Moving_Violations (18 page)

“Hrumph.” Rebecca muttered, going to the fridge. “You got any cucumbers in here?”

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Moving Violations

Chapter Nineteen

Rebecca sat on the edge of the couch with the remote in her hand flipping channels without really paying attention to what she saw. There was nothing on anyway. Just soaps and Springer, neither of which Rebecca wanted to waste her time on. As if she didn’t have all kinds of time to waste. She clicked off the television and set the remote on the coffee table, sighing heavily, strumming her fingers on her knee.

What was Jackson doing? Had he found the camper? The waiting, the inactivity, made her feel useless, which made her irritable. The memory of the baby’s cry gnawed at her. She was well enough to do some investigating of her own. Why in the hell did she give Jackson one more day? Why did she make that promise? If he had a home computer she could at least check some things out on that. She took a deep breath and blew it out.

She had to find something to occupy her mind or she’d lose it. It hadn’t taken long to dress in her denim shorts and one of Jackson’s blue cotton T-shirts. She tied the long hem in a knot at her hip. Rebecca had taken her time braiding her hair and dressing, but that hadn’t taken long either. She almost wished Jackson was a slob. As much as she hated cleaning up, it would at least give her something to do.

She was sick to death of puttering around the apartment. She stood and wandered into the kitchen to refill her coffee mug then crossed to the sliding glass doors in the dining area. She pulled back the drapes, such a beautifully sunny day. Jackson had a pretty decent little balcony. A small table and chaise sat to one side. Perfect for lounging with a good book.

Reading would pass the time until Jackson got back and she could find out what in the hell was going on. She went to the entertainment center and scanned Jackson’s small collection of books. Tom Clancy, figures; Stephen King, a definite maybe. She curled her lip at the one Louis L’Amour. Oh well, it wasn’t like she expected he’d have J.D. Robb or Linda Howard. She continued browsing and lifted a brow when she came across
The
Complete Works of William Shakespeare
. Poor Bill, he thought he knew so much about women. She smiled and shook her head.

She selected a Stephen King novel and tucked it under her arm as she grabbed the cordless phone. With some effort she got the sliding glass doors unlocked and the security bar removed and stepped out into the warm humid Tennessee June, closing the door behind her. She gazed around at the wooded hillside and marveled at the beautiful view. She breathed in the honeysuckle-scented air. It was such a great change from the city. Setting the mug on the little table she dropped her book.

“Crap.” She set the phone down and bent to pick up the novel when she heard a pop and the glass door behind her shattered. Rebecca jerked her head around without lifting it and caught the glimmer of sunlight on metal. Her training kicked in, the cop in her took over. She gritted her teeth and snatched the phone from the table. Another shot hit the brick wall inches from her head.

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Adrenaline flooded her blood stream as she picked away shards of glass and pried the door open. She stayed as low as she could as she quickly crawled back into the apartment. It wasn’t until she was in the hallway that she stood and ran to the bedroom.

She grabbed her gun belt off the hook inside the closet door, un-holstered it and ran back to see if she could catch sight of the shooter.

She crouched low and held the gun steady. With one hand she pressed the buttons to call Jackson’s cell phone. She figured the shooter had already gone, if he was smart he would be. She scanned the tree line for signs of movement anyway.

“Answer, dammit,” she hissed impatiently.

“Yeah,” Jackson answered tersely.

“Jackson, you need to come home.” Rebecca kept her voice even.

“Becca, what is it? What’s wrong?” Jackson’s deep voice took on an uneasy edge.

“A sniper took out your sliding glass door.” Her reply was low-pitched and deceptively dispassionate.

“Fuck!” Jackson growled and disconnected.

Rebecca dropped the phone and used both hands to aim her gun. Assholes, evidently they wanted to finish the job. Well, fuck them. They’d underestimated her. She moved to the edge of the doors and pulled the curtains aside. Her gaze shifted from the woods to the surrounding area. Her eyes sharp, she focused on taking steady breaths, keeping her cool. She struggled to rein in her fury.

She doubted the sniper would try to enter the apartment, he was probably long gone by now. She snarled, hoping he did try to come for her. She’d take his sorry ass out, maybe take out both kneecaps and torture him till he told her who had that baby.

Her mind went back to the child she’d failed to help. Did they still have him? Was he safe? Fuck! She had to do something. To hell with this convalescent shit. It wasn’t like her but she would have to break that promise. She had wasted too much time lying around. The bastards were still shooting at her and that just pissed her off.

It had only been minutes when she heard the echo of footfalls on the stairwell outside the door. She moved to the hallway and trained her revolver on the door with perfect aim, as the deadbolts were swiftly unlocked.

Jackson burst through the door with his gun raised and his teeth set. He met Rebecca’s gaze and advanced on her as he holstered his weapon. “Aw hell, Becca,” he bit out, his eyes cold and dark.

Rebecca lowered her gun with a sigh. “We need to check out back.”

“You’re bleeding,” he snapped.

She looked down at the blood that flowed down her shins and shrugged. She hadn’t felt anything. They were probably just nicks. Before she could take a step toward the door, Jackson scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. She fought him but he held her firmly.

“Be still. Did you get a shot at him?”

“No, he was gone by the time I retrieved my weapon. Damn it to hell, Jackson, this is ridiculous.” He sat her on the closed lid of the toilet and knelt in front of her. “We 94

Moving Violations

need to canvas the woods out back. He was in the woods. Are you listening to me!?” she asked, trying to slap his hands away.

He wet a washcloth in the sink beside them and wrung it out. “Sandor Kylie and Gray Jensen are taking care of it, now shut up,” he replied sharply without looking at her.

“Shut up? Shut up?” she yelled, eyeing him incredulously, ignoring the sting as he carefully washed away the blood. “Who the hell are Sandor Kylie and Gray Jensen?”

“State Troopers. They’re working with me, us. You may need stitches…” he said.

His voice shook with rage.

“Too fuckin’ bad,” she hissed. “I’m not going back to the hospital. I’m sick of you babying me. I’m not fragile, Jack…”

Jackson took her face between her hands and kissed her hard, fast, silencing her tirade. It wasn’t tender, it was a kiss that meant to stake claim. When he pulled away she was panting. Her lips felt swollen and bruised. It pissed her off even more that her body so readily responded to him. His expression had her swallowing her biting retort. She shuddered at the warning, the fury and the fear she saw in his eyes.

His thumb caressed her jaw; his gaze searched her face. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Again his mouth closed over hers. His lips moved with aching gentleness, sending ripples of need curling through her.

“We found the casings, Jackson, but he cleared out…oh sorry.” Gray stood at the bathroom door, Sandor stood behind him.

Jackson pulled away with a growl. Rebecca blinked and sucked in air. She looked up at the bathroom doorway. Both men looked as uncomfortable as Rebecca felt.

“I figured as much,” Jackson said tightly.

“You all right?” Sandor asked Rebecca, lifting his brows. He had a hard face and sad eyes. He watched her closely, his brow lifted as he waited for her answer.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she muttered. Jackson was shaken. She could plainly see that, felt it in his kiss.

“I’m taking her to the emergency room. I’ll meet you guys back at the station.”

Oh that was it, the last straw. Now she was embarrassed as well as aroused, frustrated and angry. She really wanted to punch something. She glanced back at Jackson, her hard gaze matching his. She could almost hear the crackle of tension between them. “The hell I am,” she said through her teeth.

“Stubborn woman,” he growled at her. “You may need a tetanus shot.”

She glared at him. “Had one, two years ago. I’m current. Just give me a fuckin’

band-aid.”

“It doesn’t look so bad, Jackson.” Gray stepped into the cramped space. He stood over them, his hands on his hips. His bulky frame clad in a beige uniform, gun at his hip. Damn, he made that ugly uniform look good. Rebecca felt suffocated. Too many big, controlling men in too small a space. Gray’s eyes were hard as he examined her wound, tilting his head. “Put some antibiotic ointment on it. She’ll be fine.”

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Lora Leigh and Veronica Chadwick

Chapter Twenty

Give her a fuckin’ band-aid. Jackson snorted as he slapped one in her palm, and then jerked the antibiotic ointment from the medicine cabinet and gave it to her as well.

He wanted to snarl at Sandor and Gray, but he wasn’t afforded that option at the moment.

Both men were too damned close to her to suit him anyway. As though her ankles, or the long, pretty expanse of leg they kept glancing at was any of their business.

He glanced back at the two men, frowning fiercely. He didn’t like the gleam of amusement that came to their eyes.

“We’re leaving the apartment,” he told her as the other two men finally filed out of the cramped area. “We’re in deep shit here, Becca. Get dressed and re-pack that bag while I get things together with Sandor and Gray.”

“What kind of deep shit? Did you find out something about that baby?” Her voice was filled with excitement now.

Jackson wiped his hands over his face. She would be the death of him. She slapped the band-aid on her shin and followed him quickly as he left the room. He glanced back at her, seeing the glitter in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks and the intent, determined expression on her face. Hell. He wanted to fuck her, not take her out into a damned war.

“We found something out, but I don’t know where the child is involved yet,” he growled as they entered the bedroom.

He slammed the door shut behind him. His cock was raging, but he’d be damned if he’d let Sandor and Gray hear the helpless little cries of pleasure that came from his Becca’s throat as he made love to her.

“What did you find out?” She jerked her suitcase out of the closet ahead of him and tossed it on the bed.

Glancing back at him curiously, she moved to the dresser for her clothes.

“Save a pair of jeans to wear out of here,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her. She was raring to go, dammit. He had hoped to talk her into staying someplace nice and safe while he, Sandor and Gray moved in to find out what the hell the mayor and his henchmen were up to.

She nodded quickly. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed wearily. “We’re not completely certain, Becca. But it looks like someone is using Jericho to hide Middle Eastern illegals. We think it could be the families of certain terrorist factions.”

Becca stopped packing. He watched her face.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes, seeing a sudden dawning realization in her eyes.

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“When I was on the force in Detroit, there was an investigation. I suspected someone on the force of aiding Middle Eastern terrorists in slipping their families across the border into Canada. Nothing came of it, but…”

“Todd’s here, causing trouble.” Jackson clenched his fists as he tucked them into his pants pockets. “Was he part of the investigation?”

Becca licked her lips nervously. “It was rumored he was under investigation, not part of the investigation,” she whispered. “Nothing came of it, though.” She shook her head desperately. “It was just a rumor.”

Jackson shook his head. “In this case, I’d suspect it was no mere rumor,” he sighed.

“Sandor and Gray were investigating on this end. They’re part of a national taskforce, and Todd Lawrence’s name pops up in more than one memo concerning problems Detroit is having tracking this situation. When he showed up here, he raised more than a little interest.”

Her eyes lit with an angry gleam. “That’s treason,” she said quietly.

Jackson was silent for a moment before he sighed wearily. “Yes, Becca, that’s treason. Which makes Todd incredibly stupid and dangerous. We suspect the mayor as well as Roby and Martin of conspiring with them. Now get ready, get packed. I have to talk to Sandor and Gray, and see how we’re going to do this.”

He walked to her, hating the hurt in her eyes. She looked disillusioned, betrayed.

“I thought he was just an asshole, not a traitor,” she whispered. “Will they suspect me now? Of helping him?”

They had, Jackson knew. Sandor had been very blunt in giving that information.

Until the incident with the truck. The description Becca had given of the driver matched with a suspected arms dealer involved in the transportation of the terrorist families. Her injuries, her attempts to stop the truck, and now the attempt on her life pretty much cleared her of suspicion.

“No, Becca,” he promised, pulling her into his arms as he kissed her forehead gently. “No one suspects you, baby. But you are in danger now. You can identify the driver, and you know the dangers involved in that. We have to take care of this before you’ll be safe. Now get ready.”

He pulled back, but he couldn’t resist lowering his head to kiss her trembling lips.

His hunger for her was unlike anything he had ever known. He craved the taste of her…yeah, that soft trembling moan. His body tightened, his cock raging instantly in demand.

Her mouth opened for him, her tongue tangling with his timidly as her hands gripped his shoulders. She wasn’t timid for long though. Jackson groaned as she moved against him, her hands moving to his hair, her lips opening farther, her mouth becoming hungry now as the kiss intensified. Kissing her was like feeding fire, and it was threatening to rage out of control.