Undercover Lover (33 page)

“Just take her and get the hell out of here!”

Günter…

“You’re blind! You can’t see to disarm the thing!”

Simon…

In hazy recall, Jenny remembered the blow to Günter’s head and moaned. He couldn’t stay behind. Had to come with them.

“Shh, sunshine. I have to make it right this time. Please understand.”

Günter…

Then, carrying her, Simon ran. Pain ripped through her chest. Each breath recreated the rending tear of the knife entering her flesh. A repeated torture, made all the more unbearable by the knowledge they’d left Günter behind. To die.

Cold air. Shoes pounding against pavement. Jenny hit the ground with force as Simon’s body covered hers. She blacked out again. And then…

Günter…

He stood before her. Held out his arms as the sky blazed with white light behind him. A ghost. An angel. Warmth emanated from him and she moved toward it—pulled by its purity and promise. Wrapped in its translucent fingers, she ceased her struggle for breath and let the light carry her away.

Rhythmic pressure. Shrill beeps. Bright light. Pain. Cushioned darkness.

The cycle of awakening and oblivion wound in on itself, repeating often enough to let Jenny know she’d survived. Moments of awareness lengthened by seconds, then minutes, until she bobbed to the surface of consciousness and floated there, content to drift in her sea of warm blankets. Alive.

Voices tickled her mind. She opened her senses and welcomed them in. Relished their normalcy.

“They’re removing the drainage tube from her lungs tomorrow.”
Simon.

“Is that wise? Isn’t it too soon?” Günter’s baritone lapped over her in warm waves.

Her heart rate increased at the knowledge he was safe.

“Is she awake?” Günter asked.

She struggled to open her eyes as footsteps approached her bedside, but lost the fight against the drugs sedating her system. She smelled the warm undertones of spicy cologne and knew Simon stared down at her before he spoke.

“No. Sorry.” Disappointment laced his tone, and she fought again to open her eyes. “I’ve been here for three days and haven’t seen her lucid.”

“Thanks for watching over her while I couldn’t.”

She wanted to get up—to go to him—but she felt so heavy. Her limbs ached a little too, and her lids pressed at her eyeballs as if they’d been weighted with coins.

“No problem,” Simon answered, his voice receding as he moved away. “Did they… Did they say if your condition was permanent?”

Condition?

“I can see your outline. Movement. Light and shadow,” Günter answered. “So, it’s improving, and will resolve.”

“You could have told me.” A rustle of fabric and the thump of manly back slaps said Simon hugged his boss. “What are your plans? Has MI-5 debriefed you?”

Chairs squeaked as the men sat.

“Ian phoned this morning,” Günter answered. “With Alona and Teso out of the picture, the White Tiger organization is crippled for the time being. Also, Gray signed a confession. I’m officially cleared of Weber’s murder.”

“So you’re good? We can go home?” Simon asked, his relief palpable.

“Yes.” The hesitancy in Günter’s voice piqued Jenny’s interest.

Why wouldn’t he want to return to New York?

“I’m sensing reluctance here. Why?” Simon asked the question Jenny longed to voice.

Günter stood, walked to her side and by sheer dint of will she opened her eyes to look up at him. He looked pale. Tired. Gaunt.

“They might not have nailed me with a prison term, but I’ve lost most of my clients as a result of the press about Jenny,” he said, and brushed his fingertips along her cheek. “MI-5 fed them rubbish about her being in rehab, not hospital. And there’s been some speculation about my role in her
habit
as well.”

His words pulled a gasp form her and Günter’s hand froze.

“Jenny?” he asked.

“Gun,” she answered. The effort lacerated her throat and she made a murmur of pain.

“Jenny?” He breathed her name, his forehead a landscape of worry. “I— Bugger. I didn’t want you to know. Not like this.”

A machine next to her bed beeped and made a clicking sound. Warmth rushed along her arm as medication flooded into her vein. Everything became hazy so fast, she barely had the breath to murmur, “Sorry,” before she sank into the warm cocoon of oblivion once more.

When she woke again, the green glow of medical instruments and the soft beeping of the machines were the only presence she detected. Shifting, she found Gun slumped in a chair pulled close, his head resting on the bed at her knees.

“Gun,” she breathed.

Gold-tipped eyelashes fluttered open and he sat up. A dimple popped to life in his cheek.

“Hey, sunshine, welcome back,” he said.

“What day is it?” she asked.

“Tuesday.” Günter searched her face and she knew he wondered how much she remembered.

Everything.

“You can see me?” she asked.

“They have me on migraine medication. It seems to help.” He stroked her hair gently as he spoke, seeming to find comfort for himself in the gesture. “It gets worse when I’m tired, but right now I can see you pretty clearly.”

“What happened to Alona?” she asked. “Did you disarm the bomb?”

Günter’s expression darkened and he sat back to cross his arms over his chest.

“I don’t think it’s the time—” he began.

Jenny narrowed her eyes and he blew out a breath.

“Do you know how damn difficult you are?” he asked.

She licked parched lips and said, “Tell me what happened.”

He stood to pour water from a pitcher into a plastic cup, his back to her when he answered, “Yes, I disarmed the bomb.”

“But you couldn’t…”

“See?” He turned to hand her the plastic cup. “I’d remembered I’d nicked one of the wires accidentally—felt around for it. That’s how I knew which one to pull. And I’d rigged it to be fairly uncomplicated to disarm.”

Although she already knew he’d survived, relief made her fingers tingle around the cup.

“And Alona?” she asked softly.

Günter looked away from her. “She’s dead.”

Somehow, she’d known, but the knowledge kicked her in the chest nonetheless.

“How?” she asked, needing to know although she worried the question caused him pain.

“Simon.”

“Simon?” Shock numbed her extremities.

He exhibited no emotion. She struggled to sit up. Pain lanced her side and she grunted. He pushed her back gently.

“Be still,” he ordered—so typical she almost smiled.

“Are you angry with Simon?” she asked, then, “Did you still love her?”

After all, he’d married the woman. Feelings like that didn’t just die because a relationship—or a person—did.

He met her eyes, clearly startled by the question.

“No. I don’t love her—didn’t. And I’m forever indebted to Simon for saving your life.” He fell silent for a moment as he contemplated her face. Trailing a finger down her cheek, he murmured, “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“Oh bullshit.” Jenny didn’t know where the words came from, but she found the energy to struggle to a sitting position this time.

Günter sat back.

“We were a team. We got in a tight spot. This has nothing—
do you hear me
—nothing to do with your worth as a human being.”

He loomed over her—attempted to shush her—but she wouldn’t stop talking long enough to allow him a word.

“This was not Dublin. You are not any less of a man for being injured. I do not and will not ever question your rabid commitment to my safety or the size of your—”

Warm lips smothered the rest of her sentence. His tongue slid inside her mouth, teasing and testing the limit of her breath. Biceps flexing around her shoulders, he held himself above her as he delved into her mouth with tender movements. Her body responded. Endorphins flooded her system—better than any pain medication. She wanted more. Winding her fingers in thick strands, she pulled her lover down.

“Mmph,” he breathed into her mouth and separated their lips with a smacking kiss. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

She searched his eyes and smiled.

“What?” he asked.

Joy swooped through her. She was free to tell him anything—anything at all. No role and no bet stood between them. After everything they’d been through together she felt secure in their relationship.

Safe enough to say, “I love you.”

Small lines, like rays of sunshine, spread from the corners of his eyes.

“I—” he began, then frowned as his phone buzzed. Drawing it from his pocket, he squinted at the caller ID. When he couldn’t read it, he showed her the display.

“David,” she said and he put the phone to his ear.

“She’s awake,” Günter said without preamble.

Her brother’s voice rumbled from the little speaker. “Put her on.”

Jenny held out her hand for the phone.

“She needs rest. Don’t keep her,” Günter warned and gave her the cell.

“David.” She sighed his name, knowing she was in for a tongue-lashing when she’d fully recovered. For the first time she could remember, the idea didn’t intimidate her. When they butted heads in the future she’d hold her own.

“Jenny.” His voice held all of the desperation she’d expected. “My God. I was so worried.”

“I’m fine now,” she said, wanting to put him at ease. “They’re taking good care of me here.”

A low rumble sounded in her brother’s throat and she heard Kyra’s voice in the background warning him to “be calm”.

“This wasn’t Günter’s fault,” Jenny said, guessing whose
care
he wordlessly questioned.

“Faust is a dead man!”

She giggled at David’s explosion. She couldn’t help herself. The whole situation—his parental reaction, Günter’s overprotectiveness—seemed ridiculous. These men wanted to wrap her in cotton then blame each other when she found her way out of the wad they’d put her in.

“His taking you to London to get you killed is hardly a topic for amusement,” David admonished.

Irritation replaced her good humor.

“I could have left any time I wanted,” she replied, defending both herself and Günter with the partial truth.

She hadn’t lied, exactly. After all, Günter certainly hadn’t wanted her there—would have gotten her home. She’d had to fight him every step of the way.

“Regardless, he’s fired. And I’ve contracted another firm to escort you home.” She vaguely heard the monitor next to her bed beep a staccato warning at the rise in her blood pressure. “Your new security team will be there to replace Faust in the morning.”

“I’m not your prisoner, David.” Jenny clenched the phone harder. “Call off your dogs.”

Silence greeted her from the other end of the line. After a long pause, she looked at the display to make certain the call hadn’t disconnected. The heat of the device against her ear couldn’t match the heat of her anger, but she lay back and forced herself to use a calm tone. “I’m through with being babysat, David. No more guards—”

He inhaled.

“No. I mean it. This is my life. I intend to live it as I see fit.”

“What happened to you there?” David sounded so befuddled she almost felt sorry for him.

“I grew a pair,” she answered and could almost feel him blanch.

“I should have come to get you in the beginning,” he said.

“Thanks, but I’ve had enough of your three-ring media circus.” The harsh answer was at least the truth. “And if I’m going to work for Günter it seems rather ridiculous to have security for the security.”

“What?” The word exploded in stereo from both men.

Günter strode from the window on the other side of the room and snatched the phone out of her hand.

“Tallis?” he snarled. “She’s delusional. It’s the pain medication. I’ll take care of it.” With that he hung up and jammed the phone into his pocket.

“Gun—” she tried.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” He raked his hand through his hair, leaving it a tangled mess.

“No, I’ve finally found it. You said—”

“I don’t care what I said,” he snarled. “You’re not working for me. Not now. Not ever.”

She lifted her chin. “Why?”

“I have a bloody mess on my hands, don’t I?” he asked, incredulous. “You think the few clients I have left want someone with your reputation covering their arses? Even if you were a competent asset I couldn’t afford to hire you.”

Her blood pressure dropped precipitously as she caught the full impact of his words. Her life was nothing now. She couldn’t be anything other than David Tallis’ ex-junkie sister. Not even a stupid accountant. Who would hire her?