Hidden Currents (30 page)

Jackson didn’t answer so she went in search of the candles. She opened the walk-in closet and was surprised to find it very neat. He had several sheriff uniforms and lots of soft, faded jeans, one suit and a dress shirt. The wall behind the clothes had a security keypad on it. Elle frowned and ran her hand over it.

“Jackson, what do you have locked up in here?”

There was a small silence. She turned her head to find him leaning one hip lazily against the doorjamb. “Weapons. Lots of weapons.”

She shook her head. “You’re so crazy.”

“I’m hopping in the shower. The candles should be in one of those boxes.”

He sauntered over to her and reached past her to grab a clean pair of jeans. Elle inhaled his scent. She didn’t think they needed candles, she liked the way he smelled, but maybe she was just a bit prejudiced.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “You are, but I like it.”

“Stop reading my mind.”

“I can’t help it since I’m in it so much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He laughed again and left her. She stood waiting for the sound of the shower, realizing she had a smile on her face when she honestly believed she’d never smile again. How could Jackson take every bad situation and make it not only bearable, but good? Why hadn’t she seen him the way he really was before she’d gone off on her undercover assignment? Would she have taken such a dangerous job?

Elle sighed. Yes. She would have taken it because someone had to stop the monsters of the world. Elle had believed in herself, in her abilities, in her psychic talents and her training. She would have gone even had Jackson asked her not to go. She had set out to prove she didn’t need him—that no legacy was going to dictate to her. And she’d wanted him to follow, to come after her, to love her that much. What she hadn’t realized was that he did. He loved her enough to let her choose her own way.

She’d seen ownership. She wanted partnership and Jackson might be a man to stand in front of her when he deemed necessary, but he would always be her partner because he respected her right to choose. She closed her eyes for a moment and wrapped him in love from a distance—because she could. Because she needed to.

The warmth and emotion came back tenfold. She felt it in her mind, moving through her body until her veins flowed with it. “Jackson.” She breathed his name out loud because she was forbidden to use telepathy and just the thought of that made her smile. She had thought him a dictator because she didn’t understand the difference between responsible caring and forcing one’s will on another.

Elle pulled out a box and glanced through the contents. Evidently Inez brought Jackson quite a few items he probably had little use for. Little fragrant soaps, scented lotions, potpourri, which she had to laugh over, certain he had no idea what it was, and cuticle cream. The second box contained flashlights and every type of battery possible, all neatly packaged. She closed the lid and pulled out the last box. Pushing the lid off, she went still. Medals. Lots of medals. Including a purple heart. How did a person get so many medals? What kinds of things had he gone through in order to be so recognized?

The water in the bathroom was turned off. Elle put the lid back on the box and put it carefully away. “I didn’t find any candles, Jackson.”

“Maybe the candles are in here after all,” he said. “Let me look.”

Elle went into the bathroom. The door was open and he had a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. His hair was damp and water still beaded on his skin. She had the urge to lick it off, but she wasn’t going there again, not after the last disaster. He crouched down, peering under the sink, a small frown on his face.

“Take your pick. I think there’s a hundred in here. All scented.” He sounded a little disgusted, as if he thought Inez was trying to turn him into a girl.

Elle could barely breathe with the way she felt just looking at him. Every time he moved, muscles rippled subtly beneath his skin. He turned his head and looked at her and she blushed, knowing she hadn’t hidden her thoughts from him.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, woman,” he said. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“We’re sharing the same mind, Elle. It’s rather hard not to.” He shoved several candles into her hands. “Here, go light them while I put on some clothes. Fast.”

“I could stand here and watch you.”

“You could behave yourself and stop thinking I’m a damned saint.” He reached out and touched her face, skimming the pads of his fingers down her cheek before dropping his hand and turning away to look at his bearded jaw in the mirror. “I need to shave.”

“Don’t. I rather like it. Just trim it up.”

“Are you sure? I grew it when I was helping out another county. And then I didn’t bother to shave when we went looking for you.”

Undercover, he meant. “I like it,” she reiterated, and took the candles into the living room and kitchen. Her entire life her family had simply used their talents to light candles from a distance and make tea and pour it. It felt strange to perform the simple act of lighting a candle and pouring herself a cup of tea. At first it made her feel ill, half of a Drake, cut off from her talents, but as she poured a cup of tea for Jackson and added milk, she found herself feeling domestic.

Jackson came in barefoot, wearing just his jeans, moving up behind her and circling her waist with one arm, pulling her back against him as he buried his face against her neck. “Is that for me?”

She leaned against him—against his strength, her body fitting against his perfectly. “I thought I’d bribe you to get the rest of the tangles out of my hair.”

He brushed a kiss along her neck and then teased the sensitive lobe of her ear with his tongue. “I’m easy enough to bribe.”

Elle let the feeling of comfort and desire wash over her. Instead of being afraid of it, she just absorbed it because Jackson didn’t ask anything of her. He just accepted her and that left her able to enjoy being with him, enjoy his touch and the way he ached for her.

“You’re easy enough to love.”

He grinned at her and took the cup of tea. “I’m going to remember that when we have seven very naughty little girls running around the house and you’re trying to get them all settled down for bed.”

She followed him to his chair where they could sit and brush out the last of the tangles. “And just what are you going to be doing while I’m chasing them around the house?”

“Stirring them up, of course.” He flashed another grin. “I’ll be the papa bear, scaring the hell out of them.”

Elle sat on the floor in front of him, catching the picture in his mind of Jackson, hands up, fingers curled into claws lumbering around the kitchen chasing screaming little girls with red hair and bright, laughing eyes while she stood there, hands on her hips, trying to look stern. She laughed. “You’re so crazy. Of course you’d do that and get them all worked up before bed. And they aren’t all going to have red hair.”

His hands were gentle as he tugged at the tangles. “Yes, they will. And so will our poor son.”

“Whoa. Back up the train. A son?”

“Well you wouldn’t want me to have to live in an all-girl household would you?”

“Yes.” She turned her head fast and yelped. She glared at him, but he shrugged and turned her head back around, but not before she caught his smirk. “That’s
eight
children, Jackson. That’s a
lot
of children.”

“Well, look at it this way. Ilya and Joley will probably have seven boys. And Jonas won’t keep his hands off Hannah and he’s competitive, so who knows how many they’ll have. We can’t be slackers.”

She choked. Jackson stiffened and jerked her around to face him. She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re just so
bad.
We are not competing with Jonas to see who has the most children. After the first one, I’m certain you’re going be shaking in your boots. You’ll start thinking about the dating years and freak out on me.”

“I have weapons, honey. Lots and lots of weapons. And I know how to use every single one of them. I don’t mind scaring the hell out of teenage boys.”

Elle was silent for a moment, replaying the picture of Jackson chasing their daughters in her mind. She frowned. “When you were thinking about having little girls running around the house, it was the Drake kitchen, not this one.” In fact, the house had been very detailed in his mind, as if he knew the entire layout already.

He sighed. “That’s just my personality, Elle. I have an eye for details.”

For security he meant. He noticed people as well as things. He could lay out the Drake home exactly from furniture to items on their walls. He had that kind of memory.

“Why the Drake house?”

“It will afford them more protection than just the two of us can give them. I wouldn’t mind being in it now, with you. And as the youngest daughter, it’s your inheritance. You deserve it and so do our daughters.”

She looked around her. Jackson’s home felt safe to her. “I like your house, Jackson.”

“That’s a good thing because we’ll be retiring here when we hand over the legacy to our youngest daughter. I think your ancestors are moving in. Have you noticed all the new shrubbery? It wasn’t there a couple of days ago.”

She turned her head again, earning another sharp tug on her scalp. “Are you certain?”

“I’d know if I planted those vines and flowers, Elle. I’m not really a gardener.”

Elle settled back. “If you don’t garden, who does? You have one of the prettiest properties around here.”

He worked on a particularly difficult tangle until it was smooth. “I think we’re done. You can take another shower and condition your hair.”

Elle burst out laughing. A real genuine laugh. “Jackson the hairdresser. I swear, you have more surprises than any man I know. I’m betting Jonas doesn’t know what conditioner is.”

“Maybe not before he married Hannah, but he’s sure to know now. She makes all that stuff. I know, because he brings it to me by the boxful.”

“You have some of Hannah’s conditioner under your sink? You should have told me earlier!” Eagerly, Elle jumped up and rushed into the bathroom.

Jackson picked up his tea, took a sip, and found it too cold to drink. Smiling, he shook his head. He really had wondered how it would be living with Elle. He’d been alone all of his life. His mother and he had been happy for brief times together in the bayou, when she wasn’t pining for his father. And there were even a few times he could remember enjoying his father’s company, but those times were few and far between. Mostly he was alone, long days and nights, running in the bayou and avoiding the truant officer as much as possible.

He’d kept to himself in the army, getting the job done, until he’d met Jonas. No one avoided Jonas. And through Jonas he’d found Matt. His circle of close friends widened, but Jonas was always the center. They had been through hell together and fought back to back to make it out. Jonas had gotten free, but Jackson had been captured. A fairly routine mission gone wrong and then he was really in hell. Weeks went by and he knew he was lost until he heard a voice.

He would never forget Elle’s voice wrapping him up in satin sheets and hope. She’d found a way to light the darkness and give him the strength to make his escape. They’d planned it together, that soft feminine voice and he. She was with him through countless tortures, the pain and anguish, the humiliation of being helpless and having monsters amuse themselves with finding how much a body could withstand without killing it. They tortured him and used his body until he was nothing more than a monster himself with the need for vengeance.

She was there. In his mind. Refusing to leave him even when he begged her to go. She saw him through it all and he had come out on the other side, when he had believed it would be impossible to survive intact. It was the first time in his life he hadn’t been alone. It had been the worst—and yet the best time of his life. Elle had shared his mind, shared his pain and his hope and ultimately saved his sanity and life. He had followed Jonas to Sea Haven to meet her.

Though he’d known the moment he met her family that he was nowhere good enough for her, that he came from a place she would never understand, it didn’t stop him from wanting her. Still, he hadn’t known how, after so many years of being alone, he would feel with her living under the same roof. Now he knew.

He inhaled her scent drifting from his bathroom. The water was off now and he could hear her moving around. He liked the sound of her in his home, the fragrance that was all Elle. For a moment he closed his eyes and savored the idea of her with him. When a man had been alone, adrift, with nothing in his life but duty, he realized finding Elle was a miracle. She was his life. His reasons for honor and code and everything he held on to.

She came into the room, looking so feminine, so heart breakingly beautiful he ached with emotion. His heart actually hurt and it made him feel like a damned fool, but he still didn’t care.

“Are we going for a walk?”

He sighed. He’d been hoping she would forget, but he knew part of it was defiance, thumbing her nose at Gratsos, refusing to allow him to control her life in any way. And he was proud of her for that. He looked outside at the clear sky and let his breath out. He’d keep her from the water’s edge and walk high, closer to the dunes than the water.

“Come on, Bomber.” He signaled the dog. “Let’s go for a walk. My lady wants to go, we go.”

She deftly wove her hair into one thick braid that hung to her waist as she followed him outside. At once she lifted her arms to the sky and smiled. “I love the ocean.”

“So do I.” He couldn’t imagine living anywhere but here on the wild northern California coast, with the stormy sea and the close-knit community. Artisans and fishermen coexisted and worked together to keep their environment as pristine and preserved as they were able.

She didn’t seem to mind walking along the dunes, up above the expanse of beach, throwing sticks to Bomber and skipping along, free to run when she wanted or just walk beside him, holding his hand as they made their way down the curving coastline.