Savor the Danger (11 page)

“Hey.” Jackson put the steaks on a plate and closed the grill. Straddling the bench beside her, he enclosed her in his arms.

Softly, Alani said, “I let Trace take responsibility for me. It was so much easier than being responsible for myself.”

“And because he was all you had, too.”

“I didn't want to disappoint him.”

Using just his baby finger, he eased a few strands of hair away from her cheek. “I don't think you could.”

She half laughed at that. If she hadn't disappointed Trace, she'd more than disappointed herself. “But you know Trace. You know that he excels at everything he does. For the longest time, he was the biggest, strongest, smartest, most capable guy I knew.”

“A regular superhero, huh?” Jackson glanced down, then back into her eyes. “I guess no other guys measured up?”

“They seemed wimpy in comparison, and just plain uninteresting.”

“Shit.”

Restraining her smile, Alani leaned into him. He felt good, and smelled even better with the way the humidity had warmed his skin and hair. She loved the softness of his cotton T-shirt over firm, pronounced muscles. “But then I got taken….”

“And retrieved.” He kissed her temple.

“And then I met you.”

His hand moved over her back, stroking, caressing. “So I measure up?”

Anxious for a lighter tone, Alani stood. “I'll let you know after I taste my steak.”

 

J
ACKSON WAITED
until her eyes closed in pleasure and she made a purring sound of contentment. Damn. She even made dining sexy. “Good?”

“Delicious.”

That she wasn't a picky, rabbit-food-only kind of gal was a huge bonus for him. “It's the cracked pepper.” He wolfed down his own big bite of juicy steak.

“Could be the company, too.” Her lashes lifted, and
she gave him the warm look of a woman romantically involved.

It should have set off alarm bells, but instead, Jackson basked in her acceptance. “So I pass muster?”

She paused with a big bite of salad halfway to her mouth. “I'd say you excel.”

“At more than grilling?”

She lowered the fork. “Yes.” She sighed. “Last night…you were amazing.”

He'd be amazing again, soon as she was ready.

“Before the kidnapping, I never dated much. With Trace on guard duty and most guys naturally wary of him, it always seemed like too much trouble.”

He wanted to know everything about her, the good, the bad and the shit that never should have happened. “After the kidnapping?”

“I was afraid.” She said it in an offhand tone, complete with a shrug.

“Afraid of men?” Jackson waited, and after a few more bites, she looked at him again.

“Afraid of everything, really. Guys asked me out, and I kept wondering if all they wanted was a date, or if they were luring me away again.”

Luring her away… He'd dealt with enough victims to get a full visual, and God, the knowledge of what she'd gone through ate at him. “That's what happened on the beach?”

Introspective, she picked at her potato with fork and knife. “I thought I was being so daring.” Her laugh sounded self-deprecating. “I was twenty-two, and finally on my first real vacation, on my own for a change. I had friends there with me, but they were already involved and their boyfriends were there and I felt weird, being the only single woman.”

At that age, especially with her sheltered life, she'd been a girl rather than a woman. But so much had changed since then. “Guys flirted with you.”

“Some.”

“You in a bikini?” He took another bite to encourage her to do the same. “Come on, Alani. I bet they all flirted.”

Modesty kept her grin at bay. “It was so fun, having that attention, teasing back.” She peeked at him. “Even sneaking a few kisses here and there.”

Unwarranted jealousy burned through his veins, but he kept his tone mild, wanting her to confide in him. “And more?”

“No. Not…not then.” Disgusted, she set down her utensils and dropped her face into her hands.

The first sound she made set off alarm bells. Crying?

Usually, a weepy woman brought out all his macho instincts. He considered tears to be the womanliest a woman could be, and that made him feel indulgent, like a big protector. While coddling a woman, he often got…turned on.

But with Alani, his stomach bottomed out, and his chest constricted. He reached for her hand. “Babe, what is it?”

She made the sound again, a dry laugh that pained him as much as tears would have. That she could so easily jerk around his feelings bugged him big-time.

“Think about it, Jackson.” She lowered her hands. “When Trace is around, he sees everything.”

“And he was always around.”

“I barely got asked out, rarely got kissed. I didn't have much success at anything else.”

“So…” She'd been a virgin before being kidnapped?

“Bet I was even more naive than you imagined, huh?”

An invisible vise clenched around his heart. “The ass-holes who took you…?”

“No.” She shook her head. “They didn't rape me. Not…like you mean.”

Fury stole his voice. He watched her.

“They…well, they were saving me.” She tightened her lips; her breath trembled. “I was too afraid to understand much of what they said, but they got their point across all the same.”

He couldn't move. Hell, he could barely breathe.

“I'm sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Here I am, spoiling our dinner.”

Needing to touch her, Jackson reached for her hands. “How long did they have you, honey?”

As if the damn broke, she started talking fast. “Time runs together and drags out when you're terrorized. I couldn't tell day from night. It felt like weeks, but I know it wasn't. I didn't sleep, and I didn't want to eat, but they insisted. I was so dirty, I could smell myself.” She squeezed his fingers, holding on tight. “We were all dirty. The room was so hot and there wasn't any fresh air, and they didn't really give us the means to clean up.”

He knew from talking with other victims how the loss of dignity hurt as much as the physical abuse.

“They do that on purpose. To break you down.” Jackson wasn't sure she heard him. “But you didn't let them.”

“I felt so sick from whatever they'd given me. When they'd get near me again, I'd do this awful dry heaving, and they laughed about it. I was so ashamed. Especially with how they treated Molly.”

Molly, now Dare's wife, had been in an altogether dif
ferent situation. They hadn't planned to sell her. “Did she talk to you?”

Alani nodded. “One of the men kept pinching me. Not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to get me hysterical again.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Molly would yell at them, call them names.” Her eyes sank shut, and she whispered, “They weren't as concerned about bruising her.”

Jackson swallowed hard. He knew Dare still had to suffer his own torment over what Molly had gone through.

“I wanted to beg her to be quiet.” Alani stared at him, her expression desperate. “But I was afraid to say anything.”

He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her white knuckles. “I'm glad Dare killed them.”

“Yes.” By small degrees, she composed herself. She stared at her half-empty plate before searching his face. “You'd have killed them, too?”

“With pleasure.”

“You…have killed people?”

Jackson went still inside, wondering what she needed to hear, how much he should tell her. He tried to weigh the ugliness of truth against the morality of justice.

Alani's smile came and went. “It's okay. I know you can't say much.” She started to pull her hands away.

He didn't let her. “When it's warranted, I have no problem at all putting someone out of commission.”

“Meaning…” She had a problem with the word, saying tentatively, “Dead?”

He had no problems. “Definitely dead.”

Unfazed by his answer, she asked, “Have you saved any women from human traffickers?” She rushed on to explain. “I'm not being nosy. Well, I mean, I guess I am.
But I know most of what Trace and Dare do these days centers around that.”

“Yeah.” Seeing that she was back to herself again, he let her hands go and pressed her plate toward her. “How about you finish eating while we talk?”

He waited for her to say she wasn't hungry. He waited for her to give in to the upset of old memories, to maybe have lost her appetite.

Instead, she agreed and cut into her steak again.

In so many ways, she pleased him. “From what I understand, Dare and Trace started out doing anything and everything they considered righteous. Like saving a senator's kidnapped son, rescuing a businessman held hostage in another country, busting up a cult—” he raised a brow “—or busting up a government conspiracy. That kind of stuff.”

“Seriously? Wow. I knew he did dangerous work. And I knew he had some major contacts. But I hadn't realized…”

“He's shielded you.” Jackson couldn't fault Trace for that. “Some of the shit they've dealt with isn't fit for sharing with a baby sister.”

“How do you know? Do you have a sister?”

“Nope. No brothers, either.” Now wasn't the time to talk about Arizona, and he really didn't want to go into family comparisons. “They'd tangled plenty of times with human traffickers, sometimes out of the country, sometimes in. Then you were taken, and that made it more personal for Trace.”

“But it's not personal for you?”

Since meeting her, it'd gotten real personal, but he only shrugged. “I'm good at what I do. It suits me better than anything else could.”

She finished off her iced tea and pushed back her near-empty plate. “You really are confident, aren't you?”

“If you're worried about me keeping you safe, don't be.”

“It's not that.” Going all sweet and shy on him, she ducked her face. “After those men took me, I couldn't seem to get very interested in any man. I tried, though.”

“With Marc Tobin.” Saying the bastard's name left a foul taste in his mouth.

“That's just it. The reason we split up, I mean. I wanted to like him. I did like him as a person.” She shrugged. “Not so much as a man.”

Was she saying what he hoped she was saying? “You didn't sleep with him?”

Hesitation held her, and then she shook her head. “No.”

Damn. Bet that burned Tobin's ass. Jackson knew firsthand how it was to want her but not have her. Venturing a guess, he said, “You got tired of him pressing the issue?”

“Yes.”

The last rays of the setting sun blazed across the sky in fiery shades of red, casting mysterious shadows over Alani's face. “But you slept with me?”

Her deep breath drew his attention to her breasts. “You.” She took two more breaths. “And only you.”

His gaze shot to hers. He croaked, “You were a virgin?”
And he'd missed it?
Not that he'd ever before considered a woman's virginity to be a prized asset, but with Alani…yeah. He loved the idea that no one else had touched her.

“And you were incredible.” She tipped her head, timid but determined. “I've thought about this ever since,
and if you don't mind showing me everything there is, everything I've missed—”

“Hell, yeah,” he rushed to say.

But she hadn't finished. “If you don't mind a no-strings-attached type of relationship…” She let that trail off, something stark in her expression as she watched him, waiting.

What the hell?
He pokered up in affront, unsure what to say to that.

Softly sighing, she braced her shoulders and stared at him. “Well then, I'd like to…you know.”

Damn it, that “no strings” comment stung. He wasn't ready to dissect his own feelings, but he
did
feel something. Lots of things, actually, not all of them physical. It burned his ass that she might not be as involved as him.

“You want to experiment with me? Is that what you're saying?” He made it sound like a sneer, expecting her to correct him, hoping she'd say that she wanted more—from him and with him.

Instead, she nodded. “Yes.” And almost as an afterthought, “Please.”

God, she wanted to use him. For sexual pleasure.
Her
pleasure.

She'd just flat-out admitted it.

He felt like a lab rat—a really,
really
turned-on lab rat. Anticipating everything she might want to try, the explorations that came to mind had him sweltering with need.

Jackson pushed everything to the side of the table and reached across it for her.

He'd always known he had a breaking point—and Alani, bless her innocent little heart, had just found it.

O
NE MINUTE
J
ACKSON
had her half over the table, his hands clamped onto her upper arms as he devoured her mouth with enough intensity to press back her head, leaving her helpless in his embrace.

In the next instant, he was on her side of the picnic table, stationed in front of her as if to shield her with his now tensed body.

But from what?

In his right hand, he held a steak knife. She recognized the lethal way he gripped it from demonstrations given to her by her brother.

Alani tried to adjust to the new circumstance. She didn't even know how he'd gotten to her side of the table so quickly. She definitely didn't know why he wielded a knife. “What the—”

“Go inside.”

The hard command brooked no arguments, but she couldn't seem to budge without knowing why he wanted her gone. She tried to see over his shoulder, but got a glimpse of only her yard—no threats. “Jackson, what in the world is—”

Her ex-boyfriend, Marc Tobin, poked his head around the side of the house.

When he saw them, he drew up short, startled.

They stared at each other. Marc's gaze went from Alani
to all over Jackson, and no way could he miss Jackson's aggressive mood.

“Marc.” Alani had to speak from behind Jackson, since he wouldn't let her move around in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Not since telling him, indisputably, that they were done had she heard from Marc. Their relationship hadn't ended well, not that there'd ever been much of a relationship to begin with. But she couldn't see Marc as dangerous. Annoying, yes, but he wouldn't hurt her.

“I knocked.” His dark eyes went from Jackson to what little he could see of Alani on tiptoe looking over Jackson's shoulder, and back again.

Already, Jackson had relaxed his stance, flipping the knife around so that instead of it being gripped as a weapon, he held it as a utensil.

But his other hand continued to keep Alani at his back.

Indignant, disapproving, Marc took another step toward them. “What's going on here? Alani, are you all right?”

She peeked again—and saw that Marc looked ready to jump to her unnecessary defense. If she let that happen, Jackson would annihilate him. She didn't have a single doubt.

“I'm fine.” She pinched Jackson hard on the rump and said with insistence, “Excuse me,” as she stepped around him.

Jackson, who was focused on Marc with burning intensity, jumped from the goose. “Ow, woman.” Blindly he reached for and found her wrist to keep her at his side. To Marc, he said, “You're interrupting our dinner.”

The rudeness appalled her. Once again, Alani made use of her elbow; this time, it had no discernable effect
on Jackson. He stood there, a large immovable object, his gaze a laser of dislike aimed at Marc.

“Oh, for the love of—” She didn't want to cause more of a scene, so she pasted on a smile. “Marc, I'm sorry, but obviously you've caught me at a bad time.”

“It was a great time,” Jackson drawled, “until he showed up.”

“I see now.” Marc put his hands on his hips, his aggression pulsing off him in waves. “You left me for him.”

“I was never
with
you,” Alani reminded him. “We dated a few times, that's all.”

“I wanted more.”

Yes, he'd wanted sex. When he wouldn't take no for an answer, she'd ended things. “That was never going to happen, and you know it.”

“Because you were fucking him, is that it?”

The crude insult stunned her. “You're way out of line.”

That Jackson remained silent was nothing short of a miracle. But then, maybe he didn't mind letting Marc make an ass of himself.

Dressed in a pullover and black slacks that showed off his trim, muscular build, Marc looked as impeccable as always. He also looked petulant.

Somehow he ran a hand over his styled, dark hair without mussing it at all. “I need to talk to you, honey. Alone.”

Jackson said, “Ain't happening,” and when Alani tried to step forward, he amended that to, “She has nothing to say to you, pal. Tough breaks, but that's how it goes.”

God, she would kill Jackson. Later. Glaring up at him, she said, “Let me go.”

His eyes narrowed, but his shrug looked casual enough as he opened his hand and released her.

Apologetic, Alani took a few steps toward Marc. “You remember Jackson Davidson?”

“We met,” Marc agreed, not looking away from her. He wore a deliberately tortured expression. “Couldn't we find a little privacy?”

Knowing that wouldn't happen, not with Marc being a potential suspect, no matter how ridiculous she found that to be, Alani made her excuses. Voice low, she said, “Marc, it's over between us. There's nothing more to say.”

He breathed harder. “So I was right. You're with him now?” He jerked his head toward Jackson.

To her relief, Jackson again said nothing. When she glanced back at him, Alani found him searching the distant area beyond her backyard. She frowned and turned back to Marc. “We're dating,” she fibbed, because that sounded better than saying they were in lust.

“If it's the same type of dating we did, does that mean you haven't slept with him?”

Enough already. Alani put back her shoulders. “That is none of your business. I meant it when I said it was over.”

Marc took a fast, forceful step toward her.

Alani flinched, waiting for Jackson to attack.

She glanced back again in time to see him seat himself at the table, his expression bored. Odd. And almost insulting.

“I want it to be my business.” Marc paid Jackson no mind. “That's what I need to talk about with you. I know I…I screwed up.”

She did not want to have this conversation in front of Jackson. “It really had nothing to do with you, Marc.” He wasn't Jackson, so no matter what he did or didn't do, it never would have worked out.

Marc denied that with a shake of his head. “I rushed
you, and I'm sorry for that. I should have shown more patience.”

Jackson cracked his knuckles and yawned loudly.

Knowing Jackson to be unpredictable, Alani concentrated on ending the conversation, and fast. She took Marc's hands. “It wouldn't have mattered, Marc. I'm sorry, but it just wasn't there for me.”

“I don't buy that.” He tugged her closer, his voice now intimate. “We had fun. You were warming up to me, you just needed more time.”

Jackson made a sound of impatience.

And his tone generous, superior, Marc added, “I didn't realize at the time that you had sexual hang-ups.”

Alani's eyes flared at hearing Marc say such a thing.

“But we'll work around that.” He lowered his voice, sounding more intimate. “I have some ideas.”

“Tobin,” Jackson said with disbelief, “you are seriously whack-a-doodle, you know that?”

Whack-a-doodle?
That was his reaction? Bemused, Alani stared at Jackson.

He shrugged. “Well, he is.” And then with insistence: “You do not have hang-ups.”

True enough. With Jackson, she had no inhibitions, sexual or otherwise.

Marc's mouth touched her neck. “Give me another chance, Alani.”

A wave of revulsion landed her firmly back in the here and now.
“No.”

He resisted her efforts to put space between them. “If you give me another chance, I can help you.”

Help her?
“You
are
whack-a-doodle!” Oh God, now she sounded like Jackson.

“When you want me to intervene,” Jackson told her lazily, “just lemme know.”

“Fuck you!” Marc said.

Jackson raised a brow. “What do you say, honey? Couldn't I muss him up just a little?”

Alani groaned. For whatever reason that suited him, Jackson had allowed her to handle this situation when she knew it went against the grain for him to do so. Like Trace and Dare, he was a man who would intervene for any woman facing a pushy suitor, but for a woman under his protection, it had to be doubly tough to stand aside.

Marc, being an astute man, should have realized his precarious position. Apparently, he did not.

Time to take charge. “I do not need—”

“We'll go slow, babe, I promise.” He put his mouth to her temple even as she strained away from him. “I'll ease you into things. You'll love it.”

“You will
shut up.
” She gasped. “Right now.” Her face burned. Her stomach jolted—in disgust. Marc had never appealed to her sexually. No man had until Jackson. “I do not have hang-ups.”

“She doesn't,” Jackson confirmed.

“And,”
Alani said loudly, before Marc could react to Jackson's jibe, “I don't need your help.”

He caressed her upper arms. “But you were so squeamish about everything.”

If being utterly disinterested counted as squeamish. She slapped his hands away. “What is wrong with you? How dare you talk about this here, now?”

“With me listening in, she means,” Jackson offered helpfully. “Crass, man. Really crass.”

“You're not helping, Jackson.” God save her from the male species.

“You won't let me help.”

“Can't you go inside?”

He snorted. “I can take him apart, that's what I can
do.” At his leisure, Jackson unfolded himself from the table and stood—tall, broad-shouldered, oh-so-imposing, in front of them. Sporting a hilarious, pleading face, he implored, “C'mon, Alani. Let me hurt him. He's begging for it.”

Marc bunched up like a junkyard dog. He snarled and set her aside. “Why don't you try?”

Alani felt she had to be fair. She stepped in front of Marc. “Just so you know, he
will
destroy you. And given how you're behaving, I might let him.”

“I'm not a slouch.” He flexed his hands. “I can handle myself.”

“I never said you couldn't. But don't let Jackson's laid-back attitude deceive you. He would love to fight right now, and you truly wouldn't be a match.” Not in any way. “You should trust me on this.”

“Spoilsport,” Jackson muttered. And that set off Marc anew.

On the balls of his feet, he bounced to the side of her, then to the left, then the right.

Jackson tucked in his chin. “What the hell?”

Marc lunged forward with a wild swing. Jackson actually laughed as he easily dodged the fist.

Enraged, Marc swung again…and again he missed.

Grinning, Jackson said, “Is there a punch line to this routine?”

When Marc charged forward, Jackson landed a short, effortless jab square on his chin. Eyes rolling up, Marc went stiff, then fell back hard, his legs buckled awkwardly, his arms out at his sides.

Alani gasped. “Jackson!”

“What?” Unrepentant, he peered down at Marc. “He started doing crazy hops and shit. It was just reflex.”

“You didn't have to knock him out.”

“What'd you want me to do? Hug him?” He made a face. “I barely tapped him. How was I supposed to know he had a glass jaw?”

Dropping to her knees, Alani patted Marc's slack face. The last thing she needed right now was a fool knocked out in her yard. “Marc?”

Bleary-eyed, Marc came around and stared at her in confusion. A purpling bruise swelled on his jaw.

“I didn't hit you that hard, you pussy.” Jackson nudged him with his boot. “Get up, for God's sake.”

He groaned. “What happened?”

“You got knocked out, that's what happened!” Sitting back, Alani blasted him with her annoyance. “I told you not to harass him, didn't I? I
told
you this would happen.”

Hands on his knees, Jackson peered down at Marc. “She did tell you.”

Marc looked beyond her, contemplated Jackson, who now smiled evilly, and met her gaze again. He half sat up with a wince. “I don't want to distress you.”

“You already have.” She took pity on him. “Things are over between us, Marc. For good.”

He worked his jaw and winced some more. “Because of
him.
”

“Oh, for the love of…” She pushed back to her feet. “He has nothing to do with it. Why not admit that you were never all that involved in the first place? No, you don't have to say anything, Marc. I'm not stupid. I know I wounded your male ego, and I'm sorry for that. Really, I am. But I was nothing more than a challenge for you. You don't want me, not really.”

Jackson snorted. “If that's true, he's a total dumbass on top of being a loudmouth wuss.”

She whipped around to confront him, and he held up both hands in concession.

Silently daring him to make another sound, Alani waited, but other than a slight tilt of his mouth, he did nothing more. She gave a nod of satisfaction.

Lord. For the longest time she hadn't dated anyone, and no one had seemed to care much about that. Guys didn't chase after her. Guys definitely didn't fight over her.

Now she had two of them being possessive.

“You should go, Marc.” The day felt never ending.

Casting a cautious glance at Jackson, he lumbered to his feet. “I don't want to leave you alone with him. He's violent.”

That had her rolling her eyes. “Actually, he showed great restraint.”

In his sexy drawl, Jackson said, “Thanks, darlin'.”

She would not look at him again. “Now, no more drama, Marc. I want you to leave.”

Marc hesitated, then unwisely drew her close for a big hug. In her ear, he whispered, “If you need me, for anything at all, call. Somehow I'll figure it out. Okay?”

Right. What could he do? Jackson had put him down with a negligent tap. No, she was much safer sticking close to Jackson, but saying so to Marc would serve no purpose. “Sure, thanks.” She would
not
be calling him.

Jackson stirred behind her. “He's got two seconds, Alani, before he finds himself on his ass again, and I don't care what you think about that.”