Mercy (13 page)

The storage room with the tapes and locked cabinets proved more interesting. She spied it for a second when Jarrett relocked the door. The thing had redundant security and she hadn’t figured out how to break it before the world came crashing down.

“You have a computer, articles on the fake deaths of the rest of your team and the attempts on you and Todd. All events were termed accidents or natural complications, so who knows how much of that info is real.” Jarrett shuffled the files as he talked. “I also have some information I collected.”

He moved a few files and picked up one from the center of the pack. When he held it up, she lunged for it and smacked it against the stack again. “Why are you doing this?”

“You asked for help.”

“We both know that’s not the full answer.”

He treated her to an uncharacteristic beat of hesitation. “You need to move on.”

At the words, her heart clunked. Actually made a screeching noise that reverberated through her. “You mean you
want
me to leave.”

“Isn’t that the end goal here? You get the evidence, you strike a bargain and you leave.”

She couldn’t tell from his tone if he liked that plan or not. “So, this is all about rushing me out the door as fast as possible.”

Her hands flexed as he clamped down hard, grinding his teeth together. “I’m doing everything I can not to lose my temper right now.”

She was pretty sure they had raced past that point minutes ago. “Can we go back for a second and talk about what happened in your bedroom?”

“Not necessary.”

“I know I overstepped when I went in there.”

“Damn right you did.”

“I won’t go in there again.”

“It’s a little late for that, unless the plan is to search for drugs.” Those sexy eyes narrowed into menacing slits. “Or plant them again.”

No matter where the conversation went, it always roamed back to this. A mutual distrust and sense of anxiety. A joint feeling that the other wasn’t telling the whole truth. The scary sense that she might have been used as someone else’s pawn and included Jarrett as her collateral damage.

“Tell me why Todd green-lighted the operation on the day he did,” Jarrett asked.

Another zig when she expected a zag. “What are you talking about now?”

“You’d been living with me. I gather you were collecting data and reporting back. So, why that Tuesday?” He sat on the barstool. “Why pick that exact day, that time?”

With everything raining down on them, she had no idea why this mattered. But his sharp breathing and stern face suggested it did.

“Todd was in charge of the operation,” she explained. “He made the decision.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

The burst of anger stopped her from moving. “I’m not.”

“But you’re not answering the question. What did you do?”

“Why does this matter?”

“You’re evading, so I’m guessing it does.” Jarrett wiped a hand across his mouth and when he was done the blank stare had returned. “Why that day?”

“Because I told Todd there was no reason for my cover to continue.” Truth was she threatened to blow her cover and walk away from it all. But she didn’t add that. Jarrett wouldn’t be able to hear it right now as anything more than a ploy.

And admitting it would make her vulnerable in ways that made her bones shake. It was the only time in her life the temptation to walk away trumped the dedication to the job. Because of him.

If she told him that truth and he laughed, or worse, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to put the shattered pieces together again. As it was, her legs barely held her and her heart thudded loud enough to pound in her temples.

“Why not wait and see what you could get out of me? That had to be headquarter’s preference,” Jarrett said.

Because I loved you, and setting you up pricked at me until I thought my head would explode.
“Because I never saw you with drugs and thought our intel was bad.”

The frown came back. “Who gave you the intel?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Becca.”

“That sort of thing was above my pay grade.” She forced energy into her legs and made her muscles move until she stood next to him at the breakfast bar. “We got the assignment because someone much higher up at the CIA had the tip. We were following up. Just a piece of the operation and we never knew how drug charges fit in with a CIA operation.”

“But at some point you believed I was innocent.”

“Not the word I’d use because I’d seen your file and knew your history.” She knew what she realized was likely a sanitized version. The series of strip clubs. The escort service. The loans that had to be repaid or he’d find another way to collect. “But I didn’t see the drugs.”

He swore under his breath. “You told Todd you were out because you didn’t find drugs and then the drugs appeared. How fucking convenient.”

The red flag waved high and proud now but she’d been so messed up and flailing eight months ago that she couldn’t see it. By the time she noticed the whole operation carried a stink, he was out of prison and she couldn’t understand how. And then her life blew apart—literally. “I know how it sounds.”

“Do you?”

She sighed as she struggled to bring together all the facts and the bits of everything that happened since she’d gotten here. At some point she should be able to turn the pieces and make it all fit. Had to. “Can we talk about—”

Before she could touch him, he stood up and shifted away. “I have a meeting.”

“Now?”

“I do run a business.”

And he spent most of his day downstairs doing just that. “This is important.”

“Is it?” He put his hand on the stack of files. “Funny, but I thought this information was all that mattered to you.”

For a smart man he sure as hell got that one wrong.

FO
U
RTEEN

More out of habit than anything else, Jarrett stood up when he heard the knock at his downstairs office door less than an hour later. Bast stayed in the chair he’d been in since his arrival a few minutes before. But when Wade ushered Natalie inside, Bast jumped to his feet again. Looked like whatever manners prep school training instilled in him hadn’t disappeared. Jarrett had learned most of his manners through Bast’s shining example, though Jarrett would much prefer to sit this meeting out.

Before Jarrett could say anything, Wade took off without saying a word. The running part made Jarrett envious. He’d rather be anywhere but listening to whatever emergency Natalie wanted to unleash.

And his head was not in the game. Seeing Becca in his bedroom and opening up his choices to logical explanations had him floundering. He didn’t get rid of her clothes because he fucking couldn’t. Every time he tried to clear the possessions out he’d get tripped up in the idea of wiping her out of his life forever.

The woman had him by the balls and she just kept squeezing.

Natalie didn’t wait for an invitation. She walked across the room in her usual businesslike navy suit and sat down. “You kept me waiting almost fifteen minutes. I don’t appreciate the delay.”

As far as Jarrett was concerned, it was a miracle the woman got through the door. That only happened once Bast was in the building and ready to go, which was Jarrett’s requirement for the meeting. “I thought we had a rule about you stopping by.”

She nodded in Bast’s direction. “I went through your guard dog.”

“Now that’s not very nice.” Bast pushed away from the wall and took up the standing position next to Jarrett’s desk chair. “Of course, I wish I could say no one has ever called me that before.”

“This isn’t funny,” she said as she took out a small notebook.

Bast raised her one by dragging his phone out of his pocket and turning it on. “What it is, Natalie, is a waste of time.”

The bickering and verbal jabs, Jarrett wasn’t in the mood for any part of this pissing contest. He had enough trouble with the woman upstairs. He didn’t want to invite more from another woman in the building.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Becca Ford.”

Every damn thing came back to her. Jarrett had to fight to keep from showing any reaction.

Bast didn’t miss a beat. “Then go find her.”

“I think she’s here.”

A fissure of concern had Jarrett talking when he’d promised to let Bast handle this meeting. “She isn’t—”

Bast talked over Jarrett. “You think he’d be so fucking dumb as to invite her back in here after what she did to him? To his life?”

Jarrett didn’t have to look up and check Bast’s expression. They’d been friends long enough for Jarrett to know the underlying message in Bast’s words was meant for him, not Natalie. Not that Bast had been all that subtle in questioning the decision to give Becca shelter in private either.

For a few drawn-out seconds, Natalie sat there with her gaze going back and forth between the men. She finally settled on Bast. “Rumor is Jarrett had it bad for her.”

“I’m sitting right here.” The ignoring-him thing ranked pretty high on the annoying scale in Jarrett’s mind. “You don’t need to refer to me as ‘he’ or any other pronoun.”

“Answer me this.” Natalie tucked the notebook under her elbow and leaned forward. “What’s with the hard-on for Becca?”

“Those days are over.”

“It looks as if she’s been very busy, cleaning up loose ends. You could be one of those.” Natalie looked back and forth between the men. “Both of you “

“We know the score. Her team is dead,” Bast said. “Except for Todd.”

Jarrett wished that guy had been taken out first. “Someone killed them. Probably your friends at the CIA.”

“The order didn’t come from us.”

Jarrett wasn’t falling for a line. “Because you would tell us, you being so honest and all.”

He’d heard about every line of the negotiations from Bast. The CIA had demanded every word of information Jarrett ever collected on club members. Even then, they stuck with the drugs story and only offered a reduced sentence.

A few weeks later Elijah stepped up—more like showed up at the door—and filled in a few blanks. Clued Jarrett in on the pieces the CIA absolutely needed to know. Jarrett sold his soul for those.

Keeping his name out of the news as someone who turned on his clientele was one of Jarrett’s main concerns. Last thing he needed was a mass exodus from the club, but Bast’s impressive PR machine spun tales and made comments until the spotlight moved off Jarrett. The club members were never the wiser.

“According to the news, the Spectrum team members, all normal citizens, died in random accidents.” Bast held up his phone as if to show off the evidence of his claims.

Natalie snorted. “Don’t be a jackass.”

Jarrett glanced up at Bast. “Bet you’ve heard that before, too.”

He shrugged. “Once or twice.”

“Enough of this. Where is she?” Natalie stood up. She eyed both men until her gaze settled on Bast.

“You’re asking the wrong person” he said.

“You’re an attorney.”

“Your point is?”

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the notebook until the tips turned white. “You have a duty to act within the law.”

“That is not quite the oath I took.”

“I’m done playing games.” Her false façade of calm dropped and her anger raged through the room like a killing beast. “I will take this place apart brick by brick if I have to.”

Jarrett knew he should be immune to the threats by now. He’d heard so many, most directly from her mouth. He’d dodged almost all of them . . . eventually. But every time a government agency promised to tear him apart, doubt started thumping deep in his gut.

Not that he would ever let her see his rumble of panic. “That should be interesting.”

“It will be when I station people at the club’s doors and start asking questions of your members. We’ll see how quickly business dries up when law enforcement starts nosing around, picking apart their private lives and yours.” Her smile grew with every word. “What, you think we don’t know what a naughty boy you’ve been?”

“My record is clean.” And Jarrett knew he had Bast to thank for that.

“Is it?”

Bast looked at her with one eye closed and his head tilted to the side. “I continue to be confused by your vision of the CIA’s reach.”

“This goes beyond the CIA.” She glared at Jarrett. “We could be talking criminal charges.”

“Like what?” Bast asked.

But Natalie’s gaze never left Jarrett’s face. This wasn’t about empty promises. No, this production was for him. To make a point and throw his continued freedom into question.

“Whatever we can think up,” she said. “Won’t be the first time we came up with a reason to bring you in, to throw you in prison.”

“More threats, Natalie?” he asked when he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Ask yourself if Becca Ford is worth the clusterfuck your life will become.”

Jarrett refused to answer that. “You can go now.”

Natalie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re dismissing me?”

The woman clearly didn’t understand how close he hovered to the brink. “I’m trying hard not to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

Bast put a hand on Jarrett’s shoulder and held him in his seat. “That’s enough.”

“Listen to your lawyer.” Natalie glanced at her watch. “I’ll give you three days to realize what you need to do.”

Then before either man could fire questions at her or throw in a “you’ve lost it” comment, she turned on her comfortable heels and stormed out of the room. Her butt swayed but it was hard to see anything through the pounding fury that followed in her wake.

Bast moved around the room and sat in the chair Natalie abandoned. “That woman does like to leave a room angry.”

“She’s just doing her job.”

Bast laughed. “Since when do you defend Natalie Udall?”

Damn good question
. But truth was Jarrett dissected her actions, looking for evidence of being played. Natalie liked to bend the rules, but she mostly had her orders and followed them. Jarrett could respect that. “Since I realized I’d handle this about the same way she is.”

“She’s tough.” Bast tapped the end of his cell against his thigh. “And she wants your ass.”

Jarrett feared she wouldn’t stop until she had it. “Figure out what we can do to prevent what she’s threatening.”

“That’s pretty easy.”

He didn’t even have to ask. “I’m not turning Becca over to the CIA or anyone else.”

Bast shook his head, gave the exaggerated exhale. Threw out every sign of a friend on the edge. “You ready to admit you’re treading water when it comes to her?”

Jarrett shook his head. “I wish I was doing that well.”

•   •   •

Becca leaned against the stove, holding a bottle of water and thinking about the last seven days at the club. She didn’t remember twisting the lid off or taking a sip. She stood there, tapping the tip against her top lip and thinking. The events of last night and the early morning ran together in her head into one big blob.

With a practiced concentration, she closed her eyes and mentally pulled it all apart. She’d learned the trick during training. When facts and fear and adrenaline spun together and backed up on her, she broke it open and fought off the freeze. For some reason the skill worked better with trained killers than with Jarrett.

As soon as she thought about him, he appeared. She blinked, looking from those broad shoulders under the charcoal suit to the clock on the microwave. He’d been gone about a half hour. Not enough time to burn that pissy look off his face, unfortunately.

She went with the obvious. “You’re back.”

“You didn’t get online.” He didn’t stop walking until he rested next to the fridge and across from her.

“How do you know?”

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his cell. “I’ll get a message when you sign on.”

With all his tricks and the load of paranoia he carried around, the guy could give lessons to her former desk-riding bosses at the CIA. “Interesting tracking device you have there. You pick that up from a club member?”

“Wade took a class.”

He didn’t smile but the deadpan delivery had her brain scrambling. “I kind of hope you’re kidding.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t put any restrictions on what you did up here?” He took the water bottle from her hand and frowned when he turned the lid and produced the distinctive crack of breaking the seal. “Maybe I should rephrase that since I put plenty of restrictions on you up until now and you ignored them all.”

Something about the way he said it made her defenses rise. “Not all.”

She’d kept her quiet defiance to a minimum as she stripped for him, opened her body to him . . . refrained from stabbing him. She could kill a guy with a good-sized spoon and shimmy down a heating vent to sneak into a room, so as far as she was concerned, he should be grateful she stayed put for a few days. God knew, sitting still battled with her personality and training.

“Name one,” he said.

“I waited until today to go into your bedroom.” And holding back had used up a good portion of her willpower.

He rolled his eyes as he took a sip. “I wonder if you know delaying is not the same thing as obedience.”

“Not my favorite word.”

“You’re too busy trying to outmaneuver me to try exercising it for a change.”

Through all the banter, she noticed the lines at the corner of his mouth and stress around his eyes. Some of the fighting spirit seeped out of her. “What happened downstairs?”

He screwed and unscrewed the lid to the bottle. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mood is on fire.” Much more of the smart-ass comments and she might refresh her takedown skills right there in the middle of the family room.

“Did you miss our last conversation? We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms.”

“It’s still ringing in my mind, trust me.”

He threw her one of those the-man-is-done frowns. “Then you know I’m tired of the bullshit.”

Oh, no. She’d own her garbage, but he left with anger spinning around him. He came back with his shoulders weighed down with what suspiciously looked like exhaustion. “This mood—whatever this is—isn’t about me.”

“You sure about that?”

Eight months ago he would have grabbed her hand and drawn her down on his lap on the couch. After some prodding, he would have shared something, at least a clue. Talked about problems with members or staff infighting. Even his disgust at having a businessman sit in his office and explain that he
had
to stay in the club even though his last few payments bounced.

The point was, she’d seen this look before. “I know you.”

He studied her as he twirled that damn lid in his hand. “I wonder how it feels to be able to say that and believe it.”

“So, we’ve taken a giant step backwards, I see.” Not a surprise. Her insides still trembled at the thought of her clothes hanging right there next to his. “We’re back to short angry sentences and barely making eye contact.”

“I’ve given you almost everything you wanted. There is no way you can complain.”

She snorted. “Of course I can.”

“Becca—”

The tension swirled around the small space, bouncing off every counter and cabinet. She rushed to diffuse it before it built to an explosion. “And you didn’t give me everything I want.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

No way was she elaborating on that. “Tell me what happened downstairs.”

He put the bottle on the edge of the sink. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m here. Talk to me.” She wanted to go to him. Skim her hands over his chest and dip her head in for a kiss.

She leaned in to do just that, but his words stopped her.

“You are a convenient sex partner. Nothing else.”

The tightness ran out of every muscle. Her chest and shoulders fell. Hell, she’d bet she lost three inches of height. He crushed her and stared at her as if daring her to complain about the killing blow.

“You always have to do that,” she said, forcing the hurt out of her voice.