Chapter 20
Jensen
Mine.
The word ran through my mind on repeat as I paced around the flat. Maple had the audacity to be busy—having dinner with her bloody husband. But despite my restless energy, it wasn’t an emergency. I could wait.
I needed her to find everything—literally everything—about Julian Myers. If Natalie was going in without me to keep her safe, I couldn’t risk a single surprise.
Did he own firearms? Had he ever hired security? Did any of his artistic acquisitions imply an interest in binding, torture, or captivity? Were there any missing women with a connection to him?
She wasn’t his. She was mine.
Natalie wasn’t mine, strictly speaking. Not outside my bedroom, at least. And why was that a problem? I’d never laid claim to a woman. Why would I? That wasn’t how my life worked.
It wasn’t how I worked.
Maple finally rang.
“It’s about time.”
“I’m allowed to eat,” she said, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice.
“Fine, of course you are. Julian Myers is a solid possibility. I need everything we can find on him.”
“You have what I dug up already.”
“I need more.”
“More what? You’re the one on the ground. What more do you expect me to find from here?”
“I’m sending you photos. He has a painting in the dining room along with some other art pieces, including what might be an antique brooch on display. I want to know what else he has. What are his tastes? His interests? What else has he acquired?”
“I’ll look into it, but I didn’t find records of purchases at major auctions.”
“If he’s working with an art dealer, I want to know who it is.”
“I said I’ll look into it. What else did you find?”
“Security cameras. More than typical for this area. I can deal with those, so they won’t be a problem. But they paint a picture.”
“I’m not sure that tracing his art dealer, if he has one, is going to be more valuable than what you can discover there. If you think he’s our thief, you need to get in that house.”
“I know. But I think he might have recognized me.”
“What? How on earth would he know who you are?”
“No bloody idea. I certainly don’t know him.”
“So what’s your plan?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Natalie. She’s my plan.”
“Sorry?”
“We’re going to get her in. She’ll get me access from the inside.”
“I thought you were using her for information, not as an operative.”
“I’m not using her for anything,” I said through gritted teeth.
She paused. “You need to tell me what’s really going on. This doesn’t work if you’re withholding things from me.”
“I’m not withholding anything.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m telling you everything you need to know.”
“Oh, Jensen,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “I realize your dalliances are none of my concern, but in this case, I have to ask. What do you think you’re doing?”
It was a bloody good question. And one for which I didn’t have a good answer.
When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Is she the reason you didn’t go to Paris?”
“No.”
“Be honest.”
“I thought she was in danger.”
“All right.” She paused again. “And now you’re willing to put her in danger?”
“Believe me, I don’t like it. But it’s a good plan. He was watching her at the event the other night. He might have spoken to her, but her fucking ex interrupted.”
“What?”
“Never mind. The ex isn’t important. Although if Natalie lets me, I’d love to ruin his life.”
“Focus, Jensen.”
“Sorry. You know I’d prefer to handle it myself. I’d become his bloody best friend. Get him to hand me the necklace, even just to show it off. But if he even suspects I’m a danger to him, I’ll never get in.”
“Or if you did, it would be a trap. And maybe the trap that finally catches you.”
“Indeed.”
“But if you were at the event with Natalie, surely he saw you together.”
“He did. But she’ll use that—act ignorant of who I really am and heartbroken after I loved her and left her behind.”
“That’s likely to work. And not too far from reality, either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve known you for too long not to be very aware of how you are with women.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you sound like my sister. And you know me too well to believe I’m half the manwhore I pretend to be.”
“I didn’t say anything about you being a whore. I simply meant your relationships are always fleeting. I’m not judging you for that. I can’t fathom you settling down with a woman. Not with your life.”
That stuck like a barb in my chest. I rubbed across my sternum as if the wound had been physical.
But she was right.
And that meant Natalie was not mine.
“Jensen?”
Seamlessly, I stepped into a persona. One that didn’t let inconvenient feelings get the better of him—who hardly had feelings at all.
“My dalliance, as you say, is irrelevant. The plan is for Natalie to coax him into a dinner invitation at his house. And I’m confident she can pull it off. Once she’s inside, all she has to do is unlock a door or a window. It’s a risk, but she understands that.”
“I have my misgivings, but it’s your call. I’ll see if I can find anything else that will be helpful.”
“Thank you.”
I ended the call and dropped my phone on the couch. Maple’s question ran through my mind. What did I think I was doing?
I was simply enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. That sounded so reasonable. So easy. So like me.
I could tell myself she was a temporary diversion. That our night together had been a perk of the job. A mutually desired and mutually satisfying liaison, not meant to last.
But eating pizza with her niece while wearing a Santa hat was not simply enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. Neither was abandoning the chance to catch my longtime nemesis or using a word like mine, whether or not I’d said it aloud.
The problem was, I was getting too close. Crossing an invisible and unspoken line I’d drawn in the sand of my life years ago. That line existed for a reason. Not only to protect her, but to protect myself. I didn’t live a life that had room for someone else. So I made sure it was never an option.
A week in Tilikum—a fucking week—and I was in danger of not just crossing that line but erasing it completely.
I couldn’t let that happen. It wouldn’t be fair to her. And I couldn’t let someone in. She’d have the power to destroy me.
A knock on the door broke me from my thoughts. The pain in my chest tried to flare, but I buried it as deep as I could and answered the door.
Natalie smiled. I returned it, but it wasn’t real. There was no familiarity in mine. I’d given the same look to dozens of people over the years, and nearly all of them believed it.
She didn’t. That woman could see right through me.
“Sorry if you were busy,” she said, her smile fading. “We’re going to Christmas Village to get a tree, and I thought you might want to come.”
Christmas tree shopping with Natalie and her family. Yet another thing that was not me enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. It was over the line.
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “I have things I have to see to this afternoon.”
“Yeah, of course.” Her eyebrows drew in, even as she kept her tone light. “No big deal. I assume we’re not going after Julian tonight, so it’s fine if I’m gone.”
“Right, I won’t be needing you tonight. I need time to solidify the plan.”
The flash of disappointment that crossed her features dug the barb deeper into my chest like a giant, rusty fishhook.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She turned and started back down the stairs.
I wanted to say something else, but everything fell flat.
Text me when you’re back, and I’ll ravage you again.
Idiotic. She wasn’t a toy I could take out when I wanted and put away when I was finished with her.
Pick out the biggest tree, and I’ll pay for it.
Even worse. I couldn’t buy her affection. Or her forgiveness.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, and I still stood in the cold air. The snowfall had slowed, but small flakes drifted from the low-hanging clouds.
I wish I were the man who could give you what you need.
It would have been the honest response. But I couldn’t make myself say it.
Without looking back at me, she crossed to her house and went inside.
Clutching my chest, I stepped back into the flat and closed the door. What was happening to me? Was I having a heart attack?
I staggered to the bedroom and, with a groan, fell face-first onto the bed.
Half an hour later, I hadn’t moved. It was ridiculous. Idiotic. I was lying on the bed like a dramatic child. Like a man who couldn’t handle himself.
I was Jensen Lakes. I could handle anything.
Even this.
Pulling myself together, I stood and straightened my shirt. I stepped into the bathroom to use the mirror and fixed my hair. Dressed in a flannel and jeans, I didn’t exactly look like myself. Or maybe I looked more like myself than I ever had.
I checked every persona I’d ever used at the door and strode out to my car, calm and confident. I liked Natalie Thatcher. More than I’d ever liked anyone. I was in uncharted territory. But I lived for adventure. And what could be more adventurous than following my heart?
Which meant the line I’d drawn in the sand of my life could go fuck itself.