Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (32 page)

“That wasn’t for me, and you know it,
tesoro
. The moment Lightner threatened you in Rio, he came into my crosshairs.”

“Don’t do that again, Jack.” She said after a moment. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me ever again—promise me.”

“I can’t do that,” he answered honestly, leaning on the desk again. “I’ve been willing to put everything at risk for you since the moment we met.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. “You’re worth risking everything, Samantha. Being without you—seeing you almost die in that awful hospital bed in Germany—” he shook his head, emotion cutting off his words. “I’d do anything for you. Anything to make sure you’re okay.”

Her mouth pressed into a frown. “Then you’ll love what I have to ask you now.”

He sat down across from her. “Just ask me—I’ll do anything.”

“There are photos in that folder,” she told him, pointing to the file. “Photos I need your father to explain.”

Jack frowned, opening the file. He picked up the stack of photos Sam had taken from Wes, thumbing through them quickly. “These weren’t in the file,” he noted, scanning them quickly. “I’ve never seen these before.”

“I know,” Sam responded, leaning back in the seat. “They’re all of my father with different contacts in the Middle East. I’d like to convince myself that they exist simply because he was there on business, but one thing I can’t quite reconcile is why the CIA looked into his and my brother’s death in the first place.”
And because Wes planted the idea in my head, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Their deaths would have been a domestic matter.”

Jack looked closely at some of the photos. “Are these of who I think they are?” he asked, awe and curiosity edging into his voice.

“Yes,” Samantha nodded. “And while my father would have cause to meet with some of these leaders for business reasons, I’m starting to suspect he was some kind of asset for the U.S. government, but only your father can confirm or deny that.”

A minute look of hesitation crossed Jack’s face. “I don’t think he’d be willing to divulge that even if he could,
tesoro.
”

“You mean like he was willing to divulge my redacted military history to you?” she replied cuttingly, eyes narrowed. “Your father already crossed that line when he pulled my file, and you broke any trust we had when you read it. Now I’m asking you to right a wrong, Jack. Sandro opened a door—you can’t fault me for asking questions about what’s inside.”

Jack was quiet for a long time. “Anything you learn won’t bring them back,
tesoro.”
He met her eyes.

“No,” Sam agreed. “But now I know my family didn’t die at the hands of some drunk driver that night. Something far more sinister happened, and to get to the bottom of that, I need to know why,” she told him frankly, not breaking his gaze. “Sandro can help me get closer to the truth.”

“And if I can’t get my father to come to the table with what you want?” he asked, tense.

She leaned back in her chair, calm. “I’m not holding you hostage, Jack.”

“Aren’t you?” Jack leaned forward. “If I can’t get my father to release secret information on a potential asset, you will never forgive me for my indiscretion, will you,
tesoro
? You’ll never trust me again, and you’ll for damn sure never take me back.”

Sam cocked her head. “Who said I’d ever take you back, Jack? Trust is an illusion at best. You never trusted me. I clearly can’t trust you, so the only thing we can both rely upon now is mutual self-interest.”

Jack’s gaze swept over her face as if he were searching for the woman he thought he loved, hoping for a sign she was still buried in there somewhere. But that woman had been carved out of her a few months ago. They couldn’t go back.

She had the scars to prove it.

“I’ll do it on one condition,” he said finally.

Samantha lifted a brow. “Is this the part where you prove my point about self-interest?”

“Would you believe anything I said otherwise?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

“Then my condition is simple,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll bring whatever information I can to the table on your father’s potential involvement with the CIA if you allow me to stay here, close to you.”

Sam laughed outright at the audacity of his request. “No, you can’t stay here—and not just because I don’t want you underfoot,” she added, shaking her head. “That stunt you pulled putting a bounty on Lightner’s head was tantamount to poking a bear. We’re both already targets. Together, we’d be sitting ducks.”

“I’d argue the opposite,” he replied calmly. “We’re getting new leads every day. Besides MI-6, Interpol, and my team at Leviathan, every bounty-hunter and assassin and mercenary is now after that prick.”

Sam tilted her head. “Do you know his whereabouts?” She wondered if Jack’s leads were better than Rox’s and Avi’s, but she also didn’t want him involved more than he already was.

“Why? So you can send the mystery woman who saved my life in London to go get him?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “We’re on the same side, Jack.”

“You just told me trust is an illusion,” he replied, throwing her words back at her. “Tell me who she is.”

She remained quiet. He already knew Alejandro. Jack would be aware Alejo had a little sister—one who was supposed to be dead. He was too damnably smart not to put two and two together, and that would only drag him deeper into the web and risk Rox’s anonymity at the same time.

“She’s the woman you’re going to pay ten mil once she tracks Lightner down,” she said instead. “You should have talked to me about the bounty before you did that,” she added.

“I would have, except you were ignoring me at the time.”

Sam stood slowly, crossing the library to stand at the French doors overlooking the garden. “Why didn’t you listen to me when I asked you stay out of this? Did it ever occur to you that I kept you out of all of this because I didn’t want you hurt?”

He came to stand behind her. Jack didn’t touch her but he was a hair’s breath away. She felt his presence against her back like a warm glow. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and sink back against him. That was the fucking battle, wasn’t it? Between what she knew was right—to push him away, versus what she wanted—to keep him close.

She turned around, careful to keep her face impassive.

“I may have let you walk out on me, but I came to my senses, didn’t I?” Jack told her quietly, his voice a whisper. “I’d rather hurt with you than suffer without you. When are you going to believe me?”

Something reckless lurked behind his eyes when he looked at her—an unexpressed desire. She realized he’d developed a taste for the danger, the darker edges curling around an otherwise charmed life. She also recognized that she’d brought him to this doorstep. It had been their relationship and their demise that had brought him to this place, where he would do anything and everything to protect what he wanted. It made him infinitely more appealing to her, because she recognized those proclivities in herself. He hadn’t gone too far yet. He could still turn around and live a different life—a more normal one. One without blood on his hands.

“You don’t want
me, Jack.” Sam told him unequivocally. “Not as I am; not the person that lies beneath the façade. Hear me on this: You’ve fallen for a fantasy—a temporary insanity we both bought into until reality of who I am and the world I deal in came back with a vengeance. You don’t want
this,
” she said, her voice scathing as she gestured toward herself.

Jack pulled her into his arms before she could protest. “I want you as
you are
. How many times do I have to say that?”

“Who I really am is the problem, Jack,” she whispered. “I am not the woman for you—I never was. You can’t stay here.” She made a move to pull back.

He resisted, bringing her closer. “Give me forty-eight hours.”

“What about Lightner?” she asked, pulling back. “I told you that your being with me is only going to make you a bigger target.” That was only partly true, and she knew that, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. If Rox was right, Lightner had his hands full trying to negotiate an arms deal halfway around the world. It was only if that bastard was successful that she’d have to seriously worry.

Jack smiled grimly, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. “Let that bastard come, then. Because from now on, I’m going to face every battle with you. I won’t back down and I won’t desert you,
tesoro
.”

“No,” she muttered, pushing him back.

“
Yes
,” he insisted, refusing to let her go.

She could break his hold by hurting him, but she didn’t want to do that. “You’re a goddamn stubborn bastard, Jack Roman,” she gritted out.

“It’s part of my charm, Samantha Wyatt.”

They stared at each other hard and long, Sam gauging whether it was worth the trouble to keep debating this, and him gauging his level of success.

“You have forty-eight hours to bring your father to the table,” she finally relented. “If you don’t deliver on your end of the bargain, I’ll kick you out on your ass so fast, you’ll have to hitch-hike back to Chicago.”

Jack’s smile unfurled slowly. “You have a deal.”

April—Late Afternoon

Wyatt Towers, Houston, Texas

W E S L E Y

W
es stood in
front of the gleaming glass high rise of Wyatt Towers, one of a trifecta of monolithic spires built to house and exhibit the enormous wealth of Rob Wyatt’s petroleum empire. The man had been nothing if not ostentatious in his heyday, and Wes could not help but recall the brief times he’d spent in the penthouse, holed up in Sam’s room on short breaks and long weekends. She hadn’t liked to stay there frequently, preferring the wide open space of the ranch to the sweltering humidity of Houston and the nightmare of snarled traffic. But Wes could still recall the views though—three hundred and sixty degrees of magnificence. He understood why Rob had built it—standing at the top was tantamount to feeling like the king of the world.

In his reverie, staring up at the distant glinting glass of the penthouse, Wes nearly missed the tall blonde man pushing through the revolving doors. But Carey spotted him immediately, striding across the pavement toward him with an expression that hovered somewhere between amused and flabbergasted.

“How the hell did you know I was here?” Carey asked, shaking his head at him.

“I’ve actually been trying to get a face-to-face with Mack for a few weeks,” Wes told him with a shrug. “When his assistant told me he was stuck in a board meeting most of the day, I knew you’d have to be here as Sam’s proxy.”

“She shouldn’t have told you that.” Carey sighed. “Christ, am I going to have to fire her now?”

“What can I say?” Wes shrugged lightly. “She’s sweet on me. I’ve been wearing her down.”

“She’s fifty-five years old,” Carey pointed out, yanking at the knot in his tie.

Wes laughed. “She’s still a woman, isn’t she?”

“Mama always said you were too damn charming for your own good.”

“Sounds like Hannah,” Wes replied with an easy smile. “You look none the worse for wear. Can I buy you a beer?”

“I shouldn’t,” Carey sighed. “Got a conference call with Talon in Chicago.”

“It’ll keep. Come on—I know a place that serves some ridiculously good burgers. You’ll feel right as rain after some chow and a longneck.” Wes turned toward a diner he knew down the street a few blocks.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m walking into a trap?” Carey remarked as they strode down the sidewalk.

“Carey, I’ve known you since you were in short pants. Sure, I’ll take any news on Sammy you care to supply, but you’ll get a cold beer and some protein either way, so what’s the harm?”

“Aw, hell, I can’t resist,” Carey declared, throwing his hands up. “You know they only serve these little finger sandwiches in those meetings? I’d have to eat three platters of those just to get my fill.”

Wes laughed aloud. “I can just see you holding one of those fancy silver platters over your mouth and shaking it down. God, what would the board say?”

“They’re already saying it: ‘This boy doesn’t know shit from Shinola when it comes to oil. When’s Sammy coming back?’” he mocked with an eye roll.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in a corner booth of a small, raffish diner scented with seared chuck and house-baked buns. Carey slugged back a Shiner Bock with relieved gusto, smacking his lips before leaning back with a sigh.

“There’s nothing more boring than listening to drilling reports,” he confessed. “Did you even know it was possible to sit through a two-hundred-page report on thermal energy collection?” He shook his head ruefully. “Man, I’d rather take a heavy mortar shelling in Fallujah than endure this shit.”

Wes quirked a brow. “That’s…ah, extreme.”

“It’s
your
fault, too,” Carey accused, pointing his beer bottle at him.

Wes blinked. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“Sam was all set to return to the helm this week, but that impromptu drive out to Austin to ream you out got her so fucked up and pissed off, she’s busy turning over stones on her daddy. I oughtta beat your ass for that,” Carey told him as he took another sip of beer.