Chapter 8
She awoke slowly to the light of a cell phone.
Despite the rigid confines of the bed, her human cushion worked surprisingly well.
Not that she was comfortable or happy being in a box, but the knowledge the wall at her back was actually a car seat helped.
Maybe she should be embarrassed to be climbing all over this guy, but they hadn’t exactly had a choice.
Not that he seemed to mind.
The thought gave her pause.
Was he attracted to her despite his protestations?
Did she want him to be attracted to her?
As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, she could admit to herself that the spark missing between her and Francois was alive and kicking with Jordan Krychek.
His attitude toward Francois had been scathing at best, but that wasn’t necessarily jealousy.
The age difference, the power imbalance, the fact Jordan had no idea whether or not she was being coerced…
and simply the fact she was making the job he’d signed up for—without her permission, so she felt no guilt—more difficult, could all contribute to his pissy attitude toward the Frenchman.
She knew Jordan’s type.
Assertive. Controlling. Alpha.
She’d been dealing with it her whole life.
Jordan loved her father, probably as much as she did. All of Gold Team appeared to care deeply for Kurt Montana. They’d die for him. They’d certainly see protecting his daughter as a matter of duty.
But did that explain the heat she’d seen flare briefly in Jordan’s eyes last night? So very different to the cold callous nature of his stare the night he’d dragged her naked out of the bathtub.
Had she grown on him?
She inwardly laughed at the idea.
But she wasn’t the enemy anymore. She was no longer a potential threat. So maybe the heat in his eyes wasn’t attraction so much as the basic biological lust of a straight guy for a naked woman.
Attraction made more sense if she thought about it in terms of biology and animal reproduction. Her inner animal wanted the best male specimen to fertilize her eggs and take care of her and any potential babies. His inner animal wanted receptive wombs to spread his progeny far and wide.
Which sounded gross and demeaning.
It certainly didn’t sound very romantic when she thought about it in those terms. But what did romance matter?
Romance was a malignant force. Romance was mirrors and deception. Pain and heartbreak.
As far as she was concerned, romance was dead—and she wasn’t wrong.
She didn’t want any messy entanglements or false promises and didn’t intend to make any. She could look after herself and didn’t need a man to take care of her or any babies she possibly chose to have. She had a full scholarship and was pursuing a career in the growing field of clean energy.
But while she had no intention of getting emotionally involved with anyone, she still deserved a sex life. One where she got to make the decisions and have some fun.
Jordan only really seemed to care about her in terms of keeping his promises to her father and his team—except for that small flare of heat.
And wasn’t that the perfect setup? Especially if she got to tweak his guilt, in exchange for all the humiliation he’d put her through?
Sex with Krychek would not only be interesting, it would be the best revenge on him and her dad.
Serve them right for interfering in her life without consulting her.
She was still mad at them for pulling this stunt, but considering Francois was dead, she was grateful for the support.
The idea of ending up in a Mexican prison and inadvertently starting a war—because her dad would rescue her or die trying—made sleeping in the trunk of a stranger’s car on top of a man she vacillated between hating and lusting after worth it.
She wouldn’t lose her father again.
She wouldn’t destroy his Happily Ever After.
But he needed to learn he wasn’t responsible for her anymore. He’d had his opportunity when she’d been a kid, and he’d blown it. Both her parents had blown it, although they’d done their best. She was an adult now. They needed to respect that.
Jordan was texting with someone. She could make out the outline of his sharp features when she tilted her head up to look at him.
“You awake?” He cleared the screen.
She nodded and tried to stretch out her limbs in the cramped confines. Failed. “What time is it?”
“Almost five a.m.”
She grunted. She’d slept longer than she’d anticipated. “That means it’s actually four something. Did you sleep?”
“I got an hour.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him.
“Ready to get moving?” he asked.
Considering her dislike of enclosed spaces and the fact she needed the bathroom… “More than happy to get out of here.” Although, it hadn’t been as terrible as it could have been, and that was mainly because of him.
He reached over above his head and found a T-shaped pull on the side panel. Tugged it and the trunk popped open.
Daisy braced herself, but there was no one around. No lingering bad guys or shocked locals. No one to wonder why they were in the trunk of a parked car.
Jordan pulled himself up and climbed to the ground, then hoisted out their two bags. Then he held out his hand, palm up, and she stared at it, realizing it felt different between them now.
After a night cramped together like a couple of kidnap victims, they’d gone from adversaries to…something else.
She took his hand, enjoyed the heat of his skin in a way that was both new and familiar. He put his hands around her ribs to lift her out.
He didn’t meet her gaze.
Did he feel it too?
Was it simply the suspension of hostilities? A peaceful interlude during a war? Or was it a transition from enemies to…
She couldn’t finish the thought.
His gaze moved to his white SUV. “Let me just—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him away. “Check the vehicle. I know. I know.” She knuckled sleep out of her eyes as he jogged over to the rental car.
She folded the old blanket and placed it back into the cargo space.
Who’d have thought she’d have ever voluntarily spent the night in a metal box—or be grateful they’d had the option.
Jordan found a small black box—obviously a tracker—in the wheel arch. He placed it on the vehicle next to theirs. He waved her over and she quietly closed the trunk, then grabbed the luggage and hurried across the stained concrete. Jordan placed her case and his rucksack onto the back seat.
She climbed into the passenger side with her purse and flipped down the mirror to check out the damage. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her skin as lifeless as a wraith, marred by dirty smudges under tired eyes.
All her seductive fantasies died an instant death at the sight of herself. Who’d want her looking like this? Certainly not a guy like Krychek. She’d seen the type he went for—tall, stacked, perfect blondes.
Just as well she hadn’t embarrassed herself by doing anything impulsive. She was such an idiot. “Have you heard anything from the authorities?”
“No.” He reversed out of the parking spot. Aside from his formerly crisp, black shirt looking a little crumpled, and the darkening of his jaw from a day’s growth of beard, he looked the same he always looked. Serious. Capable. Stupidly handsome.
Haunted…
She wanted to know what that was about.
It didn’t matter and was none of her business, but her curiosity was piqued, and she really wanted to know his story.
Unrequited love? Family tragedy?
He reached between the seats and dug into his backpack. Tossed a black ball cap onto her lap.
She tried it on, reduced the band size, then twisted her hair into a knot at the back and tucked it up under the cap, smoothing as much as she could under the edges.
She looked over to see Jordan watching her with a strange expression on his face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Fine. Keep your gaze down to avoid any surveillance cameras.”
She pulled the peak low over her eyes. “Aye-aye, Captain.” Who exactly did he think was chasing them? The Mexican equivalent to the CIA? “I’d kill for a coffee.”
“Yeah, but I’d rather not die for one,” he replied drolly. “We’ll get something on the plane.”
It was still dark as they hit the main road and Jordan navigated without the need for a map through pitted streets lined with poor-looking houses and struggling small businesses.
Dogs roamed the street, and she watched a cat switch its tail as it stared down at a mutt that was jumping up the wall beneath it.
There was no chance the dog was going to be able to reach the cat, but it kept on trying. The cat sat there, licking its paw, and silently taunting the dog.
She turned to watch the tableau until she couldn’t see them anymore. “Are you a cat person or a dog person?”
His brow hiked. “I like both, but I’m out of town too often and too unpredictably to have either. Why?”
“No reason.” She’d never had pets because her mom had always said she had enough things to deal with being a single mom and refused to even consider anything except the sad interchangeable goldfish who’d lived on the kitchen counter.
Like Jordan, her father didn’t have a pet because he was always being deployed to dangerous situations without warning.
Maybe that would change now. Rowena struck her as a dog person.
Part of Daisy wanted a houseful of rescue pets, but she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with the heartbreak when they died. Easier to stay alone, she decided. It hurt less in the long run.
Jordan hit the highway, but they were going in the opposite direction of the main airport.
A diversion? Or were they looking for another tail?
The idea that someone was still chasing them sent fear surging through her once more.
Was this what her dad and Row had felt for weeks on end?
She hadn’t fully appreciated how awful that must have been for them.
No wonder her dad had come home a changed man.
She had to gather moisture for her tongue before she could ask, “Where are we going?”