The Choice (17 page)

Jillian’s breath caught in her throat. Oh, my God. Cullinane was in danger. She had to...

Had to what? Warn him? Why? What did she actually know that could help him? And why would he believe her?

Footsteps sounded in the hall, just as Hafner told his listener goodbye.

She took a few long strides to cover ground, then slowed her pace to appear casual as she turned the corner. Alice was coming her way and stopped, looking at her curiously. 

Jillian summoned a casual smile. “Just out for a midnight snack.”

Alice put one hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, Jillian? What happened today?”

“Nothing.” She couldn’t involve this woman. Alice had enough on her mind. Then she realized Alice had been crying. “What about you? Are you all right?”

Alice sniffed, pulling at the tissue in her hand. “I wish I had it together like you.”

Together? Jillian stifled the urge to laugh. She squeezed Alice’s shoulder. “I have no idea how you juggle all you do.” Alice needed a friend, and Jillian was the only candidate.

But right now, she was desperate to run away from this place.

“I wish I had the nerve to leave here. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”
Come on, come on.
Jillian jittered.

“I owe it to Klaus. He’s done so much for me. And I could never support the kids on what I could make.”

Alice was a kind woman. She had to help somehow—but quickly. “You’re miserable here, Alice.”

“I can’t put what I want ahead of what they need. I have to be strong enough to stay and take control. I wish I were as sure of myself as you are.”

Sure of herself? What a laugh. For one instant, Jillian was tempted to confide in the other woman. In an odd way, she and Alice faced the same dilemma. What was the right thing to do for those you love? How much of yourself did you give up to do it?

But how long could she afford to linger and listen? What if Cullinane trapped her in her quarters? Without the ability to move around, she’d never be able to get close to Hafner...or to get out. 

Jillian forced herself to stand still and listen a few minutes longer until Alice left, but she listened with only half an ear. Round and round, the questions spun in her brain:

What did she do about Cullinane? Was he in danger? 

And was it her fault?

Chapter Twelve

Cullinane returned to his rooms after leaving the grounds to call Alonzo. He hadn’t been tailed, but that was the only good news from this very long day. As was his daily habit, he swept the rooms to assure no bugs had been planted while he was out.

Now he knew who she was, but knowing only made his job harder. Her first name really was Jillian. She’d been smart, though—MacGregor was her mother’s maiden name. A tough connection to make on the computer, unless you knew what you were looking for. Simple for her to remember, but hard for them to trace with no other identification.

Jillian Blake, that was her real name. Jillian Marianna Blake.

Sister to Belinda Blake, Hafner’s murdered mistress.

So now he knew. Now he understood. Now he even sympathized.

But it only made things worse.

As did the fact that she’d spent time in juvie for shoplifting, had a dubious history dancing just on the right side of the law. Best he could tell, she and her sister had been orphaned in middle school, and while Belinda had done well in foster care, Jillian had been in constant trouble, then finally ran away at fourteen, taking ten-year-old Belinda with her.

Belinda, however, had returned a few weeks later, apparently brought back by Jillian after a brush with a pedophile. The foster parents had eventually adopted her, but Jillian had taken off again as soon as Belinda was safe.

No surprise there. He nearly smiled. She was not good at taking orders. But God knows what those years had been like for her or how she’d survived.

Stepping toward the window, his thoughts matched the unsettled weather outside. Remnants of a hurricane boiled up from the coast, turning the night as restless and angry as Cullinane himself. For the first time since entering, he noticed that Alice had straightened the room he’d left so hastily this morning. Folded neatly on the foot of his bed lay Jillian’s black swimsuit, and he faltered. Would Alice tell Hafner? He didn’t think so—her gratitude for his help with J.T. would prevail, he hoped. 

The memories of last night seemed years ago...yet he’d never forget a single second. He’d be haunted by Jillian to the end of his life, but now his chances of anything else with her were more remote than ever.

He understood now why she’d lied to him at every step, marveled at the courage she’d demonstrated in showing up at the compound, in tackling this alone, no backup at all, somehow cobbling together her own damned impressive training.

He understood and might even have done the same himself. His respect for her had only increased, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t—couldn’t—trust her. He now knew she was more dangerous than ever.

Because this was personal. She wasn’t simply a hired killer. Jillian was bent on revenge for her sister’s murder. She was skilled and dangerous and obsessed. She’d shown a nerve and valor any man he’d ever known would be hard-pressed to match, but that nerve had its roots in a single-minded goal that put his own in peril.

He wished he could talk to her, explain that he understood, but that would lead to inevitable questions from her about why he sympathized when he was Hafner’s right-hand man. Maybe if she’d come clean with him of her own free will, he could consider telling her a little, asking her to join him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she would hold back, thinking about his involvement what she surely must. But he’d taken a huge risk for her, and she had to be aware of that. He’d gone past reason and begged her to tell him the truth so he could help her. Those actions gave her a signal that she had to answer.

That was as far as he could go for now. Until and unless she took the next step and gave him her truth without being forced, he could never give her his own. And without her truth, he had no choice but to keep her under constant watch, now more than ever. It would simplify his life if he could send her away and keep her from interfering until this operation was over in a few days. But he doubted now, after what he’d learned, after seeing Jillian’s determination in action, that she’d ever give up trying to kill Hafner, unless she were dead first.

He couldn’t let that happen, nor could he let her take Hafner down. Not this close to the end. His only choice was to keep up his juggling act with Hafner and keep Jillian near.

And hope to God he could keep her safe.

Never had he wanted more to catch a glimpse of her, if only on the monitors—but he could still remember the devastated look on her face when she’d seen the bank of screens. Though his observation had only had to do with longing and not surveillance, he couldn’t betray her by looking now, though she’d never know.

He’d watch her again—he’d have to—but only to guard her. 

Tonight, however, he’d leave her in peace.

* * *

Jillian waited until long after the household was asleep, the hallways silent and dark.

Then she crept down to the library to use what she suspected to be an unmonitored phone line. So far at sea, so much out of her element, she needed to get her bearings. She hadn’t brought a cell phone of her own with her into the compound because she had no backup to call.

But there was one person she could contact, not for help but for balance. It would still be far too late in San Diego, but she had to try. Perhaps Hiroshi’s calm guidance would steady her as so often before.

“Yes?” his voice, so quiet and still, sounded wonderful.

“Hiroshi,” she began, “I’m sorry it’s so late. I-I had no choice.”

“What is wrong, Jillian? Why do you call? Are you in trouble?”

Yes. Oh, yes, but it’s trouble of my own making.
“No, I was just worried about Loretta. How is she?”

“Loretta is not well. You should come back. She worries. It has been too long that you are gone.”

“But my promise...I have to keep it.”

“Promises, kept or not kept, will do her not so much good as to see you, to have you near. Come home, Jillian, and cease this quest for vengeance.”

“I...even if I could live with myself for giving up, I can’t...” She stopped, thinking she heard a noise in the hall.

“Jillian?”

No more sounds, but she didn’t dare take a chance on anyone tracing Loretta or Hiroshi. “I have to go now,
sensei
. Please—tell Loretta I will be back soon.”
Please, God, let it be true.

“You are strong enough to meet any challenge, but I ask you this one thing: what will this quest of yours cost your soul?” He’d never approved of her plan or her methods. It was a sign of his concern that he still watched over Loretta for her while she’d been gone. “Come home, Jillian. Bury your vengeance. Let your sister’s soul rest.”

“Belinda won’t rest until I do this,
sensei
. Nor will Loretta.”
Nor will I.
Heavy of heart, she told him goodbye, then sat in the darkness, wondering what to do. The gathering storm outside howled out her turmoil.

If she warned Cullinane, would he believe her, already knowing she’d lied? And if he did believe her, what would he do? Would he leave to save himself?

She was almost certain the answer to that was no. So what would be gained?

Would she cancel her debt to him for this day’s rescue if she told him? Would he back off on the watchdogs, giving her a chance at Hafner again?

Not hardly.

Most likely he’d watch Hafner even closer, and she’d never get another chance at the man.

Sitting back heavily in the chair, Jillian wavered, for the first time, on a goal that had driven her for many, many months. Was Hiroshi right? Should she find some way to convince Cullinane to let her leave and go home?

Belinda was dead. A kind woman needed her.

Would she add to the mounting cost the life of a good man?

But was he a good man? Images she’d fought to forget rose up to haunt her, images of the night passed in Cullinane’s arms. Whatever the reason for those pictures of her on the bank of monitors, she hadn’t let him explain, too caught up in her fixation on Klaus Hafner, too quick to leap to assumptions.

But over and over, however stony he’d been, she realized now how often Cullinane’s actions had been at odds with his image. He talked tough, he was tough, but beneath was a man who cared about a young boy going astray, who’d spare time for a little girl’s pictures. A man who’d taken her to heights of glory with a power and tenderness that still made her shiver.

Though she still couldn’t square why he was with Hafner, she did know he’d put himself at risk for her more than once.

How could she do any less? Would Belinda rest easier, Loretta find peace, if Cullinane died while Jillian stayed fixed on vengeance?

Her weary heart gave the answer. He might not believe her, might think she only wanted to cause trouble between him and Hafner. This might all blow up in her face and cost her the chance to avenge her sister.

But to live with herself, Jillian had to try.

Rising from the chair, she made her way quietly upstairs. Outside his door, she paused, wondering if she should wait until morning. Before she could lose her nerve, she knocked.

“Who is it?” He didn’t sound sleepy, despite the late hour.

“It’s me, Jillian. Please...could we talk?”

The door jerked open, a faint golden light coming from the table by the bed. The silver streak at his temple seemed to glow; his eyes were wary and remote. As on the night they’d met, he wore only sweats, his broad chest filling the doorway. Her gaze fell inevitably to the jagged scar bisecting his flat belly, a vivid reminder that he’d been harmed before...and could be again.

Lifting her gaze once more to his, she curled her fingers into fists to keep from touching him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

A spark leapt in his eyes, quickly shuttered. His low voice rumbled inside that muscled chest. “Come in,” he said, carefully neutral. Stepping aside, he closed the door quietly behind her.

Once inside, her gaze lit upon the bed, rumpled now as it had been when she’d left it. The press of memories choked her with their aching sweetness, her mind awash with longings. She could feel him at her back, tense and waiting, but stared instead at the rain driving against the windows, hearing the angry howl of the wind.

He had to believe her, no matter what he chose to do. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it if anything happened to this man with whom she’d shared so much. Theirs might be a strange intimacy formed of battles and lies, but at the base of them, she thought she agreed with him.

Like called to like.

Jillian turned around, hoping for the right words to convince him. Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze.

And saw pain, quickly masked. He remembered, too.

Swallowing heavily, she began, barely able to keep from looking at the floor. “I know I haven’t, that is, I—I need you to believe me, even though you think I’m a liar.” Drawing a deep breath for courage, she hurried on. “You took a big chance for me today. I think you’re in danger now, and I want to help you.”

Cullinane shook his head to clear it, her words not at all what he’d expected her to say. “What are you saying?”

“Tonight I was on my way to the kitchen when I heard Hafner in the library. Is that phone line monitored?”

He frowned, wondering why she asked. “No.”

For a moment, an odd expression flickered over her face, something like relief.

“Go on,” he urged.

“He was...I don’t know who he was talking to, but I don’t think he trusts you anymore. I think he’s planning for something to happen to you soon. He mentioned an operation.”

Oh, Christ. That was all he needed, for Hafner’s antennae to go on full alert. But what did he expect after the gamble he’d taken?

“Tell me every word.”