Chapter 8

 

By the time Jaime had the window covered with plastic sheeting and her essentials moved into Scott’s room, she was too exhausted and wired for sleep. She’d feel guilty even attempting to sleep while three men were combing her property for a sniper aiming at her.

Amelia had interviewed her as she’d helped with the temporary repair and Jaime hoped to never be on the receiving end of that kind of conversation again. In truth, she had no idea what Amelia could possibly dig up from the recesses of her life. She didn’t see any place where she’d crossed paths with either an enemy or agent of this bizarre Unknown Identities group.

Until Scott.

Him she wanted to cross paths with in a much different manner.

She and Amelia had drawn all the curtains around the house, blocking out the view of anyone else who might be lurking with deadly intent. Still, she couldn’t help peeking out the window in the room she now shared with Scott, wishing they would get some word from the men out searching.

“I should have gone with them,” she murmured, letting the curtain fall back.

“John would have said no.” Amelia stood in the doorway, her closed laptop tucked at her elbow. “He wanted someone here with me, and he wanted me to get to the bottom of UI’s interest in you.”

She’d like that too. “Did you find anything?”

“UI has tentacles that slither into just about everything, but no, I can’t find a direct link between you or any known agents.”

Jaime sighed. “And that leaves us where?” She had a few weeks off, but she didn’t intend to stop living her life.

“Neither one of us will sleep before they come back,” Amelia said, knowingly. “Why don’t we go have some tea? You can add whiskey to yours for both of us.”

That made Jaime smile as she followed Amelia downstairs.

“You’re a relatively public figure,” Amelia said as they waited for the kettle to boil.

“Maybe in certain circles.”

“You were expected to win your last competition,” Amelia said. “It was news when you didn’t.”

“I’m aware,” Jaime grumbled.

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the surface nicked and scratched from years of service at the center of family gatherings. Amelia opened her laptop and adjusted her glasses. “Your schedule is fairly public on your website and across social media. It didn’t take me long to figure out you come home every time you have more than a week between events.”

“Okay.” Jaime squirmed in the chair. Apparently she’d led them into a trap. “Home is Bozeman, though.”

“Your long bio mentions growing up in Eagle Rock.”

She’d have another chat with her publicity team. It was a fine line between giving potential clients and fans enough access to keep them happy and having a safe personal life.

“I’m almost certain you were targeted because you’re convenient,” Amelia stated. “Predictable patterns and, if attacked, you’d likely provide resistance.”

“So I was a test?”

“Pretty much.” Amelia tapped her pursed lips. “Ordering your death gives the program a great deal of information and insight on Scott. If you posed a challenge, put up a fight, they would have gained even more information.”

Jaime stifled the exasperated groan. “You found the self-defense story.”

Amelia nodded again. “It’s public record, practically urban legend considering how old you were and who attacked you.”

In a blink she was back in that fraught moment. The senator’s son had suffered grand delusions of his value to the world, especially women. He’d been lurking around the convention center venue during a national Taekwondo competition, bragging and leering in turns.

At seventeen she was the defending champion in her class and headed for the Olympic team. He’d come after her at the end of the day as she’d left the locker room. Not content with verbal harassment, he’d gone off the deep end and attacked, vowing to rape and maim as he tried to drag her through the service area to his waiting car. Jaime glanced down at her hands, the scars from her defensive wounds were almost too faint to see after all this time. His face still showed up in her nightmares once in a while.

“If he hadn’t pulled the knife, I’d probably be in jail for manslaughter,” Jaime said. She could still feel her foot connecting with his sternum, sending him through the air like a rag doll, his head cracking open against a brick when he landed. “His attorneys nearly convinced everyone I was a walking weapon, a bomb ready to blow again at any moment.”

“The opposite is true of good martial arts champions,” Amelia noted.

“True,” Jaime agreed. It had been an uphill battle proving that in court. “I didn’t want to compete anymore, not like that. My family helped me find a new direction with the target shooting and the national teams eventually came around again looking for coaches.” Cold fingers of fear danced down her spine. “There’s no way to get any of that off the internet?”

Amelia shook her head. “Consider it permanent, though it isn’t the first thing that shows up in a search on your name.”

“Any chance retirement would help? I was considering it anyway.” She rubbed at her recovering arm.

The redhead smiled. “John will suggest faking your death. And Scott’s.”

“And what happens then? We just hide out and never go anywhere again?”

“Some people do that,” Amelia admitted. “For a time. You aren’t wanted by anyone other than UI, so it could work. John and I have been on the move for years. It does get old.” She pressed a hand to her belly.

“How far along are you?” Jaime asked. “It’s in your face, that sweet twinkle in your eye in spite of the chaos.”

“About ten weeks,” Amelia said, eyes dancing with happiness. “Staying a step ahead of UI, moving constantly with a baby is less than ideal.”

A life looking over her shoulder wasn’t Jaime’s ideal either. She had too much family, too many friends, to walk away and play dead.

“Think about what you need,” Amelia said. “And we’ll come up with something.”

Right now all she could think about were the men she barely knew trudging around outside to root out a sniper working on nothing more than the whim of a stranger. “If this was a test for Scott, why try to shoot me?”

“Assassination is the go-to move when they’ve been burned,” Amelia said. “They’re cleaning up loose ends.”

“What will happen to his friends?”

“It’s hard to say,” Amelia admitted.

“So this will never be over. They’ll keep coming at me no matter what?”

“I won’t lie to you.” Amelia laced her fingers and sat forward. “Life could suck that much.”

“Or?”

“Or we make a stand and send UI a clear warning and an ultimatum of our own. John and I have been discussing it for a while, considering strategies and plans.”

“Any progress?”

“Not until we got out here.” Amelia smiled again. “There’s so much space, no one could sneak up on us. With the right property and the right team, we’d have a place to keep those who want out of the UI program safe through the transition. What the program does to good people is unthinkable and the results are often unpredictable.”

“It’s a great place to raise a family,” Jaime said. “No matter where I travel, it’s home.”

Amelia smiled.

“What’s your end goal?” she asked.

“John and I are determined to keep UI from ruining more lives and careers like they did to John and Ben and Scott. There’s a retired sailor out here who might give us some insight and possibly an assist in our effort to protect Scott and you.”

“Hank Patterson? The retired SEAL?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. It’s a small town. I’d suggested Scott talk to him before we met you,” she said. “Local boy turned military hero. Came back home again and started a business.”

“A personal security business,” Amelia stated. “You might consider his services.”

Jaime was still pondering the idea of needing personal security when John and Scott finally returned. The relief washed through her, chased by a sizzling warmth that started in her belly and radiated outward as Scott’s eyes met hers. Other than being cold, both men seemed healthy, whole, and confident the area was clear.

For now.

Ben returned a few minutes later and insisted on keeping watch through the night, claiming an invisible guard was better than visible, tired, and pregnant types combined. His odd humor lightened the mood as they headed upstairs to try and sleep.

“Ben’s growing on me,” Jaime said. She and Scott were alone in the guest room and the immediate intimacy suddenly felt like one challenge too many. They’d shared a motel room last night, but desire hummed in her bloodstream, a tingling need to share something much more personal.

“He’s interesting,” Scott agreed. “I can take the floor.” On the opposite side of the bed, he reached for a pillow.

“I wish you’d kiss me again.” Heat flooded her cheeks after blurting out that bold declaration. She was grateful for the low light from the lamp on the nightstand.

With measured strides, Scott crossed the room, stopping just out of reach. “I keep expecting you to come to your senses.”

“I’m not sure sense has anything to do with this.” The honesty was just bubbling over tonight. His expression clouded, his straight eyebrows flexing down over his straight nose. Her fingertips tingled. She wanted to smooth away that scowl and kiss him until they were breathless, mindless, and free. She wanted to create a place where how they met and why didn’t matter, a place where the future was irrelevant and they were the only two who existed. “Kiss me.”

*

Scott was staring at a miracle. Or a mirage. He touched the fringe of her hair with a fingertip, half expecting her to dissolve with a shimmer. He’d had so much bad luck lately, so many months plagued with confusion, fear, and disbelief that he hesitated to trust in this.

She didn’t dissolve, she leaned in, her breath soft and warm against his chilled skin. So real. True. He wrapped his arms around her and set his mouth to hers, so sure he could take it slow and easy.

He’d never been more wrong. Her tongue slid over his and the kiss spiraled out of his control, heat pulsing through his veins with every sigh and touch. Clothing scattered amid hot kisses and hotter explorations. Her fingers and lips traced his tattoos and his scars with equal parts sensual curiosity and attentiveness. When her body was bare to him he thought he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Jaime. Her nipples pebbled with a only a look and she arched, her hands keeping him close when he drew that sensitive flesh into his mouth, teasing her with his teeth and tongue. Her skin impossibly soft, her supple curves pressed against him, she was a taste of heaven he’d given up on knowing.

The beatings and bruises forgotten, the danger a vague memory, he took each pleasure she offered and indulged himself, giving it back to her tenfold. Her responsive moans and cries stoked a fiery need inside him as he discovered what she liked, what she craved, and what made her beg for more.

“Please, Scott, please.” She gripped his hips, drawing him in close, cradling his erection with her hot, wet folds.

His patience snapped and he drove deep, joining them at last. On a sweet sigh, she rocked her hips, drawing him deeper still. She lifted her hands to his face and held his gaze as he started to move with slow, measured strokes. Together they found a rhythm that tempered the urgency, allowing their passion to build, carrying them to a stunning peak.

On the wrecked bed, both of them breathless and spent, he drew her into his embrace. With her head resting on his shoulder he slept soundly for the first time since his ordeal had begun.