Damned If You Don't (7 page)

Jack thought about the clandestine meeting that evening not so long ago and how his insides bled.

“No can do,” Sam answered. And Jack could have sworn there was a hint of regret in his tone before the voice on the other end of the line turned cold. “Need-to-know only.”

Jack frowned. Cold. As cold as he felt now knowing Sam was lying to him? Why? Damn it all, none of this made any sense. Would Sam really give up his honor?

What you did to her makes sense?

He looked at the long lashes resting on Morgan’s cheeks, her face innocent in repose, and knew he’d made a whopper of a mistake.

“We don’t do the dirty jobs, old buddy. Remember? We work for the good guys. You can’t tell me that you’d give up your reputation, your principles, for a bunch of zeroes on a check.”

A long silence greeted him. “I needed the money, Jack. We took a bad hit when the stock market went south. Haven’t been able to recover.”

Jack didn’t want to believe it. There had to be more behind those words. So he probed. “Blood money?”

He listened to the man he thought of as his best friend sigh. “Yes! Blood money!”

Jack couldn’t believe how bad that hurt. “All right. No one said you couldn’t lose your honor. But did you have to drag mine into the sewer with you?”

He listened to Sam snort. “You were just supposed to find her. That’s all.”

“And what? Turn my brain off? Do I look fucking stupid to you?”

Jack finally reached his last straw. First, he’d betrayed Morgan, believing he was doing the right thing, and then he found out his best friend and partner, the man whose life he’d saved, had betrayed him.

Life did go around full circle, didn’t it?

Very painfully, he acknowledged bitterly.

“Why, Sam?” he tried, one last time. “Come clean now. Don’t make me find out the hard way.”

“I wish I could, old buddy. But I can’t.”

Nah, that just meant he didn’t want to. “I’ll go to the authorities. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t.”

Sam laughed. The sound brought reality home to him. “You don’t have the balls.”

Oh really?

Without thought, he told Sam what he could do with himself and hung up. He’d never be able to make things right with Morgan. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

As for the rest, Jack was going to find out the truth. Not only had Sam challenged him, he knew only exceptional circumstances would have brought about their telephone conversation. So that meant Jack would have to get Morgan to trust him again. How? Well, he was going to have to get her to forgive him. Jack would have smiled except that his decision might be an exercise in futility.

Oh well.

First he was going to have to apologize. If she let him, and he doubted very much that she would. Then he was going to have to get her to tell him what was going on. And last but not least, he was going to have to keep her safe until he knew what to do with the truth.

This last decision was going to take all the skill he possessed.

* * * *

Morgan awoke again, uncracking her neck one painful inch at a time. Just one more strike in a list of strikes against him. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. He’d fallen asleep too. But the moment she lifted up from the seat to get comfortable, his eyes popped open. Heat flared in his gaze. His lids lowered. Her gaze flicked from his crotch to his face. He had the audacity not to be bothered by his reaction to her.

She ignored him completely and asked, “Where are we going?”

He gave her one of his patented little grins and ignored her question. “I’m going to assume you haven’t told me everything that’s going on. Which could be very dangerous for both of us. So I’m going to ask once. Is there any more that you’re not telling me about?”

Did he really think that an apology equated into trust? “You were doing fine with your telepathic abilities, so I think I’ll let you’d figure it out.”

He frowned at her snide tone but answered, “I’m good, kitten. Not that good.”

She caught both meanings. “Not funny, Jack.”

His tone turned serious as he replied, “Wasn’t trying to be.” He raised a brow, studying her. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“No. Are you going to answer mine?”

He smiled. “That’s my girl. Stubborn to the end.”

Girl? Did he just call me a girl?
“Where are we going, Jack?” she repeated, her tone hard and exasperated.

“I figure by now, Sam’s got a bunch of guys looking for us, but he’s not sure what direction we’re headed in.”

“That sounds like a good thing.”

Jack actually smiled as if he were enjoying the conversation. “Ah, but you see, kitten, there’s always the percentages. A tracer never leaves any stone unturned. So Sam has no choice. He’ll have someone follow every direction.”

That didn’t sound so good. “I see.”

“Not quite. What you don’t understand is that Sam has manpower. That’s his advantage. So he’ll follow every direct route out of Delaware. Eventually he’ll find the car and know we’re clean.” At her questioning frown he clarified his meaning. “He’ll know we’re using hard-to-trace transportation.”

“Oh.”

“In the meantime, he’ll cover all possibilities by using time and distance. He’ll create a search circle, then tighten it. He’ll assume you’ll sleep; he’ll know I won’t.”

In spite of all her misgivings Morgan asked, “But that means we’ll have to slip through his net somehow.”

“All I need is a direction, kitten.”

She sighed. “He’ll find us.”

Jack smiled. “I’m counting on it. Eventually.”

“You might end up in jail too.”

He gave her that patented grin of his again. “Not a chance. I’m the best at what I do. I’m going to save your, um, derriere whether you want me to or not.”

“Why?”

“I happen to like your derriere. Very tight. Round. Bitable—”

“Not funny,” she spat at him in spite of the flare of heat in her veins.

He shrugged. “Right now, we’re headed for Virginia Beach. I gave the driver two hundred and told him to take us as far south as he could. That’s probably about as far as he’ll go. So are you going to tell me, or do I guess?”

Just to be bitchy, she said, “Guess.”

“Really? Are you sure you want to play the game that way? I mean, I have a stake in this up to a point.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I can decide to play along for a while because of Sam, or I can turn you in and let the authorities figure out the whole mess. Which I’m inclined to do right now, so don’t press your luck.”

She thought about that for a moment. “What’s stopping you? Sam or me?”

He didn’t answer. Which gave her a real warm and fuzzy inside.

“Now back to question number one,” he continued. “I made the first step, you make the next. That’s how it works from now on, kitten.”

She frowned, wishing he would stop calling her that, and then wishing he wouldn’t. God she was such a mess right now.

“I really need to know what’s going on,” he insisted.

Damn the man, he was throwing the ball back into her court. He wouldn’t be satisfied until she told him the truth. But if she did that, there’d be no going back.

“If I do, you’re in this up to your eyeballs.”

“I am already. Give.”

Morgan sighed. He was such a bulldog. “It would be easier to show you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need a computer.”

He frowned. “I don’t have enough cash to buy one and that would be a waste of money anyway. A public library would have access plus that would give me a way to search for some wheels.”

Morgan considered their dilemma. “I’ve got a better idea,” she said. “Most hotels have business centers. Less conspicuous.”

She watched him lower the window. He told the driver to find the name of a national hotel chain, then closed the window again. “We’ve got another hour or so, why don’t you try to rest some more.”

“Only if you tell me why you’re trying to be nice.”

“Ouch! I guess I deserved that. You’ll have to let me know when I get out of the doghouse.”

She gave him an evil smile. “You mean Chateau Bow-wow? It’s like Hotel California. Once you check in, you can never check out.”

He grimaced. “I’ll remember that.”

STARING AT HER was becoming a hard habit to break. And Jack knew that if he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t just be teetering on the edge of a cliff. He would end up falling for her.

Time to play the game his way. He was a master at seduction. He also knew how to do whatever he had to do to find the truth. Truth, justice, and the Andrew Jackson way.

He turned his grimace into a deliberate smile, showing her he could be unfazed by her attitude.

“What will you do when you can’t hate me anymore?”

She sighed. She looked weary. They were both tired. “I don’t hate you, Jack.”

“Good to know. But I’m being serious. BioClin feels they have every right to press charges. You work for them; the property is theirs. But you believe the work is yours. Did you sign a contract? Was there a nondisclosure agreement?”

She gave him a long, pointed look. “Why are you asking?”

“Just curious.”

Of course he was lying, and they both knew that. He was more than curious.

She answered after what felt like hours. “The nondisclosure agreement was in regards to leaking information to a competitor; it didn’t say anything about not letting anyone have it at all.”

He sighed. She had a point. “So you’re basing your freedom and your career on semantics? Not a good idea.”

“Sue me.”

“Now there’s a thought I’m sure your employer has thought of.”

“Too much bad publicity. They won’t.” She grinned, not a nice sight. “And you can stop the third degree. It won’t work. I’ll let you know when I’m damned good and ready.”

That was great. Just wonderful. Because without answers, he was blind. With a sigh he said, “Get some sleep, kitten.”

“Don’t call me kitten.”

She settled back into the corner farthest away from him, which made him sad for a moment and then made him realize he was going to have to work harder. In order to get to the truth, since she wouldn’t answer him any other way, he was going to have to seduce her. Not an arduous task at all. Just dangerous.

“What would you like me to call you, then?” he asked, trying hard to be patient. After all, they were both at fault.

“Nothing. So stop being annoying.”

Funny, but her anger only made him more determined than ever. Because if there was anything Jack hated, it was falling into someone else’s cesspool. But what really got to him was the thread of raw hurt underneath.

“Who are you, Jackson Kent?”

Obviously she didn’t realize she’d actually whispered the question out loud until she heard the words reverberate through the silence in the limousine.

Jack reached out without realizing. A little too much too soon? To cover the action he answered, “A friend. More than a friend, I hope.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she cried in disbelief.

He gave her a what-can-I-tell-you look. He hoped it would seem genuine. Most of it was. “It’s not just going to go away, you know.”

“Touch me, and I’ll break your fingers.”

Jack threw back his head and laughed. “Damn. I like you feisty.”

“I don’t like you at all.”

His chest shook with suppressed laughter. She was lying, and they both knew it. “By the way, just so you know. The driver thinks you’re cheating on your husband and that’s why the ride’s on the QT.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered, her tone scandalized.

He laughed out loud. “We really shouldn’t disappoint him, you know.”

Shocked, she cried, “You’re nuts!”

And yet, he watched her struggle to maintain her composure. Good. She sat up in the seat, trying her damnedest to look neutral, and stared out the window. “Where are we?”

Obviously, she was trying to change the subject. “We should be arriving at our destination very soon.”

Jack knew he was her best shot at survival. So did she. Yeah, he’d made a mistake. And yeah, he was going to pay for it. But so had she. Guess that made them even.

He started laughing softly. He tilted his head to look at her. “Just for the record, it’s not going to go away.”

“What’s not going to go away?”

They both knew damned well. The reason she kept shifting in her seat and the same reason his pants felt like jail.

“Whatever is between us.”

The afternoon sun created a frame for her hair, sparking tiny flames around her head. So Jack turned up the heat. “Just feel. Live in the moment. You know you want to.”

“Go to hell.”

He let his gaze skim over her skin, making it hard for both of them to breathe, let alone think. “Let your hair down,” he insisted.

“Never. Not after what you did to me.”

“Broken record. Ditch the anger. You don’t need to hide behind it anymore.”

He grinned, letting his gaze soften, letting her see in his marbled blue eyes that they weren’t the only part of his body that swirled with heat.

“Unlock the door,” he cajoled. “Feel. Just feel.”

He watched her shiver in spite of her anger. She shifted in her seat again, and he knew he’d won the first battle. The spark between them was far from dead. But that also made him realize that playing with fire usually got a body burned.

“And forget what happened a couple of hours ago?”

He nodded. Her jaw clenched. She was fighting herself all the way. “You’re freaking crazy.”

“Maybe. But I’ll never give up. You can bet your life on that.”

As a matter of fact, I’m betting both our lives on it.

Chapter Eight

Sam Ormond sat at his desk fuming. Jack had vanished. Not without a trace but damned close to it. He had men canvassing the area for a rental car and had one stationed at the outlet mall to make sure Jack didn’t double back to get his car. He didn’t think Jack would be that stupid, but he might assume—

Jack Kent wouldn’t assume anything.

The sound of mortar fire rang inside his head, and he could feel the spray of sand biting into his skin as one exploded way too close to them. Sam remembered lifting his head and trying to see the direction the shells were coming from only to catch sight of Jack skirting a perimeter and lobbing a grenade before ducking behind a dune. One more tick and the entire squad would’ve been toast.