Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) (23 page)

Blinding pain hit the side of my head and I was knocked over, sliding a couple of feet with the force of the blow. Stars danced in my vision and my limbs felt weak as I tried to right myself. Lana stood there—well, two of her actually—holding a metal pipe. As I watched, she leaned down and picked up my weapon.

“Get up,” she ordered.

“What did you do to Jackson?” I asked, my tongue feeling thick. Tears of pain leaked from my eyes, but I managed to regain my footing. The room listed and I braced a hand against the wall to steady myself.

“He’ll be fine. If he’d cooperated, then we wouldn’t have had to try to persuade him. As it is, I think you’ll do. Put that on.” She motioned and I looked where she’d pointed. The room was pretty basic with a couple of windows and a bare floor—aside from the computer and screens sitting on a metal table. But she hadn’t pointed there. She’d pointed to a vest resting on a chair.

I walked over, almost knowing what I’d find, and I was right.

“I’m not putting this on,” I said.

“Put it on or I’m going to aerate your boss,” she snapped. “Where should the first hole go? His knee? His neck? Someplace nonlethal, so he can just bleed to death.”

The sweet, slightly homely middle-aged woman I’d had lunch with was nowhere to be seen. Lana’s expression was hard, her eyes ice-cold. It was as though she was an utter stranger. The resolve in her gaze told me there would be no reasoning with her, no argument that might alter the course she’d chosen. The hand that held the gun pointed at Jackson was rock steady.

Gritting my teeth, I gingerly put on the suicide vest, the weight heavier than I’d anticipated. It had to be at least twenty-five pounds.

“What exactly are you going to do with me wearing this?” I asked. “I blow up, so do you.”

“I control the trigger, not you.” She brandished what looked like a key fob. “So don’t worry about me, though I appreciate your concern.”

Jackson stirred, wincing as he sat up.

“Perfect timing,” Lana said. “You weren’t amenable before. Let’s hope you will be now. China’s joined us.”

He turned and spotted me. I could tell in an instant that he’d recognized the vest and what it was by the tightening of his jaw. Getting to his feet, he said, “I’m not going to give you the algorithm. Not even two lives are worth that software.”

Footsteps in the corridor and Lana moved quickly, shoving me forward so when Clark appeared in the doorway, I was inches from him.

“One wrong move and we all get blown sky high,” she warned.

I stared at Clark, who had absolutely zero reaction that I could see. His gaze took in the situation, then he spoke into a mic by his mouth. “Fall back. Target is not secure.”

“That’s right. Fall back,” Lana said from behind me. “I have unfinished business.”

Clark’s eyes met mine and I could see in his how this would play out. It was in his best interest for the vest to explode, taking out Lana and the better part of the installation with it, including the software. Two birds, one stone, and a couple of collateral-damage casualties.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and my vision blurred as my eyes filled. The weight of the vest felt as though I was carrying my own tombstone.

“Sorry, China,” Clark said. Then he was gone.

“So much for ‘no man left behind,’” Lana snorted. “Turn around so Jackson can see you properly. Jackson, upload that algorithm or she dies.”

He hesitated and in that moment, I didn’t care about the software or who it would hurt or any of it. I just wanted to live. I hadn’t asked for any of this. I could’ve gone home today when I’d escaped, not found a way to try to rescue Jackson.

“Jackson . . .” I couldn’t stop from whispering his name in a plea. I was only twenty-three years old. I hadn’t even had sex yet, or fallen in love, or done any of a thousand things I wanted to do.

He headed for the computer. In seconds, I could hear the clicking as his fingers flew over the keyboard. A few minutes later, he said, “It’s done.”

Lana’s gunshot made me scream and I watched in horror as Jackson crumpled to the floor.

Glass shattered and I screamed again, tears streaking my face. Lana jerked, her eyes widening. Red blossomed on her chest and she looked down, her mouth agape. I stared, hands covering my mouth, as she collapsed.

I was frozen, my eyes first drawn to the shattered window with a hole in the center. Someone had taken a sniper shot to kill Lana . . . but not before she’d shot Jackson.

I ran to him, skidding on blood on the floor. “Oh my God . . . oh my God . . .” There was a wound on his left side, as though she’d been aiming for his heart. But she’d missed.

“Don’t move, China.”

Immediately disobeying, I spun around to see Clark had come back.

“I said don’t fucking move. You’re a walking bomb.”

Oh yeah. How could I forget?

“Please take care of Jackson first,” I begged. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.”

He didn’t look like he was even listening, instead, reaching for my vest.

“No! Jackson first.” I batted his hands away.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled. “True fucking love, right?” He snorted, but sank down on the floor next to Jackson, brandishing a knife. In seconds, he had Jackson’s shirt off and was pulling out some kind of med kit from his own supplies.

A movement out of the corner of my eye made me glance toward Lana. She wasn’t dead. She was reaching for that key fob thing that had fallen out of her hand and landed on the floor beside her.

“Clark!”

He spun around and saw in an instant what was happening. I expected him to shoot her, but he didn’t have a gun in his hand. Instead, he grabbed me, stuck his hands inside both the sleeves of my vest, and yanked.

I expected not to survive the next moment—who yanked at a bomb?—but I took a breath, then another . . . and nothing happened.

Lana had the fob and she was staring at me, looking confused. She’d hit the button but . . . no explosion. As I watched, her gaze went still and her body relaxed. Her eyes didn’t close.

“What the hell did you do?” I yelled, rounding on Clark. “You tell me not to move, then you go pulling random shit out of this thing? You could’ve blown us both up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Know-It-All,” he sneered, sinking down next to Jackson again. “I’ve forgotten, exactly how many suicide vests have you seen? Ten? Twenty?”

I didn’t answer.

“Exactly. I’ve seen more than I care to count, and too many up close and personal. I pulled out the detonator. A piece of wire up both sides. Easiest way to disarm the damn things.”

Oh. “That’s not what they do in the movies,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, well, this ain’t fucking Hollywood, now, is it.”

By now he had ripped open the med kit and was working on affixing it to Jackson. It was some kind of special bandage. He stuck it to the wound, then wrapped it tight around his chest. In the middle of moving him, Jackson woke.

“Motherfucker,” he gritted out, his face creased in pain.

“Man up,” Clark retorted. “The bullet went through. You’ll be fine. Just don’t bleed out.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later, princess. Your girl still is a walking bomb.”

Jackson’s gaze cut my way. “You’ve got to delete the software. It uploaded to their server. Hack into it. Delete it.”

I spun around, rushing toward the computer. Clark was inches behind and grabbed my ponytail, stopping me in my tracks.

“Ouch!”

“I removed the detonator, but I’d still prefer you not be wearing twenty pounds of C4.”

“I’ve got to stop that software,” I said.

“Then hold fucking still.” He took the vest off of me gingerly, despite the lack of detonator, then I plopped down into the chair.

It took me approximately thirty seconds to take in what was showing on the screens and the current connectivity and status. The software Jackson had uploaded was already gone, but the IP address he’d connected to was still there.

It took me another sixty seconds to connect to my own home server and log in. From there, I copied over the tools I needed and began running software in different windows, testing the firewall on the other side. It was a good one, but not great. I heard Jackson talking to Clark behind me.

“Call this number. They’ll send a helicopter. Get me to the hospital.”

“Must be nice to be rich,” Clark said, but I still heard the tone of numbers being dialed. I refocused on my work.

“Where are you at, China?” Jackson gasped out. I winced, hearing the pain in his voice.

“Through one. They have a DMZ. Working on the firewall into the LAN.”

“Faster,” he said.

My fingers flew and I tuned out everything, focusing on the firewall blocking my path. It was tougher than the other one and I had to be careful it didn’t lock me out. But it worked and I was scrolling through the internal network in minutes. I began deleting everything, uploading another program to start rewriting sectors of the disk, preventing any kind of recovery once the deletion was finished.

“Done,” I said with a thrill of satisfaction. “It’ll finish bricking the disk soon, but the software is gone. Deleted.”

“Good—”

I spun in my chair in time to see Jackson drop into unconsciousness.

Jumping up from the chair, I hurried back to him, cradling his head in my lap. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, smoothing his hair back.

“I called his people. Told them the situation. Let’s see what his money can do for him.”

Clark’s tone was bordering on indifferent, a bloodstained hand scrubbing over his face. He looked tired.

The sound of a helicopter stopped me from saying anything more. Clark got to his feet and left the room. I stayed with Jackson until men began pouring into the room with equipment and a stretcher. I was shoved aside, but I didn’t mind. I wanted them to take care of Jackson.

When they lifted the stretcher up and rushed it from the room, I followed. They let me on to the helicopter and just before we took off, I glanced around, looking for Clark. But he was gone.

16

“But when are you coming home?” Mia asked.

“You’re dangerously close to whining,” I said.

“It’s been two days, and the news said Cysnet and you were cleared of all corporate espionage charges. That it was an inside job. The reporters left this morning.”

“I’m just going to make sure Jackson gets home okay, then I’ll be home. Go ahead and order Chinese. I’ll be home later tonight, I’m sure.”

“You’ve been there almost constantly.”

“Job security,” I lied. I hadn’t wanted to leave Jackson’s side since the helicopter had brought us here. He’d been wheeled into surgery immediately and I’d paced the hallways until the doctor had come out and told me he would make a full recovery.

“Okay, but I need to catch you up on my calculus teacher,” Mia said. “We got into it again today.”

I sighed. “If you’d stop correcting him, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I can’t help it.”

The nurse wheeled in a very irritated-looking Jackson.

“Gotta go,” I said to Mia, ending the call. “So how’s the patient?” I asked Jackson.

“Ready to get out of here,” he grumbled.

I gave the long-suffering nurse a look of silent apology. The doctor had said he could leave this morning and, by golly, that’s what he was going to do. Being Jackson Cooper could get a lot done very quickly, and less than twenty minutes later we were sliding into a black Mercedes. Lance was driving.

“Let’s go home,” he told Lance, pulling me into his arms.

I nestled close, tucking my head underneath his chin, careful of his wound. We hadn’t discussed my constant presence in the hospital. I hadn’t offered to leave and he hadn’t said I should. So while I’d gone a couple of times to shower and change, I’d come back each time.

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked as the car got underway. It was late evening.

“I’m fine. The surgeon did a wonderful job and I’ve had excellent company. My ego is still fighting for recovery, but the rest of me is in good shape.” His wry tone made me smile.

“The ego battered by not being able to avoid a bullet when you were trying to save the girl?”

“You make it sound all heroic,” he teased. “For what it’s worth, I’m not accustomed to the role of martyr.”

“Then why did you upload the software?” I asked. “You had to know that she’d kill us both anyway.”

“I thought there was a chance she could be lying, or that if I gave him more time, Clark could save you.” He hesitated, his fingers lifting my chin so our eyes met. “It seems I have . . . feelings for you. Strong feelings I wasn’t even fully aware of until you were threatened.” His smile was rueful. “And here I’ve always prided myself on
not
being a cliché.”

My stomach had somersaulted when he said he had feelings for me, and I struggled with how to react, what to say. I decided on the truth.

“I have feelings for you, too,” I said softly. My gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth. He was such a good kisser . . .

“Well, that’s good,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “I’d hate to think of being rejected by the first woman I’ve ever legitimately been shot for.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Despite the trials of the past few days, I was falling in love with the man of my dreams. And it was very possible—maybe likely—that he felt the same.

Lance pulled into the driveway of a house that wasn’t the one I’d been to before. I glanced questioningly at Jackson.

“The house in the woods,” he reminded me. “I thought we needed some privacy.”

Lance held the door open for us and I followed Jackson inside. The downstairs was shrouded in shadows, but I could see the outlines of furniture against a wall of windows. Dim lights shone above the counters in the kitchen, which I glimpsed before he began climbing upstairs. The floors were all hardwood and Lance was nowhere to be seen, thank goodness.

“So . . . I’m just going to stay here?” I asked, my voice a little squeaky as I followed him down the hallway. “With you?”

He stopped suddenly and I found myself pressed against a closed door, his mouth on mine. It took my breath away. When he finally came up for air, I was overwhelmed.

“Yes. With me.”

Okay, then.

“Open the door for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low rasp that sent a bolt of heat right through me.

Reaching behind me, I turned the knob on the closed door, then gave it a push. Jackson pushed me backward through the opening. Not bothering to look around, I clung to him. I couldn’t resist stretching upward, fastening my lips to the skin of his neck where it met his shoulder.

His sharp intake of breath encouraged me and I licked his skin. Mmmm . . . a bit salty, very warm, and softer than I’d imagined.

He kicked the door shut and the room was lit only by the moonbeams shining through windows lining two walls. No blinds were lowered, so we could see the outline of pine trees and the stars glistening above them.

There was a huge white bed in the middle of the room. When I saw it, my heart rate tripled. I wanted to be in that bed. With Jackson. I wouldn’t have thought I’d want Jackson as badly as I did so soon after our ordeal, but then again, I’d heard about and read numerous anecdotes over my life about those who had brushes with death wanting to reaffirm life.

Jackson set me down very carefully on the bed, then stood. I was immediately dismayed. Was he going to leave me? I reached out and snagged a fistful of his shirt.

“Don’t go,” I said, and it sounded more like a plea than a command.

He disengaged the fabric from my fingers, then kissed my knuckles. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jackson began to unbutton his shirt, and I was transfixed. My eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, making it nearly bright enough that it seemed as though a light was shining through the room. He undid one button after another and my mouth grew drier with each expanse of skin as it was revealed. By the time he was tugging his shirt from his slacks and tossing it aside, the flesh between my legs was throbbing.

His shoulders and arms were so big and hard . . . the muscles flexing as he undid his belt. Even with the bandage on his chest, he looked amazing.

Jackson stood unembarrassed in front of me, my eyes devouring him as his body was revealed, inch by glorious inch. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything more arousing than Jackson watching me watch him undress.

“We’re not getting interrupted this time,” he said, setting one knee on the bed and leaning over me. I fell back against the pillows and he followed me down, resting half his weight on me. He kissed me and it was as though we’d been lovers who kissed for ages. No longer any awkwardness, just mouths and tongues meeting in joint desire. The taste of him was familiar now, as was his scent.

Scent. Wait a minute.

I inserted a hand between us and pushed. He lifted his head, his brows drawn together in a frown of confusion. “What? Are you okay?”

“I want a shower first.”

The look of surprise on his face would’ve been comical if I’d been in a mood for laughing.

“Seriously?”

I nodded. “We’ve been in the hospital around sick people and germs all day . . . it feels gross.” And now that was all in my head, my arousal and desire had completely gone. “Please? A shower?”

With a surge, he got to his feet, then pulled me up, too. “If you want a shower, then that’s what you’ll have,” he said.

Taking my hand, he drew me through a doorway, switching on the light. I took a good look around while he turned on the shower.

It was a gorgeous bathroom, with a deep, claw-foot tub and a standing shower enclosed by glass. The shower had a giant, round head in the ceiling that poured water like a rain cloud, with additional spigots in the walls to spray toward the center. Steam was already rolling when Jackson turned to me and tugged at the belt of my jeans.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, holding the hem of my T-shirt down. He tugged my hands loose anyway.

“You said you wanted a shower. I’m giving you one.”

Holy shitballs. “
You’re
giving me a shower?” It was like one of my romance novels! I was so excited and yet . . . “It’s really bright in here.” Like, could-see-my-pores kind of bright. “I look better in low lighting. And amazing in full dark.”

Jackson laughed, a low rumble that made me smile, too, and despite my shyness, I didn’t resist when he tugged the shirt over my head and pushed my jeans down my legs. In another moment, he’d added my seafoam lace matching bra and panty set to the pile of clothing.

“I beg to differ with that assertion,” he said. “You are beautiful.” And since he said it while his gaze roamed over my face, hair, and chest, the look in his eyes soft and warm, I believed him. The massive erection he was sporting didn’t hurt either.

It was the first time I’d seen a man fully without clothes—a real live one, that is. I mean, like everyone else I’d paused, rewound, and rewatched Hugh Jackman’s naked behind in
X-Men
. (I may have even paused the video. Twice.) But this was different, and my pulse was racing so fast, I was nearly light-headed.

“Come with me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

The water was deliciously hot and his skin was warm. It was like standing in warm rain. Another first: the first time I’d ever been fully naked, held against a man who was likewise naked. Which prompted a thought, and though Jackson was kissing my neck in a delicious way that sent shivers through me, I still spoke.

“What’s the difference between
naked
and
nude
?” I asked, tilting my head so he could reach farther underneath my jaw. Mmmm, yes, just like that . . .

“Naked and nude?” He sucked my earlobe into his mouth and his hands moved down to cup my rear.

“Mmmhmm . . .” Okay, maybe I should have rethought the whole talking thing while doing this.

“Well,
naked
implies that being without clothing was something of an accident,” he said, his knee nudging my thighs apart. “Whereas
nude
implies intent.”

“Intent?”

“Intent to be bad.”

His hand slid in between my legs, stroking me, and I lost track of even that little bit of conversation. Water sluiced over our skin as he spread my legs farther apart. His finger pushed into me and I moaned. I clung to him, my breasts pressed against his chest. His erection prodded between my legs and an answering flare of heat echoed deep inside me.

Abruptly, he stepped back, his hands retreating to my hips. “My apologies,” he said. “You wanted to wash, correct?”

My mouth was slightly agape in surprise, but then I saw the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Ah. Revenge then. He wanted to play. I could do that.

“Absolutely,” I said, reaching for the bar of soap sitting in a silver dish attached to the wall. I kept my eyes on his as I lathered my hands, then slid the soap down each arm, then back to my neck. I took my time soaping my breasts, watching the Adam’s apple in his throat move as he swallowed and his eyes grew darker when they met mine.

There was a seat along the back wall and I lifted my leg to rest one foot on it, slowly dragging the soap down my leg, then back up my thigh. I had my back slightly turned toward Jackson so I could only see him out of the corner of my eye.

Pretending obliviousness, I took my time washing between my legs, letting my slippery fingers slide between my folds. Part of me couldn’t believe I was doing this, that I could be so bold in front of Jackson. The other part of me was shouting
YOLO!
and
Carpe Diem!

I gasped in surprise when he grabbed me by the waist, spinning me around. He sat me on the bench and dropped to his knees. His hands pushed my legs apart and then his head was
there
, and his tongue was on me, inside me, and it was better than I’d ever imagined it would be.

I wanted to keep my eyes open, because the sight of Jackson—his dark head between my pale legs and the water cascading over his back—was something I wanted to memorize for forever. My fingers threaded through his wet hair and he lifted his eyes to mine. It was a shock, the burning desire in his gaze. He watched my face as he licked me and I struggled to keep my eyes open, but then I couldn’t any longer.

My eyes closing must have been a signal to him because he intensified his caress, nuzzling me and sucking on a part of my body I hadn’t ever considered suckable. I made more noises of approval, which he echoed. His fingers dug into my thighs as he pulled me closer to the edge of the seat. Then he did this thing with his tongue, so fast and sweet . . .

I came in a shattering climax that had my cries echoing against the glass. I had fistfuls of his hair, my body still trembling inside, as he gentled the strokes of his tongue. My breathing was more like panting as I pried open my eyes.

The look on Jackson’s face was a mixture of lust and satisfaction. I knew without a doubt that he wanted me, and it was the most intoxicating feeling on the planet.

Raising my arms up, I turned off the water by the taps above me, then stood.

“I think I’m clean enough now,” I said, combing my fingers through his hair. “Take me back to bed?”