The Choice (6 page)

Bushy dark eyebrows lifted. “And what would I learn if I read one?”

Jillian shrugged. “Maybe a lot, maybe nothing. Perhaps you’re a romantic already.”

Hafner laughed as he stepped up into the gazebo, pale blue eyes piercing. “Perhaps I am...or perhaps you could teach me.”

She refused to drop her gaze, though her heart pounded as he approached. “I have other books. I’ll share.”

He crossed toward her, eyes challenging. Just when he got so close her heart all but seized in her chest, he veered away, coming to stand near her head, just past her vision.

He reminded her too much of bad times, sordid nights on frightening streets. Having her back to him made her twitch.

His voice came from above her. “What do you think of my little kingdom?”

Jillian stared out at a very old magnolia, refusing to let herself cower, however much her skin crawled. “It has a certain grace.”

“I like my space. And control of everyone in it.”

“Must be nice. Your own kingdom. With obedient subjects.”

“Most of them,” he acknowledged. “Some don’t...work out.”

Like Belinda? Her heart skipped, but she managed to keep her face impassive, her voice cool. “And then what happens?”

His gaze arrowed into hers, chilling and direct, and she understood that she was seeing into the mind of a madman. The moment spun out until her nerves sang with tension. 

“Some things I have others do...but some things I prefer to do myself.” Something sly and evil peered out from his eyes.

He couldn’t know. She was here under another name. She and Belinda looked nothing alike. Still something inside her froze. 

Calm down, Jillian. You’re spooking yourself. You feel exposed because you have no back-up. But he doesn’t know who you are.

When his finger skimmed her nape, she shivered, rising to her feet and moving away.

“Running away, Jillian MacGregor?”

She forced herself to turn around, only to discover him right in front of her. She stood her ground. “I’m simply tired of sitting.”

His gaze was amused. She’d never felt more like prey being toyed with by a predator.

You could kill him right now, Jillian. You could disable him and then kill him. You know how.

A metallic flash behind him caught her attention. One of Cullinane’s men, patrolling the grounds.

No. She wasn’t on a suicide mission. She’d bide her time. Carefully shielding her thoughts from him, she kept her gaze lowered, the gold chains in his salt-and-pepper chest hair snagging her eye. The contrast with Cullinane’s muscled, golden chest couldn’t have been more pronounced.

Hafner placed a finger under her chin, drawing it upward. Knowing what was coming, she forced herself not to retreat, not to hide behind closed eyes. She steeled herself for the touch of his lips.

“I don’t think that’s part of the job description, MacGregor.”

Cullinane.
Waves of relief swept through her. She stepped back.

Hafner swore darkly. “It’s Sunday, Cullinane. It’s her day off.”

“She doesn’t get a day off, Klaus. She hasn’t passed muster yet. We’ve got more testing to do before I sign on to keeping her around. Today’s as good a day as any.” The steel in his expression dared either of them to argue.

“I’ll send her along in a few minutes.”

“Not if you want me to stay on the job.”

Jillian blinked, astonished that Cullinane would up the ante so high. Torn between anger and relief, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What kind of testing?”

He ignored her, eyes locked on Hafner’s.

When Hafner was the first to look away, she was torn between relief and chagrin. Making herself into bait might very well be the only way to get Hafner away from the others.

Surprisingly, Hafner chuckled and stepped down from the gazebo. “Your regular day with the ladies, isn’t it, Cullinane? So why isn’t your disposition better?”

“My disposition will improve once she proves herself. Or she’s gone.” He didn’t seem to care which one.

“I’ve already spent good money on gowns for her. I expect you to find her sufficient—or finish her training yourself.” Then, good humor restored by reasserting his power, Hafner turned to her. “We must resume our discussion of romance later, I’m afraid. My watchdog wants to beat his chest.”

Jillian noted the brief flex of Cullinane’s jaw as Hafner walked away, hands in the pockets of his shorts, whistling.

Cullinane’s eyes were hard as granite as his attention shifted to her. “Come on,” he snapped. “Unless you’d rather give up now.”

“Not on your life, watchdog.” She brushed past him, hands clenched in fists.

“MacGregor.” His quiet tone stopped her.

She didn’t turn.

“Don’t be alone with him, if you don’t want to play.”

She swallowed hard. “I think that’s my business, don’t you?”

He stepped up beside her. “Everything here is my business.” She was all too aware of his nearness.

After much too long a moment, he stepped around her. “This way, MacGregor. I hope you’ve had your Wheaties.”

She followed him without a word.

* * *

“This place is amazing,” Jillian commented as they entered a wing of the compound he hadn’t yet shown her. Cullinane saw her glance across the hallway to a room filled with mats, two of his men matched against one another in practice combat.

Fred looked up from where he stood observing, his gaze on her angry but wary. The cast on his foot would be there for weeks. Until it came off, he was stuck with paperwork and video surveillance. He wouldn’t forgive Jillian easily for the ribbing he’d taken from the other men.

Fred saw that he was looking and flushed, turning back to watch the combatants.

Cullinane held the door open for her, noting her surprise at the courtesy.
Good. Keep her off balance.

Jillian entered the darkened alcove outside the firing range, heading toward the opening.

“MacGregor.” When she pivoted, he held out a set of hearing protectors, complete with earplugs.

She approached him warily, still not meeting his gaze as she opened the small pouch and began inserting them with quick competence, settling the headset around her neck. Walking around him, she plucked a set of goggles from the board behind him, then planted her hands on her hips. “Do you still have my weapon?” she demanded.

He remembered how she’d balked at going out the other night without one. Walking over to a locked cabinet, he pulled a key ring from his pocket and opened the doors. Plucking her Walther from its slot, he turned and handed it to her, retaining his own grasp on it.

Irritation flared, quickly masked. Whiskey eyes rose to meet his, her look cool and indifferent.

Holding on for another moment, he slowly released her weapon. She stepped back, checking it over, her movements quick and clean. No question she’d done this many times.

Cullinane didn’t reach for his own Sig at the small of his back. He might practice later, but he was here to test her. Gesturing to the doorway, he urged her to precede him.

Watching the long braid swish across her back, her skin creamy and smooth above the deep green top, he understood completely why Klaus would want her.

But how much did she want Klaus? He hadn’t missed the quick flare of relief in her eyes when he’d interrupted them. Little fool. She was playing with fire. Klaus was vicious. He’d use her and discard her like used tissues.

Did she want his money? To get in on his deals? What had brought her here? Surely it was more than just job advancement, though no question that she could name her price after working here, if she did her job right. 

He didn’t know the answers, but he’d break her down and find out. She was a cool customer, but there was fire beneath that ice. He’d keep probing for weakness until he figured her out.

And hope, in the meantime, that she didn’t screw everything else up. She was dangerous and unpredictable.

Cullinane didn’t like either one. Joining her on her platform, he decided to start rattling her cage right now.

“You’re crowding me.” She spoke over her shoulder.

“Just watching.” He saw her frame tense as she sighted.

“How do you know I won’t hit you when it recoils?”

“Good try, MacGregor.”

She turned halfway toward him, her shoulder landing against his chest. He hadn’t given her room to step away.

Her eyes narrowed. “Trying to rattle me, huh?”

He glanced down, thinking he’d be smart to step back himself as his body stirred at the feel of her. “Is it working?”

“No.” With a dismissive toss of her head, she turned back to the target. Delicate gold earrings dangled with her movement.

It didn’t matter. He’d seen her gaze waver.

As if to taunt him, she leaned back slightly and rubbed the cheeks of her delectable ass across the front of his jeans in one slow stroke.

Hot, dark need seared down his spine. It took all his control not to groan.

To get even, he slowly brought his hands up her sides, barely brushing fingers along the outside curves of her breasts before sliding them down her arms and closing his hands over hers. Her slender back burned his chest where they touched.

“Try it this way.”

She hissed. “Very funny.” She broke away, jerking the headgear down around her neck. “It’s not going to work on me, Cullinane.”

“What isn’t?”

“Your image. The dark warrior Cullinane knows all, sees all, hears all—and don’t ever cross him.”

“It’s not an image. We’re not here to have fun, MacGregor. If this is some adventure for you, then you’d better pack now.” He gripped her shoulders and only too quickly realized that touching her was a mistake.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Eyes sparking, she was the picture of defiance. “Go to hell. I’ve met guys like you before. I’ve had to prove myself every time.” She sniffed, turning away. “I’ll show you, too.” Resettling the headgear, she picked up her weapon again and took aim. “Now back the hell off.”

She fired, her shot clean and true. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she smirked, then faced front and squeezed off several rounds. Calling for a new target, she loaded a new magazine, studiously ignoring him.

After firing off the other rounds, she stepped away, lowering the headgear to her neck. “Okay, hotshot. What’s next?”

Damn her. Eyes bright with temper, chest heaving with repressed emotion, she stirred him more than ever. He wanted to take her here and now, spark that temper into passion, surround himself with the life that brimmed from her and warm his cold, dark soul.

Instead, he’d have to keep trying to break her, to take that wild spirit and crush it, to make this strong, gutsy woman doubt herself so she’d leave, tail tucked between her legs.

Of all the hard things he’d ever done in his work, this might be the most obscene.

Chapter Fice

“Across the hall,” Cullinane ordered. For a second, Jillian would swear she’d seen the flicker of something that might almost be...regret? He turned away too quickly for her to check again, but she had to be wrong. He was enjoying every minute of this. And she’d helped him by losing her temper.

Her temper had always been a problem. She shouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of seeing her angry. Cold and rational just like him, that’s what she had to be.

However much she could still feel him at her back, his powerful body pouring off a heat some perverse part of her itched to get closer to.

Then she recalled his physical response as she’d brushed his body. And smiled.

He wasn’t immune to her, either.

Two can play this game, Cullinane.

Pulling off her hearing protectors and goggles, removing the plugs from her ears, she picked up her weapon and followed him to the other room. She handed the protective gear to him but retained her weapon. 

He stood at the gun case, waiting, doors open, watching her.

For a long moment, she pondered the price of insisting on keeping it. Finally, she turned it butt out and placed it in his palm. Something like understanding flared in his gaze.

“No weapons allowed in the practice room,” he explained. “Tempers get hot sometimes.” He placed his own weapon inside, closing the door and locking it. “I’ll give it back to you once we’re done.”

He did understand how naked she felt without it. Maybe he was human, after all.

The next few moments gave her doubts. Entering the practice room, every eye in the place was on her, and none of them friendly. The blond man she’d bested the night she’d arrived stood against one wall, walking cast on his foot and deep, burning anger in his gaze. If he could have been the one to take her on, she was certain he would have jumped at the chance.

“Take your pick, MacGregor,” Cullinane offered.

Jillian scanned the men in the room. Every one of them looked more than willing to be chosen, as though avenging their comrade was top choice on the menu. The second man who’d been in the room that night stood across from her, hands on his hips, all but daring her to pick him.

She stifled a sigh, understanding how the game was played. You wanted respect, you took on the big dog. “I choose you, Cullinane.”

He looked startled, then frowned.

“What’s the matter, hotshot? Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your men?”

A look of reluctant amusement. Still, he had to know that once the challenge was thrown out, he had no choice. “In case you hadn’t noticed, MacGregor, I have a sizable height and reach advantage over you.”

She saw the smirks on the faces around the room, no doubt hoping she’d blink. “So?” She waved a hand. “Everyone in here’s bigger than me.” She upped the ante. “I’ve done it before.” Tilting her chin out at the man with the cast, she taunted, “They didn’t like it when I won, either.”

Cullinane almost smiled at that, but she didn’t like the gleam in his eye. He began removing his shoes. “You’re on,
hotshot,
” he threw her jeer back in her face, “but don’t expect me to take it easy on you.” He nodded toward a closed door, then tied his hair back. “Pads are in there, if you want them.”