She grinned. He’d been totally shocked at that, probably thought she’d been sleeping around.
After that, they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other; their coming together had been explosive. For a second, she had a flashback to the feel of his strong, young body, on her, filling her. He’d made love to her over and over again, until she was sore and still wanting more. When he’d left, she’d thought she would do anything just to feel that way again.
There had been a hint of desperation in his lovemaking; she could see that now. Maybe even then he’d planned that she would have no part in his future, the nice, honest, aboveboard future that his shady father had always intended for him.
She yanked open her bag, pulled out her cell phone, and drummed her fingers on the casing for a moment. If she was back at the office, she would no doubt be able to access a number for Rory McCabe. But she wasn’t ready to go back just yet. Instead, she looked up the number of the nightclub where he had spent most of his time.
“Could I speak to Rory McCabe? Tell him it’s Jessica Bauer.”
She had no clue whether she would be put through. After all, he’d told her never to contact any of them again and Rory McCabe was not known for making empty threats. He’d been a scary figure on the crime scene at one time, but he’d never been caught, and he was now reputedly straight.
But a minute later he came on the line. “Jessica, how lovely to hear from you.”
Sarcastic bastard.
“Why?” she asked.
“How are you? It’s been a long time.”
“Cut the bullshit. Why did you employ Knight Securities to provide protection for Declan? And why did you specifically ask for me?”
“In answer to the first, I wanted the best and your employer has a good reputation.”
“And…?”
“And you can imagine my surprise when I did a quick check on the company and you popped up as second in command. I have to admit, I presumed it was a different Jessica Bauer. It was hardly a profession I would have expected for you.”
No, he’d probably expected her to be a hooker or a drug-dealer. “Get on with it,” she snapped.
“You’ve changed.”
“Really?”
“Okay. My son does not want a bodyguard. He refused to allow me to provide him with one. When I saw your name and realized who you were, I thought he might be intrigued enough to keep you around.” He was silent for a few seconds. “And you would be professional enough to keep him alive.”
She considered his answer. Did she believe him? It sort of made some logical sense. “You really think they’ll try again.”
“I know they will. I’ll pay you extra if you persuade him to take the protection.”
“I don’t want your fucking bribes any more now than I did ten years ago.” He’d offered her money back then—a lot of money. She still had the check; it was framed and hanging on her bedroom wall to remind her if she ever got nostalgic and felt like falling in love again. “And just how do you expect me to persuade him?”
“Whatever you need to do. You could always twist him around your little finger.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course I could.”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything else just shut down the call and sat tapping the phone on the table.
She’d have been okay this morning if the meeting had gone as expected. They could have been polite to one another, he would have said he didn’t want the protection and they could have settled the matter in a businesslike manner. Instead, he’d thrown her off-kilter by pretending he didn’t recognize her, getting her back up. More than ever, she needed to get him out of her system, needed to take control of her life and her future. Prove to Jake that she could be nice.
So she’d go back, wrap Declan around her little finger—yeah, what alternate universe was Rory McCabe inhabiting—and persuade him to accept Dave and Steve as bodyguards. Then she could leave, knowing she’d acted in a professional manner. And she’d get her promotion and move on with her life.
Sounded like a plan.
She couldn’t believe how far she had walked, and she didn’t want the time to think—she suspected that she might come up with a few flaws in her plan if she had time to consider it in detail—so she hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of Declan’s office building.
It occurred to her that she might have problems getting back in, that he might have informed the reception desk that she was persona non grata. But when she gave her name, for a second time that day, the woman told her to go right up.
Had he just not bothered to say anything or had he forgotten her as soon as she walked out the door? Or the alternative, that he was expecting her back.
She hated that she had no clue what was going on.
Did he think she had changed?
Personally, she considered she’d changed beyond all recognition. Both internally and externally. There was nothing of that girl left.
The man was still sitting at his desk outside Declan’s office like some sort of guard dog. “He’s expecting you. Go right in.”
“He is?”
Was she so fucking predictable?
A smile quirked his lips as though he could read her mind. “Reception called up.”
“Oh.”
God, she was overreacting. She stood in front of the oak door and took some deep breaths, closed her eyes, and forced herself to calmness, something she’d learned to do when on active duty and she needed to focus her thoughts.
Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Declan stood by the window, his back to her. The first time around, she hadn’t taken in her surroundings. Now she studied the office, maybe to give herself a bit more time. It was spacious, with a huge desk, where Declan had sat at the previous meeting, across one corner. Decorated in cream and black with a long black leather sofa against the wall. Overall the office gave the impression of serenity and good taste. A total opposite to his father’s clubs, but hadn’t that been what they were aiming for? Respectability.
She took a few more paces into the room, her footsteps muffled on the thick cream carpet. Declan had taken off his jacket; it was slung over the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Through the thin silk of his shirt, she could make out the bandage wrapped around his upper arm.
He’d been shot.
Her breath hitched and a sharp pain jabbed at her chest. Someone had actually tried to kill him.
Before, it had seemed unreal. Now, it sank in, and she realized that no, she really didn’t want anyone to kill him, however much she hated him.