CHAPTER 9
Callie sat opposite him in the limo, her face flushed, her blue eyes full of rage and a thousand other emotions he couldn’t untangle. She was shaking, too, but it wasn’t from cold.
He’d seen her in that corridor with her father. He’d seen that bastard standing close to her, looming over her with his hand wrapped around her wrist and twisting it.
What he’d thought earlier had been right, and he’d known the second he’d seen the senator whisper in her ear and she’d gone white that something extremely serious was about to go down.
The protective instinct had kicked in hard and so the second Callie had put her champagne down and followed her father out of the main function area, he’d gone after them. It had taken him a couple of minutes to get through the thickening crowds, but he’d finally managed it, coming into the hallway to find that motherfucker standing over her, hurting her.
He’d wanted to kill someone before. He remembered the intensity of his rage and he’d felt it again, licking up inside him at the grip the senator had on Callie’s wrist. At the redness of her skin around his fingers. And once again it had taken every little bit of control he had not to get out his gun and pull that fucking trigger.
Getting her and himself out of there had been imperative, so he’d invented a lie on the spot about a disturbance, anything to get Callie away from that bastard.
Except now she was upset and furious, and he could understand both because no one wanted to be seen in a position of weakness. Hell, he knew what that was like. It had been the most difficult part of his recovery, lying in his hospital bed weak and in pain, too helpless even to bathe himself or go to the bathroom on his own. For a man used to being physically fit and in control, it had been torture. So yeah, he got her fury. He got the reason for her defiance.
But still, he wanted to hear her give him the truth herself.
Her chin jutted in the way he was starting to become familiar with, rebellious and stubborn, and she jerked against his hold again, even though it must be hurting her. “You told him,” she said suddenly. “About me going to the club.”
Shock caught at him. “What the fuck? No. Of course I damn well didn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.” Wildness glittered in her eyes and beneath it a desperation he didn’t understand. “How else could he have known? He told me he didn’t want me flaunting myself at clubs like a slut and there’s no way he could have known, not with those fucking cameras—”
Jack moved, responding automatically to an instinct he didn’t even know he possessed, wrenching his earpiece off before crossing to sit next to her, then pulling her firmly into his arms.
She gasped and went rigid, her whole body trembling, but he didn’t let her go. He held her tighter, letting her feel the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body, giving her what physical comfort he could.
She struggled a little against him, her palms lifting to push against his chest. But only for a moment. She went still after that, all the fight draining out of her, her breathing coming short and fast against his neck.
Only once she’d stopped shaking did he slip his fingers beneath her jaw and tilt her head back so he could see her face.
It was pale, her eyes shadowed and full of storms.
“Listen to me,” he said softly, fiercely. “I didn’t tell your father a fucking thing. Not about the club, not about any of it. And I don’t know who did, but that’s irrelevant now.”
“But how can you say it’s—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he went on with calm authority, because he knew what he was going to do now. He’d made the decision even before he’d seen those bruises on her arm. “If you don’t want to talk about your goddamn father, fine. But this situation is just fucking unacceptable and you’re not staying in it.” Callie opened her mouth yet again, so this time he put his hand over it. “No, don’t say a fucking word. I don’t know who’s listening.”
A fine tremor shook her, a little less intense than the last shake. She was still holding herself rigidly, the warmth of her breath against his palm, that sweet sugar scent of her winding around him. And he had a sudden, intense vision of himself with his palm over her mouth as he slid a hand between her thighs, stroking the wet little pussy he found there. Stroking her clit and making her shake with pleasure, not fear. Sharpening the steel he knew was part of her, testing her strength, making her eyes go dark and wild and hot.
He wouldn’t let her come until she was begging him, until she was screaming his name. Until she’d given every single fucking thing to him.
His cock was hardening and Jesus Christ, it was so not the right time for him to be thinking shit like that, so he shoved the vision away. “We’re going back to your place,” he went on. “And you’ll take five minutes to get your shit together and then we’re out of there.”
Now she’d gone very still and he could feel her breathing accelerate. Her hair smelled so fucking good he wanted to nuzzle into it, inhale her.
“Don’t ask questions,” he continued, making it an order. “Don’t fucking speak. Just do what I say. I’m taking you somewhere safe, understand. Nod your head if you do.”
He didn’t know what would happen if she refused, and there was a moment where he thought she might. But then she gave him a short, sharp nod.
He tried to breathe through his mouth, tried not to inhale the delicious scent of her. “Are you going to try and stop me?”
Again, there was a moment’s hesitation.
Then quite suddenly, she turned her head toward him, making his hand slip from her mouth and before he could pull back, she’d leaned forward an inch or two and nipped at his bottom lip. Hard.
The pain was small, yet it went straight to his cock as if she’d touched him there directly.
She pulled back, staring at him. She was still trembling, but there it was in her eyes, that fire, that spark. That steel inside her challenging him.
Desire twisted against the control he’d laid on it, and it took all he had not to shove his fingers in her hair and jerk her head back, deal to her what she’d just dealt to him.
“Good,” he said instead. “I don’t want you afraid.”
Her dress pulled tight across her breasts as she took a breath, her pulse racing at the base of her throat. She looked furious and desperate at the same time. “How do I know this isn’t some trick? That you’re not going to take me straight back to my father?”
He stared intently at her, letting her see the truth in his eyes. “You want to know what I really think of your father? I think any man who lays a hand on a woman like that deserves to be six feet in the goddamn ground.”
Her gaze flickered, but her tension didn’t ease. “Let me go.”
“No. Are you going to do what I say?”
“I don’t understand why you even care.”
“Let’s just say I’ve had experience with assholes like your dad and I know where that kind of shit eventually leads. It’s nowhere good, Princess. Which is why, whether you like it or not, you’re coming with me.”
She swallowed. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to be rescued.”
“I don’t care whether you want to be rescued or not. It’s happening.” He adjusted his grip on her and reached into his pocket, taking out his phone. Kellan had given him a code to use for an emergency extraction and he punched it in now without a second’s hesitation. If they were going to leave, they needed to do so fast and without drawing attention.
The limo slowly came to a stop as they approached Callie’s house and Jack released her, opening the door and getting out. He checked the street automatically, then held the door for Callie.
She stayed where she was.
Fighting the instinct that was screaming at him to get her the hell away as quickly as he could, he bent and looked into the limo. She was sitting there with her hands clasped in her lap, her attention straight ahead, her chin lifted and her back rigid.
“Princess.” He tried to keep his voice gentle. “Get the fuck out of the limo.”
“I . . . wanted to get away from him. I always have.” She didn’t look at him. “But I wanted to do it myself. I didn’t want to be rescued.”
He heard the note of distress in her voice and it felt like a kick aimed straight at his heart. Gentleness wasn’t in his nature, but he would try to give it to her if that’s what she needed, and he suspected that right now, she probably did.
“Here’s how I see it,” he said quietly. “You have two choices. You can either come with me, or you can stay. You might not like those choices. They might not be the choices you wanted. But you have them. They’re yours to make. Not mine and they’re certainly not your fucking father’s. One thing you gotta know, though. It’s not staying that makes you brave. It’s the leaving that takes courage. Believe me, I know.”
She sat there for a long moment, not moving, and he forced away his impatience. Forced down the need to grab her and drag her into the house.
This was something she needed, he could sense it.
Eventually he said, “You can trust me, Callie. I would never hurt you.”
Another moment passed and then finally she turned and looked at him, and the expression in her blue gaze gave him another kick to the chest, though he wasn’t sure quite why.
Then she looked away and slowly moved to the car door, getting out, not waiting for him as she headed straight to her front door, her head lifted regally.
He didn’t give a shit, a flood of something hot and intense filling him. Because she’d wanted a choice and so he’d given her one.
And whether she knew it or not, her choice was him.
* * *
Callie went straight into her bedroom and tore off her gown. Jack had told her five minutes and she knew he’d meant every word. She kicked the satiny fabric onto the floor before going to her dresser and pulling out a pair of jeans, a tee, a dark blue cashmere sweater, and a thick winter coat. She dressed quickly, then got herself a bag from her wardrobe and stuffed whatever other clothes she could find inside it.
She tried not to think about the decision she’d made there in the car, after he’d told her that true courage was leaving, not staying. After he’d told her she could trust him and something had shifted inside her whether she’d wanted it to or not. Or at least, she tried not to think about that feeling.
Because it meant something.
She’d thought that his decision to rescue her had taken the choice she’d made to rescue herself away. But he hadn’t. He’d simply told her that the decision to come with him was hers to make, as was the choice to stay.
She’d never had a choice like that before, that wasn’t coerced, and for a second she’d been paralyzed both by the enormity of the choice, and by the extent of her own fear. It was one thing to think about escaping her father. It was quite another to take the step to do it.
But he’d told her she could trust him and she knew that she could. She just . . . knew. And the decision after that had been easy.
But she definitely didn’t want to think about the rest of her behavior, when she’d been in his arms, resting against his hard, hot body, and she’d bitten his lip. And definitely not about the craving that had filled her as he’d put his hand over her mouth. That intense need she had to lash out at him, fight him, let him take her anger and hurt. Hit him as hard as she could, struggle and rage without fear.
It made her want him so badly she ached.
But she didn’t think about that, either. She packed her bag on autopilot and she grabbed her guitar case, and five minutes later she came out into the living area to find Jack waiting for her.
He’d changed out of his tux and back into his usual uniform of jeans, thermal, and a leather jacket. He had that black kit bag slung over his shoulder and his expression was hard, his green eyes absolutely unreadable.
Yes, he was a hard man, but his mouth hadn’t been. When she’d nipped it, she’d felt the give of his lower lip, felt him stiffen. Her heart had leapt into her throat and all her muscles had tightened, and she’d wanted him to do . . . something, though what she didn’t know. She only knew that there was a blaze of emotion inside her and it had to come out one way or another.
She swallowed, trying to ignore it.
“You ready?” he asked shortly.
“Yes.”
His gaze dropped to the guitar case and she tensed. If he told her she couldn’t take it, she’d hit him over the head with it until he agreed.
But all he said was, “Do you want to know where we’re going?”
Oh yes. It was probably important she knew how exactly they were going to escape her father, since once he’d found out she was missing, she had no doubt he’d move heaven and earth to find her.
Then again, Jack had told her to trust him. And she did. “As long as you get me away, I don’t care where or how.”
He stared at her a second longer, something she couldn’t quite catch gleaming in his eyes. Then he gave a sharp nod. “You won’t be coming back here. So make sure you have all the shit you want to take, understand?”
She took a small breath, waiting for distress or shock to hit her at the thought of leaving her little place of safety. But it didn’t.
Because you were never safe here.
No. She never had been. Not once. And it struck her suddenly as she looked at Jack, standing there so tall and dark and dangerous, that she knew where she was safe.
With him.
“I understand,” she said, without a single shred of regret. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t wait. Jack headed for the door and held it open for her, and she walked through it without a backward glance.
The night was cold, making her shiver despite her coat.
Jack headed down the street a little way and she followed, coming to a stop as he unlocked what had to be a hired car. He opened the passenger’s side and she got in, closing the door after her. She put on her seat belt, then shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as he came around to the driver’s side and got in.
A minute later and they were pulling away from the curb and joining the late-night traffic.
Jack didn’t speak, his attention on the road and flicking occasionally to the rearview mirror as if he was checking to make sure they weren’t being followed.
It made her feel even colder to imagine they were and what might happen if her father caught them. What he might do to her . . .
Nausea churned in her gut. Yet another horrible sensation to add to the anger and fear and all the other emotions tangling inside her.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, not taking his attention from the front windshield. “I won’t let him find you.”
Of course he knew that she was afraid. He seemed able to read her mind with uncanny accuracy. How the hell did he do that?
“I can hear your breathing,” he added, lifting the thought directly from her head. “I know fear when I hear it.” Callie opened her mouth, but he went on, “And don’t bother denying it. I’ve known you were afraid since the moment I met you in the nightclub.”
She shut her mouth, clenching her fingers in her pockets. Why was it so hard to admit? Maybe because she’d spent so long denying it, that finally saying it was difficult to do. Especially to someone she hardly knew.
She glanced at him, watching the streetlights cast shadows over his face. His scars were hidden from this angle, the lines of his jaw and cheekbone unmarred, his skin smooth. There was a certain purity to his features, a very male beauty, that made him look less hard. Less dangerous.
But he wasn’t either of those things. He was hard and he was dangerous, and those scars she couldn’t see told a difficult story all their own.
Looking at him, she forgot about the sick feeling, about the fear and the anger, curiosity gripping her tightly. A grenade blast had given him those scars, he’d said. But how had it happened? Where had he been and what had he been doing? And why the Marines?
“I thought Dad hired you to keep an eye on me,” she said into the heavy silence. “That’s the reason I’ve been . . . bitchy to you.”
“A simple question would have cleared that up.”
“Yeah, well, you can see why I didn’t though, can’t you? I barely know you. I thought that even a veiled question might get back to Dad and I didn’t want that.”
“Fair enough.” He glanced at her, a brief flash of emerald. “I didn’t mind you being bitchy to me, though.”
She didn’t quite know what to do with that, so she ignored it. “So, I guess you weren’t hired to keep an eye on me?”
“I was hired because of the death threats against you. That’s all your father told me.” There was a slight hesitation, then he went on, “He wanted me to put the cameras back in your house.”
A small pulse of shock went through her, though she really shouldn’t have been surprised. “Well, considering the cameras were his in the first place, I guess that’s expected.”
Jack gave her another glance. “They were his cameras? I wondered.”
“Oh yeah, that’s why, when you told me, I was so shocked. I didn’t know they were there, but I was certain he’d installed them.” She paused, anger stirring inside her once more at the memory. “He likes knowing what I’m doing and he hates secrets. Controlling people is his favorite thing, especially controlling me and my mother.”
Jack didn’t say anything for a long moment, his attention firmly in front of him. Then he said quietly, “He told me not to tell you about the cameras going back in. He didn’t want you to know they were there.”
Her anger twisted, a hot current of it. “Bastard. Of course he wouldn’t. He must have been pissed you found them in the first place.” A thought struck her all of a sudden. “You didn’t—”
“No.” The word was hard and flat and absolutely certain. “I didn’t put the cameras back in. In fact, that was what made me suspicious about him in the first place. Not that I wasn’t already suspicious, given your behavior.”
Oh crap. Had she really been that transparent?
“What about my behavior?”
“Like I already told you, I know fear when I see it. And when a woman is afraid the way you were afraid, there aren’t too many places it can come from.”
“What do you mean the way I was afraid?” Great. This was getting better and better.
“You were angry and argumentative for no reason. Territorial about your place. You didn’t want to do what I told you, even though it was for your own safety. And you kept avoiding telling me what the problem was. And lastly, I know what fear looks like. I could see it in your eyes.”
She stared at him, momentarily stunned at all the things he’d noticed about her.
He gave her another intense, green glance. “I notice everything about you, Princess. Protecting you is my job and I take it very seriously.”
“Is that why you’re taking me away now?” she couldn’t help asking, not even sure why it mattered. “Because it’s your job? Or would you do this for anyone?”
“Yes,” he said harshly and for some reason, that made her feel . . . disappointed, though she didn’t really want to examine why. “I’d do it for anyone in danger from an asshole like him.”
“So why didn’t you simply call the police?”
His expression twisted. “Did you ever call the police?”
Callie swallowed. “I thought about it a couple of times, but . . .”
“But he’s a senator,” Jack finished. “And the police are his best buddies.”
It was true, but it wasn’t the fact that he’d guessed that caught at her all of a sudden. It was the sound of an edge in his voice. An edge that hadn’t been there before.
She studied him, watching as the headlights from passing cars illuminated his face, the ache and burn of curiosity twisting tighter. “That sounds almost personal.”
His head turned sharply, the full impact of his green eyes hitting her, the emotion in them so sharp and intense it stole her breath.
Then just as sharply, he looked away. “My employers have a charter plane standing by.” The words were flat, expressionless. “We’ll be flying to San Diego.”