Chapter Six
Mercy sat quietly, listening to the men discuss how to keep her safe.
She shook her head.
She’d only half paid attention to the conversation because she couldn’t stop looking at Jag—the jackass.
Each time she thought she had overcome her girl crush, he resurfaced, and all those secret feelings, longing, and the anger of rejection reappeared like a hurricane on her body. She didn’t want to have those feelings, but she couldn’t help herself.
What was most humiliating? He only saw her as his best friend’s little sister for so long. Then one night in bed together, and he’d walked away like it meant nothing, just adding another notch on his bedpost.
Did one of the men use the word “spanking” or had she misheard? Had Mateo told Jag to give her a spanking if she misbehaved? No, that’d never happen.
A vision of her lying across Jag’s lap, her skirt hiked up, her panties down, and him swatting her bottom made her feel a pulse between her thighs. She could almost feel the sting on her skin.
No, she didn’t want to feel this.
He didn’t deserve it.
She squeezed her legs together. Stop thinking of Jag’s large hand swatting your ass…
It didn’t work.
The thought remained.
Her panties were damp, and she practically squirmed.
Jag scraped his fingers down his whiskered jaw, and the sound ignited fire in her veins. So now she imagined how his beard would feel against her slick lips after he spanked the sass right out of her.
She was supposed to be focusing on what the men were saying, after all, it dealt with her. Yet, she had brain fog. Jag fog . She pressed her hand against her belly and tried to calm the butterflies there.
How was it possible that Jag looked better with age?
And that she could still want him when she hated him just as much?
It would be foolish to allow her fantasies to become reality for a second time.
Jag was not the man for her. He was nothing but an anti-committal, egotistical player.
The last thing she needed, or wanted, was a man who loved his job, but nothing else. Hell, he was his job.
Yet, he was undeniably gorgeous. Sexy. And any time he was near, she wanted to peel away his layers and get to the good stuff.
She could want him for another thirteen years, and he’d still never give her the things she wanted from a man: stability and affection.
She wanted to be someone’s all.
“Mercy?”
She pulled herself out of her thoughts and narrowed her gaze on her brother. “What?”
“I said, do you agree to the terms?” he asked.
She wanted to be stubborn and demand that he take her home, but they were past that point. So, she gave a curt, “Sure.”
“Great. Don’t worry, Mateo. She’ll be fine. I’ll guard her with my life.” Jag said, meeting Mercy’s gaze for a mere fleeting moment.
How would this work? How could she be near him? She was a pathetic, crushing thirty-two-year-old. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, but it always seemed like she made a fumbling mess when he looked at her with the most amazing green eyes.
“I need to go,” Mateo said, dragging Mercy in for a tight hug. “Be vigilant. You have the gun, right?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” she assured him. Tears filled her eyes, and as he pulled away, she blinked them away. Why was she suddenly so emotional?
“I know I can trust Jag. He’ll not let anything happen to you, no matter what.” Mateo stepped over and shook Jag’s hand. “Just like you said, guard her with your life.”
“You know I will.” This time, Jag didn’t look in Mercy’s direction.
Jag took her bag from her and set it in the back of the truck. Mateo climbed into his truck and drove away. And then she was alone with Jag. She felt isolated and concerned, a cocktail of emotions she didn’t want to feel. She worried about her brother and how she’d handle being near Jag.
“We should go too. Let's try to beat the storm,” Jag said, broodingly.
She nodded. There was no running now. She needed to find an invisible muzzle to keep her words—and possibly her hormones—in check.
She wouldn’t be gone for long—a week to two weeks at most—and then she could go back to her life, where work kept her busy.
Jag opened the passenger door, and after a second of hesitation, she climbed inside, getting a whiff of leather and sagebrush. That smell had remained in her nostrils for weeks after they’d had sex. She knew it was all in her head, but he did something magical to her senses.
The door closed, and she watched in the mirror as he rounded the back of the truck. Once he was settled behind the wheel, she glanced over at his profile. “This is going to be very interesting.”
“I’m assuming he doesn’t know?”
“That we had sex and then you disappeared? No.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.
He clamped both hands on the steering wheel. “Mercy…”
“Don’t bother. It’s a blip on the map. It meant nothing.” Her tongue burned with the lies. There wasn’t a time when she hadn’t wanted Jag, and the rejection still stung.
Jag heaved a long sigh. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
“I’m sure I won’t need a babysitter too long. You know how Mateo is. He won’t stop until he has Cross behind bars.”
Jag glanced in his mirror and pulled out onto the street. “You have every right to hate me.”
She blinked. “I do?”
“That night…it was a mistake,” he said quietly.
“You’re right, I do, but do we need to hash it out since we agree? It’s history,” she said, staring out the side window. The scenery changed from fields with clusters of wildflowers to a historic area.
“We should have talked a long time ago.” he said, swiping off his hat and dropping it onto the seat between them.
“Talking is overrated.”
“For this agreement to work, we have to be on the same page.”
She then looked at him. “Agreement?”
“You did say you agreed.”
“Remind me.”
“We can’t drag anyone else into this. No one can know who you are.” He slowed the truck as if the following words needed his utmost care. “You’re taking the cook’s position.”
“I’m what?” she sputtered.
He sighed. “You did agree.”
“To be your cook? What is this? An episode of Desperate Housewives? ”
“Not as my cook. The ranch’s cook. The crew needs one.”
She fumbled for her phone in her purse.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Calling Mateo and telling him he can either come back and get me, or I’m walking home.”
“You can’t use your phone. I’m sure Mateo warned you not to turn it on.”
“You and my brother are not my bosses,” she said. Before she could get power to the cell, Jag swiped it out of her hand. “Hey! Give that back.”
He pulled it out of her reach.
“And let you put yourself, me, and anyone at Storm Pass at risk? Hell no!” he said through gritted teeth.
“Then stop right here, and I’ll walk.” Why had she ever gotten into Mateo’s truck? She knew this was a mistake.
“Over my dead body,” he said calmly.
“That can be arranged,” she huffed.
“What has set you off?” He stuffed the phone into his jacket.
“I’m not a cook. I have a career—a thriving career. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, building a solid reputation.”
“What does being a ranch cook have anything to do with your thriving career? You’re acting like I’m asking you to give up infiltration and take up baking.”
“This entire situation is unnerving.”
“Yea? You jeopardized yourself and your brother—and your business—by thinking you’re a field agent. You should be happy Mateo delivered your ass to safety instead of making you clean up your mess.”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone. See, this is exactly why we can’t be near each other.”
“So what would you like to do? Go back and get yourself killed? Get Mateo killed?” His gaze was heated through the shadows of the truck cab.
“I can take care of myself!” She tilted her chin defiantly.
He abruptly hit the brakes, causing the tires to screech on the pavement while the back of the truck quivered. “Then do what you think you need to do. I won’t stop you.” His voice was devoid of emotion as he gazed vacantly at her.
Irritated, she opened the door.
“You don’t want to forget this,” he said, holding out her phone. But as she went to grab it, he pulled his hand back. “You’re still selfish. That’s never changed.”
“And you’re still an asshole. Glad we caught up. Let’s hope it’s a decade at least before we cross paths again.”
She snatched her phone and pushed the door shut, causing it to slam with enough force to rattle the window. Grabbing her bag from the back, she slung it over her shoulder.
Frustrated, she marched away from the truck, continuing along the seemingly endless roadside. As the hum of the running engine dwindled and the night enveloped her, she recognized that she might have bit off more than she could chew. Turning around, she saw the taillights glowing like a lighthouse beam.
Why didn’t he drive away?
She knew why.
Retracing her steps, she flung open the passenger door and climbed back into the safety of the truck, not saying a word. She was angrier than before, feeling stuck.
“Mercy, sometimes in life we don’t get to choose where our paths lead us. If you genuinely want to go back and you’re sure that’s best, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I made a promise to Mateo, and I plan to keep it.”
“No, tonight I shouldn’t go back.”
“I’ll even make a promise to you right now. When, or if, you can convince me that you’re better off back in Denver, I’ll take you there myself. For now, though, let’s make this easier than training a wild horse.”
The graveness of his voice scattered goosebumps over her skin. Although she wanted to go back, she couldn’t do that to Mateo. He’d never forgive her.
Dropping her phone back into her purse, she said, “I won’t turn it on, but you can’t expect me to be okay with this.”
He flung his arm over the back of her seat and leaned in, so close that she thought he might kiss her. But that hope dwindled fast. “Once we arrive in Shades Cove, there’s no acting like a brat throwing a temper tantrum. For me to protect you, I need your cooperation. You can’t huff off when you get your feathers ruffled. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
He frowned. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“When I’m around you, no I cannot.”
“At least we have that established.” He sighed and pressed the gas, and they continued on the country road. “You do cook, right?” His eyes caught the light glowing from the dashboard.
“Cook as in, prepare meals?”
He blew out a disgruntled breath. “So the answer is no?”
“Do you expect me to just because I’m a woman?”
“No, I expected you could because you agreed to be the cook.”
“Honestly, I had no idea what I was agreeing to. My mind had…wandered.”
He rubbed the creases out of his forehead. “Fine. Can you boil water?”
She laughed, but realized he was being serious. “Of course. I can even use the microwave. And I’ve been known to use a crockpot sometimes.”
“Well, in a time of need, we can’t be choosy.” He stared out the window for a moment and then focused his gaze back on the road. “I will tell the crew that you’re my cousin who has agreed to come and help. They won’t ask questions. Put some of the crockpot skills to use. They’re not fussy eaters.”
“Why do you need a cook? Can’t the men take care of themselves?”
“We work the land from sunrise to sunset. Puma’s wife has been doing the cooking duties for a long time, but the doctor has ordered her to stay off her feet. She’s pregnant.” He looked at Mercy across the seat. “I have faith that you can handle kitchen duty. I’ve seen these boys eat MREs that tasted like cardboard and thought it was Christmas dinner.”
“It wasn’t the idea of being the cook that set me off,” she said after a moment of silence.
“I know it’s not easy having your life uprooted. I understand.”
“Uprooted is a mild description.”
“I’m sure tonight was scary.”
She lay her head back on the headrest. “To say the least.”
“Are you still seeing that finance broker, Finn?”
She caught a bit of sarcasm in his tone. “His name is Flynn. I broke things off a year ago.”
“Good riddance. He was a snob. I couldn’t figure out what you saw in a man who tucked his napkin into his shirt while he ate.”
“You’re not allowed to give your opinions about the men I date,” she said with a snort.
His chuckle made the soft hairs on her nape lift. “Come on, Merc, admit it. He was a bit too…what’s that called? Metrosexual. That’s not your type.”
“At least he didn’t have dirt under his nails?” Although the remark was meant to be snide, she could see that Jag’s nails were trimmed and clean.
“I’m sure Finn’s hands are as soft as a newborn kitten's fur.”
“Flynn. And yes, they were quite soft.” What she wouldn’t admit, Jag had left an imprint on her flesh with his callused hands. “Billy Mason? Trip Cardwell? Those were the two before Finn. They were both lawyers, right?”
“Flynn. Men can have careers outside of crawling through the grunge and carrying weapons and still be considered masculine.”
“Commando crawl.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what we call a belly crawl for tactical advantage. So what happened to the mouthpieces?”
“Billy and Trip were very nice men. We just didn’t connect.” Not like you and I did.
“Probably for the best. They would have cheated. They had that look about them.”
“Aren’t you just a bucket of judgment?”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t already know. You saw the red flags. That’s why you were smart enough to drop them.” He eased his shoulders back into the seat.
“It’s called dating for a reason.”
“Touché.”
“How about you? Still sowing your wild oats? Still slinking away after nights of sex?” Why couldn’t she calm the shakiness in her voice?
His laughter bounced around the cab. “Is that how you see me?”
She lifted her chin. “Is that a serious question?”
He shrugged. “Considering you've moved on from what we did, I think you referred to it as a ‘blip’, you seem to carry a lot of anger.”
“Is it anger or repulsion?”
“You tell me?” He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed.
“I think we should avoid the discussion altogether. I’d rather talk about Mateo. How much danger is he in?”
“Mercy…”
“He downplays nearly everything, yet he appeared anxious. Don’t bother to sugarcoat the facts. I understand this is critical, but how serious is it? He would never have asked for your help if he weren't worried.”
Jag hesitated. “What did he tell you?”
“I already know the basics and that our Uncle Joe could be a criminal.”
“Honestly, he didn’t tell me everything either. It’s safer that way.”
“I’m not a child, Jag. I know I shouldn't have acted like a field agent, but my intention was good.”
After a long pause, Jag said, “Imagine a family tree, with all the limbs and roots connected, but on this tree, it’s not ancestry. This is the organizational chart of high-powered criminals who are all connected in some degree, from the masterminds who are the puppet masters of the entire organization to the right-hand men who do the dirty work. Mateo has been working on this ‘tree’ since he went to work undercover. Filling in the branches is about as difficult as finding needles in a haystack. Probably more difficult because the criminal ring is about saving the identity of those with power.”
“Where does Cross fall into that tree?”
“He’s just a puppet. Something tells me these men he deals with would gladly get rid of Cross if they thought he stood between them and remaining in the shadows. Mateo wouldn’t have let you out of his sight unless he knew, without a doubt, that you were better off away.”
Tears filled her eyes. Jag must have sensed her distress because he reached over and touched her shoulder. She reacted instinctively, jumping, which caused him to pull away.
“I know you’re worried about him, but Mateo is tough and skilled. That’s why the CBI hired him to find the highest-ranking members in the ring.”
“I feel like I need to do something.”
“You are,” Jag said. “You’re staying safe and allowing Mateo to do his thing. Remember, you did hack Cross’s files. That’s huge.”
“Why doesn’t it feel like enough?”
“It never feels like enough, trust me. Even when you stop a criminal, you’re left wondering why you didn’t stop them sooner. How many others are out there committing worse crimes?”
He did understand. “Is that how you felt when you were catching terrorists?”
“Yes. We need to stay focused on keeping you safe.”
She leaned back into the seat, closing her eyes for a moment. She was drained—more than drained. She was worried about Mateo and perplexed about whether she could handle being around Jag for any length of time.
The rhythmic thrumming of the tires on the road lulled her somewhat.
“Nice dress,” he said in a teasing voice.
She looked at the torn fabric and sighed. “Sure. It’ll look very nice in the trash.”
He laughed. “Mateo didn’t tell me how you managed to escape Cross’s clutches. I’m curious.”
“Through an air vent.”
“That took a lot of guts.”
“Even selfish people can be brave,” she said, cracking an eye and looking at him snidely.
“I’m not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.”
“Probably best. Are you still single?” She plucked at a loose strand of sequins on her gown.
“Still very much single.”
“Odd, I would have thought some woman would have come along and sunk her claws in you and made you her husband.” She was fully aware how jealous she sounded.
“Only you would be someone who’d want to talk about relationship status after nearly being killed. Marriage isn’t in the cards for me.”
“You’re not still drooling over that snob, are you? The one who cheated.” Mercy remembered the first time he brought the fashion model home for Thanksgiving and dinner. The snooty blonde with perfect hair and makeup hadn’t said a word to anyone, and at dinner, she ate a whopping two bites of turkey and asparagus, refusing mashed potatoes and stuffing because they had too much starch.
“Steph? No.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he droned. “Marriage was never in the cards for her and me, and she didn’t cheat. She was out for a stuffed bank account, and I didn’t fit the bill.”
“Shocking.”
“I’m sure. If I remember, you had a fondness for her.”
She snorted. “About as fond as I am of fried liver.”
“What did she do to you?” he asked.
“She existed.” Realizing how horrible her words sounded, she backtracked. “That’s not fair, but she sat at our Thanksgiving gathering for two hours and kept her nose glued to her phone for nearly the entire time. She also had this strange throat-clearing habit that was as annoying as her eye-rolling. Do I even dare mention how she nearly choked you with her tongue? She brought PDA to a new definition.”
“She was very affectionate,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, I’m sure she was.”
“You’re starting to sound bitter, Mercy.”
“No, just honest. Anyway, have there been any close calls since Miss Tonsil-Licker?”
He shook his head. His hair was longer than he usually wore it. The coal-black, silver-streaked ends nearly touched the collar of his T-shirt. A tuft of hair had fallen onto his forehead, and she ached to brush the strand away.
“No close calls. I’m not exactly what you would call relationship material.”
She blinked. “Don’t they all say that?”
“Depends on who they are, I guess.”
“Players,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Mateo swore he would never be ready to commit until Adriana waltzed into his life.”
“And look where they are now. Anyway, the things I’ve witnessed have made me an old man,” he said solemnly. “Someone my age doesn’t want to be with an old man.”
“You’re being dramatic. Many men and women who’ve served in the military have relationships. Mateo doesn’t talk about his time in the SEALs, though. He says he’d rather not.”
“It’s easier not to share some things.” He slowed the truck as they entered a small town.
“Where are we?” She looked around and saw only a rundown motel with free Wi-Fi and a dingy-looking diner that was closed.
“About thirty minutes outside of Shades Cove. We’ll stay here tonight. It’ll give us some time to make sure our story is believable. You go onto the ranch wearing that dress and they’ll think I met you on some corner and threw you into a mud puddle for a bath.” He winked.
“Wow. Was it difficult to come up with that joke?”
“Probably about as easy as it was when someone told you sequins are attractive.”
She gasped, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re not the sequins type.”
He drove the truck through the parking lot, and they hit every rut known to humankind. “Are you hitting the potholes on purpose?”
“How’d you guess? I enjoy the scenery.” His gaze dropped to her chest for a millisecond.
She pulled the neckline of the dress up higher, but it did little good. “You want to stay here at the Bates Motel?” The motel looked straight out of a scary movie.
“Yes, here.” He parked between two cars.
“Is this up for debate?”
He shut off the engine. “You have two options. Sleep in the truck or a room. Choice is yours. I can sleep anywhere. I’m not a princess.”
“I’d rather have a bed, thank you.”
“You stay. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“There goes my plan of taking a midnight stroll through a cornfield.”
“Glad we have that worked out.” He slid out.
He entered the lobby through the double doors, and Mercy watched as he spoke to the woman at the counter, who looked quite flustered. While Jag might not be labeled charming, he certainly had a ruggedly handsome appeal.
When he returned, he said, “Our room is just around the corner, and there’s a back entrance.”
“Our room?” Why did he say “room” instead of “rooms”?
“Yeah, our room .” He circled the building and parked under the security light.
“We’re sharing the same room?”
He didn’t even look at her when he said, “I promised Mateo I wouldn’t leave your side.”
She should have demanded a second room, but why couldn’t she get her tongue to work? How many times had she fantasized about sharing a room with Jag again?
She climbed out of the truck, and he grabbed her bag from the back and even carried it for her.
The room felt warm and stuffy. The green carpet resembled a sixties relic, with many fibers worn down to the mat. As he turned on the air conditioning and the noisy fan whirred to life, she remained by the door, fixated on the bed.
He must have read her mind.
“They didn’t have any rooms with two beds.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“If you’re worried that I can’t keep my hands to myself, I assure you I'll be out once my head hits the pillow. It’s been a long day.”
What he didn’t know was that she wasn’t sure she could keep her hands to herself.
When she continued to stare, he sighed.
“How about we call it a night?”
“Wonderful.” The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner they could leave the room. “I’d like to go take a shower.”
“Are you asking for permission?” he grumbled.
“No, I’m not asking for permission.”
She unzipped her bag, took out some clothing, and headed into the bathroom, which looked like the rest of the place. Rundown and sad.
At least the water was hot.
While she stood under the spray, she figured out she was being negative. It was hard to like anything when the events of the day weren’t so bright.
However, the truth was that she’d gotten herself into this mess.
Suck it up, buttercup.