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Authors: A Nichols

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BOOK: FlakJacket
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He shook his head no. “I want to go over your schedule for the rest of the week. I have to make sure I have every angle covered. The threat yesterday makes that painfully clear.” She nodded. “This is the new schedule for the week. You can use me as the reason for your cancellations and time constraints.” She glanced down at it.
Crap
. He had decimated it.

“I can’t make these changes today.”

“You don’t have to. I already did.”

She was on her feet, hands fisted and anger ripping through her; no one told her what to do. “You work for me, and I say what speeches and events I attend.”

His voice was firm. “I. Cancelled. Them. Deal with it. You have an activity tonight. It is covered by my men, but you’d best get ready. The car will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“This discussion is not finished, Mr. Lassiter. I still haven’t officially hired you to be my close protection.”

“The damned contract is in your room. Sign it. I’m already charging you for my time.”

He turned and walked from the Great Room, his shoulders set, his manner stoic. She couldn’t help but remember the anguished look on his face when they told him his little girl was gone. He was locking out his emotions and raising his fist at the world every single day.
But he couldn’t get back what he had lost. She wondered if he had the heart to reach for something new. Would it be only his sperm he gave to her, or would it be more?

Madison ran upstairs to get dressed for her event. She grabbed the first outfit her hands reached, another one that Jordan had purchased for her. She turned to the mirror to find its flattering lines on her body. It was knee-length, flowered, its colors flattering to her fair skin and hair. She pushed on her pumps and grabbed her carryall. A quick brush through her hair, and she was running down the steps and out onto the porch. A car was pulled up, and the back door was open. She hadn’t remembered to look at the contract. A man stepped up to help her in. “I’m Matt. I’ll be your close protection for tonight.” She nodded and almost asked where Jordan was, but she needed distance from him and from her pervading thoughts. She sat back in the car and concentrated on the event ahead.

Jordan sat in his car outside Thomas Hull’s palatial estate. His searches had found only mentions of a young Madison and the man eight years older than she. They had been seen in public at a number of events for six months or so, and then they were no longer a couple. Speculation ran rife as to what had happened. They had been seen arguing for the last four months at several events that they attended as a couple.

The report from Chicago had not yet come back. He climbed out of his car and walked up the stone walkway to Mr. Hull’s front door. He pushed the buzzer, and the door swung open to Thomas himself. “Mr. Lassiter, come in. I got your message that you wanted to see me.”

Thomas led him back the hallway and into a door on the right. It was obviously his office. “Sit down. Would you like something to drink?” Jordan shook his head no, but he sat down. “What can I do for you? Have you come to tell me you’ll take on my account? I’ve been after your protective services for years.”

“I’ve come to ask you about Madison Kelly. It was your man that was her assailant two days ago; he is refusing to cooperate with the police, and your lawyer is planning his defense. Do you have a horse in this race? Would you like to explain?”

“It was a mistake; it never should have happened. Sam heard me mention the young lady and mistook what I said.”

“What did you say?”

“It was nothing. I just said I wanted the girl to stop her crusading, that it was interfering with my business deals. That’s what Sam heard. I added that I wanted her to come back to me, but he didn’t hear that. He acted on what he thought I wanted.”

“And he thought that you wanted her to be shot? Would he have killed her?”

Thomas looked at him. “No, I don’t think so. He was just trying to help in his own way.”

Jordan watched the play of emotions on Thomas’s face. “But you MIGHT have wanted her hurt?” Thomas’s face paled. “You seem to have a long history with Miss. Kelly.” He paused, thinking about what he wanted to say. “What was your relationship, if I may ask?” Jordan watched as Thomas’s body straightened as he wondered what Jordan knew.

“I heard you had taken an interest in her. I hope it’s not a personal one. She has visions, and she has healing in her hands—there’s great power in her. You’d best be aware of all of that. Oh, and she’s very sensitive about her person. Touch is abhorrent to her.”

“And your relationship with her?” Jordan asked, pulling at his tie and opening his top button as he sat and waited. The man got up and moved about the room; his thoughts were obviously troubling.

“That’s private.”

Jordan stood gracefully from the chair, but his voice when he spoke was glacial. “You incite loathing in her for some reason; I was hoping you could tell me why, but I’ll ask her instead. She received your message, and she doesn’t want to see you. That’s her answer. No more messages, Thomas. In the meantime, stay far from her. Do you understand me?”

“Look, Jordan. Don’t believe everything she says. I didn’t...I never forced—never mind.”

“I’ve upset you. Does it have to do with the land you are attempting to lease in Jordan, or did you hurt her? It better be the former.”

Thomas’s eyes darted to his. “What do you know about the land?”

“Not as much as I want to know, but I’m very good at gathering information. Remember my Jordanian descent. I suggest you watch your step in that arena and especially with Ms. Kelly.”

“The word on the street is that she’s more than your client. She’s staying at your home, I believe.”

Jordan smirked “That’s private.” He moved to the front door as Thomas followed. “Goodnight. If you have anything else you want to talk to me about, let me know.” As he walked down the steps to his car, his mind was in overdrive. Thomas was afraid of Madison, and she was terrified of him?

CHAPTER 8

M
adison was entertaining questions from a group at the foot of the stage where the discussion had been held. A government official was asking for her help in getting legislation passed to help the refugees of the area resettle. Her mind was filled with numbers, but she sensed when he entered the room.

Jordan’s eyes caught hers as he came up beside her. “I’m sorry, Miss Kelly, but your car is here. Perhaps you can meet with this gentleman later.” She acknowledged Jordan’s presence and his comment.

“George, could we meet to talk about this later this week, preferably towards the end? It is something that I am very much interested in, but I’m very pressed for time right now Call and we’ll get together.”

“I’ll be in touch.” She nodded and turned as she felt Jordan’s hand at her back.

They walked together towards the car, and he helped her inside, following her in. As the car sped off into the night, Jordan handed her his phone. “Your father is on the line.” She shook her head no, but Jordan persisted, wrapping her hand around it. “Yes.”

She swallowed, but she took the phone. “Dad. I’m fine. Really, I am. I left you a message telling you that.” There was a pause. “No, I’m not coming home. I have hired protection as you asked, and I’m being well taken care of.” Another pause. “Yes, yes, I will. I’ll keep in better touch with you, I promise, and no, I don’t want you to come here. It would just complicate things for me.” She listened attentively. “Yes. I’m giving the phone back to Mr. Lassiter.” She handed it back to him, her eyes furious as they met his.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be in touch.” Jordan disconnected, and then he dropped the bomb. “Your father wants to hire me to protect you.”

“NO! I will do it.”

“It’s almost a done deal, the contract is being written between us.”

“Well, tear it up, or I will leave. You have no control over me unless I sign, Mr. Lassiter. I’m of age. Remember that.”

“I’m the person you said you wanted, Madison. What difference does it make as to who pays?”

She started to say something to him, but then couldn’t do it. Flashes of him filled her mind, his coming role in her life, his body next to hers. She shut them out and turned her body away from him, staring out the car window, ignoring him and fuming. She muttered under her breath, “Tear it up.”

“Such a prickly little thing.” She could hear laughter color his voice.

“I still have a few cards up my sleeve to keep all the men in my life off my back—including you, Mr. Lassiter. I’ll be leaving you at the end of the week; I’ll find somewhere else to stay and let you know the address.”

He was surprised at her need for control in her own life. “Thanks for the warning.”

“I’ll have the check on your desk tonight; you no longer report to my father. Do you understand me? I don’t want him involved with this.”

He watched the personal war inside her unfold, and then he nodded. “Then sign the damned contract.”

They pulled up in front of his house, and he came around to help her out. She took his hand and pulled herself up, walking quickly onto the porch. He put in the code and unlocked the door.

“I’m going to bed.” She trounced up the stairs as he watched her retreating body.

Yes, run,
Witch
. It is your best means of protection. Keep space between us, he thought heading towards his office. He pulled off his coat and got to work. He looked up seconds later to watch her walk in and throw the signed contract on his desk. “There’s your damned contract.” And she was gone.

Jordan thumbed through his calls finding several more warnings not to help the red headed witch. Who was threatening him? He needed to get his arms around that. He sighed deeply and picked up the folders of papers on his desk. It was the story of her crusade. He sat down to read it, a glass of whiskey at his side and a legal notepad beside him, scribbling down the names of those who were violently opposed to her positions.

Jordan looked at the clock. It was going on three, and he was bleary-eyed from the reports; he had consumed way too many glasses of whiskey as he became enmeshed in her life, breathing the very air she did.  Madison’s defense of the disputed lands in Jordan was moving and well researched. But there had been more attacks on her person than he knew. There was also a report that she had been detained and beaten to within an inch of her life by several men in Chicago over two years ago. She had been found along a highway, nearly dead. The press buried the incident; Jordan had to wonder why that was so. There was report after report of her healing prowess—she had gifted hands.
Damn, was she a saint, and if so, what was she doing with HIM?
He rubbed his eyes again, trying to stay awake.

He heard a soft movement in the kitchen, alerting him, and he crept to the doorway. None of his alarms had gone off, but he was still suspicious. He peered out to find Madison making a cup of tea. Her body was barely covered by a T-shirt and short shorts, her long legs showing. When she turned, he could tell she was also braless, and his mind went a step further to ask if perhaps there were no panties. There should be a law about her running around his place half-undressed, but he had invited her into his home. The onus was all on him. He walked out of his office and into the kitchen on silent feet.

“Miss Kelly.” She jumped as she heard his low voice and spilled her hot tea all down the front of her. She screamed as the hot liquid hit her chest and abdomen. He was spurred into action. “Damn, woman.” He ran to grab a towel and blot it, but his hands felt every inch of her upper body as he soaked up the liquid, and his eyes rested on her peaked breasts through the dampened material.

“Shit, that’s hot,” she breathed as he worked. She was moving from foot to foot, trying to push the material away and fan herself, but his hands were in the way.

“Did you burn yourself?” He was upset for not warning her that he was there.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I might have.”

His intense eyes caught hers and waited as he tried to select the appropriate course of action from his whiskey-befuddled brain. She determined to help him along. It was time to test the waters; he clearly was partially inebriated, his guard down. Jordan was a beautiful man, and if her son took after him? Her sultry voice washed over him: “For once in your life, don’t measure your response, Jordan—just act on your need.” His eyes met hers as something inside him snapped—
she was here, she was of age, and she was willing. What more could a man ask?

It had been some time since he had been with a woman he had any kind of a relationship with. He grabbed her hips harshly and pulled her into his body, his lips finding hers in a searing and commanding kiss. His skilled hands moved up to her very wet top and slipped under it, caressing her and softly rubbing the area kissed by the hot tea; he pushed the T-shirt further up and planted small kisses on the heat reddened areas of her chest and the tips of her breasts, sucking gently on them to her soft sighs and clasping hands. Then he stripped off the offending garment and tossed it.

His hands splayed to cover each breast as her own passion rose to answer his; she ground her lower body against him as her hands wound in his dark hair, tugging it hard, her hands then falling to his shoulders and encircling his neck. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. Her vision was now her reality, yet she knew he had no deep feelings for her; she was merely a willing receptacle to his need. Would the child come as a result of this sexual liaison? She knew it would.

“Finally,” she breathed as she captured his lips. He was almost out of control, and that’s what she wanted. He plundered her mouth, his hands slipping from her uncovered breasts to her hips, pushing his hand down into her short shorts. He had been correct; there were no panties to impede his progress, and he cupped her, his finger finding her wetness. There was a God, Jordan thought, even if he had disavowed himself of one, years ago. He could feel her wrapping around him, drinking him in, taking what he was giving, and charging him with unwelcome emotion. He had never felt passion like this before between two people; this would be no rape.

BOOK: FlakJacket
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