “I'm sure you love that.”

His big hand cupped around her head. “Your safety is of particular interest to me, babe, no two ways about it. So, yeah, I love being here with you.”

That “L” word left her thunderstruck and tongue-tied.

“But truth is,” he continued, “I wouldn't have left anyone behind unprotected.”

So…was she special to him or not? She couldn't tell by what he'd said.

To lighten the mood, she asked, “Not even Marc?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. That fuck-up can fend for himself.”

Since he'd tossed Marc away the second the firing started, she'd figured as much. Still taken aback over the idea that she might truly be special to him, Alani said, “Trace wanted me to get packed.”

“Yeah. We'll get to that in a sec.” There in the shadowy kitchen, appearing far too introspective, Jackson bent to kiss her, lingering, sweet, attentive and so gentle. “You're holding up okay?”

“I'm fine.”

His half smile did funny things to her stomach. “You bet you are.” His gaze slid down her body. “Better than fine.”

All things considered, she did feel all right. A little shaken, exhausted, but not really scared. “I can't believe Marc is a part of this.”

“He's a part of something.” Jackson turned back to the window. “But I don't know what.” He straightened. “Here comes Trace.”

Alani looked over his shoulder and saw nothing, yet seconds later, Trace came through the door.

Amazing. Putting aside the danger, she rather enjoyed seeing the men at work.

Grim-faced and larger than life, Trace glanced at her. “You packed yet?”

She didn't bother saying that Jackson had held her back. “I'll only need a minute.”

“Get dressed, too, okay?”

Both of them watched her again, their expressions almost identical. “Meaning the menfolk need to talk?” She rolled her eyes. “You could just say that.”

“Yeah,” Jackson told Trace. “She's being really reasonable about classified stuff.”

But Trace's determination didn't change. “Feel free to turn the light on in your room now. I'll help you carry out your stuff in a minute.”

“And with that dismissal…” Alani headed out of the kitchen, but before she'd gotten too far down the hall, she heard Trace and Jackson speaking quietly, so, without remorse, she paused to listen in.

After all, this concerned her very much, and no matter how helpless they thought her to be, she wanted—needed—to be informed.

“There were two shooters,” Trace confirmed. “One at the front, left side of the house, and one at the back near the patio. I'd say there was a scuffle out back, too, but someone tried to cover it up.”

“Huh. So one shooter went after the other? That explains why one had a silencer, and one didn't.”

“Yeah. And it's anyone's guess why they were both scoping out Alani's house.”

“Competition maybe. Is there a bounty on my head that I don't know about?”

“Who the hell knows? Low-life creeps seem to gravitate to one another. All I care about is disabling them, fatally if necessary.”

“That plan works for me.”

Alani stood there frozen, her mind cramping, her heart picking up speed. Hearing them talk about “fatally disabling” people made it so damn real. Not that she'd waste a moment feeling bad for anyone involved in human trafficking. She knew firsthand just how traumatic the enterprise could be.

When the men fell silent, she hurried into her room and started throwing together her most necessary items. She didn't want to take too much because she didn't want Jackson to think she was moving in on him.

The temporary relocation was only a necessary part of keeping both her and Jackson safe. Nothing more.

Even after the men joined her in the bedroom, she continued to think about what she'd overheard. Their assumptions nagged at her until finally she couldn't stand it anymore.

With her suitcase packed, she found a change of clothes but paused before going into her bathroom.

Trace fixated on the box of condoms on her nightstand.

Defiantly, Jackson gathered up the box and dropped it into her suitcase.

Both men looked at her, Jackson with tempered heat, Trace with irascible discomfort.

Awwwwk-ward.
Determined to get their thoughts on something less personal, Alani announced, “I listened in.”

Trace's brows climbed up.

Jackson asked, “To what?”

“You two talking. About the shooters, I mean.”

The men shared a look. At least they seemed to have forgotten about the condoms.

“Two shooters, right? And you assume they were both out to get Jackson. Or me. Whatever.” She flapped a hand. “But I was thinking… What if one of them was trying to help?”

“Then why be lurking around in the dark in the first place?” Jackson asked.

Trace agreed.

But Alani wasn't put off. She hugged her clothes to her chest, looked at each of them in turn, and stated the obvious. “You guys sometimes lurk in the dark, but you wouldn't be out to hurt an innocent person. Think about that, okay?” And on that parting shot, with both of their faces registering surprise, she went into the bathroom to change.

 

S
LUMPED IN THE PASSENGER
seat beside Jackson, Alani slept on the drive to his home. That suited him, because it gave him time to think.

To come to grips with what she'd done to him.

He used to be an easygoing guy. He knew what he wanted, he went after it, he had a lot of fun.

He had a lot of sex.

He had plenty of women.

Now…he glanced her way. As always, her pale hair, falling forward to hide half her face, made him think sexual thoughts. Like how it felt in his hands, against his shoulder.

How it'd feel on his abdomen, his thighs.

She'd dressed in slim jeans and a loose casual tee. Before falling asleep, she'd kicked off her sandals.

Her hand, palm up, rested beside her sweet little tush on the seat.

She looked open, trusting. Delectable.

Even sleeping, her breathing steady and deep, she turned him on like no other woman could. He shifted, his gaze constantly scanning the horizon. They'd finally left the more congested suburban area and were on the rougher back roads leading to his property. There'd been no trouble, no sign of the ritzy silver BMW. No one following at all.

But he wouldn't relax, not until he had her safe in his home.

In many ways, the land he'd bought was similar to Dare's. Wooded, near a lake, private and overrun with nature. He was so secluded, he could drink his coffee outside buck naked, and no one would see him.

Again he glanced at Alani. Maybe he could talk her into that. He'd love to see her bare under the morning sun.

He enjoyed seeing her naked, period.

Actually, more than enjoyed.

He looked at her, and it was beyond lust. Beyond mere attraction. Beyond anything familiar.

Beyond anything comfortable.

In the past twenty-four hours, he'd run the gamut
of emotions, from tormented and furious, to hot and possessive, to demonstrative and…needy. Shit.

Uncertainty burned over him, and he didn't like it. He flexed his hands on the wheel and tried to concentrate on the rising sun. It broke over the land in a great crimson tide, so breathtaking that he wanted Alani to see it, too.

He reached for her hand, twined his fingers in hers. “Hey, babe.”

She shifted, wincing at what appeared to be a kink in her neck.

“C'mon, sleepyhead. Open those mesmerizing eyes for me.”

Blinking, she yawned, stretched her back and turned heavy eyes on him. “Jackson.”

She sounded and looked like a woman fresh from an orgasm. “Yeah, still me.” How he could remain so fired up, he didn't know. He'd always had stamina and a strong sex drive, but this was getting ridiculous.

“Hi, you.”

He smiled, lifted her hand and kissed her palm before returning both hands to the wheel. “You're a heavy sleeper.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “I guess.” She yawned again. “God, I need coffee.”

“We'll be at my place in a few more minutes. But I wanted you to see the sunrise.”

She sat up to look, and the sunlight reflected in her eyes, burnishing the gold, showing off her long lashes, the perfection of her skin.

God, he had it bad when he started waxing on like a drunken poet.

“It's beautiful, Jackson. Thank you for waking me.”

The reverence in her voice matched his mood. “From
my back porch, I see that every morning.” And every time he'd seen it, he'd found himself wondering if Alani would like the view, too. “When it comes up over the lake, it's even more impressive because the colors sort of play over the surface of the water.”