The Choice (15 page)

“Need me to drive?” he asked, in silken tones.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry. Just thinking.” All doubts were forgotten.
I hope I get a chance to cut your heart out.

Folding up the knife, he slipped it back in his pocket, turning slightly toward her in his seat. Reaching across the console, he let one finger slide down the hollow of her shoulder, tracing the line of her halter and coming to rest at the outer curve of her breast.

“You know, you’re a puzzle to me, Jillian.”

“Is that right?” Her fingers clenched on the wheel.

“You’re strong and fit, the men speak highly of your skills, yet here you are, all soft, feminine curves. No one would ever look at you and assume you’re my bodyguard.”

She had no response.

“What about the men in your life? They find you intimidating?”

“Do you?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Yes. Yes, I believe I do.”

His finger slipped between fabric and skin, stroking. She wanted to slap his hand away but didn’t.

“But that only makes you more fascinating. Like forbidden fruit. I’ve never known a woman like you before.”

She leaned forward, peering out the windshield, leaning just enough to dislodge his finger. “Is this the turn?”

He glanced around. “Yes, right there. Then half a mile and turn left.”

Flicking on her blinker, she slowed and turned.

“What kind of women do you know, Klaus?” She had this insatiable urge to know more, to understand what had happened to Belinda...even though every tidbit was acid scoring holes in her heart.

He shrugged expansively. “I thought I liked them young and helpless.”

Like her sister.

“But not now?”

“No,” he turned, gaze heated. “Now I believe I prefer them young and...dangerous. How old are you, Jillian?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to ask a lady’s age?”

“Are you a lady?”

Probably not.
“Do you think I am?”

He laughed again, slapping his knee. “By God, I like your spirit—you’re slippery as a damned eel. I can see why you’ve got Cullinane grinding his teeth.”

She stiffened, still not sure he didn’t know where she’d spent the night. He was cagey and mean and it wouldn’t be past him to toy with her.

“Cullinane’s a stone man. His teeth are probably fine.”

Hafner chuckled. “Not so stony as you may think.”

“How is that?”

“He’s jealous, you know. I think he wants you.”

Not anymore.
“That’s ridiculous. He can’t stand me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come now, Jillian. Cullinane may not
want
to want you, but he does.” He chuckled. “He’ll be pissed that we’re out alone together. But I’m going to love telling him, oh yes I am. There—turn at that shack. Then down this road.”

The swamp lay all around them, cypress branches drooping to the water, birds taking flight as they approached. The road was a thin ribbon between marshes.

An alligator waddled across the road ahead. Jillian stopped the car.

“Isn’t he a beauty?” Hafner smiled in delight. “Ever seen one up close before?”

Jillian shook her head. “He’s fascinating, in a horrible way. So ugly he’s almost magnificent.”

Hafner nodded as if at a bright pupil. “Exactly. There’s great beauty in what others see as ugliness. Prettiness is puerile and colorless—it’s the strong, the dangerous that I find beautiful.” His eyes glowed with that odd light again, scanning over her body. “Like you, Jillian. Magnificent. Dangerous and deadly and...magnificent.”

She swallowed hard under that merciless gaze. Pulling her own away, she noted that the alligator had slipped into the water. He would be an ally. Hafner could disappear so easily in these waters, his body never to be seen again.

Jillian started the car and drove toward the clump of trees up ahead and the cabin she could barely see nestled within them. Once nearer, she saw that the cabin was the same weathered cypress as the others they’d passed and like them also stood on stilts. It sat in the middle of a small clearing; at the edges, cypresses grew, small dogwoods scattered here and there. Moss hung low, enhancing the feel of a land that time had forgotten. The light here was umber, the cabin shrouded in shadows, even in the middle of the day.

When they stepped out, she noted the hush of birds and animals gone quiet in the face of the intruder. The air around them was heavy, laden with moisture. She couldn’t imagine being here in July. Her clothing stuck to her body, her hair clung to her neck.

Hafner closed his door, and Jillian started at the noise.

Don’t get spooked.
But she couldn’t help it. This was where Belinda had died. Her body had been recovered from the waters of this very swamp, and the alligators had nearly erased the signs of her throat being slit by the man who stood before Jillian now.

His choice to come here was a perfect symmetry he’d never appreciate.

He stepped in front of her where she leaned against the car door. Searching her gaze, he leaned closer, bringing his mouth over hers.

“I’m thirsty.” She fought to remain still.

Leaning closer, brushing her lips with his, he caressed one breast.

She steeled herself as his lips parted, blanking her mind to endure his kiss.

But she couldn’t seem to go to that safe place. Hafner was too real, too...present. His tongue slid along the seam of her closed lips, and only barely did she resist a shudder.

I have to endure this. Have to make him let down his guard and keep me close.

So she parted her lips, even though his tongue was a violation. For a second her mind flashed to last night, and she thought she would be sick at the violent contrast, the remembered beauty tainted by Hafner’s touch.

Ruthlessly, she forced herself to relax her tense body, to slide her hands up his arms, to allow his hands to slide up her torso, to claim her breasts. The two images battled, the remembered feel of Cullinane’s caresses...

Stop. Oh, God, leave me alone.

She trembled with the need to run.

He smiled. “I like that I make you tremble.” He traced a finger over her jaw, then down her throat. “Just a taste of what will come later. Come on inside. Let me get you something cool to drink.”

Carefully she composed her expression and smiled. “I’m ready.” She would be. Somehow.

Grabbing their bags from the back, Hafner closed the door and shifted them to his left hand, taking her hand with the other and leading her inside.

The interior surprised her, much less primitive than she would have assumed. Cane furniture scattered all around on smooth wooden floors, ceiling fans moved lazily overhead.

“Sorry, no air conditioning out here,” he apologized. “You’re welcome to take a shower, if you’d like.”

“Not just yet, thanks. I’ll take that drink.” 

“What would you like?”

Something very strong to deaden what comes next.
“Water’s fine.” She scanned the living room, then followed him to the kitchen, getting her bearings.

He turned. “But I brought champagne.”

“Water first.” She glanced up at him with promises. “After we shower, then I’d like champagne.”

Hafner’s smile turned avid, his eyes hot and hungry. “Water it is.” He reached for a glass, filling it with ice cubes, then bottled water, already chilled. Handing it to her, he watched her drink it greedily. When a drop of moisture fell to her chest, he traced it with a finger.

She had to stay the course.
Relax, Jillian. No matter what he does, he can’t touch who you are inside.

Cullinane had. But he wasn’t Hafner.

Yet who was he?

When Hafner’s hand caressed her, she closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her hate. “Why don’t you...” she cleared her throat. “Why don’t you shower first?”

His gaze turned greedy. “Why don’t you join me?”

She managed to smile. “Because,” she traced a finger down his shirt front, “I need some time...to get things ready.”

“Ready?” His eyes lit up. “Why, Jillian, what do you have for me?”

“It’s a surprise.” Her gorge rose. She couldn’t do this.

She had to. It hadn’t hurt him to snuff out Belinda’s life when she was only an inconvenience, a woman who’d heard the wrong conversations.

How could it hurt her to rid the world of a murderer? It was the only justice Belinda would ever have, the only hope Loretta would survive. With a coquette’s teasing flutter, she turned him around and shoved him ahead. “Go on now. Your surprise will be waiting when you get out.”

Over his shoulder, he shot her a grin that was almost a smirk.

That’s the last smirk you ever bestow on anyone, you piece of shit.
Hardening her heart, she watched him walk away.

Then she headed toward her bag to get her weapon.

* * *

Cullinane slipped through the trees at the edge of the clearing, skirting his way carefully toward the house and onto the wraparound porch without making a sound.

Outside the back door, he paused for a moment, listening to the voices inside. Peering in the window in the kitchen door, he saw Hafner’s finger slide down Jillian’s throat, then he groped her breast.

What the hell was she doing? When he’d seen Hafner kiss her earlier, it had taken everything in him not to attack. Instead, he’d had to just stand there and watch, knowing the feel of that flesh in his own hand, remembering her cries when he’d had her body under his own.

Blind rage had swamped him; he’d had to look away or lose it completely.

And now she was letting Hafner do it again. Dressed in that godforsaken red dress that would bring a dead man to instant hardness, letting Hafner touch her at will...

What was she doing? And why?

When she pushed Hafner out of the kitchen toward the bath, then veered into the living room, he slipped inside the door, grateful it didn’t squeak.

It would be one thing if she knew he was watching, if she were doing it to get revenge for his surveillance. But her lack of caution told him she thought she and Hafner were alone; he’d been careful not to let her spot him tailing them.

Besides, why would she seek retribution against him with a man he knew she couldn’t stand?

Did
he know that?

Yes. He was suddenly sure, remembering too many times when she’d stiffened at Hafner’s touch, when her eyes had flickered with revulsion, when she’d been grateful when he’d stepped between them.

So what was she up to? With careful steps, he followed her, peering around the corner as she opened her bag and drew out her Walther. Turning, she stepped toward the sound of the shower running.

Holy shit. She was going to kill Hafner.

Chapter Eleven

Cullinane slipped up behind her quietly. A chop to the wrist made her drop the gun. He clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back against him.

Jillian reacted instantly. Her fingers dug into his arms as she kicked back with her right leg, trying to destroy his balance.

“Stop it, Jillian. It’s me.”

She froze. Her head jerked around, eyes wide in shock. For one long, tense moment, she stared at him, questions tumbling over anger. When she tensed, he pressed his hand more firmly against her mouth.

“Don’t make even one tiny move,” he warned. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her eyes stared into his, the feel of her body against his too vivid a reminder. For a moment, he thought he’d give anything he possessed to turn back the clock several hours.

They stood there, confronting the enormity of this discovery. The reality of all that could never be between them. The horror of what would happen next, once Hafner knew what she was doing here.

Then he heard the bathroom door open. They’d run out of time.

She heard it, too, and stiffened. Gaze defiant, she pulled away from him, and he let her go.

Hafner appeared in the doorway, towel around his waist. His eyes widened at the sight of Cullinane. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same, Klaus.” 

The pale blue gaze flicked to the gun on the floor, then to Jillian, suspicion creeping over his features.

Cullinane made a choice he knew he might very well live to regret, bending to pick up her Walther and handing it to her. In a lazy, chiding tone, he spoke. “Here, MacGregor, you dropped this.”

Hearing her quick indrawn breath of surprise, he looked at Hafner. “She’s got good ears. She heard a noise and almost had me.”

Tension sang through her frame. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t even take the time to ask himself why he was doing this, why he was protecting her.

But he knew. Her life depended upon his convincing Hafner; that had to be his focus. He’d deal with Jillian himself, later.

Hafner glanced from him to her and back. A panoply of emotions shifted across his features: suspicion, amusement...annoyance at being thwarted in his little tryst.

“Why are you here?” he asked again.

“We had an agreement, Klaus.”
You fool.

Hafner shifted uneasily, clearly recalling their conversation about not being alone with her until Cullinane agreed. “I changed my mind.”

“That wasn’t our deal.”

“So you’ve reminded me, and now I’m changing the agreement.” He was a child, whining at being denied an anticipated treat. “So you can leave us now and go on back. We’re doing fine here.”

Jillian’s tension reminded him of nothing so much as a finely-tuned guitar string about to snap. She still hadn’t looked at him.

“Well, there’s a problem with that, even if I were so inclined.”

Hafner had been studying Jillian; his gaze abruptly shifted to Cullinane. “What problem?”

He gave a casual shrug. “Something appears to be wrong with my car; I’ll need to ride back with you two.”

Hafner’s eyes narrowed. “Call Ron to come get you.”

“Oh, I could do that,” he agreed, “but then you’ll just have more company. And really, Klaus...” He stepped away to get distance from the feel of her. He nodded toward Jillian. “Dressed like that, I’m not sure MacGregor’s prepared to be guarding you all alone out here.”