Seduced by the Enemy (Blaze, 41) (13 page)

“Stop it, Jared.”

“He doesn't make you feel too much. That way you don't lose control. You can protect your sacred little world and never let anyone that threatens you inside.”

She flinched when the microwave beeped, signaling the end of the warming cycle, but she didn't move away. Jared pressed closer, but not close enough to touch her. Yet.

“No one can make you feel the things I make you feel. No one ever could, and no man ever will again. You know it. And it scares the hell out of you.”

“Don't.” The single word was a whispered plea he chose to ignore.

He reached out and smoothed his hand down her cheek. “Don't what, baby? Don't make you cry out like you did earlier? Or don't make you beg me for more?”

“Jared, please.”

He slid his fingers beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck in his palm. Using his thumb, he gently rubbed the tender skin below her ear. “Umm,
I'd like nothing more than to please you. Again. And again. And again.”

He could've sworn she trembled, but as he looked down into her eyes, he was convinced otherwise. Anger had them flaring as she glared at him.

“And then what, Jared? We live happily ever after?” She stepped away from him and retrieved her cup from the microwave. “Buy a house in the suburbs, put up a white picket fence and hang lace curtains in the kitchen? I know. We can snap our fingers and the past will magically disappear.”

She dumped the contents of the packet into the mug of steaming water and stirred. “I'm going to bed. Alone. There are linens in the bathroom closet. I'm sure you'll find the sofa comfortable.”

He watched her walk away from him—again. What he really wanted to do was to follow her and prove he was right about Atwood and her feelings for the creep. For now Jared let her go. But he knew he wouldn't have to wait long.

 

S
TEVE PACED THE LENGTH
of his living room, turned, and repeated the process. His mind worked better when he moved. Considering the news he'd learned today, he should be out jogging, even if it was nearing 11:00 p.m.

Time was running out. With the computer breach of a few weeks ago, he knew without a doubt Romine was getting closer to the truth. He could feel it. If they didn't find the bastard before he found them, there would be hell to pay…and a number of careers ruined for a lot of important people, his included. And that was something he refused to allow to happen.

He stopped pacing and took a deep breath. He never panicked, but he sure as hell was close to panic now. There had been nothing but one false lead after another, and now, no one knew where Romine and Douglas were hiding.

“Shit!” He started to pace again.

Thanks to the incompetents working for the senator, their position was now more precarious than ever. Romine had cash. Not a lot, according to the ATM records Steve had been given last night, but enough that a resourceful guy with skills like Romine's could literally hide out for months and not be found. The bastard had even led them on a merry chase. First into Virginia, then back into D.C. to a dump of a motel. Steve had been so sure they would've had Romine by now, but instead of finding the lovers holed up in a cheap motel, the bureau guys had come up with nothing but a punk kid and one of Douglas's credit cards.

To make matters worse, the senator had not been happy. Not that Steve could blame him, considering they were all looking at very long prison sentences if they didn't ensure Romine's silence.

Tomorrow morning the president would announce the first of two new appointments to the U.S. Supreme Court. Steve had done his job well, thanks to his connection in the bureau, who had made sure each of the other candidates on the short list had been effectively eliminated. Of that much he was certain. The players, with the exception of Romine and Douglas, were all in place and ready to move forward. Once Galloway and Boswell were secured on the bench, the senator would continue to line his pockets with kickback money from several HMOs, with funds trickling down
to those who helped seat the newly appointed justices. No one, other than the players paid handsomely for their participation, would know that Senator Martin Phipps was responsible for maintaining the balance of the United States Supreme Court to ensure further riches in the biggest moneymaking scam since Whitewater.

Implicating Douglas had brought Romine out of hiding, but only long enough to take the little lady on the lam with him. That had been a twist Steve hadn't anticipated. The plan had been to draw Douglas into the quagmire, then wait for Romine to show up like a knight on a white charger to save his damsel in distress. Except Romine had somehow known their plan. As usual, he'd been two steps ahead of them. Someone had helped the bastard. Steve suspected the last agent on the case, but he had no proof. Yet.

He stopped pacing and dropped onto the sofa. Leaning back, he propped his fingertips together and tapped them rhythmically against his lips. What if they sent someone to talk to the last agent to work the Romine files? Would it make a difference? Could it bring them closer to silencing Romine?

Possibly.

Steve reached for his cell phone and dialed. Whoever was sent to question the last agent on the Romine case needed to be expendable. They couldn't run the risk of acquiring another wild card.

Not a problem,
he thought as he waited for the call to connect. He'd even take care of it himself, after he had the information he needed, because it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten blood on his hands.

A
FTER TWO HOURS
of tossing and turning, Peyton gave up trying to sleep. She'd thought getting up and walking around might help, at least in terms of tiring herself out, but the floorboards creaked. In the middle of the night, the sound had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball crashing into a brick building. The last thing she wanted was for Jared to know she was still awake. Being Jared, he'd probably suspect the motivation behind her nocturnal activities—that she couldn't stop thinking about him or their conversation.

She kept her gaze on the white glow of the sandy beach under the moonlight outside the bedroom window, while absently spinning the diamond engagement ring around on her finger. If there was one thing she really hated, it was when Jared was right. Right? she wondered. Or knew her better than she knew herself?

Either way, it didn't matter. Not if she was going to be completely honest with herself. Jared
was
absolutely right. She hadn't accepted Leland's proposal because she was in love with him, but because of the emotional security he represented. She did love him, but not in that all-consuming way she'd once loved Jared. As he'd so graciously informed her, Leland didn't make her feel too much, didn't threaten her or
turn her world upside down. Leland was safe. Not exactly fodder for happily-ever-after.

She leaned her shoulder against the window frame and sighed. She'd thought she'd been after some serious grounding and perspective when she'd called Leland from her cell phone. The truth of the matter was entirely different. In reality, she'd been looking for something much more dangerous—that certain spark, a hint of lust. Anything that remotely resembled the traitorous emotions she still felt for Jared.

All she'd gotten for her trouble had been regret and a whole lot of guilt, because no matter how much she wanted to feel otherwise, Jared's words had never rang more true. She'd felt absolutely nothing remotely like what a lover should feel upon hearing Leland's voice.

Through no fault of her own, she was going to cause Leland a great deal of embarrassment. He wasn't the type to appreciate his orderly world being twisted inside out, something her recent notoriety would certainly accomplish. Until now, she'd fit perfectly in Leland's world, and he in hers. And while the idea gave her comfort, reality sang another song, one that would croon mournfully for a passion that just didn't exist between them.

Beige.

She spun the ring around again as she looked down at the sparkling gem. She supposed she really wasn't into beige, after all.

Slowly, she slipped the engagement ring from her finger. Funny, but she didn't even miss the weight.

So did that mean she really did want red-hot and sexy, as Kellie had teased her about last Friday night?
Peyton had no future with Jared. Hell, she wasn't even sure she wanted to consider the future, period, given their present circumstances. There were too many unresolved issues between them, too much hurt and not enough trust to even begin to recapture what they'd once shared.

Nothing had really changed between them, she realized, except the passage of time. His avoidance of emotion still ran strong, as witnessed by the way he'd tried to pick a fight with her over the surname on Adam's birth certificate, followed by his attack on her reasons for agreeing to marry Leland. Instead of facing the hurt, he emotionally distanced himself from the real issue and chose another venue for his anger and pain. In fact, now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. For someone who preferred to keep his feelings safeguarded, projecting his emotions into a safer arena allowed him to vent his frustrations without being forced to address the true issue.

And he'd had the nerve to chide her for wanting to feel safe.

Security was a subject very familiar to her. Not only physically, but emotionally, as well. After the death of her mother, Peyton's life had consisted of one foster home after the other. She'd had no other living relatives any social worker could find, so she'd been left in the care of the department of children's services. Not all of the homes she'd lived in were bad experiences. Some were even fairly decent, with good, hardworking people offering their care, if not their hearts, to the children entrusted to them. Unfortunately, through no fault of her own, she'd been bounced from
one home to the next, never allowing her so much as even the illusion of belonging.

On the other hand, not all of the foster homes were the safe havens they were supposed to be, either. There'd been the alcoholic foster mother whose cocktail hour started right after she set the milk and cereal on the table at breakfast. The children in her care walked on eggshells, never knowing when the woman would explode into a rage, or who would be her target of verbal abuse for the day. When the abuse went from verbal to physical, a social worker had thankfully noticed bruises on Peyton and the other children. They'd promptly been removed from the home.

From there, she'd gone to a new family, where her foster parents had a teenage son who took great pleasure in torturing her and some of the other younger children. To this day she could barely stand the sight of a spider, and earthworms had her running for the hills. An endless series of nightmares that had her waking up screaming in the night had the family calling her social worker to find her yet another place to live.

Peyton's next move had her foolishly believing she'd finally found that safe haven she'd craved. On the surface, everything had appeared absolutely wonderful. The house had been beautiful, the nicest she'd ever lived in, and her foster parents had been loving and kind, doing their best to make her feel welcome in their home. Treating her, she'd believed, like they would have treated their own daughter. Unfortunately, she'd learned a valuable lesson—that nothing was ever as it seemed. Because behind that loving pretence, behind all the fine furnishings and her very first
private bedroom, decorated in pink-and-white, lurked an evil she hadn't seen coming.

She'd heard horrible stories from other children in the foster care system, and had taken heed of their warnings of creaking doors and floorboards in the middle of the night, signaling a nocturnal visit no child should ever have to receive. Until the Williamson home, she'd been spared that particular ugliness.

As an adult, she understood she'd been powerless, but as a child, she'd blamed herself. After several months, she'd suffered from what she now knew had been severe depression. Thankfully, her social worker eventually noticed the drastic changes in her appearance, her demeanor, as well as her grades, and instantly knew something had gone terribly wrong. For reasons Peyton still failed to understand, she'd managed to maintain enough trust to tell her social worker what was going on in the Williamson household. A degrading medical exam had given the Department of Children and Families all the proof they needed, and she was promptly removed from the home. Dr. and Mrs. Williamson were prosecuted for child molestation and a whole host of other charges she hadn't understood at the time.

It was then she'd been sent to the Biddeford Home for Girls, a move that, to this day, she firmly believed had saved her life. Without the firm but gentle guidance of the nuns who ran the home, she shuddered to think where she might have finally landed. Still, trust wasn't something that came easily for her, but thanks to the love and patience of Sister Margaret and Harry Shanks, her future hadn't been completely crippled by her past.

Looking back, Peyton figured for the most part her life could've been a whole lot worse. Security, control and most of all, trust, were important to her. Leland would have provided those for her, but she understood now that without love, their marriage would have been as empty as any stereotypical Hollywood or Capitol Hill union. She'd spent too many years with emptiness to accept anything less than real love. Something she should have realized before accepting Leland's proposal of marriage.

She closed her hand around the engagement ring. Jared couldn't offer her what she needed, either. Even if they weren't running for their lives, security and control were difficult to possess with a man who risked his life for the job. She knew and understood that about him, but she had at one time accepted it for one simple reason—she'd loved him deeply. But she had trusted him, too. While he might be a little more emotionally bankrupt than she'd have liked, he had never lied to her, had never intentionally hurt her and, most important, he had treated her feelings for him as if they were rare, treasured gifts. With Jared, she'd always known where she stood.

And how had she repaid him? By turning him over to the very men she realized now were trying to kill him. She had handed him in without waiting to hear his side of the story. What she'd told him about being forced to testify against him had been true, but the real heart of the matter was far worse. She'd done what she had to because of a selfish need that wouldn't allow her to relinquish what security and control she'd managed to gain over her life.

She didn't know if she could ever really rectify
what she'd done to him. Words were indeed cheap, but he did deserve to know the truth. Plus she owed him an apology. Neither would change the past, but if those words came from the heart, maybe he could find it within his own to forgive her for not trusting him and for allowing her insecurities to rule her actions.

With the ring still clutched in her hand, she left the bedroom. She found Jared standing in front of the fireplace, his hands thrust into the front pockets of his jeans as he looked down into the flames. Other than the light from the fire, only the bluish glow of the moonlight seeping through the windows illuminated the room.

He turned his head to look at her as she walked toward him. Even in the dimly lit room, there was no mistaking the flash of lust in his sexier-than-sin eyes. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who can't sleep tonight,” he said quietly.

“We need to talk,” she told him, determined to remain focused on her purpose for leaving the sanctity of the bedroom. The brief glimpse of need in his eyes was not going to deter her from her goal. She hoped. “There's something you need to know.”

She came up beside him and made the mistake of looking more deeply into his eyes. Oh, yeah, that was definitely desire she saw simmering there. Regardless of her determination to remain focused, her body reacted in total and complete conflict of her goals. The enticing rasp of her hardening nipples against the soft cotton of her top made her realize just how dangerous Jared was to her sanity. She really shouldn't be sur
prised. If there was one area where they never had any problems, it'd been in the bedroom, or anywhere else they'd made love.

He lifted his hand and gently pushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, then curved his fingers around the back of her neck. “Sounds ominous.”

She struggled to ignore the delicious chill that sped down her spine. “Seems like everything we do or say these days is.”

She reached for his hand, the one gently massaging the base of her skull and creating one hell of a distraction. She blamed her easily sidetracked thoughts on her body's earlier sensual awakening. It had nothing whatsoever to do with her continued craving of his touch.

Turning his hand upward, she carefully laid the diamond engagement ring in his palm. One by one, she pressed his fingers around the cool gem. “You were right. I can't marry Leland. Not when I still have feelings for you. Unresolved feelings,” she clarified, lest he think she was still head over heels in love with him. Which she wasn't. Well, she didn't think she was.

He glanced down at the ring before shifting his gaze back to hers. The desire shining in his eyes deepened. “What are you saying, Peyton?”

She cleared her suddenly clogged throat. “I'm saying I accepted that ring under false pretences. The reasons aren't all that different than when I turned you over to the feds three years ago without giving you a chance to plead your case.”

He shook his head and frowned. “But I thought—”

She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him.
“What I said about being forced to testify against you is true, Jared. Without the protection of marriage, I would have had no choice but to reveal anything you might have told me. But I sacrificed you, just as I was going to sacrifice myself by marrying Leland, because I refused give up what little control I did have over my life. I couldn't take a chance and trust you. If I did, and I was wrong, I would have lost everything that gave me the security I needed in my life. I couldn't let go of that. Hence the reason I owe you an apology. I betrayed your trust, Jared. It was extremely selfish, and for that I am deeply sorry.”

He glanced back at the fire. With an almost desperate need, she wanted him to accept her apology. Fearing rejection, she distanced herself by moving to the sofa and sitting down. For each second that ticked by in silence, her anxiety mounted.

What was she hoping for? Certainly nothing as ridiculous as a declaration of love. Understanding? Yes, that's what she wanted from him. Whether or not he accepted her apology, she at least needed him to understand her reasons for not giving him her complete and total faith. If he gave her that much, then perhaps someday he could actually forgive her for betraying him when he had never done anything but believe in her.

Finally, he turned to face her. Features that had been virtually etched in granite since he'd stormed back into her life were softened now, as was the look in his startling gaze. “Do you really think you're telling me something I haven't already figured out for myself?”

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been
holding. “Probably not,” she admitted.
Obtuse
was not a word she could ever have used to describe Jared Romine.

“We are who we are because of what we've lived through, fought for or suffered from. I know what the Williamsons did to you, sweetheart. And I know what
that
horrific experience did to you, too, remember? You were betrayed by people you trusted to take care of you and keep you safe, so your fragile sense of security had been threatened. When you saw that threat again, you did the only thing you could do. You protected yourself the only way you knew how.”