3
“Where are you going?” Jack tried to sound cool and casual, but it was surprisingly difficult when his body was burning hot from being so close to this gorgeous babe with soft curves that made him want to pant like a wolf, howl like a hound, paw at the ground like a bull in season. They’d been driving for less than twenty minutes, had just gotten onto I-95, were maybe another ten minutes from the exit to Jack’s bike. But damn, it felt like a blissful eternity, time slowing down even though Jack’s heart was racing, his pulse pounding, his cock throbbing in his jeans, blood hammering in his eardrums.
Fuck, that glimpse of her pretty little slit wrecked me, Jack thought as he swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw and doing his best to gaze expressionlessly out the front windscreen. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, didn’t think she’d caught him looking. But clearly she’d felt his lecherous gaze on her body, because she’d pulled her sweater down over her lap, blushed crimson under her soft smooth cheeks, touched her beautiful brown hair, shifted her gorgeous ass in the seat.
Well, Jack assumed it was a gorgeous ass. He hadn’t gotten a chance to check her out all the way yet.
Stop it, you damn pervert, Jack told himself angrily. It had been months since he’d been laid—the longest dry spell in his entire adult life, if he really thought about it. Hell, he couldn’t clearly remember the last time he’d been with a woman. Sure as fuck couldn’t remember the last time any woman had gotten him so worked up with raw desire that he couldn’t maintain his take-it-or-leave-it coolness, couldn’t pull off that devil-may-care swagger. Maybe it was the guilty realization that he’d scared this sweetheart with that carjacking attempt that was breaking through his player-cool frame? Had he really scared her that bad?
Of course you scared her, you dumb shit, Jack told himself as he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted uncomfortably in the seat. And you probably disgusted her too, with all those lewd comments and calling her honey and sweetheart and baby like you know her, like she’s yours.
Maybe she is yours, came the silent whisper from somewhere inside Jack’s tensed-up body. Maybe Indy and Ice were right. Maybe you’re next. Maybe she’s—
“I’m going where you told me to go,” came her voice now, reminding Jack that he’d asked her where she was going. “The exit where your bike’s parked.”
Jack blinked himself back from that strangely intense space where his hammering heart and his throbbing cock seemed to want the same thing—which was damn unusual for him. Usually his heart stayed out of the discussion when it came to Jack and women. It had always been simpler that way.
“No,” he said far too loudly because of the blood pounding in his ears. “I mean where are you going after dropping me off. You said you needed to take I-95 anyway.”
“Oh,” she said, curling a strand of hair around her ear, glancing at him, then blinking quickly and looking at the road again. “Philadelphia. Headed to a wedding.”
“Yours?” Jack grinned.
She rolled her eyes, chuckled once. “My best friend Nina.”
Jack glanced towards the backseat, where there was a blue dress covered in drycleaner’s plastic hanging from the coat-hook by the window. He frowned, raised his right eyebrow in her direction. “That doesn’t look like a bridesmaid’s dress. Aren’t you the Maid of Honor? She’s your best friend, right? You aren’t in the wedding?”
The woman shook her head, scratched her cheek, then sighed. “It’s complicated. Too complicated to explain. Besides, your exit is coming up next. Tell me which way to turn after the ramp.”
Jack blinked twice, then nodded and glanced down at his phone. “Take a left. It’s a couple of blocks down the main road. Strip mall.”
The woman nodded, then changed lanes and took the exit ramp. The strip mall came up shortly. Anchored by a large grocery store, the place was busy, the parking lot teeming with activity. Jack scanned the area for the police. There were two black-and-white cop-cars outside the grocery store, which meant the police were probably walking the aisles inside looking for Diego Vargas. The police would only know that he was wanted on a federal warrant, should be considered armed and dangerous, and that they were not to engage but just call in any leads. Jack didn’t expect them to find Diego. The guy was trained to be a ghost, just like Special Forces men all over the world.
“Up there.” Jack pointed towards where he could see his bike parked in a row reserved for two-wheelers. It was on its kick-stand, keys in the ignition—right where Jack had left them like a dumb-ass. It was very unlike him to be that sloppy. Even more unlike him to not have his Delta-trained instincts warn that Diego was so close to the gas station, watching from somewhere in the woods. “Thanks.” Jack unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the passenger’s side door, stuck one booted foot out, then glanced back at the woman. “What’s your name, by the way?”
The woman blinked. “Jill.”
Jack didn’t blink. His eyelids were stuck because time was stuck, totally frozen just like his body was right now. He took a slow breath so he wouldn’t pass out. Blinked away the vivid image of a yipping coyote and a howling hyena, both creatures sounding an awful lot like John fucking Benson. He forced a chuckle. “Your name’s Jill? Imagine that. My name’s Jack.”
“I know.” Jill blinked shyly, then smiled tightly. “I heard that other guy say your name on the phone.” She met Jack’s gaze for a brief moment, then quickly looked away, glancing at the two police cars outside the grocery store, another pulling into the lot as they watched. “They’re looking for the guy who killed the gas station attendant and stole your bike? Diego, right?”
“Right.” Jack’s boot touched the asphalt of the parking lot as he prepared to exit the car. But just then his phone buzzed with a new text, and he sat back in the seat and tapped the screen. It was from Keller. He opened the message.
“What did he do, this guy Diego?” Jill asked, pulling at the neck of her sweater, stealing another glance in his direction. “I mean besides murdering the gas station attendant.”
“It’s complicated,” Jack said distractedly as he stared at Keller’s message.
“Too complicated to explain?” Jill asked with a smile. “Lots of that going on around here. Well, good luck catching him, I guess.”
Jack stared at the message again, then looked up and nodded dumbly. “Yeah, right. Good luck to you too, I guess. Though I’m not sure why you’d need luck for your best friend’s wedding.”
Jill chuckled dryly. “Oh, trust me, I’ll need it.”
Jack tilted his head and looked at her, Keller’s message swirling through his brain, mixing with the strange tingle that felt like the instincts which had abandoned him earlier were now back in full-force. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jill swallowed, a flash of uncertainty darkening her eyes. “Oh, nothing. Like I said, it’s too complicated to explain.”
“We got time,” Jack said, sweeping his gaze towards his bike to see if Diego had planted any explosives on the bike frame. Unlikely, given the short notice—and the fact that Diego wasn’t a terrorist interested in killing innocent civilians. Besides, it was clear that Diego didn’t want to get into a confrontation with any Darkwater guys right now. It appeared Keller was right—Diego needed to be somewhere.
The same place Jill was going.
“We got time? What does that mean?” Jill frowned when Jack stepped out of the car, snatched his keys from the bike’s ignition, then squeezed his big body back into her Honda hatchback’s cramped front seat. “Um, what are you doing?”
Jack calmly pulled the seatbelt across his body, snapped it into place, then tapped his phone screen and began to type out a reply to Keller’s message.
Keller’s message which had said:
“Paige pulled the last number Diego called before destroying his burner phone. Traced the number to another burner phone. It’s switched off right now, but Paige triangulated the last known location via cell towers. Looks like Diego called someone in an upscale suburb of Philadelphia. Benson wants us to stake out that neighborhood, see if Diego turns up to meet someone there. Benson says no FBI for now. You’re still the closest Darkwater guy to Philly. Can you make your way up there while Paige watches to see if that new burner phone comes back online? Reply ASAP or else will send Hogan down from New Jersey.”
“You’re going to Philly, right?” Jack finished typing an affirmative response to Keller, then slid the phone back into the inner pocket of his leather riding jacket. “Well, so am I. You’ve now got a passenger. Let’s go.”
Jill stared, her face changing color, paling to ghostly white then darkening to plum-red when their gazes met and their eyes locked and the air almost crackled with electric intensity that Jack desperately wanted to believe was just his imagination but couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t.
“You . . . you want to ride with me to Philadelphia?” Jill’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her gaze darting to Jack’s bike, then down at herself like she was desperately trying to gather herself, to tame the energy that Jack could feel swirling around them like a whirlpool gathering strength, about to pull them into its hissing frothing vortex. “Um . . . why, exactly?”
Jack shrugged, drummed his fingers on the plastic dashboard, glanced towards her and grinned. “Because I want to know why your best friend’s wedding is so complicated for you.” He glanced at the blue dress, then flicked his gaze back towards Jill’s flushed face. “Also, if you need a plus-one, I’m a great dancer.”