The Choice (2 page)

If not for Cullinane....

But the guard dog couldn’t always be watching. She’d gain trust, prove her worth. Months of training would bear fruit at some golden moment. When the time was right...

She’d be ready.

Then Klaus Hafner would go straight to the hell he deserved. Arms merchant...purveyor of death...murderer.

Jillian would be the instrument of his destruction.

Now concentrate, Jillian. Clear your mind. Refresh your body. Prepare for the days to come. Get ready to show Cullinane he’s wrong.

A tiny smile playing about her lips, she pivoted into the kick.

* * *

Cullinane watched her on the monitor in the main control room, noting the faint smile, the second flicker of emotion he’d seen from her tonight.

She wasn’t ice all the way down to the bottom.

Damned cool, though. She’d spoken honestly about one thing—no ID in the pack they’d found at the base of the garage she’d scaled. Maybe a job was truly all she wanted.

But he didn’t think so. Something wasn’t right, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Yet.

A man who’d been in deep cover as long as he had couldn’t afford to ignore the slightest twinge. Tiny flickers of intuition had saved his life more than once. When you operated in a shadow world, never who you seemed to be, unable to trust anyone, you learned never to ignore your sixth sense.

Rubbing his forehead, Cullinane fought off the fatigue that dragged at him more and more often. He’d been doing this too long. Even the most seasoned agent needed vestiges of a normal life. Friends, family, history...luxuries he couldn’t afford. He had to be who he seemed, had to believe it to his core—yet somehow he had to remember that it was a charade. 

Strong minds could fragment under the strain. There were days now...

“What do you want?” he muttered to the figure on the screen. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Talking to yourself, Cullinane?” Hafner walked up beside him to study the same image. “Not a good sign in the middle of the night.” He chuckled.

Cullinane spared him a quick glance and a rueful smile, then turned back to the screen.

Hafner’s gaze followed his to the toned woman in black. Cullinane noted every graceful move, awareness heightened by the contrast of black against the pale beige background. The shock of red hair falling down her back was a flame beckoning a cold, weary traveler.

He was so cold. So tired.

“Fascinating blend of power and grace, with enough sex appeal to make your blood boil,” Hafner mused.

She had the same effect upon him, but he couldn’t allow that. Viewing her on a small screen helped him maintain distance. He could admire the economy of her moves without experiencing the voltage of her presence. He could study her and figure her out. “Being beautiful doesn’t mean she can protect your life.”

Hafner chuckled, low in his throat. “Ah, but that’s what I have you for, dear boy. You’ll keep me safe while I enjoy having her close.”

Cullinane ground his teeth. Hafner had become a slave to his appetites. “I haven’t agreed to hire her yet.”

Hafner’s amusement fled. “I told you I want her, Cullinane. I’ll have her, by God.”

“Even at the cost of your life?”

“Christ, you’re paranoid!”

“That’s what you pay me to be.”

Hafner’s jaw flexed as he fumed.

“Don’t let what’s below your belt overrule your good sense, Klaus. There are plenty of beautiful women around. You don’t need her.”

Hafner turned back to study the figure on the screen. “But she’s different,” he muttered.

“Because she broke into your room and could have killed you?” Fool. “What’s to say she won’t do it at the first opportunity?”

“But she didn’t,” Hafner shouted.

“Only because I was there in time.”

Anger fled as quickly as it rose, and Hafner was all smiles again. The pendulum swung faster and faster these days, with a major operation underway. “Ah, but you see, that’s my point. You’re always there in time. I’ve never been safer than in your tender care.” He leveled a look that spoke of pity. “Give it up, Cullinane. You know you’re the best there is. Figure out some way to satisfy yourself that she can handle the job. Restrict her access to information, if that makes you feel better. Watch her closely, if that’s what you need, but I want her.”

“For the record, you’re making a damn fool mistake.”

Hafner clapped his shoulder in sympathy as he passed behind Cullinane on his way to the door. “But I’m the fool who has the money, now aren’t I?” 

Cullinane stared at the woman on the screen after he left. At some other time, he’d enjoy the irony of having to convince a man whom he intended to put behind bars not to take chances with his life. For now, he needed to focus on this unexpected and unwelcome development.

A test. He could test her skills, all right. But how could you test someone’s intentions except by giving her a chance to demonstrate them?

And then it could be too late.

Oh, he’d like to see Hafner dead, himself. Like nothing better, in fact. But for now, he had to keep his eye on the prize. Dead children cried out for justice.

Cullinane wanted the whole network, Hafner and his terrorist buddies as well. He’d put years into the effort. He’d failed once, and innocent people had died.

He wouldn’t fail again. He wasn’t sure he could handle another deep cover operation. Too many in a row...this would probably be his last.

He had to do it right.

Go to bed, Drake. Not much of the night left. She’s probably exactly what she says—just chose a splashy way to apply for the job.

Shaking his head as he moved toward the door, Cullinane had to grin.

She’d damn sure figured out how to get their attention.

* * *

Jillian ignored how much she wanted a shower and something to eat. This wouldn’t be the only test she had to pass, she was sure of that.

Cullinane wouldn’t simply accept her word that she had the training to be a bodyguard—and in truth, she didn’t. What she had was guts and motivation...and a lifetime of fending for herself. 

But even if he were less stony in his determination, he wouldn’t have risen to be the right hand of such a dangerous man if he had been prone to giving trust easily. No, it was his job to be paranoid. She only hoped she could disarm his distrust soon. Though she’d trained long and hard once she’d conceived this idea, proving herself here would be much different than excelling during a very untraditional training regimen.

Only her sensei Hiroshi knew where she was, but he could do nothing to help her. She was, as she had been most of her twenty-seven years, on her own, but life on the streets had prepared her for this long ago. 

Time to sleep. Her body needed rest for her mind to be clear. Fear was the mind-killer, and she wasn’t helpless. As Hiroshi said.
If one acts without fear and with total commitment, a weaker person can defeat a stronger one.

She’d imagined that Hafner’s defenses would be formidable, but she could never have imagined Cullinane.

Jillian settled on the floor to begin her relaxation routine.

* * *

He wanted to hit something. Hurt someone.

Deep, rolling waves of grief rose and threatened to drown him. Tears he could not shed burned like acid under his eyelids.

Seeing a tiny, lifeless hand holding fast to the scrap of flannel nearly undid him. Bitterest bile rose in his throat. He wanted to drop to his knees and howl to the heavens.

Dragging one foot in front of the other, Drake forced himself to look at it all...to see everything.

Never forget this. Hunt them down like the animals they are.

His foot tripped over a mound in the half shadows.

Then he saw her.

An angel. Apricot curls covering her head, blue eyes staring sightlessly straight into his soul. Smooth, white cheeks unmarred by the violence, pink ruffle circling her throat. White dress with tiny pink rosebuds smoothing over her chest. His gaze moved toward the hem and saw the torn flesh beneath...the utter obscenity of the child being torn literally in half.

He dropped to his knees, one hand smoothing her curls. He removed his shirt and wrapped the little girl in it...as he wrapped himself in a cold, implacable vow that the animals who did this would pay.

He pressed the angel into his embrace and let her blood seal his promise.

Cullinane stirred from the despair that the dream always brought. His chest felt warm and sticky from the blood he’d never been able to fully banish. Had the woman brought the dream, stirring up thoughts of how much he hated Hafner?

Sitting up, he bowed his head, ran one hand through his hair as he tried to dispel the black, bitter thoughts.
I don’t care what she wants. I’m too close to let anything stop me.

Rising with effort, Cullinane moved to dress swiftly. Drawn toward the woman in spite of himself, he moved toward the command post in his wing. As chief of security, he allowed no one else near his quarters, not even Hafner, without his permission. A second set of monitors banked the walls, showing video from inside the compound. The threat most heavily covered was just outside the walls, but Hafner was a paranoid man, so much of the inside was photographed regularly, as well. Only his quarters and Hafner’s had no cameras planted within them.

“Who are you?” Reaching for a switch, he considered raising the light level in the room where he’d placed her in order to see her more clearly to divine her intentions.

Instead he grabbed his cell and issued a series of orders.

As he crossed the room, he shot back one brief glance at the woman sleeping on the floor, rather than the padded bench.

Tough cookie,
he acknowledged with a nod. “Sweet dreams, whoever you are.”

Chapter Two

The door to her prison exploded inward. Jillian bolted awake. Two figures burst into the room. Rockets of adrenaline fired through her veins. Just before the first man grabbed for her, she caught a fleeting impression. An ominous shape in the doorway, a glimpse of silver streaked across black...

Then the need to protect herself annihilated all other thoughts.

The first burly form rushed at her, and Jillian’s training kicked into gear. She yielded instead of blocking, and as the man’s charge carried him past her, she grasped his arm and turned, dropping below his center of gravity. Letting his momentum assist her, she pulled him over her hip and dropped him flat on his back.

A second man grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm tightly around her body. She came down hard with her heel, aiming her foot at the many delicate bones of his foot. With a hoarse shout of pain, he dropped away, grasping for his foot as he fell.

The first man rose, brandishing a knife. Jillian dropped and rolled toward him. He stumbled, righted himself and whirled to come at her again. 

“Stop!” 

Both men froze in mid-step. Jillian stepped away from them, then looked toward the sound.

Lounging negligently against the doorway, the unmistakable figure looked as though he’d been watching an exhibition.

Anger battled with the adrenaline. Jillian charged toward Cullinane, ready to strike.

The man with the knife jerked her back.

“Let her go, Ron,” Cullinane ordered. “She won’t try anything.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Will you.” Not really a question.

Jillian longed to wipe that smug look off his face, but that would be playing his game. He wanted a reason to dismiss her without serious consideration. She didn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let personalities stop her from achieving what she’d worked so hard to make possible.

She shook off Ron’s hand and issued her own challenge with a stare. “Games, Cullinane?” She clucked her tongue, chiding. “I’m sure it bothers you greatly that I passed your little test.” She gave him her back, strolling away nonchalantly. “Surprised?”

The second man rose heavily from the floor, unable to put weight on his foot. Ron wrapped one of the man’s arms around his own shoulders. The two started out the door.

“Is that all, boss?”

Cullinane spared them barely a glance, stepping aside to let them pass. “Yeah. Head for the infirmary. That’s all for tonight.”

He held the door open. “Remember your name yet?”

She debated with herself. She needed him to hire her, so she could afford to push him only so far. Her cover would hold; she’d made sure of that.

But it stuck in her craw to play nice with the bastard who was just as guilty as Hafner.

Her sister had waited too long for justice, though. “MacGregor,” she said. “Jillian.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Cullinane followed his men, pulling the door behind him. “Sweet dreams, MacGregor. Don’t assume that this door is all that’s keeping you in place.” Without ever looking her way again, he left.

Jillian gave in to the urge to waggle her head from side to side, her voice sing-song and taunting. “Sweet dreams, Cullinane.” She didn’t have to like him, he didn’t have to like her. Hafner wanted her; all she had to do was to prove herself competent. 

There’d be nothing Cullinane could do.

* * *

She was good.

It stuck in his craw to admit it. Things would be simpler if he could just declare her incompetent and leave it at that.

Incompetent—who was he kidding? She’d breached his system, and one man’s inattention was no excuse. Now she’d injured one of his best men.

Staring out the window of his bedroom, Cullinane fought the urge to watch her again on the monitors. It wasn’t that she was a woman—he had no problem working with women. His urge to get her out of here had nothing to do with her sex, and he hadn’t let anyone get under his skin in a very long time, not even Hafner—and God knew, Hafner could drive anyone nuts. Ruthlessly thrusting aside emotion, Cullinane had to admit that she’d impressed him. No small matter to put Fred in the infirmary. She obviously understood how to get around the limitations of her size. Fred and Ron each outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds, most likely, and both were taller.