She Does Know Jack (29 page)

“I’m not—”

“Jack,”
Rodriguez interrupted on the radio. “You’re needed in the salon. Now.”

“Damn.” He
glared at the device before returning his gaze to Brielle. “I’m sorry. Can it
wait?” His heart contracted at the disappointment and fear in her eyes.

She opened her
mouth, then nodded. “It’ll have to. I understand. You go ahead.”

He hesitated,
until she smiled. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes. I promise. We’ll talk then.”

“Hey, Brielle,
come on.” Danni waved from across the room. “You get to be on my team.”

“Okay,” she
answered them both, her gaze dropping to his mouth before she turned and walked
toward the pool table.

Ten
—he’d be back
there in ten minutes. Jack sprinted upstairs to the salon, cursing the job,
cursing their circumstance, cursing whatever it was that had put the
apprehension in Brielle’s normally warm, brown eyes.

“This had better
be good, Rodriguez.” He strode into the room, interrupting his men converged
around a table.

“It is, sir.
Look what we’ve found.” The frowning man moved away to reveal what he had been
blocking.

Jack halted.
“Shit!” His pulse shot through the promenade deck above them. Another note.
“What does it say?” He approached with apprehension bubbling inside, filling
his chest tight.

Rodriguez
cleared his throat. “
Be careful what you wish for!
”

Damn.
His heart
literally stopped.
Brielle’s dare.
“Where’d you find it?”

“Right here.”
Rodriguez pointed to the table.

Jack swallowed
several more curses. “Out in the open like this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not good.
Whoever’s doing this is getting bolder.” His concern for Matthew’s and
Brielle’s welfare skyrocketed. He glanced at the surveillance camera. “Did you
check the feed?”

“Yes, sir. There
was nothing.” One of his men stepped forward, motioning toward the corner.
“This camera and the one in the hall had been shut off.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!
I’m sick of this shit already!” Knuckles cracking, Jack slammed his
fist—hard—onto the table
.
A second later, something fell onto his
sneaker, then bounced to the floor.  “What the hell?” 

A listening
device stared up at him.

The room grew
deathly quiet—as if holding its breath. He peered closer. Alarm shot up his
spine. The bug wasn’t their brand, therefore—it wasn’t theirs. Using a napkin,
he picked up the bug and dropped it on the table next to the note.

“Rodriguez,
inform Matthew’s guard of the situation and tell him no one is to leave the
recreation room. The rest of you, I want this ship searched from top to bottom.
I’m sure this isn’t the only bug on board. Log what you find, and where you
find it. Then you can explain to me how the
hell
you missed them when
you swept this ship!” Hands behind his back, he walked around his silent men,
then stopped to glare. “And if there are bugs, then there are recording
devices. Find them!”

“Yes, sir!” His
men scattered from the room, scurrying past Rodriguez already talking on his
hand-held in the hall.

Christ, he
couldn’t help but wonder if he and Brielle had been videotaped last night. If
they were, whoever it was better hope to God he didn’t find him.

The urge to
check on Matthew and Brielle himself seized Jack, but he would do them better
service by continuing with his search. Her disappointed gaze flashed through
his mind. He shook it away. Their talk had to wait. It couldn’t be helped, and
he was certain she’d understand. He was so close, very close to uncovering
something—he could taste it.

An hour later,
when he regrouped with his men back in the salon, his spine instantly
stiffened. No one would look him in the eye. “Report.”

Rodriguez
cleared his throat. “We found ten bugs, sir.”

Ten?
Son-of-a-bitch.
“Where?”

“In here, the
lounge, dining room, gym, recreation room, sun deck, disco, and Danni’s and
Mandy’s rooms,” Rodriguez informed.

A measure of
relief flashed through him. There weren’t any in Brielle’s room. Good. How the
hell would he have explained that to her?

“Did you find
any recorders?”

Rodriguez
hesitated. “Yes,” he replied, then glanced away.

Jack’s heart
dropped. Instinct told him he wouldn’t like the answer to the question he knew
he had to ask. “Where?”

The men shuffled
their feet while Rodriquez closed his eyes.

“Dammit,
Rodriquez,
where?
” Jack demanded again.

“Brielle’s
room.”

W
here was Jack?

Brielle bit her
lip as she glanced at her watch for the tenth time since he’d left. He said
he’d be back in fifteen minutes, but a whole hour had passed.

Something was
wrong. Terribly wrong. Her stomach knotted. Was he hurt? Did he need her help?
She eyed the door, apprehension tempting her feet. This putzing around
pretending to be a contestant sucked.

“You’re up,
Brielle,” Matthew said, stepping in front of her. He caught her gaze and
frowned. “Something wrong?”

She drew in a
deep breath, trying to talk herself out of panicking. “I don’t know. I just
have this awful feeling, Matthew,” she replied in a whisper, careful not to let
the other’s hear. “Jack was supposed to be back an hour ago.”

“Well, why don’t
you go look.” He glanced at the girls, busy pouring a glass of wine. “I’ll
cover for you.”

God bless him.
“Thanks.” She thrust the stick in his hand and headed for the door, breath
clogging beneath the heart suddenly lodged in her throat. Once she found Jack,
and saw for herself he was fine, then maybe she’d breathe.

“Where do you
think you’re going?” The guard stood in the doorway, crossed his arms and blocked
her exit.

She raised a
brow. “To the bathroom. You got a problem with that?”

“Boss said no
one is to leave.” He remained immobile. No smile. Didn’t blink. Nothing.

Alarm wrapped
its fingers around her spine and squeezed. Something
was
wrong. Jack’s
men were thorough and loyal, but never this unfriendly. She didn’t have time
for this crap.

“Look, I like
you, but I will take you down in order to go.”

He touched his
earpiece and nodded to something he’d heard. She frowned.
What the hell was
going on?
Her gaze bounced around the group. Everyone there was fine.

“Okay, Ms.
Bennett. You may go. Your presence is requested in the salon.” He stepped from
the door.

On her way to
the salon, Brielle glanced in every room she passed, praying she didn’t find
Jack hurt…or worse. Her heart grew heavier with each step. By the time she
reached the stairwell and ran into Rodriguez, her nerves were shot.

“Where’s Jack?”
she asked, not liking the dark look on the man’s face. “Is he all right?”

“He’s waiting in
your room, Ms. Bennett.”

Brielle blinked.
In my room? Not the salon?
Had she been overreacting? One glance at the
messenger’s thin lips and she decided, no. She hadn’t.

“Come with me.”

Frowning, she
took the steps two at a time and didn’t slow her pace until she reached her
room. Jack and the rest of his men stood in front of her bed. What the hell?
They turned solemn, accusing gazes her way when she entered.

“Jack, what are
you doing here?” Brielle went to him, relieved to find him unharmed, but the
cold fury in his gaze stopped her dead. She shivered, waiting for his reply.

“The question
is—what are
you
doing here?” He grabbed her arm, fingers closing around
her in a vise-like grip, then nodded for Rodriguez to close the door, trapping
her inside with the four of them and two cameramen.

“What’s going
on?” She tried to glance behind, them but they blocked the bed from her view.

“You tell me,
Ms. Bennett.” He cocked his head and scowled. “If that’s your real name.”

“What?” Jeez,
not that again. She frowned, not understanding what had happened to the loving
man who’d left the recreation room an hour earlier, so eager to be alone with
her his pants were tight and eyes blazed with need.

“I want to know
who you are and why the hell you’ve bugged this ship.” His grip tightened on
her arm as he nodded to his men to move away.

Oh no…oh God no…

Her heart
dropped. All her bugs and recording devices were scattered about, littering the
bed. Her gaze shot back to his. “Look, Jack, I can explain—in fact that’s what
I’ve been trying to do for a while now.”

“I’m all ears,
sweetheart,” he said, his grip tightening.

“You’re hurting
me.” She frowned at him, not recognizing the stranger before her. Those
wonderful, mesmerizing blue eyes she loved so much held no warmth. They were
clear. Cold. Steel. “Jack.”

“I heard you,”
he said, but didn’t lessen his hold. “I asked you a question. Who the hell are
you?”

“Gabrielle
Chapman.”

His head snapped
back and eyes narrowed. “Franco DeMarco’s niece?” He released her with a curse.

“Yes,” she said,
rubbing her arm. Cripes, she’d wanted to tell him, but not like this. Not with
accusations and distrust hanging in the air. Not with his men and cameramen
watching her every move. But it was what it was, so she sighed and finally
spilled the beans. “I’m here undercover working the same case.”

His gaze snapped
to hers, eyes dark with disbelief. “What? You’re working this case?”

“Yes.” She
searched her brain, trying to find the right words to make this go easy. “I’m
sorry. I begged them to let me tell you, but no one would listen.”

“Them?” He
folded his arms across his chest, gaze unyielding while he leaned against the
closet door. The very spot where he’d pleasured her body with unyielding focus
twelve hours earlier. “Them, who?”

“Matthew, my uncle...and
your parents.” She watched his anger grow with each name mentioned.

His arms dropped
to his sides as he straightened. “They
all
know?” he asked, voice rough,
not with desire like it had been last night. No. This time it was fury and pain
that affected his tone.

And God, she
hated to be the one to put it there. Just hated it.

She nodded,
bracing for the onslaught. “They hired me to keep a watch on the girls at the
bachelorette mansion.” She stepped toward him. “I’m only trying to help, Jack.”

“Help?” His voice
rose along with his brows. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

She flinched at
the hostility in his tone. “Of course. Why are you so angry?”

“Why am I so…” He
stopped and clenched his fists before hitting her with a direct look. “Tell me,
Ms.
Chapman
, was
I
part of your job?”

“Okay, boys, I
think this is where we leave,” Rodriguez stated, and within seconds, he and his
men ushered the protesting cameramen from the room.

Brielle waited
until the door closed and they were alone, before she continued. “No, Jack.
God, you were never part of the job. Ever.” She went to touch him, but he moved
out of her grasp, his rejection a slap to her face.

“I can’t believe
I left myself wide open for this shit again.” He twisted around to face her,
anger ruling his tight features right down to his cracking fists. “Why didn’t
you tell me last week when I asked you to leave the show?”

Some of that
anger rubbed off on her, mingling with a heavy dose of frustration. Her hands
shot straight in the air. “I tried to, Jack. I tried, but you opened your mouth
and said some hurtful things and oh, I don’t know, I thought I’d better stick
to the rules and keep it quiet.” She fought to remain calm. Jack had every
right to be angry. Giving rise to her own anger wouldn’t do them any good.

“That’s a very
convenient claim.” He shook his head and smiled down at her, amusement vacant
from his cold stare. “Sorry, not buying it, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, too,
Jack. I…I don’t know what else to say.” She wanted to touch him, to tell him
she loved him, beg his forgiveness, but knew he was in no state of mind to
listen.

They stared at
each other for a long time, and suddenly, without warning, the veil disappeared
from his eyes. Brielle reeled back as if hit with a physical blow. The torment
that crossed his face stole her breath.

“Did you have a
good laugh at my expense?” he asked, voice low and rough with emotion. “Was it
all a lie, Brielle?” 

“No!” She shook
her head vehemently, rushing forward to touch him. God, she needed to touch
him, to reassure him. “No, Jack. I already explained that. None of it was a
lie. It was very real. You know I care about you, deeply. I’d never—”

“Spare me the
deep feeling bullshit,” he spat, cutting her off, ripping his arm from her
grasp. “And don’t give me that crap about none of it being a lie—what about
your name?”

“Well, yeah. Of
course I lied about that. I’m undercover.” She smiled, hoping the humor of the
situation wasn’t lost on him. It was. Brielle sighed. “Look, my name and
occupation were a fabrication. And I didn’t even come up with it. It was my
uncle’s and your parent’s doing. But that’s not important. You know how that
goes. You’ve worked undercover before. Surely, you understand my position? This
was just like at The Limelight.”

He blinked, and
some of his tension disappeared. “
You
were the insider.”

“Yes.” She
searched his face, looking for a speck of understanding to grasp onto. His
silence punctured her heart and drained the hope from inside.
Not even a
crumb
. “Jack, please…”

“Please, what,
Brielle? You played me.” His fist hit the wall. “How the hell do you expect me
to feel? I thought I’d finally found the right woman. How fucking stupid could
I be?” He smacked his palm off his head.

Her heart
strangled at the pain mirrored in his eyes. She wanted to scream.
You’re not
wrong! I am that woman!
But the words couldn’t get past the lump lodged in
her throat.

“I thought,
finally, a woman who doesn’t lie.” He snickered, rolling his eyes. “Boy was I
ever wrong. You’re the most deceitful woman I’ve ever met.”

“That’s not
true. Nothing I’ve said or done to you was a lie.” She grabbed his face,
forcing him to look at the truth she knew was in her eyes. “Nothing.”

His gaze
narrowed. Hope and trust sparkled for a moment, then faded as a frost set in.
“You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Well, except for your
responses to the sex we had.”

She dropped her
hands, silently begging him not to continue.

His gaze raked
her up and down, lips twisted in a mirthless grin. “I know you didn’t fake
that.”

“Jack,” she said
on an exhale, stumbling back as his hateful words sucked the breath from her
lungs. Her throat heated and eyes stung, and try as she might, no amount of
blinking could stop the tears. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Why?” He
stepped closer. “Because it’s the truth? At least I tell the truth, Brielle.
You should try it sometime.”

“I think you’d
better go before you say something you’ll regret.” She walked to the door,
unable to look at him.

“Too late,” he
said. “I regret ever meeting you, Brielle Chapman.”

Pain stabbed
through her heart, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. He didn’t mean
it.
He can’t mean it
. She drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders
and slowly turned to face him. “No, you don’t, Jack. Not really. You’re just hurt
and upset, and I’m sorry. But I’ll never believe you meant that.”

“Believe what
you like, Ms. Chapman,” he spat, stopping next to her at the door. “When we get
into port in a few hours, I want you gone.”

Her chin rose
under his glare. “I can’t do that. I gave my word to your family and mine, and
I’m not leaving until my job is done.”

He shrugged.
“Suit yourself. But let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Leaning closer, he
paused an inch from her face. Hot breath hit her in angry spurts. “Whichever comes
first, the end of this case or the end of this show, I want you gone.”

Her heart
protested, but she swallowed the objection. “Whatever you want, Jack Anderson.
You’re calling the shots.”

“Ha, that’s
rich,” he scoffed. “If I were, then why wasn’t I told about you?”

“Your parents
seemed to think you’d be worried about me and feel the need to protect me.” She
held his gaze, a sad smile tugging her lips. “I don’t think we have that
problem now, do we?”

“Nope.” He shook
his head, then about-faced toward the door.

Her heart cried
out. She couldn’t let him walk away. Not like this. Pain was making him act
like a jerk. And even though he couldn’t see her, she took a tentative step
forward, needing to make one more attempt to reason with him.

“I really did
try to get their permission, Jack. I even tried to tell you without their
permission last week, last night and again this morning.”

Jack opened the
door, and for a moment, Brielle thought he was going to keep going, but he
stopped without turning around, one hand on the door knob, the other gripping
the frame.

“You should’ve
tried harder,” he said, then slammed the door behind him, effectively severing
their relationship.

L
urking in the shadows, the dark figure
eyed the model and the teacher sunbathing on their lounge chairs, then glanced
at the one swimming with Matthew.