The Avenger (13 page)

Olivia eyed him cautiously over the rim of her cup. "If you're truly sorry, you'll explain what happened."

He raked his fingers through his hair, still damp from the light drizzle outside. "You don't understand," he muttered. "There's so much I
can't
tell you."

Her lovely lips thinned. "Is the case an excuse, Jack?" she accused. "Did you really come here to disrupt my life again?"

"No, Livvie, God, no." The old name slipped inadvertently from his lips. "I swear I had no idea the Olivia Gant I was supposed to recruit was ... was the Olivia I once knew."

"But you never really knew me, did you?" Her voice vibrated with censure. "If you had, you wouldn't have gone off and left me at Roger's mercy. You couldn't have known he would disappear the day you left."

"Something happened that I had no control over. I had to leave."

She swatted his explanation away with a wave of her hand. "Without a word? Without a note or phone call?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And you never explained."

"I'll tell you why as soon as I can."

"No," she said through clenched teeth. "Never mind. It was too many years ago, a lifetime ago." She shook her head, reached for his cup, and placed their dishes in the sink. "It doesn't really matter now, does it? We're no longer the same people."

Even as she spoke the words aloud, Jack was struck by how true they were. Everything was different between them now. He understood perfectly. He still loved her. She probably cared for him. But loving each other wasn't enough to break down the barriers between them. Jack had changed in ways she couldn't begin to fathom.

"I want to tell you anyway. Some day."

Olivia watched the guarded look enter Jack's strangely dilated eyes, the dark irises melding with pupils in a black maelstrom. She suspected that whatever he told her would be half-veiled truths and artfully constructed lies. Instinct told her that since Jack left all those years ago, he'd traveled murky paths she couldn't begin to understand.

She turned her back to him, rinsing out the cups at the sink and feeling his eyes on her, but his touch still came as a shock. Don't touch me, she begged silently. Don't tear down the last defense I have against you.
Don't break my heart again.

His fingers running down the sleeves of her sweater were light as feathers, gentle as a summer breeze. His breath at her neck was warm and scented with mint. Her heart galloped in her chest like runaway horses. Surely he could hear the thump-thump of it knocking against her ribs. "Don't," she whispered, but whether she meant don't start or don't stop she didn't know.

The lean length of him pressed against her back. He'd grown so much broader, so muscled and scarred since she'd known him as a boy. Part of it thrilled her, but some terrified her. A barely contained fierceness lurked beneath those muscles, ready to be unleashed at the slightest provocation, arousing and frightening at the same time.

As he nuzzled her neck, his mouth was as soft and sweet as she remembered. She felt her bones melt and gripped the sink edge to steady herself. "Don't," she moaned again.

"You don't mean that." He lifted the heavy hair from her nape and breathed in deeply.

Her eyes fluttered as she quavered beneath the touch of his hands and lips on her body. His arms slid under the sweater and around her, his fingers spreading over the quivering mass of her stomach. His hands moved up to her breasts to cup them through the filmy material of her tank top, his thumbs gently circling the nipples until they hardened against her clothing. Carefully, as if she'd break like a delicate piece of Dresden china, he turned her around.

Cupping her face between his large hands, he rubbed his lips softly against hers. "God, I've missed you."

He breathed the words into her mouth and she pressed back, eager for more, desire outweighing fear. His groan smothered her as his kiss grew more insistent. He parted her lips and bit the lower one in a tender nip that had her pulse racing. His tongue dipped into her mouth, exploring the soft flesh.

As her tongue met his, the sensation plunged straight to her lower stomach. She heard his ragged breathing, and her arousal dampened her panties. "Jack," she cried, clutching his back. She couldn't get enough of him. She wanted to crawl inside him, be such an intimate part of him that he'd never leave again. He was so beautiful, so strong and beloved. The hard jut of his erection thrust against her belly, sending shivers through her. Unable to stop herself, she reached for his hard length.

Suddenly he froze, buried his face in her hair, and groaned like a man in pain. His arms tightened around her in a fierce hold for several long moments. Carefully he stepped back, removed her hand, and held her at arm's length. Dazed and frustrated, she stared up at him. His eyes darkened with a predatory gleam. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue over them.

He took another faltering step back, looking rattled, not at all the cool, distant agent who'd stood in her office doorway a few days ago. "I should go now," he muttered. "I have to leave."

She slumped against the counter. "I don't understand. Wh – why? What's wrong?"

"Goddammit, Olivia, I'm sorry." The words were contrite, but the tone was angry, the growl of lust, not the whisper of regret.

Moments later she stood alone by the kitchen island as the harsh slamming of the front door sounded from the foyer. An ache deep and low in her belly made her want to weep.

He had no choice, Jack told himself as he opened the car door.

If he stayed with Olivia, he didn't know what might happen. He felt as if his entire world was ripped inside out. His powers and temperament unpredictable, his emotions upheaved in a way they hadn't been since he was a teenager. No, he amended. It wasn't quite true that he didn't know what would happen. He had a fair idea of the chaos this uncontrolled energy could cause. The beast in him would unleash like an electric maelstrom in front of Olivia.

He could never allow that.

God, what madness made him think he could be around her, be with her? Even now he felt his body morphing, sinking deeper into the morass as he put the car in gear, burned rubber, and skidded down the street toward the freeway.

#

Sunday morning Jack and Olivia met at the university where she left her car in the parking lot and climbed into his rental. They traveled east on Interstate 80 past Vacaville, the home of two California state prisons, and finally turned onto State Highway 12 toward Napa.

They talked little.

Jack had never visited California's wine country. The scenery was beautiful, but he was aware all the time of Olivia sitting rigidly in the passenger seat, answering his questions monosyllabically and avoiding his eyes. "I know you're still hurt and angry," he began after twenty minutes of silence.

The look she gave him would've scorched the sun. "Hurt? Angry? Is that what you think, Jack?" She crossed her arms, the safety belt hampering the gesture. "What I am is pissed." She turned her head to stare out the window. "And I don't want to talk about it."

So much for that.

When they arrived in Maidu, they used the GPS to locate the police station, a squat brick building in the older downtown section. Hector Alvarez, the police chief, met them in the lobby. Jack towered over Alvarez, a round cherub of a fellow with a ready smile and dark, lively eyes.

"Hola! Recepción a mi oficina."
He beamed and waved them into his office and toward chairs near his desk. "Welcome to my office. My good friend Sheriff Slater told me to expect you. How can I help you?"

Alvarez sank into a wheeled desk chair and turned to punch a key on his computer. "You have come about the assaults
, sí?
I would be most grateful for any help." He chattered away like a happy chipmunk.

Olivia tossed a glance Jack's way as a smile hovered on her lips.

After glancing at the computer, the police chief wheeled his chair toward a low filing cabinet, rummaged around a minute, and extracted three folders. "Ah, here they are." He rolled back to his desk and handed the files to Jack. "Any help at all," he reiterated.
"Muy confuso.
I'm completely stymied. This is an ugly case."

Jack flipped open the first file and scanned the contents. The notes were surprisingly neat and detailed. "Would you mind if I copied these?"

"Not at all." Alvarez switched on the intercom and requested his assistant.

A moment later, a uniformed female officer stuck her head in the door and he asked her to make copies of all three files.

"Can you add anything that might not be covered in the reports?" Jack asked, crossing one leg over the other. "Any impressions, gut feelings?"

"Ah, instinct?" Alvarez frowned and fingered his short black goatee. "I found it strange that the perpetrator was able to get these experienced prostitutes to go with him. Perhaps he was a man who appeared to have money?" He shrugged. "College students are not so wealthy even in our affluent community."

"So you abandoned that lead?" Jack asked.

"Yes. There was nothing there anyway."

The female cop returned, carrying both the copied files and the originals. Alvarez handed them over. "I am not usually so eager to share confidential information." He stared at Jack and his friendly eyes took on a dark hardness. "But in this case Slater has vouched for you."

The words held both a compliment and a warning.

"Why didn't we look at the cases at the police station?" Olivia asked after they climbed back into the car.

"We could have, but I prefer making my own evaluation. Having Alvarez peering over my shoulder makes that harder."

Feeling the protest of her stomach, Olivia looked up and down the street. "I saw a coffee shop around the corner when we came into town."

"Then let's make it a late working lunch."

Jack obtained a booth in the back of the sparsely-occupied restaurant. Too early for the dinner crowd, too late for lunch. After they'd eaten and the dishes cleared, he handed one folder to Olivia and kept the others. They read the contents in silence. He was much faster than her, and she'd scarcely finished the file on Ann Boyle when she looked up. He'd already perused both of the remaining folders.

"It's not a competition." A smile curled his mouth.

She frowned, but didn't pretend not to understand. "I know that. Did you find anything?"

"No. This particular perp is vicious and violent, but he's not our killer."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Other than the beatings and possibly a similar weapon, there's no other link."

She nodded, understanding immediately. His thoughts mirrored her own. "No suffocation by burial, no crucifixion."

"Exactly," he agreed.

"And no Latin notes," she added, remembering her purpose in being on the case in the first place. Remembering that this trip was about business and she wasn't a silly schoolgirl. "I guess we wasted a trip." She glanced around. The restaurant was beginning to fill up again.

She rose abruptly. "We'd better start back." Gathering her purse, she walked out to the car and stood by the passenger door while Jack paid for their lunch.

He unlocked the doors and slid in. A few moments later she told herself it wasn't destiny at all, but some kind of perverse fate that caused the engine to sputter and stall. Finally only the click of the key in the ignition remained.

A stalled car.
How ridiculously clichéd, she thought.

"Shit," Jack exclaimed from under the hood of the car.

"Do you know anything about cars?" She stood beside him and peered into the maze of black hoses, fat tubes, and assorted metal shapes.

He glared at her over his shoulder. "I'm not a mechanic, but I know the basics. This is more complicated than a battery or spark plugs." He pulled out his cell phone, glanced at a slip of paper, and punched in the numbers. "Chief Alvarez," he began.

"How did you know we'd need the police number?" she asked suspiciously when he'd clicked the cell phone shut.

"I was a boy scout." He grinned and looked years younger. "Always prepared."

Since it was now after six, the repair shop recommended by Alvarez was closed. The car was towed to the shop where the Chief promised to get the mechanic on it first thing in the morning. He recommended a motel several miles away and gave them a lift there.

"Call me in the morning when you need a ride back to the shop," Alvarez said, handing Jack a slip of paper with the garage number on it. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Now what?" Olivia asked after the Chief had driven away.

"Now we get rooms and hope for an early phone call."

Jack strode into the motel lobby and registered for both of them. "I got adjoining rooms," he said when he returned, handing her a key card. He had a strange look on his face. "That way we can work a little on the case."

"Good, at least the trip won't be a total waste." She felt sticky and tired and wanted nothing more than a hot shower, but remembered that she had no extras with her, no toothbrush, no underwear, no sleepwear. "I'll need to make some purchases first."

The clerk at the registration desk directed them to a store close by, but it was late before they finished shopping and stumbled back to their rooms.

"The case can wait," Jack said. "You look bushed."

Olivia stifled a yawn and closed the door behind her. A half hour later, her hair still damp from the shower, her newly purchased gym shorts and tee shirt serving as pajamas, she sprawled into the crisp motel sheets and slept.

#

Jack glared at the glowing digital numbers on the nightstand. Two-forty-five. He'd lain wide awake over two hours. Sleep seldom came easily to him, but tonight he couldn't banish Olivia from his thoughts, couldn't relax thinking of her a thin wall away.

Big mistake to bring her. He knew the trip wouldn't be fruitful from the get go, and he hadn't really needed her along, but he couldn't resist the chance to spend a few private hours with her. The sweet memory of her long legs and soft breasts lingered in his mind. He felt himself growing hard.
Shit!