Kiss and Tell (27 page)

Marnie pressed a kiss to the back of his bowed neck. Then, keeping her arms tightly around his shoulders, she moved to rest her cheek against his. "And you didn't get Dancer?"

"By the time I went back, there was nothing
to
find. They'd effectively erased every trace of their presence there."

That had been his longest hospital stay to date. Lurch had died saving his life. Then his other two friends had been killed, and he was the last of the Musketeers. Jake hadn't been so sure at that stage of the game what the point was in living himself.

A year later Dancer had popped up again like a jack-in-the-box and moved his operation back to the States. Rumors of a new biological weapons facility in the Midwest started surfacing.

And Jake had come out of his pity party with a vengeance.

"I've been tracking Dancer ever since."

Marnie nuzzled his shoulder with her chin. "You're the best. You'll catch him."

Yes, Jake knew, he would. Eventually. Or die trying.

But before he went after Dancer again, he had to figure out who the hell had framed him and screwed up his career with the fiasco in Omaha. He had to get rid of the assassins topside. He had to get Marnie back to her family, who must be frantic with worry by now. And in his spare time he had to make sure he wasn't offed before he managed to get her out of danger.

Piece of cake.

Chapter Thirteen

A
t first Jake thought the noise that had awakened him was the dog whimpering in its sleep. But in the dim glow of the monitors he could see Duchess across the room, her ears perked and alert as she watched the bed.

Marnie slept snuggled to his side, her arm across his body, her hand over his heart. But instead of lying limp and satiated by their earlier lovemaking, she whimpered in her sleep.

"Ah, Judas." Jake curved his arm up to cup the back of her head in his palm. "Wake up, sweetheart, you're dreaming. Come on, wake up."

He stroked the curve of her back, then sifted his fingers through the silk of her hair in a helplessly male gesture of comfort as her eyes fluttered open.

"Jake?" She stared sightlessly up at him, eyes brimming.

"You were having a nightmare."

She turned her face into his bare chest and burst into tears, harsh, racking sobs that shook her body with such violence Jake thought they would tear her apart.

"Hey...hey. It'll be okay."

"I – I w-was in – in a b-black box. A-And I c-couldn't g-get out and it w-was so dark and c-cold...and I was s-so s-scared..." The words were barely audible as she gasped and sobbed, her slender body heaving with the force of her tears.

"Lights twenty percent," Jake said softly, and a soft glow instantly permeated the room. He tightened his arms around her, knowing her grief was inconsolable. Raw. Anguished. Out of control. She needed this, God only knew.

Duchess trotted up beside the bed, her puppy eyes distressed as she looked from Jake to her mistress, then back again. She rested her head on the mattress beside Marnie's shoulder and kept watch, brow wrinkled, ears twitching.

Marnie continued to cry without restraint, her tears saturating Jake's chest, her breath hot on his skin as she burrowed as close as she could get.

Her arms tightened around his neck. "A-And then...then I was th-the one opening the box, a-and Grammy—"

Marnie buried her hot, wet face against his throat, and Jake felt the scalding pain of her tears run like acid across his skin. He tightened his arms around her fragile body, whispering soft reassurances as he would to a wounded child.

He'd never comforted a child. Never had a woman fall to pieces in his arms. Either would have been unthinkable a week ago. Now he was thankful he was here for Marnie. Grateful he was the one who got to hold her when her heart was breaking.

He was afraid she'd make herself sick with the ferocity of her weeping, but he didn't want her to stop until she'd cried herself out. He stroked her hair, her back, her hot cheeks.

"
G-Grammy
was in the coffin. But i-it wasn't – it wasn't
my
Grammy. Sh-She looked scary. L-Like in horror movies. Her f-face was melting and her m-mouth was o-open like she...she was terrified, I was screaming and screaming, because I wanted
my
Grammy back, not that – that thing. A-And then I opened my eyes, a-and
you
were in the coffin, Jake. You ... you were covered with blood, and they made me th-throw dirt on youuu. You were d-dead, and I wanted to die, too..."

He brushed her hair back off her forehead and pressed a kiss to the frown between her brows. "A dream, that's all. A scary nightmare. I'm alive and well and right here with you in the bed where we made love."

She burrowed closer, her leg over his to anchor him beneath her, and pressed her wet face against him with throat-tearing, gut-wrenching sobs.

The well of tears seemed bottomless. Utter despair, utter loneliness, utter, unadulterated grief.

"Let it out, sweetheart, let it out. I've got you."

"I m-miss her so m-much."

"I know you do," Jake crooned softly, feeling inadequate. He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her halfway across his body, and wished there was something he could do to help her. The weeping was necessary, but he hated to hear her gasping for every shuddering breath.

Her anguish didn't surprise him. God only knew, she'd been through hell and back this weekend.

It was enough to send anyone over the edge.

Jake caressed her smooth skin in a repetitive motion, his hands never still as he moved them over her slender, heaving body, letting her shuddering sobs and anguished cries find comfort against the wall of his chest.

Her throat must hurt like hell, he thought as he whispered silly nonsense. Words he'd never said to another living soul. The tears continued, rough and painful.

"That's my girl. Get it all out." She was ripping out his heart.

He remembered himself as a nine-year-old boy huddled in the dark of his bedroom closet as the war of the worlds was enacted in his parents' bedroom. He remembered the smell of the booze on the carpet outside his door – spilled, and cause for this particular fight. He remembered he hadn't gone to school that day because he'd been burning up with fever, throwing up. Some flu bug. Nobody had given a damn.

He remembered just what it felt like to sob uncontrollably, his mouth pressed to his knees as anguished cries rocked his body. He remembered the searing pain. The despair of helplessness. The utter futility of his life. And at that time he'd been able to see nothing in his future but more of the same.

Astoundingly, he felt the sting of tears now. He, the man with no heart, felt her sorrow and pain profoundly.

He cradled Marnie's wet cheek in his palm, stroking the tracks made by her tears with his thumb. "Ah, sweetheart, that's it. Cry as much as you want, I'm right here to hold you. I have you. I'll keep you safe," he whispered into the darkness.

Unfortunately while his brain had altruistic motives, his body had other ideas. His erection was rock hard and painful as Marnie's body almost straddled his.

Down boy
, didn't seem to have much effect, Jake thought guiltily as he tried to shift a little out of temptation's way. His penis sought the hot, wet entrance of her, so tantalizingly near, so verboten right this moment. He wanted to bury himself hard and deep, to the very heart of her.

Her tears dwindled to a few shuddering hiccups and her leg skimmed his hip, her toes deftly tucked behind his left knee.

She lifted her head slightly. "Th-Thank you for letting me cry all over you."

"You're quite welcome," Jake said tenderly as he brushed away some of the wetness on her cheek with the edge of the silk throw. "Think we're done for a while?"

"God, I hope so," Marnie said feelingly. "It's like I've been turned inside out."

Her eyes were puffed almost shut. Her small, straight nose was pink and swollen. Her cheeks were blotchy, and her lips had lost definition as a result of her unrelenting bout of weeping. Yet Jake had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. His heart did a double axel.

"You feel right side out to me." He lightly touched her bottom, and she slipped over him and took him inside her body as securely as a hot, wet glove.

"Judas, woman." He squeezed his eyes shut as Marnie slid to her knees, her body intimately a part of his.

She braced her hands on his chest, fingers splayed, and rode him with agonizing slowness.

Jake clasped her hips and let her set the pace. They came together. It wasn't the fireworks and rockets of earlier that evening. It was quiet, and peaceful, and achingly sweet. Like a misty morning sunrise.

Marnie's body wilted, and she flattened her breasts against his chest, still damp with her tears. Tucking her head beneath his chin, she was asleep in seconds.

"Lights off. One hundred percent." Jake stared into the darkness with burning eyes.

God help him. He was in trouble here.

*

When Marnie opened her eyes the next morning, Jake had already gone to work. It was still snowing. And Duchess needed to go outside.
Now
.

She felt wrung out and yet strangely buoyant. Jake had been wonderful last night; he'd comforted her without resorting to platitudes. Thank God it had been dark. She knew what she looked like after crying mildly. She had no desire to see what she looked like after a crying jag. She could tell by the tightness of her skin that she was puffy and probably pink. A shower would go a long way.

Duchess's nails clicked impatiently on the floor.

"I can't take you out there." Marnie yawned, squinting at the watery reflection on the walls cast by the various monitors. "Sorry, girl. You'll have to wait."

Duchess danced around the bed.

"I can see it's urgent." Marnie threw the silk throw off and got out of bed. Whew. Muscles she never knew she had, ached.

She went to look for a newspaper.

"Okay, plan B," she told the agitated dog when there was no newspaper to be found. "Plastic bag, paper towels?"

Indignant, Duchess ran to the elevator door and turned to indicate she was waaaaiting.

Marnie groaned. "Okay, okay. Your beloved Jake is not going to be pleased, but I'll take you up. Let's look to see where everybody is first, okay?"

She checked each of the screens while she dragged on some clothes. The last thing she needed was to bump into the bad guys, or Jake for that matter, while she was up there. "All clear. For now. Let's do it."

Within minutes she and the dog were pressed together like sardines in a can as they rode the small elevator up to the cabin.

Whichever route they took, Jake wasn't going to be happy. At least this trip was considerably shorter than the fifteen or twenty minutes it took to get through the mine shaft tunnels. Jake wouldn't appreciate the dog using his labyrinth as a doggie bathroom.

Above the narrow door of the elevator, five hand-size monitors showed the cabin and surrounding area outside, clear of baddies.

"Which doesn't mean you can take forever to do your business. Got that, goofus?"

The door slid open; Marnie pushed at the back of the pantry door and stepped into the kitchen. She immediately crouched so as not to be seen by anyone walking by, and grabbed Duchess by the ear to get her attention.

"Be quick and don't let the bad guys see you. Got it?" She let go. Duchess skirted the kitchen counter, then sprinted through the partially open front door and disappeared.

Marnie took a deep breath of fresh, damp, pine-scented air. All she had on were her jeans, one of Jake's sweatshirts, and a pair of his socks.
She
wasn't going outside. But the cabin's frigid temperature made her shiver. "Hurry, girl."

She wanted her stuff. Her backpack, her sketchpad. Even her muddy socks, which still hung near the cold fireplace. Did she dare?

Still crouched behind the kitchen counter, she debated the wisdom of removing the items. If she did and the bad guys came back, they'd
know
she and Jake were nearby. She sighed and settled on her butt on the grimy floor, her back against the cabinets, to wait.

She wasn't wearing a watch, but it seemed as though the dog had been outside long enough to
build
a bathroom.

"Where are you, puppy girl?" Marnie grumbled under her breath. Jake was going to have a double fit if he got back to find them gone. She hadn't bothered with a note. This was supposed to be a quick trip.

She risked a peek over the windowsill. No sign of the pooch. But the snow looked as though it was letting up a little. Would the helicopter pilot come today?

For a second she stared at her sketchbook, still propped up on the counter. She wanted those sketches of Jake.

They'd probably notice if
all
the pages were gone. But surely a few... She popped up long enough to snatch the large sketch pad off the counter above her head. With it balanced on her knees, she chose five drawings to sustain her after she was home.

And without Jake.

Very carefully she tore the drawings out of the book, then returned it to exactly the position it had been in before. She slumped back down behind the cabinet, carefully folded the thick papers, and stuffed them down the front of her shirt.

Duchess had been gone forever. Marnie started to worry. Had they found her?
Shot
her? Was her dog lying somewhere bleeding?

"No. Don't think like that," she told herself fiercely. "She's hiding from them. That's what she's doing, she's hid—"

"I'm going to wring your neck," Jake snarled above her. "What the hell are you doing here – besides getting pneumonia with no jacket?"

Marnie knocked her head against the cabinet as she looked up at him.
Oops
. The part of Jake's face she could see was ruddy with the cold. His eyes, always expressive, spoke volumes.

"Duchess couldn't wait." Marnie spoke in the same barely-above-a-whisper tone he'd used, and rubbed the back of her head. "Did you see her out there?"