He disabled his alarm systems and took the stairs two at a time. In the main apartment,
he began to pace, which was what he did when he needed to think and work things out.
Tomorrow morning, Kennett would go into his apple barn as usual, well before he opened
for business and there was any chance of a customer stopping by. He’d open his cash
register, which would set off a charge that would blow him to bits.
It wasn’t the cleanest kill, but it would have to do. Jack would be positioned nearby
to hit the disable button, just in case anyone else happened by. Jack had a zero collateral
damage record and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it now.
But after the explosion, what did he do? Leave town without a word? Without saying
good-bye to Willow? Never to see her again?
Wouldn’t that make Con look guilty of something? Emmett would give Jack time to close
out business. But did he want it?
Just then his smartphone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the
screen, picking up the call as soon as he saw who was phoning. “Willow?”
“Con, come quickly! It’s Spookie. I was out and she got into the cocoa powder. Now
she’s … she’s losing muscle control and starting to twitch. I need help. I can’t lose
her. She’s the last living thing I have from Jack. I don’t know what to do.” Willow
sounded on the edge of tears.
Jack’s heart simply stopped for a beat as a memory of Spookie as a pup and the first
time he and Willow had nearly lost her flashed through his mind. Then his heartbeat
kicked in with a fury and he sprang into action, rushing to the bedroom for his kit
of chemicals and meds. “Hang on, Wills. I’ll be there in a minute. Just make Spookie
comfortable.”
He clicked his phone shut, remembering too late he shouldn’t have called her Wills.
He’d broken his cover for an instant.
It took Jack less than a minute to get to Willow’s house. Willow was waiting for him
by the door with Spookie trembling in her arms. When she saw him, she ran to the car.
He reached across and opened the door for her. “How’s she doing?”
Willow shook her head as she slid into the passenger seat with Spookie.
Jack looked at his dog. The dog looked back at him with pleading eyes, begging for
help. Damn it all, he felt helpless. “Has she vomited?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He wouldn’t need the hydrogen peroxide to induce vomiting. Instead, he pulled
out a bottle of activated charcoal and held it out for Willow to see, dropping all
pretense of uninterested stranger. “Give her this.” He told Willow the dose. “It will
prevent her body from absorbing more of the poison.”
He rubbed the dog’s head. “It’ll be all right, girl.” He wanted to say,
Daddy will take care of you,
but he bit it back just in time.
“What kind of chocolate did she eat and how much?”
Willow was already coaxing Spookie to eat the charcoal. And Spookie was balking. Why
was it that dogs would eat shit and resist what would save them?
Willow somehow managed to get a pill down Spookie’s throat as the dog whined and cried.
“Dutch cocoa. Too much.”
Jack nodded. “Where’s the nearest emergency vet clinic?”
“Half an hour away.” Willow looked into his eyes, pleading more poignantly than even
his dog’s eyes for help.
Ah, the hell with it
. He was going to have to drive like Jack to save Spookie. “Give me directions. I’ll
get us there in ten.”
“Alive?” she asked.
He grinned, shifted into reverse, swung the car around, and peeled down the driveway
with gravel flying behind him.
Con’s cover car was not the vehicle he would have picked for a drive to survive, but
it would have to do. He preferred the precision and control of a stick shift. Sometimes
an automatic such as this was just too sluggish.
Using his peripheral vision, he pulled onto the road without stopping. There was nothing
coming.
“Take a left here,” Willow said at the first intersection.
Jack didn’t stop at that stop sign, either. He fired up the car to over 60 on the
35 mph speed limit road.
The moon shone, nearly full, lighting their way as he took the corners of the curving
road at full speed. Despite the worry and concern, he couldn’t help grinning. He hadn’t
had an opportunity to drive like this, with Willow by his side, in two terrible years.
He cruised up to 80, in his element. He’d taken every need-for-speed driving course
the Agency would send him to and he’d been the star pupil in every one. He was born
to drive. He didn’t have a single worry that he wouldn’t get them to the clinic alive.
Well, maybe one.
“Pray that a deer doesn’t decide to cross our path.” He glanced over at Willow to
see how she was reacting to his driving.
Most women would have told him to slow down. Not Willow, she had a small smile on
her face, as if enjoying herself and remembering something pleasant. If she weren’t
so worried about Spookie, Jack was sure she’d have been smiling full out and laughing.
They sped through town and out onto the open highway, where he accelerated to over
100. The roads were nearly deserted at that hour and any car he came upon he passed
easily. Someone gave him the finger. He caught only a glimpse of it as he flew by
them. Probably everyone he passed was calling him a maniac. He hoped none of them
called the cops.
“Take the next exit.” Willow pointed.
Good girl.
She knew what she was doing. Giving him as much time as possible to prepare for the
turn.
He took the exit, barely slowing down.
“Right at the light.” She sounded calm and almost content as he took the corner on
two wheels. “Left at the next. Then straight-ahead two miles. Second driveway on the
right.” She glanced at her watch and back at him with a look of awe and knowing. As
if she’d pinned him as being Jack. As if it were old times again, before his untimely
death, and they were out practicing his spy driving, in other words joyriding.
She was one woman in a million, the kind who never told her husband to slow down or
not follow so closely. He loved that woman. Her look of approval made his heart sing.
Spookie whimpered, bringing back the gravity of the situation.
“There.” Willow pointed to a neon sign advertising twenty-four-hour veterinary care.
Jack slowed just slightly and then, for no reason, decided to show off. Just shy of
the driveway, he pulled the hand brake, swung the wheel, and performed a perfect bootlegger
turn, sliding backward into a parking spot perfectly within the lines.
Willow glanced at her watch. “Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds. A man who keeps
his promise. Not bad.” She beamed at him and jumped out of the car almost before it
came to a complete stop. “I called ahead. They’re expecting us.”
Us.
The word sounded good, even to a loner like him. Willow was the only “us” he’d really
ever wanted to be a part of. Her and the Agency.
Jack jumped out, beeped the car locked, and held open the clinic door for Willow and
Spookie. He stared at the dog, trying to determine how she looked.
Better,
he thought.
At least, not worse.
He was no veterinarian, but he knew about animals, biology, and chemistry. Spookie
would make it. Or maybe that was only wishful thinking.
The vet’s assistant was waiting for them. “They’re here!” she called back to the doctor
before nodding to Willow. “Follow me.”
Jack followed without thinking.
The assistant stopped him short. “Just one person goes back with the patient, please.”
Her gaze bounced between them. “Which will it be? The mama or the daddy?”
Jack cleared his throat and stepped back, feeling out of sorts and out of synch with
the way life had become. He’d almost blown his cover again. As if the driving hadn’t
given him away. Willow had always told him that no one drove like he did. His driving
was practically so unique, it could have identified him as easily as his fingerprint.
“I’m just the neighbor who gave them a ride.” He looked at Willow. “I’ll wait here.”
She didn’t see him. She’d already turned and was following the assistant back to the
surgery. It was probably all for the best. Jack was looking at Willow in a way he
shouldn’t be.
* * *
By the time the vet finished his examination and ministrations, Spookie was already
looking perkier.
“You gave her activated charcoal?” Dr. Broderick looked at Willow.
“Yes, Jack, I mean, my neighbor, Con, told me to.”
The doctor nodded approvingly. “Probably saved this little dog’s life. Make sure you
thank him properly.”
Oh, she intended to. Jack was her hero. Always had been. And yes, by his driving she
was sure Con was Jack. Who else could take a city corner so smoothly at 70 miles per
hour and not even break a sweat? Oh, maybe Drew, but she doubted it. Jack had always
been the best driver among his group of spies.
“I will,” she said.
“You can take her home. Watch her, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He rubbed Spookie’s
tummy and Spookie gave a weak but happy bark. He handed her to Willow. “My assistant
will give you instructions.” He showed Willow the way out.
Jack was waiting for them in the lobby. He sat, legs splayed wide, feet planted firmly,
resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. In profile, his nose was
different, but everything from his posture to his being was Jack. He looked military
and handsome, the way Willow had been remembering him.
And he’d dropped out of his cover character for her. Because of her and Spookie. Because
he still cared. Or so Willow told herself. She just had to get him to admit it. Which
meant, she had to get him to make love to her. Yes, it still boiled down to that.
She no longer wanted to sleep with him to prove he was Jack, though it would be the
final proof. She wanted to sleep with him because he
was
Jack. It was as simple as that.
He looked up at her. As their eyes locked, a look of relief washed over him.
“She’s fine,” Willow said. “Take us home. Can you get us there in less than ten?”
She was implying she couldn’t wait. She hoped he caught her message. She wasn’t letting
him go this time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Willow insisted on carrying Spookie, who had fallen asleep on the ride. Jack walked
them to her door.
Willow handed him her keys. “Will you help me get her settled in?”
Willow looked at him with those hero-worship, bedroom eyes. It was all he could do
to swallow, let alone talk.
He nodded. “Sure.” He unlocked the door and let them in.
“She sleeps in the bedroom with me.” Willow nodded toward the hallway.
Was that innuendo he heard in Willow’s voice? As in, he’d be welcome to sleep there,
too? Jack swallowed hard. This was a notoriously bad idea. But what was a guy to do?
Appear hard-hearted? He followed her down the hall.
Willow turned into her bedroom, which smelled sweet, like her perfume. Obviously Spookie
hadn’t made it to this room during her bout with the cocoa.
Willow stood above Spookie’s dog bed. “Here. Take her while I get her bed ready.”
The bed looked fine to him, but he took his dog gratefully. When Willow smiled at
him, he realized that’s what she intended. She was giving him the gift of a cuddle
with his pup.
He watched while she arranged a soft blanket for Spookie. When Willow indicated she
was ready, he kneeled and gently put Spookie to bed.
They stood over her, side by side, watching their dog sleep like two anxious parents
over a crib. There should have been a crib. They should have had kids before he died.
There was a lot of stuff they should have done before he’d passed into the ether of
the cover of death.
Willow looked up at him. The light was off in the room, but a shaft of light shone
in from the hall. Backlit, she looked like an angel. His angel. Her green eyes caught
the light and sparkled. He could stare at her forever.
“You saved her life.” Willow touched his arm gently to show her gratitude.
He shrugged.
She pulled him around to face her. “You’re my hero.” She cupped his face and gently
went up on her toes until her lips met his.
All right, asshole, step away from the girl,
he told himself. But he couldn’t make himself move. He was afraid if he did, he’d
lose all control and simply throw her on the bed and take her.
She kissed him softly, provocatively, in the way that he liked, the way that always
made him groan.
He should move away, just step away from the temptation and danger Willow posed. He
knew where this was going. Particularly if he didn’t get his ass out of here this
instant. He made a fist and squeezed it tight, trying to control his baser urges.
There was a point in every mission when Jack rationalized the risks he was about to
take. This was this mission’s moment and the rationalization was a doozy he wouldn’t
have considered if he hadn’t been in a
needing his wife with a passion that kills
lust-induced emotional frenzy. He’d gone way beyond the point of no return or taking
a suicide pill.
He’d have to try to compartmentalize. Make love to her as Con and hope Con didn’t
have an involuntary chuff. Or could somehow cover it.
Willow slid her arms around his neck and cuddled up against him. The simple fact of
being so near her, in her loving embrace, made his toes tingle and the rest of him
burn.
Oh no, no, no, no, no, he was losing control.
Sappy love songs talk about aching for a woman’s touch. He was aching now. All over,
but one long, hard part of him particularly.
He knew how Willow liked to be kissed—softly at first, building to lip-bruising passion.
Jack didn’t trust Con to show any restraint once he started kissing, so he remained
fixed in a place, a statue afraid to move.
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered into his ear. “Let yourself go.” She rubbed up against
him and ran her fingers through his hair.