The Choice (19 page)

“You don’t have any grounds to arrest me.” She backed away.

He stalked her. “Oh, but I do. You’re interfering with a federal investigation. I only need to buy time, and I’d get that with you in jail.”

“I don’t think you’d do that.”

“Just try me.” Hard and implacable, steel-gray eyes speared her. “I’ve never been more serious.”

Jillian searched frantically for alternatives, knowing she couldn’t run. She was fast, but he’d have her before she reached the door. And even if she got past him, she’d never make it out of the compound.

She was a good fighter, but he was better.

Then suddenly she remembered what had brought her to this room. She’d come to save the life of a good, decent man—more decent, even, than she’d understood then. He was one of the good guys. God knows what it must have been like to be undercover with Hafner for two long years.

Whatever her reluctance to trust the system with Hafner’s demise, she couldn’t stand by and watch him murder Cullinane. She’d never forgive herself. Perhaps if she agreed to cooperate, she could accomplish both: watch Cullinane’s back and take care of Hafner. But as things stood now, she could do neither. If she boxed Cullinane in a corner, she had no doubt he’d do what he said. She’d be locked away, no weapon at hand, helpless to do anything. Free, she had a chance.

She tried a different tactic. “Who’s going to watch your back with Hafner? All the men are his.” Maybe this would work; she had to convince him. “You need me to help you. Hafner’s going to try something and you’re alone inside here, aren’t you? You have no one to trust, either.”

He didn’t respond, merely observed her with wary eyes.

“Let’s make a deal.”

Cullinane went very still. “What do you mean?”

“I still don’t trust the system, but I’ll give you your week. Once it’s over, I won’t offer any promises. If you don’t get him, I have to go after him. But for one week, you need my help.”

“Why should I believe you? You’ve made it very clear that you don’t think I can handle him.”

“I didn’t mean...” She exhaled in a gust. “It’s not you I don’t trust. I believe you’ll try to see that he’s punished—I just don’t believe you’ll succeed. A guy like Hafner has spread money everywhere. Who knows what cops he’s bought, what judges he’s got in his pocket? If he’s operating on an international scale, he could have people in Washington on his side, for all you know.” 

Seeing him about to protest, she held up a hand. “But it doesn’t matter what I believe or you believe, the fact remains that Hafner’s suspicious of you and is planning to get rid of you. Whatever the forces you may be able to tap outside, in here, I’m the only person you can count on.”

“Why would you do it?”

Why should you believe me, you mean? I’m not sure you should.
She didn’t know what she’d do, if push came to shove, should she get a chance at Hafner. But she also knew she couldn’t let Cullinane die.

“You can remember last night and ask me that?” she demanded. “No matter how much stands between us, Cullinane, I’ll remember last night for the rest of my life.” Chest tight with emotion, she swallowed hard. “I won’t let that murderer have a chance to kill you, too. No matter what else you think, believe that. I’ll watch your back.”

“And if you get a chance at Hafner?”

He saw her too well. Jillian shook her head. “I can’t promise you that I won’t take it, but I won’t seek it out.”

“Jillian, I can’t...” Swearing beneath his breath, he ran impatient fingers through his hair.

“You need me, Cullinane. Take what I can give you.”

He studied her carefully. Could he trust her? Or the war inside her heart? On some levels, he thought he could—any woman who’d go to the extremes she had for love of someone else had loyalty in abundance. For those she cared about, she’d go to the wall.

But where did he fit into all that? Yes, he remembered the night before in riveting detail. He, too, would never forget it. In the hours when they’d come together, battles set aside, he’d been shaken to his foundation by how deeply he felt about her. There had been magic, and it might just be enough to get them through.

But her loyalty to Loretta, the guilt she wouldn’t shed...those, too, pulled at her. Fierce in her hatred, she was also fierce in her love. This dilemma would put her to the test.

She was a strong woman and unlike anyone he’d ever met. In another life, he would have stopped at nothing to make her his.

But he didn’t have that luxury now. 

Yet could he afford to refuse her help? If he dispatched her from the compound, Hafner’s instincts would overload. His own situation was too precarious; everything depended on quieting Hafner’s unease. That meant business as usual, for three more days.

He’d told Jillian a week, but the actual date was three days away. If he could keep her close at hand, guarding his back, he could also prevent her having a chance at Hafner. If he kept her in the dark about details of the raid until the last minute, she couldn’t plan to subvert them.

Cullinane didn’t see what option he had. He’d have to alert Alonzo and the others to help him keep an eye on her once the raid was underway, but in the meantime, he’d have to watch Jillian as closely as he watched Hafner.

He didn’t doubt she’d protect his back, but he also didn’t take her warning lightly. If she got a chance at Hafner first, Hafner was history. It might not be the end of the world, since elements of the network in Italy and Germany would be rounded up simultaneously with the raid in New Orleans, but he had no way to be sure what signals Hafner might be sending out. Any lack of response before the raid might alert someone and ruin it all.

He had to keep Hafner alive. If it took watching Jillian every second, then that’s what he’d do. “All right.” He held out his hand to hers. “But I want your word.”

Slowly, she accepted the handshake. “How do you know my word’s worth anything?”

Clasping her smaller hand tightly, admiring the strength it must have taken to face him down, he smiled. “I don’t, not for sure. But isn’t that what trust is about, Jillian?”

A flash of pain in her eyes told him he’d scored a direct hit.

* * *

Jillian stood on the driveway, shooting baskets, trying to pass the time that seemed endless, the waiting game that stretched her nerves to breaking. If Cullinane wasn’t watching her every minute, someone else was. Today it was Tony.

Suddenly, she noticed Tony straightening. Jillian turned, expecting to see Cullinane behind her, but it was Hafner. J.T. fell silent.

“I don’t want to interrupt your game.” His eyes said differently.

J.T. retrieved the ball. “I’ve got homework, anyway. Check you later, Jillian.”

“Sure,” she answered, not liking the way Hafner’s gaze swept over the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to her skin. “What’s up?”

“I merely wanted to see how you were getting along. We haven’t had a chance to speak since our little jaunt.”

What did he really want? Why was he bringing it up now, two days later? And how did it play with his plans for Cullinane?

“Let’s have a drink, shall we?” Placing one arm across her shoulders, he led her inside.

Jillian fought the urge to shrug off his arm. Tony followed them at a discreet distance. What had Cullinane told Hafner since that day? She’d seen them together several times, conversing intently. How could she cover for Cullinane, when she had no idea what he’d said?

Cullinane himself had kept her at a distance. Often nearby, he’d made sure they were never alone, yet she’d caught him several times, observing her intently. The war of nerves was getting to her. She wanted this week over in the worst way.

Hafner led her up the stairs and into his quarters, rooms she’d never seen. He nodded at Tony to close the door. She couldn’t help wondering if these rooms were monitored. Cullinane’s weren’t; she wondered if he dared watch Hafner, and if so, how he could hide it. Jillian marveled afresh that Cullinane had kept his subterfuge going for two years. The man must have nerves of steel.

She’d only been doing it three weeks, and she was exhausted.

The room was dark, though daylight shone brightly outside. She scanned for clues to understand Hafner, to figure out what Belinda could have seen in him.

Black dominated, trimmed with gold. His bed was draped at the corners with gold-on-black patterned silk, hanging from the ceiling like medieval bed hangings. The walls were a dark charcoal, wooden floors teak, scattered with rugs she supposed were expensive; she’d certainly never seen any like them before.

“Hand-woven—you like them? Gifts to me from...friends.”

Nice pocketbooks your friends have.
She smiled faintly. “They’re quite unusual.” What did he want with her?

“Would you care for something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

Hafner moved to the ornately carved bar in the corner of the huge room, glancing up at her in the mirror behind it. “You athletic types, so tiresome in your healthy tastes.” He poured her a sparkling water, himself a Scotch.

Jillian studied the size of the room and scoped out how far they were from the door. She wanted out of here in the worst way, but then she wouldn’t know what he planned for Cullinane. Forcing herself to settle back on the overstuffed black leather sofa, Jillian didn’t let herself flinch when Hafner sat down beside her and handed her the water. “Thank you.” She drank thirstily, eyeing him over her glass, remembering another day when he’d watched her drinking water and traced the moisture down her throat.

Don’t press your luck, Hafner.

He seemed to be thinking of that time, too, but he didn’t touch. His attention greedily followed a drop of sweat she could feel rolling down her chest, sliding into the valley between her breasts.

The eyes of a predator, waiting to pounce.

“Tell me, Jillian,” he spoke lazily, setting his glass down on the smoked-glass table in front of them. Reaching into his pants pocket, he drew out his knife, examining it slowly, then glanced up at her. “What do you think of our Cullinane?”

Mesmerized by the knife as if it were a snake ready to strike, she needed a minute to tear her gaze away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How would you describe him to someone new?”

“You mean his appearance?”

“Come now, dear, let’s don’t play games.”

The game player doesn’t want to play games.
With studied casualness, she began her list. “I’d have to say that he’s strong, very intelligent...that I’d never play poker with him...”

Hafner laughed. “Oh, I do like you, my dear. But what about loyalty? Would you include that in the list of Cullinane’s virtues?”

Was this a test? She summoned a smile to disarm him. “Yes, along with stubborn, single-minded, arrogant...”

Hafner laughed again, then opened the knife and began cleaning his nails, falling silent and staring at the far wall as though she weren’t even in the room. After a long moment in which Jillian sat very still, knowing she must keep her wits about her, he finally turned, his tone casual, but his words were not.

“And to whom are you loyal, Jillian?” The merciless, deceptively lazy gaze pinned her.

 “I work for you.”

Holding up one finger, knife waving in the air, he addressed the room. “Notice that she didn’t say she was loyal to me. But never mind that—” Hafner swung his head around, his gaze burning into her. “If I were to assign you to help me with a little matter, would you feel compelled to report it to Cullinane?”

“I don’t work for Cullinane.”

“You report to him.”

“But you pay the bills.”

Hafner smiled, as if she were a bright student. “I do, don’t I? Pity Cullinane often forgets that.” Musing, he stared across the room once more. “There is an important shipment coming in tomorrow. I may need your services. Has Cullinane given you an assignment?”

Tomorrow? He’d told her a week, and it had only been two days. Mind whirling, she hesitated almost too long.

“Jillian?”

“Uh, no. Nothing specific yet.”
What game are you playing, Cullinane? What about trust?

“Curious,” he mused. “But then, this will be your first. Perhaps he prefers to keep you here to watch the compound. But be that as it may, I want you to do something for me.”

A loud knock sounded at the door.

“Not now,” Hafner called out, his annoyance clear. Grasping her chin in his hand, he studied her closely with those pale, soulless eyes. “You fascinate me so, Jillian.”

Caught in his gaze, she could barely repress a shudder. He didn’t just repulse her; something in him chilled her to the bone.

The knocking cracked like gunfire the second time. Hafner sighed and rose. Crossing the room, he turned a lock she hadn’t noticed and swung the door open to reveal an unsmiling Cullinane, his gaze quickly spotting her.

He stilled, glaring. Both relieved and annoyed by the interruption, Jillian glared back. For one brief second, she saw a flicker of another emotion behind the mask of stone.

“I’m busy, Cullinane,” Hafner snapped.

“So I see. You have a phone call.”

“Since when are you the messenger boy?”

“This one’s important. In the library.” Cullinane switched his stare back to her.

Casting her a glance loaded with meaning, Hafner sighed. “We’ll finish later, Jillian.” He left the room, but Cullinane remained, filling the doorway with his dark, brooding presence.

Jillian settled back on the cushions, just to nettle him. So they were back to playing games.

Cullinane’s gaze dismissed her. “Come on, MacGregor. Hafner doesn’t like anyone in his rooms when he’s not here.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.”

His gaze snapped back to her. “But I will.”

“I don’t particularly care what you mind.”

His jaw flexed. “I’m asking you to leave.”

Furious at his high-handed treatment of her, she leaped from the sofa and marched up to him, hissing, “You lied to me. It’s tomorrow.”

He glanced toward the hall. “Not now.” His voice was low and urgent. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She saw the strain of the days on him. What must it be like to be this close to the end of two years undercover? She was clawing to get out, after only a flicker of the time.