Bringing Benjy Home (Security Ops) (19 page)

Yeah, he’d had his doubts. And he’d made her fully aware of them at every turn. His had never been a trusting nature, and belief in Jaida’s abilities took more faith than he’d ever had.

But it wasn’t the change in his opinion of Jaida that was really worthy of comment, it was the change in his feelings for her. There was no way he could explain to Mac the strange connection that leaped to life between them every time they touched.

“Did you get the arrangements made for your flight back?” Trey asked.

Mac nodded. “You want them at a safe house, I assume.”

“For now,” Trey answered. “Let’s keep a couple of our men with them at all times, too.”

Mac shook his head. “No need. I’ll stay with them myself.”

“Thanks,” Trey said. “I’ll feel better if you’re there, at least until I return. They’ll be comfortable with you.” He paused for a moment, then added deliberately, “Make sure you’re armed at all times.”

The two men exchanged a level glance. “You got it.” Mac was silent for a time before he ventured, “How long are you planning to keep them hidden away, Trey?”

“Until I know for sure just who the hell is behind the kidnapping and why,” Trey replied tersely. “Jaida is sure the woman wasn’t working alone, that a man is involved, too. Once the woman starts talking, we’ll have a better idea what’s been going on. In the meantime, I can’t afford to let the kidnapper have another chance.”

“When will you be coming back?” Mac asked.

Trey thought for a moment. “I need to stay here another few days and deal with the police. They’ll be interrogating the woman we caught, and I want to be here when she spills the information about her partner.”

Trey’s certainty that there would be a partner, despite having only Jaida’s word for it, didn’t escape Mac. Something had changed his partner’s feelings about Jaida West. He wondered if it stemmed only from the fact she’d led him to Benjy, or if it was caused by something much, much more complicated.

The sun was high overhead when Mac and Lauren were ready to leave with Benjy again.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t come with us now, Trey,” Lauren said, her pretty face troubled with a frown. “And I hate to rush away like this without even talking to Jaida. We owe her so much!” Her voice choked for a moment as she thought of all the woman had returned to her. She hugged Benjy closer to her. “It just doesn’t seem right to leave without thanking her.”

“I don’t want her awakened.” Trey’s voice was firm. “The experience yesterday. . .” He hesitated. Just the memory of what Jaida had put herself through to help them find Benjy made him swallow hard. “It was difficult for her,” he finished at last. “The best thing we can do is let her sleep as long as she’s able.” And hope like hell that sleep alone would be enough to restore her stamina.

Lauren bit her lip, then finally nodded reluctantly. Mac cast his partner a speculative glance. His words a moment ago had held a tinge of possessiveness.

“You’ll remember the flight plan,” Trey said to his partner.

Mac nodded laconically. Pilots were required to submit flight plans to the airports they were using, but Trey had been worried about leaving a trail in case anyone was interested in their destination. There were ways to change the plan en route, ways that would make them difficult, if not impossible, to trace. “Don’t worry, Trey. I’ve got it covered.”

Trey crossed to his sister and encompassed her and his nephew in a hug. “Quit worrying, honey. This will all be over pretty soon. The worst is behind us.” She smiled at him, and he held out his hand for Benjy to high-five. “I’ll see you again pretty soon, okay, big guy? Take care of your mom for me.”

Benjy gave him a toothy grin. From his perch in his mother’s arms, the world appeared happy and secure.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Trey muttered, looking around the room. Spotting the bag he was seeking, he fetched its contents for his nephew. “You’ll be wanting this, I’ll bet.”

“El-funt,” Benjy crowed delightedly. He reached out and snatched it from his uncle’s hand, crooning happily. “El-funt, Mama.”

Lauren blinked away tears at the sight. As precious as the toy was to Benjy, it would always mean infinitely more to her. It represented Jaida’s help, and the way her son had been returned to her. She looked back at Trey. “You’ll join us soon?”

He nodded and hugged her again. “As soon as I can.”

Mac shepherded Lauren and Benjy to the door. Trey stopped him with his hand on Mac’s arm. “Take care of them,” he ordered in a low voice.

The two men exchanged a long glance. “You know I will,” Mac promised quietly. Trey watched them leave, then turned and crossed the room, opening the door to Jaida’s room.

He walked over to the bed and gazed down at her. Her breathing was still deep and even, but she was no longer huddled like a cocoon in the middle of the bed. Sometime in the past hour she’d shed one of the blankets he’d covered her with, and it lay on the floor at his feet.

He picked it up and folded it carefully. He hoped this was a good sign, that she’d be waking up soon. With a gentle hand he reached down and pushed the heavy mass of pale hair away from her face.

Then, with a feeling of déjà vu, he pulled up a chair and settled in for a silent vigil over Jaida as she slept.

Chapter 12

The room was quiet, the air heavy with late-afternoon humidity. Jaida awoke gradually to a sense of sticky discomfort. She lay still for a minute, blinking groggily, trying to get her bearings. Her memory slowly filtered back to her.

Benjy. They’d found him.

She frowned, trying to recall the exact course of events following the scene in the park, but the rest of that day was hazy at best. Her head felt as if it was full of cotton batting. She knew from experience that the sensation came from around-the-clock, druglike slumber.

Slipping out of bed, she padded past the door to the adjoining room. There was no sound coming from the adjoining room, and she wondered groggily where Trey and his family were. The bright sunlight spilling in at the bottom of the heavy draperies alluded to daytime, but she had no way of knowing how long she’d been asleep. She paused to turn up the air conditioner and headed to the bathroom.

Standing under the stinging spray of the shower, Jaida began to feel somewhat human again. She felt alarmingly weak, as if she were recovering from a long, serious bout of flu. Her head was throbbing, but the pain was at a tolerable level, better than the clawing agony she’d been in before Trey had put her to bed.

She stilled in the act of washing her hair. Unlike much of that day, she had a remarkably accurate memory of being undressed and placed under a mountain of covers to still her body’s shaking. The memory stood out, starkly real against the jumbled mess her mind had been after finding Benjy. She’d been reduced that afternoon to a backdrop, a surreal mural splashed with dozens of strangers’ worries, phobias and desires. She took a deep breath and pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to remember parts of that day, or what the experience had reduced her to. It was enough to hold on to the fact that Benjy was finally safe.

Which meant her usefulness to Trey was at an end.

The ache in her heart kept time with the throbbing in her temples. Her joy and relief at Benjy’s safe return were unconditional, but they brought with them an irrefutable finality. She should be eager to return to the peaceful valley to recover. Instead, she dreaded the time as it drew inexorably nearer. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and grabbed another for her hair. She walked back into the bedroom, her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the dimness.

She sensed his nearness before she’d taken more than a few steps. She froze. He was standing silently in the corner of her room, as if he’d just turned away from the windows. Belatedly aware of her attire, she dropped the towel she’d intended to use for her hair, and with both hands secured the one she’d wrapped around her body. It seemed a fragile barrier beneath his intent regard.

Without taking his eyes from her, Trey reached out and pulled the cord to open the draperies, immediately brightening the room. He examined her face. She still looked fragile. Twenty-six straight hours of sleep hadn’t eliminated the delicate mauve shadows beneath her eyes. But there was a hint of color in her cheeks now. He wondered if it was a sign of her return to health or a reaction to his presence. The latter possibility was provoking.

The sight of her in that damn towel was provoking, too. Although his brain hadn’t sent them a conscious signal, his feet started moving toward her. He bent down and picked up the spare towel she’d dropped.

“Need some help with this?” he asked.

Jaida remained frozen, her mind slow to interpret his intentions. And then it was too late. By the time her head was shaking in negation, he was behind her, blotting the dampness from her wet hair.

The water had turned it a dark, molten gold. He imagined it shedding beads of liquid gold across the thick, white towel. Bending closer, he inhaled deeply. Gardenias. The fragrance suited her somehow. It evoked images of long, hot, Southern nights spent in an old-fashioned four-poster with a lazy overhead ceiling fan doing little but stirring the humid air.

Deliberately, he slid one hand up her arm and cupped her shoulder. Almost as if he had summoned it, the familiar scene appeared in his mind. He could see them together, the black sheets beneath her back, her slim body twisting under his. Trey closed his eyes, savoring the vivid image.

Jaida gasped and jerked away from him. He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. For one brief, heart-stopping second she imagined that he had read her mind and shared the erotic image that had reappeared there. It would account for the half dangerous, half hungry look on his face.

Then reality reasserted itself. She was the one prone to random snatches of surreal visions, not he. Still, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her rumpled bed, rechecking the color of the sheets. White. Letting out a shaky sigh, she banished the sensual picture from her mind.

“I need to get dressed,” she said shakily. She was experiencing an almost desperate need to be alone again.

“I brought you something to wear.” He motioned to the chair near her bed, and she noticed for the first time the dress draped across it.

“I have clothes.”

“Not for where we’re going.” He walked across the room toward her with slow, measured treads.

“Where we’re going?” She repeated his words in a thready voice as she tracked his movement toward her.

“You need to eat,” he replied, stopping in front of her. A small smile tilted his hard mouth. “A lot, knowing you. I had some spare time in the twenty-six hours or so you were sleeping. I scouted a restaurant I think you’ll like.” He had had time to do some shopping, also. He’d told himself it was because she wouldn’t have brought anything appropriate to wear to the pricey restaurant. He had had to pick something up for himself, as well. But as soon as he’d bought that sapphire-blue dress he’d seen in a store window, he’d known he was a liar. He’d purchased it because it gave him pleasure to look at it, touch it and imagine her wearing it. Imagine himself taking it off her.

Her gasp interrupted his thoughts.

“Twenty-six hours!” She shook her head dazedly. “Fifteen or sixteen is usually enough. I’ve never slept around the clock like that, not even—”

She didn’t complete the sentence, but she didn’t need to. He knew she was alluding to the concert that had turned into a nightmare for her, the one that had destroyed her dreams of singing in public.

“You’ve never experienced anything as traumatic as what happened in the park when we found Benjy, either,” he said, his voice harsh. “Do you think I don’t know what that scene did to you? Why in hell did you put yourself through that? I told you to stay put while I searched the crowd.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to think about that day, the impulses that had forced her decision. It had been the hardest one she’d ever had to make in her life, and she wasn’t proud of the amount of time it had taken her to reach it. In the end, there hadn’t been much of a choice after all.

“I had to go,” she finally answered quietly. “You might not have found him—there were so many people . . . .”

He saw the anguish that swept briefly over her face and cursed himself for putting that look there. He reached out and caught a long, damp strand of hair and trapped it between two fingers. Deliberately, he began winding it around his index finger. “I sounded ungrateful just then. I’m not. We owe you so much—if it wasn’t for you, we would never have found Benjy in time. But, honey, you’ve got to start thinking of yourself. I won’t pretend to know exactly what it cost you to go into that crowd, but dammit, I know what you were like when it was over.”

She dropped her gaze, avoiding the intent look on his face.

“Why do you do it?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “Why in God’s name do you put yourself through this kind of pain to help strangers?”

Strangers
. The word echoed in her mind. He hadn’t been a stranger to her, not since the first time he’d touched her. She hadn’t understood him, hadn’t trusted him right away, but she’d never denied the immediate and violent reaction she’d had to him. Perhaps she didn’t need to explain that to him. He’d shown her time and again that he was affected by it, too, and strangely compelled by it.

Belatedly, she answered his question. “Why do I even exist if I don’t use my gift to help others? It’s cost me so much in my life, and it would seem futile if it didn’t mean something.” She caught her breath, distracted for the moment by his thumb rubbing the moisture from the ribbon of hair he’d twined around his finger. “It’s rare when it becomes . . . so intense.”

Frowning, he corrected her. “You need to take prescription pain medication every time you have a vision. Don’t tell me that’s not intense.”

She smiled slightly at the concern in his voice. It was foolish to be warmed by it, but she was nonetheless. “I choose to use my gift to help others. And when I’m successful, like when we found Benjy, there is nothing that can compare with that kind of joy or satisfaction.”

He remained troubled despite her answer. She needed to be protected; she couldn’t be trusted to take care of herself. What would stop some unscrupulous person from learning of her talents and taking advantage of her? If her gift ever became widely known, she’d be the target of every con artist in the country. Someone needed to watch over her, to make sure she didn’t often put herself in the kind of situation she’d thrust herself into when she’d entered that crowd. He could appreciate what she had done for his family, but her disregard for her own emotional state was maddening.

Suddenly aware of the direction of his thoughts, he disentangled his fingers and stepped back from her, shaken. It wasn’t the first time she’d elicited his protective instincts, but each time was equally troubling. He’d always had a strong need to protect his family. But Jaida wasn’t family. So why did she spark the same urge to look after her?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine the answer to that question.

“Where’s Benjy? Is Lauren here yet?” she asked.

“She’s been and gone, honey.” At her disappointed face, he added, “Lauren was upset she didn’t get to speak to you before she left, but I didn’t want you disturbed. You needed to sleep. Mac flew her and Benjy to a safe house in the Rockies. They’ll stay there for a while. You’ll have a chance to talk to her later on the phone.”

“What about the kidnapper they arrested? Has she told the police anything—”

“Jaida,”

His voice was soft, but purposeful. She caught her breath at the look in his eyes. She’d often seen them impenetrable, unreadable, but the light in them now was all too easy to interpret.

“Do you really want to continue this conversation wearing that towel?”

She looked down quickly, newly reminded of her state of dishabille. She could feel heat suffuse her cheeks. It grew hotter at his next words.

“Because if you do, I’m not sure just how much longer you’ll be wearing it.”

His face was taut, a mask of frustration. His eyes glittered like hot emeralds, and the look he was painting her with made her bones weaken.

“Get dressed,” he suggested finally. “I’ll be back.” He strode quickly from the room.

As the door to the adjoining room closed behind him, Jaida dropped to the bed. She was inexperienced, but not so naive that she’d had any difficulty reading the look he’d worn. It filled her with elation and wariness simultaneously. Everything womanly inside her responded to the blatant promise in his eyes. The caution that had been part of her nature for so long seemed to dissolve each time he got near her. A man like Trey would be a practiced, experienced lover, capable of satisfying a woman completely. She knew that instinctively.

She sat still on the edge of the bed, apprehension filling her. She just didn’t know what a twenty-seven-year-old virgin would be able to offer him in return.

“We’ll order right away,” Trey told the white-jacketed waiter. He inclined his head toward Jaida.

“The seafood Alfredo over fettuccine noodles,” she decided aloud. “And a small ladies’ fillet. With a baked potato, please, and no dressing on the salad.”

The waiter was too well trained to display his surprise by more than a flicker of an eyelash. “Very well, madam,” he said, his pencil flying furiously. “Will there be anything else?”

“Not until dessert,” Trey told him, amusement in his voice. He placed his order and ordered a bottle of wine for the meal, as well.

When the waiter disappeared, Trey returned his attention to Jaida. She was looking almost recovered from her ordeal, a process he hoped the meal would complete. But nothing could detract from her appearance. She’d pulled her hair into a chignon at the base of her scalp. The look was coolly elegant, and one he’d often admired on the women he’d dated.

He didn’t like it at all on her.

He was used to seeing her with that sheaf of hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. He preferred the look. He liked to think that at any moment he could reach over and bury his hand in its washed-silk texture, or fantasize about having it spread across his chest. Right now his fingers were itching to find just how many pins he’d have to dispense with to send the mass of hair cascading.

The thought made his loins grow heavy. So did her appearance. He’d bought clothes for women before, and he had an eye for color and sizes. The dress he’d purchased for Jaida was a perfect frame for her unusual coloring and highlighted her exquisite figure. The straps were narrow pieces of material that defied gravity and left her shoulders and arms completely bare. He traced the neckline with his gaze. It delved to the top of her breasts, hinting at the delicate cleavage below. Although not snug, the dress draped her curves enticingly, ending several inches above her knees.