Lucky Stars (56 page)

For a second.

Then he pulled away from the wall, grabbed her hand and started stalking down the hall, dragging her behind him.

He looked over his shoulder and ordered, “Call Dirk. Tell him Belle isn’t coming in today.” Belle looked over her shoulder too as she ran to keep up with his ground eating strides and she saw her mother, Olive, Joy, Rachel and Cassandra all gazing after them. Joy and Rachel were crying. Olive and Cassandra were smiling.

Jack continued, “Olive, you’re on your own for the next few hours.”

Then they were at the stairs, climbing up and before Belle could wrap her mind around what was happening, he had her in their room.

“Jack –” she started but he stalked to the bed, turned, sat, pulled her right along with him and laid back.

She fell on top of him, he rolled, pinning to her to the bed.

She blinked up at him.

“All right, Belle, starting with your first living memory, I want it,” Jack demanded.

Belle blinked again then asked tentatively, “Want what?”

“All of it.”

She blinked yet again and then asked incredulously, “Are you… um, are you talking about my life’s history?”

“Every minute you can remember.”

Belle put her hand to his neck in an effort to check his temperature and not appear
like she was checking his temperature (just in case he was, say,
delirious
) and breathed, “Seriously?”

“Every minute.”

“That’s going to take a while,” she whispered. “I have a pretty good memory.”

“We’ll call up for lunch.”

“But –”

“And dinner.”

“Jack –”

His hand came to her face and his thumb slid across her cheekbone.

“Belle, talk.”

“Most of
it’s
boring,” she warned him.

“Belle –” Jack warned back.

She snapped her mouth shut.

Then she said, “Okay.”

Then she told her life story to criminally handsome James Bennett.

The man she loved.

The man who loved her back.

* * * * *

Jack

Jack stood in the bay window of his study, Baron and
Gretl
lying at his feet, his eyes trained to the view.

It was night, late, the sky midnight blue with fluffy dark grey clouds breaking the ink, the sky seamless with the dark of the sea, the muted white caps of intermittent waves fracturing the pervasive shadowy hue.

It was extraordinary, calming,
beautiful
in its vast simplicity and, until just over five months ago, Jack had never really noticed it in his life.

He allowed it to move through him, lightening the tightness in his chest, the heavy feeling in his gut.

But it didn’t halt the thoughts assailing his brain.

Joshua Bennett, James Bennett.

Brenna Addison, Belle Abbot.

Caleb Caldwell and Calvin fucking Cole.

Belle had been married. Married to a man that hurt her.

Again and again.

Just like Brenna.

He already understood the coincidences that bound him to Joshua and Brenna to Belle were more than coincidental. He’d heard Lewis’s disembodied voice. He understood the impossible was happening.

Now he knew it deep in his soul.

And this meant Belle was not safe.

Brenna had been tossed over a cliff.

This was not going to happen to his Belle.

I love you, Jack Bennett.

The words Belle whispered to him twenty minutes ago after he’d made love to her, while he still held her in his arms, she held him back and just before she’d drifted off to sleep sifted through his head.

And as they did, they settled into his heart.

No, Jack thought, his jaw tightening, not one thing was going to happen to his Belle.

He heard the door open behind him but he didn’t turn.

He still didn’t turn when he heard Olive’s voice.

“You called?”

The view stopped working, his chest got tight and that heavy weight settled in his gut.

“I want you to find someone to find Calvin Cole,” Jack told the window. “And when he’s found, I want him dealt with.”

“Are you going to be specific about
how
you want him dealt with?” Olive asked.

Yes, he most certainly was.

“When it’s done, he’ll have absolutely no desire whatsoever to see Belle again.”

“And do you have a limit as to how much you’re willing to invest in this project?”

Jack’s torso twisted so his eyes could fall on the shadow of Olive standing several feet in from the open door. As he did this, he heard dog tags jangling as Baron and
Gretl’s
heads came up but they otherwise didn’t move.

“As pertains to who you hire, your budget is unrestricted. But Calvin Cole will be convinced he has no desire, ever again, to see Belle and he’ll be convinced of this without money changing hands.”

There was a hesitation before, with a smile in her voice, Olive murmured, “I’ll see to it.”

She began to move to exit the room when Jack called, “I’m not done,” and she stopped.

Jack took in a breath.

Then he ordered, “I want Mickey Dempsey brought to me.”

There was another hesitation before, with uncertainty in her voice, Olive asked, “Jack, are you certain that’s wise? He’s a member of the media. You’re used to it but Belle’s plagued by it. She doesn’t need any more attention. And if you anger this man, he might see she gets it.”

“He had an agenda with that article and it wasn’t to harm Belle. It was to expose Cole.”

“I noticed that but I don’t understand why you –”

Jack turned fully to her while cutting her off, “He’s an investigative journalist. He uncovered something that the rest of the media, even after a year of her being under scrutiny, didn’t find. He has skills. As I’ve explained it to you, you’re aware that we’re currently involved in an unusual situation where we have very little knowledge of what’s going on considering what precipitated it happened over two hundred years ago. The story is old, the trail is cold and his skills might prove useful.”

“I see,” Olive muttered.

“Bring him to me,” Jack ordered.

“Consider it done.”

He always did after he gave Olive a directive.

Without another word, Olive left.

Jack turned back to the view and listened as his dogs again settled.

He studied it until it brought him peace.

Then he turned from the window, strode through his house with his dogs at his heels and he went to his and Belle’s bedroom.

He disrobed and pulled on some pyjama bottoms as he heard Baron and
Gretl
settle on Belle’s side of the bed.

Then he slid in beside his sleeping Belle, curled into her warm body and the peace he’d garnered from the view settled deep.

I love you, Jack Bennett.

Curled into Belle, Jack fell asleep.

Chapter Nineteen

Beyond Belief

Jack

“So, when will you be home?” Belle’s honeyed voice asked in his ear.

It was afternoon the next day and Jack was sitting behind his desk in his London office. As he listened to Belle, his eyes went to the door which had opened.

Olive stuck her head through.

Her lips moved, no sound came out but he saw them mouth, “Dempsey.”

He lifted one finger to her. She nodded, ducked out and closed the door.

Jack went back to Belle.

“I have one more meeting and then I’ll be on my way home.”

“So, you’ll be home for dinner,” she murmured, sounding slightly uneasy and Jack’s back went straight.

But his voice was gentle when he asked, “Is there a reason you sound concerned about my being home for dinner?”

“Just that, um, Dad has decided to commandeer the kitchen.”

Jack closed his eyes.

“And,” Belle went on, “he’s done this because he’s decided to introduce you all
to
American food.”

Jack opened his eyes.

“He does know that I, and Mum, and Yasmin, have all been to America?” Jack asked.

“Um… I did inform him of that,” Belle answered.

“Repeatedly,” Jack added.

“Uh… yes. Actually, Joy shared that. He’s still determined,” she replied.

“And this dinner would entail?” he prompted.

Her voice was tight but not with anxiety, with suppressed laughter when she replied, “I don’t know. It could mean his Texas chilli which is so hot it’s inedible. Or it could mean his barbeque ribs which are so messy we’ll all have to wear bibs. Or it could mean his famous flame-grilled hamburgers which would require, um…” she paused then stressed her final three words mock-ominously, “
an open
flame.
”

The thought of Jensen Abbot anywhere near an open flame did not fill him with delight.

“Poppet,” Jack said quietly, “The Point has withstood centuries of bad weather, wars, different political regimes, religious unrest and a triple murder. I like our home. You like our home. Please, for me, encourage your father to cook something that would not threaten its destruction.”

He was pleased to hear her laughter wasn’t suppressed when her sweet voice vibrated through her response. “I’ll see what I can do, honey.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Jack muttered.

The humour was sadly gone and her voice was soft and strangely wistful when she said, “I know you’re busy, Jack, but I need to share something with you.”

His voice was also soft when he returned, “I am busy, love, but never too busy for you to share something with me.”

She hesitated and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she went on quietly, “I called Dr. Flanagan and made an appointment. As you know because of… well, everything… that I’m not and haven’t been on birth control for a while. I think maybe we should, um… since we’ve started again, you know, yesterday and, um, last night and, uh… again this morning, maybe… we should see to that. I don’t want to –”

“Excellent, my love,” Jack whispered back. “When we’re ready to try again, we’ll plan it.”

“Okay,” she
replied,
her voice again soft and in it was also the wistful.

But a better kind.

“Do you want me to go with you to see Dr. Flanagan?” he offered.

“If you have time.
If you don’t, Mom or Gram will come with me.”

“We’ll talk about it tonight.”

“Okay, Jack.”

“In the meantime, we’ll take other precautions.”

“That sounds fun,” she muttered and he grinned because she sounded like she didn’t think it sounded fun at all.

“How about we make it fun, my love?” he suggested and his body reacted to her breathy one syllable response.

“Oh.”

He took in a deep breath to control his reaction at the same time he struggled to control all his myriad thoughts as to how they would make it fun then unfortunately he had to change the subject.

“The man I’m meeting is here. I have to go.”

“Okay,” she repeated then whispered, “See you soon. Love you, Jack.”

His body responded again to her last three words. Words she’d whispered to him for the first time last night.
Words that affected him deeply then.

Words that affected him no less deeply now.

“And I you, poppet,” his reply was low and vibrating. “See you soon.”

“’Bye, Jack.”

“Soon, Belle.”

He heard her disconnect and he touched the button on his mobile. Then he dropped it to his desk, leaned forward and touched a button on the phone on his desk which would buzz on Gillie’s phone indicating that he was ready for his visitor.

Seconds later, the door opened and Olive walked in, escorting a rather good-looking man with dark brown hair and the bulky, honed body of a prize fighter.

Jack had taken some time that day to do an internet search on Mickey Dempsey. Without the time to give it the attention it needed, it was by no means thorough. Nevertheless, the articles Dempsey chose to write, most especially the exposés, painted a vivid picture of the man, his interests and his principles.

Jack held Dempsey’s eyes as he walked in and without invitation sat in one of the two chairs angled opposite his desk.
Only when Dempsey was seated in an insouciant lounge that was meant to communicate to Jack that Dempsey was not afraid of him, his money or his power, did Jack look to Olive.