Midnight Vengeance (8 page)

Her own stomach was closed up tighter than a fist. Even the smells of the food made her nauseated. She was barely keeping down the vanilla tea she’d made. She hadn’t even set a plate for herself.

“Nice spread,” a deep voice said. Lauren gave a start as Jacko sat down. She hadn’t heard a sound. He was not there and then suddenly there. He opened up one of her pretty floral napkins and spread it on his massive thigh. It looked dainty there, and utterly incongruous. “So how come you’re not eating?”

She met his dark eyes, so sober and steady and watchful. What was needed here was a smile but for a second she forgot exactly how you did that. It had been two years since she’d had much to smile about. Various parts of her face weren’t cooperating. She curved her lips upward but knew the smile didn’t touch her eyes.

Lie
, she told herself. “I’m—I’m not really hungry. I have a bit of a headache.”

He lost that impassive look and scowled fiercely. “Did I overdo it last night? Is that why you have a headache?”

Lauren’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, of course not! No, I—” Her mind whirred. Words clanked around in her head. She wanted to reassure Jacko but she couldn’t tell him the truth, and it was like a logjam, paralyzing her. Finally, she landed on an old standby, the nuclear bomb of excuses. “I, um, I got my period this morning.” There. Most men recoiled and asked no further questions when you brought up the Great Female Mystery. Plus it would reassure him that not even
his
sperm could make the leap across latex.

But somehow it didn’t mollify him. He simply took another long look at her, as if he could go in and check her ovaries to see for himself what was happening, then finally settled down to his breakfast. He ate neatly and fast and demolished everything set before him.

Lauren sat and watched, remembering to sip her tea now and again.

She’d never see him again. The thought rolled around and around in her head like some huge, toxic ball bearing, destroying everything in its path. She was incapable of wrapping her head around it. She’d just found him and she was going to have to leave him. Today. This morning.

He was dressed in his tuxedo pants and white dress shirt, no black satin bow tie. He looked tough despite the fancy clothes and as she watched him, Lauren couldn’t figure out how his attractiveness had slipped her notice for so long.

How had she overlooked the sheer male appeal of him? The huge shoulders and arms, the strong neck, the strong, dark features of his face. They all added up to such a sexy package. How had she not noticed? Even the shaved head was sexy. And the tats, hmm. The tribal tats had been a huge surprise and had turned her on enormously.

Tough guys weren’t her usual type but there wasn’t a woman alive with a pulse who could be indifferent. Why had it taken her so long to see that sexiness?

Maybe because he had acted so standoffish when he was around her. It sometimes felt as if he leaned
away
from her when she was with him. Which was cool. Not every man on earth had to be attracted to her. But even so, even being stiff as a board around her, he had always been ...
there.
And she’d been attracted; she just hadn’t realized it.

She realized it now. And how.

His huge body seemed to occupy more space than it should, like some high-density planet, and like a high-density planet with a moon, her natural inclination was to lean into him. She had to hold herself stiffly to keep still, because she wanted to lean forward, lay her hand on that massive forearm. For warmth, for reassurance. For sex.

Because, well...she’d be up for sex with Jacko again. Oh yeah.

Who knew sex could be like that? Overwhelming, life-altering. She felt like she’d discovered her body for the very first time. Something that hadn’t existed before Jacko’s touch.

Oh man. Leaving was going to
hurt
.

What she was feeling must have been putting out vibrations or something because his gaze grew even keener. He was about to say something. Jacko didn’t talk much but what he did say was smart. He was picking up on her distress.

No no no.

She pasted a huge smile on her face, rose, started putting the breakfast dishes away. This was pure habit. She was going to leave the dishes and most of the pretty things she had accumulated behind. No baggage going forward. It was going to be a minimalist existence from now on. Renting a furnished unit and keeping personal belongings to a minimum. So wanting to put the dishes in the sink and wash them was pure muscle memory.

Jacko rose with her, bread and milk pitcher in hand. Oh God, he was
domesticated?

“No, no.” She made shooing motions with her hands. He had to leave right now before she burst into tears. “I can do that more quickly on my own. I have some work to do so, um, maybe you’d better get going.” She looked him over. “You’re not going into work in your tux are you?”

“No, ma’am,” his deep voice intoned. So we were back to ma’am? He narrowed his eyes. “What time do you think you’ll be done?”

She blanked. “Done? With what?”

“With work. With what you have to do.”

What she had to do was throw her clothes, computer and artwork in her car, take off and drive as far as her strength would allow. “Um, probably all afternoon.”

“Okay. Do you want to go out for dinner?”

“Um, sure.” Her voice wobbled on the word. She coughed. “Yeah. Sorry, I might be catching something. But sure. Let’s go out for dinner.”

He was searching her face, looking for something. She made her face a happy place, using every ounce of prevarication in her. Happy, happy. Woman who’d just had sex with an interesting new guy. Who wanted to see her again. Happy, happy.

He grunted and picked up his tux jacket.

He was leaving! She wanted him to leave, absolutely. There was a lot to do and many miles to travel today but...
he was leaving
.

She’d never see him again. She wanted this but she wasn’t ready for it. Would probably never be ready for it.

Her smile was blinding. He was leaving and her heart was breaking. Her hand wanted to reach out, touch him, hold on to him, and she had to make a fist to keep from touching him.

She offered her cheek for a kiss but Jacko cupped the back of her head with one big hand and drew her to him. It happened fast but there was nothing in her that would have—could have—resisted his kiss. She stepped forward, into his embrace, and was lost. His mouth was as soft as she remembered. He hadn’t shaved and the heavy beard—now stubble—scratched her skin and she loved it. The first touch of his lips to hers was electric. Far too exciting. She pulled away before she could lose herself in that kiss.

Before she asked him to stay.

Before she changed her mind.

She showed her teeth. That was a smile wasn’t it? And swatted his arm, as if playfully flirting. “Go on now. Get out of here.”

Before I beg you to stay.

Showing him $20,000 of orthodontics worked. He searched her face for another long moment then lifted one side of his mouth. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”

The opposite.

She made a gun of her thumb and forefinger and shot him. “Work. To do. Now scat.”

She accompanied him to the door, with a friendly hand on his shoulder. Actually, she just wanted to touch him one last time. While touching him, the monsters were kept at bay. No fear, no terror. Just hard warm muscle.

She ushered him over the threshold, still touching him. It was so hard to let go. She wanted to touch him forever, but she couldn’t. Her hand dropped. He turned back, dark face serious, dark eyes searching hers.

She turned herself into a bright, shiny mirror, nothing visible underneath.
Nothing to see here, folks. Move right along.

“What time?” Jacko said.

“What?”

“What time should I pick you up?”

Her mind whirred uselessly. Pick her up?

“For dinner,” he said. “Tonight.”

“Oh!” A spear of grief, sharp and uncontrollable, shot straight through her heart. Tonight she’d be as far away as she could drive. Out of his life forever. Tonight would never happen. “Sure. Six, say?”

He nodded, stepped forward.

She stepped back.

She didn’t want a goodbye kiss, because it would really be goodbye and she didn’t want to burst into tears in the middle of it. Jacko was unnaturally perceptive. Already he was looking at her in unlover-like terms, head tilted, eyes sharp. Like he was studying her.

“Okay!” she said, her voice suddenly loud. She clapped her hands, hoping she wasn’t behaving like a loon. “See you this evening.”

One last, slit-eyed look and Jacko nodded. He turned and walked to his huge SUV, which he’d parked right outside her garage door, blocking her. She couldn’t leave until he drove away.

God, he was enticing even from the back. Insanely broad shoulders, thick strong neck rising incongruously from the satin collar of his tux, huge hands surrounded by an inch of white dress shirt cuffs peeping from under the fine black wool of the jacket sleeves. Hiding the barbed wire tats around his wrists, but she knew they were there.

He looked like he was walking slowly but in an instant—far too soon, in fact—he was at his vehicle’s door. Once he was behind the wheel he paused for a second with the door open, looking across her small front yard at her.

She turned her lips up and made a little wave like a kid going bye-bye. Jacko nodded, got in, slammed the door shut and she lost all view of him behind the smoked glass.

Lauren swallowed, feeling suddenly sick. This was it. She’d never see his face again.

Jacko backed quickly out of her short driveway and drove off fast. She stood stupidly on the porch until she couldn’t even pretend to see his vehicle, the unshed tears finally pouring down her face.

Inside she stood for a long moment, unable to summon the energy she needed to do this. It felt like her feet had been nailed to the pale hardwood floor. She couldn’t move, could only sway there, tears dripping down her face. Her living room, which she’d lavished such love and care on, became a blur. Her heart, which had started beating hard as she said goodbye to Jacko, slowed, became a cold hard stone in her chest.

She swiped at her cheeks, trying to relegate Jacko to the back of her mind. There was no time to think of him, to mourn his absence. There was a life to end and another to begin.

She stared at the ceiling, willing the tears to stop. Finally, finally, they did.

Jacko was gone. Soon she’d drive away from this pretty little house and never come back. When he stopped by at six to pick her up for dinner she’d be at least four hundred miles away.

This was so hard. Yet this was going to be the rest of her life. Not making ties so it wouldn’t be so painful leaving.

Even leaving her things behind hurt.

The curtains she’d made from Italian cotton bedspreads, the rescued coffee table she’d restored herself, the battered silver bowl from a garage sale she’d polished to a high sheen and filled with homemade potpourri. Small inexpensive things that had turned the house into a home. All wasted efforts, it turned out, because she was going to turn her back on them. She’d leave with the bare essentials for a new life—clothes, laptop and artwork—and that was it.

But first there was someone she had to tell. Someone she’d never met but who had saved her, and was her friend.

Opening her laptop, she found Tor and keyed in the steps necessary to access the darknet. At times it felt like descending down, down, down into another world. An even darker and more dangerous world than this one. Except for one small corner of it.

Felicity.

It wasn’t her real name. Steeped in pop culture, Felicity loved
Arrow
and named herself for Felicity Smoak. It seemed apt. Felicity Smoak always saved the day with her smarts, and so did Lauren’s Felicity.

She had no idea who Felicity was in real life, where she lived, even what she did for a living. But she felt as close to her as she would to a sister. Though she never spoke about the details of her life, Lauren had the distinct impression that Felicity was as alone in the world as she was. And that Felicity knew trouble, firsthand.

The secret impregnable chat room had an orange-and-teal header because Felicity was a film buff. On the right-hand side of the header was their symbol. Two feminine hands, fist bumping. Bright orange fingernail polish on one hand, bright blue polish on the other. Lauren had designed it.

She saw that Felicity was online, as usual. She never seemed to sleep.

Lauren signed in.

Runner: Runner here. Pulling the plug on this life.

The reply came almost instantaneously. Felicity didn’t ask any questions. Lauren had chosen the handle
Runner
for a reason. She was on the run. Felicity knew that if she needed to pull the plug, she needed to pull the plug. Felicity also knew that she would need to change identities. Lauren Dare was a Felicity construct. Felicity had done it before; she’d do it again.

Felicity: Tell me what you need. Let me know when you get to where you’re going then contact me. I’ll get you whatever you need.

Runner: Not sure where I’m going. Doesn’t matter as long as it’s far away. And I need a new life.

Felicity: You need the TARDIS. Failing that, how about an eye in the sky? Who’s on your tail?

Lauren sometimes wondered whether Felicity worked for the NSA. Several times she’d been able to provide overhead surveillance. Though she was good enough that maybe she’d hacked the NSA.

Runner: No one’s after me right now. But it’s time to go. I made a mistake last night. Let my guard down.

Felicity: A preventive bail. Smart choice. Nowhere is safe for long.

Runner: No, nowhere is safe for long.

She closed her eyes. Somehow Felicity knew, understood. Lauren could feel the sadness coming off the monitor.

Felicity: Docs. You’ll need new ID. I can get you anything you need, girl. Just say the word. You want to be a PhD in quantum physics? Done. You want to be a surgeon? I’ll have you in the operating theater in no time.

Lauren smiled. She was Lauren Dare thanks to Felicity, who could make her a doctor or a physicist or Italian. She was brilliant.