Retribution (21 page)

He peered intently at her and then asked, “Now what were you going to say?”

“Um, nothing? Yeah, I’ll just finish packing,” she mumbled. She’d have time to give up her secret later, right? She swallowed hard. Yeah, hopefully, she’d have time later.

“All right then. You finish and I’ll be waiting on you downstairs. Go ahead and say your good-byes. Your sisters will be fine, by the way. I’m only sending them away as a precaution because of what happened last night. Dempsey wants me, and the easiest way to get me is to use you. We need to get him on my turf so I call the shots from now on,” he said in a dark voice.

He ran a finger along her bottom lip, gave her a pained look, and walked out her door.

She was in big trouble.

Jerry had no idea how he was going to get to Bonner now. Damn Dempsey and his fucked up plans for revenge. That rat bastard had ruined Jerry’s life when he’d taken it over. Now Jerry was in grave danger of being found out, and that wouldn’t do at all.

Bonner had split the team up and sent a couple of the men one way and a couple the other way, each set taking Bennoit sisters with them. How Jerry was going to pull off his part of Dempsey’s plan, he had no idea. Yet he had no choice but to find a way. His life depended on it. Her life depended on it. Dempsey could destroy him with one shot.

“Talk to me, Jerry. How are things on your end? You haven’t backed out and gone all Boy Scout on me now have you?” Dempsey’s smug voice sounded over the SAT phone.

“No, Dempsey, I haven’t. I have a slight detour, but I’ll meet you in Boston in two days.”

“Are you put out, Jerry? You know, at any time we can sever ties. Of course, you’ll pay the price of severance, and we both know what that is, don’t we Jerry-boy?”

If Jerry could reach through the SAT phone and kill Dempsey with his bare hands, his own life in payment would be well worth it. But there was more on the line here than just his life.

“Quit baiting me, asshole. I’ll fulfill my end. I think you’re forgetting who I am.” Jerry’s voice was rough with rage.

“No, it’s you who are forgetting who I am, Jerry. I am your puppet master, and you are my slave. Remember it and
everyone
on our side comes away alive, understand me? I’ll see you in Boston,” Dempsey replied and hung up.

Jerry breathed out heavily. He’d been close to damaging his situation beyond all repair.

Once this was finished, he was going to make sure his family was somewhere safe. Somewhere nobody could ever bother them again. And then he was going to kill Dempsey, or he would never be free.

Three and a half hours on the road and Sasha had decided she couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to take the plunge into personal territory. They’d enjoyed a companionable silence until they passed into Statesville, Virginia. They’d stopped to eat, and something had changed.

Apparently their nice, friendly atmosphere had been abandoned at the diner where they’d picked up carryout burgers. Maybe there was a law in Virginia that stated conversation in the car was a big no-no?

She snorted softly, and then sighed as she shifted in the seat. She’d tried a couple of times to engage Dray in conversation. He shot down every attempt. Anger had started riding her shoulders. It sniped at her thoughts, pulled her inner smartass to the surface. He may not want to talk, but damn it, she’d like to have some answers.

Sasha had a huge decision to make, and she wasn’t going to make it based on her hormones. She caught sight of her scowl in the passenger side window. Her brain had obviously been injured outside el-Din’s compound, as well as her body. Self-flagellation was such an ugly thing.

“So, um, about last night—is it okay to ask you a question?”

His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“What’s your history with Dawn?” She’d done it! Mentally, she patted herself on the back.

“We were lovers. Now we’re friends.”

She inhaled sharply, and something inside her splintered. There it was. Confirmation of what she had seen with her own two eyes last night. Unwilling to acknowledge the burning pain in her chest for what it was, she simply slid her mask back into place, turned away, and resumed looking out the window. She felt his focused attention but refused to look at him.

“I said
were
, not
are
. In high school.”

He sounded choked, like that tidbit of information had been pulled out of him with rusty pliers.

“Hmm,” she murmured, feigning intense interest in the countryside of Virginia. An elephant had copped a squat on her chest.

“What do you mean, ‘hmm’?” he demanded.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. “I don’t mean anything. Forget I asked. I’m sorry to get so personal.”
Please let this go.

He grunted. “You know, for someone who has a degree in human behavior from Emory University, you sure have a serious deficit when it comes to recognizing subterfuge,” he mumbled.

His agitation stroked along her raw nerves.
Asshole.
“It’s anthropology,” she responded between clenched teeth.

“What?”

The anger wouldn’t leave her alone and had her straightening in her seat. Sasha shot him a look filled with all the jealous venom in her heart. “I have a degree in an-thro-pol-ogy, the study of humanity. While it
could
and often
does
take into account human behavior, the study of it alone does not necessarily make you an expert on how others act. Subterfuge, however, I am very familiar with. In and of itself, subterfuge connotes an ability to lie. I’m not sure if you heard me earlier, but I don’t like liars and tend to keep my distance from them. A very big part of me wants to believe what you said in my bedroom. But your actions last night were very convincing. So were Dawn’s.”

She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. His hands all over Barbie replayed behind her closed lids. “I’m also
no
t an expert in affairs of the heart, not that I’m saying that is what we’re having. An affair, that is. I mean, I guess you have a heart, but, hmmm, let me see. Oh yeah, last night it looked like someone else had it—so I don’t imagine that particular part of your anatomy is much my concern.”

It hurt, damn it. And now she was slinging barbs even she wanted to duck away from.

His gaze met hers and in their beautiful green depths, something sparked. Confusion? Ah, who cared?

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just go back to driving and acting blissfully unaware of the tension in the car. It’s like a giant pink monkey, so I’m not sure how you’re ignoring it, but kudos to ya’ for your efforts.”

She turned and stared out the window again. She was angrier with herself than him. She’d told herself she wouldn’t put her heart back out on the table to be stabbed through again, but there she went just like the novice she was. Damn el-Din, damn Afghanistan, and damn her for falling for a mule-headed ass!

He coughed and grunted something unintelligible. Sasha glanced at him from the corner of her eye and could’ve sworn a quick smile passed over his lips. She huffed and gave up trying to make conversation. The countryside looked prettier and prettier.

Another three hours passed and the deafening silence in the vehicle continued. Radio, like adult conversation, was apparently off limits. The constant whir of the tires against the pavement was driving her batty. She’d reached over earlier and looked for a station only to have him reach for the knob she’d turned and shut the radio entirely off.

Her iPod was packed in the suitcase, and she’d been kicking herself since they left Virginia. She was so starved for any kind of sound, she’d contemplated opening up conversation with the apparent mute beside her.
You’re a glutton for punishment.

Maybe if she stared at him really intently he would give in to her silent demands to actually speak a group of words together. Maybe even form an entire sentence. If she could get him to do that, maybe it could lead to an actual conversation.

Sasha chuckled. Hell, she didn’t really need anybody, did she? All her bases were covered if she could make herself laugh. All of them except for first, second, and third. She didn’t know about home—hadn’t ever come close to crossing that plate before—so she couldn’t be sure. So hell, maybe she didn’t have any bases covered and she was going crazy.

In the end, she didn’t have to stare him down or even initiate the conversation. He must’ve thought she was cracking up when she giggled again.

“What’s so funny?”

Oh, Mr. Grumpy Pants, if you only knew
. “You. Me. This entire situation. It’s either laugh or cry at this point.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She winced.

He inhaled slowly. “Yeah, it’s a regular riot. Listen, are you okay? I know we stopped about an hour ago, but we can pull off here shortly and let you stretch your legs. We’ve still got about another four to five hours of hard driving before we make it where we’re going.”

His voice stirred something hot and deep in her abdomen. His Boston accent was light and oh-so-sexy. Sometimes he let a Gaelic phrase or two slip into his speech and that, combined with the gravelly baritone pitch, brought to mind smoking sheets and writhing bodies.

He could totally
pahk
his
cah
in her
garahge
.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and then burst into hysterical laughter. She struggled to hold it in because truth was, his voice got her where she was going. Panties damp, mind blown—Sasha was headed to the damn funny farm. The look on his face, crazy confusion lowering his brows and making his green eyes dark and mysterious, sobered her pretty quickly. She jumped on his offer to stop. Maybe she could find the brain she’d lost over the last few hours.

“Yes, please stop,” she pleaded. The way she was sounding and acting, he probably wanted out of the car more than she did. The thought had her giggling again.

His gaze sliced to her and then back to the road. “Okay,” he drew the word out and then took a deep breath. “We’ll stop up the road.”

They pulled into a rest stop, and his gaze swept their surroundings.

“Stay here until I check the facility,” he murmured and then got out of the vehicle.

Sasha watched him, moving like a silent wraith, muscles shifting and flexing under the dark of his T-shirt. Her hands fisted as heat shot through her. He was a beautiful man. Strong in all the ways that counted.
Why couldn’t he be hers?

His gaze met hers through the windshield. His stare was a tactile caress over her soul.

Control yourself, Bennoit. He’s not yours.

He opened the passenger door of the Tahoe, and she inhaled automatically. Warm vanilla and something infinitesimally male snaked through her, centered heat low in her abdomen. She cut off the groan that tried to work its way up her throat.

“Let’s go,” he said brusquely and then walked her to the ladies’ room.

Their bodies brushed each others as they walked, and the limited contact impressed upon her that he was there with her. Her insides quivered. All that strength she’d just been admiring was there for her. They made it to the ladies’ room, and she glanced up at him.

“You comin’ in with me too?”

Horror skated over his features. “Uh, do you need me to?”

She laughed, couldn’t help it. “Nah, I’m just being a smart-ass. See, if you’d been around me for longer than a few kisses and a couple of rescues, you’d recognize my sarcasm as the lame attempt to deflect tension that it always is.” And with that she flounced into the restroom.

Sasha freshened up in the bathroom and put the screws to herself. She needed to stop giving Dray more trouble than he already had trying to keep her safe. He must care a great deal to put himself in harm’s way for her. Maybe not as much as she cared for him, but it had to be there. The least she could do was not give him a hard time.

She came out of the bathroom, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the man standing against the opposite wall. He had one foot resting on the wall and his hands tucked into his jeans. He was so damn good-looking. Her senses were on overload. He was eye, ear, lip…you name it, candy. She lost her breath every time she saw him, heard him, or touched him. She wanted him more with every second that passed. As Sasha watched him standing there with his eyes closed and his head resting back on the wall, she was struck by how bizarre their entire acquaintance had been.

They’d met under dire circumstances. He’d saved her life. Then she’d spent a year yearning for him but unwilling to make him suffer through her painful walk to normal. She’d spent so much time running from what happened to her, but now? Yeah, now she was ready to live.

It solidified in her gut—the heat he stirred in her, the way he looked at her like he knew her…like she was his—they all combined into one absolute conviction.

He was hers. Surely all they’d been through wasn’t to keep them apart. Maybe, just maybe, it was time she listen to her heart instead of her fears, embrace the passion she felt for him with all of her soul.

Her mood lightened immediately, feminine power coursing through her veins, potent and demanding. She could do this. Claim him and make him hers. She smiled inside and suddenly everything clicked. There was no time like the present to begin the seduction of Dray Bonner. Sasha was playing for keeps.

Careful not to make any noise, she stopped directly in front of him. She reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, but he caught her hand before she could get close.

“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly without even opening his eyes.

“I’m trying to give you something, but I need to know something first,” she whispered.

“Okay.” His eyes stayed closed.

She smiled. “Are you and Dawn sleeping together? Do you love her?”

It hurt to ask. But it had to be done.

He finally opened his glittering green eyes, fastening his gaze on hers with laser-like intensity. “No.”

She nodded, tasting the truth on the air. She’d always been able to tell when people lied to her. It was almost a second sight kind of gift; she’d always just known. He wasn’t lying. Good.