Soldier of Fortune (11 page)

“Are you shocked? Come on, honey.” And he kissed her again, oblivious to the confusion and growing panic in her eyes.

She must have tensed because he stopped and looked at her. He cursed and rolled away, but she couldn’t move. She lay there, her face pale, her eyes closed. The fear subsided, but it left her sick and empty. Tears ran in a flood down her cheeks and her body shook with sobs.

“Damn you, J.D.,” she wept, flushed with fury. “Damn you!”

“That’s how I am with a woman,” he said coldly, ignoring the trembling of her body, the terrible hurt in her eyes. “That’s how it would have been yesterday. I wanted you. But I wanted you because I needed to forget what was ahead, the same way I’ve forgotten it a hundred times before with a hundred other women.” His voice was bitter and he turned away. “So set your sights on some other man, and don’t weave romantic daydreams around me. I’ve just shown you the reality. Remember it.”

She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was trembling too much. Her eyes looked up into his, bright with furious anger. Something of her pain must have shown in them, because he turned away and, grabbing up his suitcase, went to the door without another glance.

“Bring your bag and let’s go,” he said in a harsh tone.

She watched him close the door and then she managed to get to her feet. His taunting voice would haunt her as long as she lived. She would resign, of course, but she didn’t know how she was going to manage to look at him while she worked out a two-week notice. Maybe he’d let her go immediately. The only problem was that she didn’t have another job to go to. Her rent and car payments wouldn’t wait while she went without work.

Minutes later, wearing a fresh green pullover blouse with a matching sweater and the same jeans, and with her hair carefully pulled back in a bun, she left the bedroom, her suitcase in hand. She was still pale, but makeup helped conceal the shock of what J.D. had done to her.

He didn’t even glance in her direction as she came back into the living room. Apparently, he’d shut her out of his mind already, and she wished she had the ability to do the same with him. The scars he had left on her emotions would be a long time healing. She’d loved him. How could he hurt her that way? How could he?

She tried to disguise her anguish and hoped that she succeeded. She said goodbye to Laremos and got into the van with First Shirt while J.D. said his own farewells.

Shirt gave her a brief but thorough scrutiny and laid one lean, wiry hand over the steering wheel. “What did he do to you?” he asked.

She lifted a startled face. “Why…nothing.”

“Don’t lie,” he said gently. “I’ve known him a long time. Are you okay?”

She shifted restlessly in the seat, refusing to let her eyes go past Shirt to J.D., who was standing apart with Laremos. “Yes, I’m okay,” she said. “Of course, I’ll be a lot better once I get out of his life.”

“Whew.” He whistled ruefully. “That bad?”

“That bad.” She gripped her purse tightly in her lap.

“Gabby,” he said gently, with a tiny smile, “have you ever known a fighting fish to lie down when he hit the bait? Don’t expect to draw him in without a little effort.”

She glared at him. “I’d like to put a hook in him, but not to land him.”

“Give it a little time,” he said. “He’s been alone most of his life. It’s new to him, needing someone.”

“He doesn’t need me,” she said shortly.

“I’m not convinced of that,” he replied. He studied her affectionately. “I think he’s met his match. You’re a pretty damned good shot for a lady who’s never used an automatic weapon before. Laremos said you learned fast.”

She pursed her lips, studying her purse. “It wasn’t a hard weapon to learn,” she told him. “And actually, I have shot a .22-caliber rifle before. Mama and I used to hunt rabbits. But it didn’t have a kick like that gun.”

He smiled as she rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t imagine so. Is your mother still alive?”

She nodded, smiling back. “She lives in Lytle, Texas. There’s a small ranch, and she has a few head of cattle. It’s not nearly as big as the one she and Daddy had, but when he died, she decided to retire. Sort of.”

“And she hunts?” he asked.

“Hunts, rides, ropes, and can outcuss most veteran cowboys,” she told him. “She’s quite a character.”

“You’re a character yourself,” he said. “When J.D. told me he took you along on secret meetings, I began to realize that he had an unusual relationship with you. J.D. doesn’t trust anybody except his sister and me.”

That wasn’t bragging, either, she realized. Just a statement of fact. “He doesn’t trust Laremos.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, smiling.

She burst out laughing, but the amusement faded immediately as J.D. started toward the car, and she felt herself freezing up. But she needn’t have worried. J.D. climbed into the backseat and slammed the door, waving to Laremos.

“Be back in a few hours, boss,” Shirt called to him. Laremos grinned and waved, and they were under way.

It was a long trip to the airport, not because of distance but because of the tension between Gabby and J.D. Despite First Shirt’s efforts to keep things casual, Gabby drew into herself and didn’t say a word all the way.

It was like that during the flight back as well. Gabby was relieved to find that their seats were not together. She was sandwiched between a businessman and a young girl. J.D.’s seat was farther back. Not one word had passed between them when they landed at O’Hare airport in the wee hours of the morning.

It took her a long time to find a place in the swollen ranks of departing passengers. She didn’t look back to see where J.D. was, either. Her only thought was to get back to her apartment. After that she’d face the thought of leaving J.D. forever, of finding another job and getting on with her life.

At last she reached the front of the terminal and stepped out into the breezy night air that carried the sound of distant car horns and city smells that had become so familiar. There was no cab in sight, but Gabby wasn’t daunted. She’d just call one.

“Come on,” J.D. said tersely, appearing just behind her. “I’ll drive you.”

She glared at him. “I’d rather be mugged.”

“You might be, at this hour, alone,” he said matter-of-factly. “What’s the matter, afraid of me?” he taunted.

She was; he’d made her afraid. But she was too proud to let him see how much.

After a minute, she turned and followed him toward the parking lot. A little later, they were winding their way back into Chicago.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked.

She knew instinctively what he meant. “Yes. I’m going to try to find a job in the IT field. I like working with computers.”

He glanced toward her. “I thought you enjoyed legal work. It’s too bad, to let that paralegal training go to waste.”

“I’m tired of legal work,” she said noncommittally. What she meant was that she couldn’t take the risk of running into J.D. accidentally after she’d quit. It would be too painful.

He shrugged, driving calmly. “It’s your life. You’d better call that agency Monday morning and have them send over some applicants. I’ll let Dick do the interviewing this time,” he added with a cold laugh.

Her fingers clenched on her purse. She stared out of the window at the river.

“No comment?” he prodded.

“About what?” she asked indifferently.

He sighed. One more turn and he pulled the car into a parking spot in front of her apartment building.

She got out and waited for him to get her carry-on bag. “Don’t bother walking me up,” she said.

He glared down at her. “I wasn’t aware that I’d offered.”

Her anger exploded. “I hate you,” she said in a venomous whisper.

“Yes, I know you do,” he said with a cold smile.

She whirled on her heel and started toward the door of the building.

“Gabby,” he called curtly.

She stopped with her hand on the door, but didn’t turn. “What?”

“You’ll work a two-week notice. Every day of it. Or I’ll make sure you don’t work again. Clear?”

She’d been thinking about not showing up at all on Monday. But when she turned and saw his eyes, she realized, not for the first time, what a formidable adversary he made. She hated to give in, but the necessity of finding a new job made her do so gracefully.

“Why, Mr. Brettman, I wouldn’t miss a minute of it,” she said with sweet mockery. “See you Monday.”

Chapter Seven

T
he last thing she felt like doing Monday morning was going into the office. To make things worse, her shoulder was aching like mad. But that didn’t stop Gabby. She put on a beige suit with a brightly colored blouse, pinned up her hair, and went to work. Might as well get it over with, she told herself. She’d go back to the office, work out her notice, and get another job. Sure. Simple.

Explaining that to her mother back home in Lytle, Texas, had not been quite so simple.

“But I thought you loved your job!” her mother had gasped. “Why are you quitting? Listen, Gabby, what’s happened?”

“Nothing, Mama,” she’d said quickly. “It’s just that Mr. Brettman may not be in Chicago much longer.” She lied on impulse. “You see, he has prospects in another area, and I don’t really want to relocate.”

“Where would he go?”

“Now, Mama,” she said, “you know I don’t like to pry into Mr. Brettman’s business.”

“That Mr. Dice, his partner, why couldn’t you still work for him?” her mother demanded gruffly. “Better yet, why don’t you come home and get married?”

Gabby chewed on her lip so that she wouldn’t say anything hasty. She had visions of her mother providing a groom, a minister and a loaded gun for motivation. It made her want to giggle, which would have infuriated her mother.

“Gabby, you aren’t in trouble?” her mother had added in a strange tone.

“No, Mama, I’m not in trouble. Now don’t get upset. It may all fall through anyway.”

“I like Mr. Brettman,” her mother said roughly. “That one time I met him when I visited you, he seemed like a nice man to me. Why does he want to move anyway? He isn’t getting married?”

“J.D.? Get married?” Gabby laughed mirthlessly. “That would make the world record books.”

“He’ll have to get married someday,” came the curt reply.

“Think so?” Already Gabby could picture him in fatigues rushing some stronghold with Shirt and Apollo. But she couldn’t tell her mother that!

“Of course. It happens to everybody. He’ll get tired of living alone someday. Your father did. That’s when I nabbed him.” Gabby could almost see her grin.

“Are you tired of living alone?” Gabby asked suddenly. It had been ten years since her father’s death. Yet her mother didn’t even date.

“I don’t live alone, baby. I live with my memories. I had the best man God ever made. I don’t want second best.”

“You’re just fussy,” Gabby said accusingly.

“Yes, I am. You’d be be fussy, too. Honey, think about coming home. That Chicago place is pretty big, and if Mr. Brettman isn’t going to be around, I’d worry about you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gabby promised.

She hated thinking about it. It made her face the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing J.D. again. Whether or not he went back to the old life, he’d made it impossible for her to work for him anymore. He’d forced her into resigning, whether consciously or unconsciously. And now here she was losing her boss, her job, and her heart all in the space of three days. So little time to change so much of her future. It might have been better if she’d stayed behind and never known the truth about J.D.

When she got to the office, it was clear that J.D. had not yet come in. Richard Dice was sitting on her desk with his arms folded across his chest, looking murderous.

“Morning, Dick,” she said with a forced smile.

“Thank God you’re back.” He sighed. “That temporary girl didn’t work out, and the agency hasn’t called me about a replacement. Where’s J.D.?”

“Don’t ask me,” she replied, calmly shedding her jacket and putting her purse in the desk drawer. She tucked her glasses on top of her head while she searched through the calendar for appointments that had been made by both the temporary girl and herself.

“Didn’t he come back?” Dick persisted.

“Yes.” She stared at him. “You mean he hasn’t been in touch with you?”

“Not yet. Well?” he burst out. “What happened? How’s Martina? Did they pay the ransom?”

“You’re chock-full of questions.” She sighed in turn. “Yes, Martina’s safe. No, they didn’t have to pay the ransom. And anything else you want to know, ask J.D., because I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dick looked at the ceiling. “You disappear for days, and all I get is one long-winded sentence?”

“You should have come with us,” she said conversationally. “Then you wouldn’t have to take up my time asking questions. Did you take care of Mrs. Turnbull’s divorce yesterday?”

“Yes,” he murmured absently. “Judge Amherst called. He wants to discuss the Landers case with J.D. before he makes a decision about the trial date.”

Gabby made a note of it.

Dick was studying her closely. “You look bad.”

She smiled. “Thank you. What a lovely thing to be told.”

He flushed. “I mean, you look worn-out.”

“You try crawling through a jungle on your belly with a rifle and see how you look,” she replied.

“Jungle? On your belly? Why did you have a rifle?”

She got up from her desk and started filing some folders that Dick had left there. “Ask J.D.”

“But he isn’t here!”

She glowered at the file folders. “Maybe he’s out buying a new crossbow,” she muttered.

“A what?” But she didn’t hear him. He grumbled something and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, somebody’s in a snit,” she said to the filing cabinet.

It was a good two hours before J.D. came in, looking as neat as a pin in his vested gray suit.

“Any messages?” he asked Gabby, just as he used to.

“No, sir,” she replied, and she sounded the same, too, except that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Dick took care of the Turnbull case for you, and Judge Amherst wants you to call him.”