Savor the Danger
Page 58
But Jackson took her question in stride. “The less you know, the better.”
“Another of those situations, huh?”
“’Fraid so.” Jackson rolled a shoulder. “Just know that your brother has contacts everywhere. When necessary, he can call in a favor or two.”
Assuming the favor wasn’t illegal? Or did a request from Trace supersede even that consideration? Alani knew he had cultivated associations in all facets of law enforcement and many within the political arena.
In so many ways, her brother was a most astounding man.
“But you didn’t just hear that,” Trace said. He scowled at Jackson for the disclosure, then entered the kitchen. With the house still unlit, he went to the kitchen window. Booted feet planted apart, he leaned to look out at the yard. “Could you place the shooter?”
“Yeah.” Jackson kept her behind him. “Voices carry across these big yards, so taking that into account, I’d say about a hundred yards.” He nodded at her farthest neighbor to the back. “Somewhere behind that house.”
“It’s for sale,” Alani told them. “It’s been empty for a few months now.”
“Perfect place for a shooter to dig in.” Trace headed for the door. “Get her packed. I’ll be right back.” He went out the door in a low sprint.
Over Jackson’s shoulder, she watched Trace blend into the thickest shadows. “He’ll be safe out there alone?”
Jackson grunted. “Worry for anyone he runs into, not for Trace.”
Her hand fisted in the waistband of his jeans. “The shooters?”
“Shh. Relax. They’re long gone.”
Tiredly, she leaned against Jackson. Her life had been so much simpler before the cloak-and-dagger drama. “So what’s the point then?”
“He’s gonna check out the area around that house, see if he can pick up any clues, that’s all. It’s what I would have done if…” His voice trailed off, and he fell silent.
Guilt weighed on her. Her uncomplicated, mundane life was so at odds with what Jackson did for a living. “That’s what you’d have done if you hadn’t been babysitting me, right?”
Keeping watch out the window, Jackson reached back for a hug. “If there wasn’t an innocent to be protected.”
“You wish you were out there now, don’t you?”
Her morose tone brought him away from the window. His expression probing, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Stranded on the sidelines with me?” Trying to be realistic, Alani accepted that the contrasts of their lives could be a deterrent to a lasting relationship. “I’m sure you love that.”
His big hand cupped around her head. “Your safety is of particular interest to me, babe, no two ways about it. So, yeah, I love being here with you.”
That “L” word left her thunderstruck and tongue-tied.
“But truth is,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have left anyone behind unprotected.”
So…was she special to him or not? She couldn’t tell by what he’d said.
To lighten the mood, she asked, “Not even Marc?”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. That f**k-up can fend for himself.”
Since he’d tossed Marc away the second the firing started, she’d figured as much. Still taken aback over the idea that she might truly be special to him, Alani said, “Trace wanted me to get packed.”
“Yeah. We’ll get to that in a sec.” There in the shadowy kitchen, appearing far too introspective, Jackson bent to kiss her, lingering, sweet, attentive and so gentle. “You’re holding up okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His half smile did funny things to her stomach. “You bet you are.” His gaze slid down her body. “Better than fine.”
All things considered, she did feel all right. A little shaken, exhausted, but not really scared. “I can’t believe Marc is a part of this.”
“He’s a part of something.” Jackson turned back to the window. “But I don’t know what.” He straightened. “Here comes Trace.”
Alani looked over his shoulder and saw nothing, yet seconds later, Trace came through the door.
Amazing. Putting aside the danger, she rather enjoyed seeing the men at work.
Grim-faced and larger than life, Trace glanced at her. “You packed yet?”
She didn’t bother saying that Jackson had held her back. “I’ll only need a minute.”
“Get dressed, too, okay?”
Both of them watched her again, their expressions almost identical. “Meaning the menfolk need to talk?” She rolled her eyes. “You could just say that.”
“Yeah,” Jackson told Trace. “She’s being really reasonable about classified stuff.”
But Trace’s determination didn’t change. “Feel free to turn the light on in your room now. I’ll help you carry out your stuff in a minute.”
“And with that dismissal…” Alani headed out of the kitchen, but before she’d gotten too far down the hall, she heard Trace and Jackson speaking quietly, so, without remorse, she paused to listen in.
After all, this concerned her very much, and no matter how helpless they thought her to be, she wanted—needed—to be informed.
“There were two shooters,” Trace confirmed. “One at the front, left side of the house, and one at the back near the patio. I’d say there was a scuffle out back, too, but someone tried to cover it up.”
“Another of those situations, huh?”
“’Fraid so.” Jackson rolled a shoulder. “Just know that your brother has contacts everywhere. When necessary, he can call in a favor or two.”
Assuming the favor wasn’t illegal? Or did a request from Trace supersede even that consideration? Alani knew he had cultivated associations in all facets of law enforcement and many within the political arena.
In so many ways, her brother was a most astounding man.
“But you didn’t just hear that,” Trace said. He scowled at Jackson for the disclosure, then entered the kitchen. With the house still unlit, he went to the kitchen window. Booted feet planted apart, he leaned to look out at the yard. “Could you place the shooter?”
“Yeah.” Jackson kept her behind him. “Voices carry across these big yards, so taking that into account, I’d say about a hundred yards.” He nodded at her farthest neighbor to the back. “Somewhere behind that house.”
“It’s for sale,” Alani told them. “It’s been empty for a few months now.”
“Perfect place for a shooter to dig in.” Trace headed for the door. “Get her packed. I’ll be right back.” He went out the door in a low sprint.
Over Jackson’s shoulder, she watched Trace blend into the thickest shadows. “He’ll be safe out there alone?”
Jackson grunted. “Worry for anyone he runs into, not for Trace.”
Her hand fisted in the waistband of his jeans. “The shooters?”
“Shh. Relax. They’re long gone.”
Tiredly, she leaned against Jackson. Her life had been so much simpler before the cloak-and-dagger drama. “So what’s the point then?”
“He’s gonna check out the area around that house, see if he can pick up any clues, that’s all. It’s what I would have done if…” His voice trailed off, and he fell silent.
Guilt weighed on her. Her uncomplicated, mundane life was so at odds with what Jackson did for a living. “That’s what you’d have done if you hadn’t been babysitting me, right?”
Keeping watch out the window, Jackson reached back for a hug. “If there wasn’t an innocent to be protected.”
“You wish you were out there now, don’t you?”
Her morose tone brought him away from the window. His expression probing, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Stranded on the sidelines with me?” Trying to be realistic, Alani accepted that the contrasts of their lives could be a deterrent to a lasting relationship. “I’m sure you love that.”
His big hand cupped around her head. “Your safety is of particular interest to me, babe, no two ways about it. So, yeah, I love being here with you.”
That “L” word left her thunderstruck and tongue-tied.
“But truth is,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have left anyone behind unprotected.”
So…was she special to him or not? She couldn’t tell by what he’d said.
To lighten the mood, she asked, “Not even Marc?”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. That f**k-up can fend for himself.”
Since he’d tossed Marc away the second the firing started, she’d figured as much. Still taken aback over the idea that she might truly be special to him, Alani said, “Trace wanted me to get packed.”
“Yeah. We’ll get to that in a sec.” There in the shadowy kitchen, appearing far too introspective, Jackson bent to kiss her, lingering, sweet, attentive and so gentle. “You’re holding up okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His half smile did funny things to her stomach. “You bet you are.” His gaze slid down her body. “Better than fine.”
All things considered, she did feel all right. A little shaken, exhausted, but not really scared. “I can’t believe Marc is a part of this.”
“He’s a part of something.” Jackson turned back to the window. “But I don’t know what.” He straightened. “Here comes Trace.”
Alani looked over his shoulder and saw nothing, yet seconds later, Trace came through the door.
Amazing. Putting aside the danger, she rather enjoyed seeing the men at work.
Grim-faced and larger than life, Trace glanced at her. “You packed yet?”
She didn’t bother saying that Jackson had held her back. “I’ll only need a minute.”
“Get dressed, too, okay?”
Both of them watched her again, their expressions almost identical. “Meaning the menfolk need to talk?” She rolled her eyes. “You could just say that.”
“Yeah,” Jackson told Trace. “She’s being really reasonable about classified stuff.”
But Trace’s determination didn’t change. “Feel free to turn the light on in your room now. I’ll help you carry out your stuff in a minute.”
“And with that dismissal…” Alani headed out of the kitchen, but before she’d gotten too far down the hall, she heard Trace and Jackson speaking quietly, so, without remorse, she paused to listen in.
After all, this concerned her very much, and no matter how helpless they thought her to be, she wanted—needed—to be informed.
“There were two shooters,” Trace confirmed. “One at the front, left side of the house, and one at the back near the patio. I’d say there was a scuffle out back, too, but someone tried to cover it up.”
