The Australian (Crime Royalty Romance Book 2) (21 page)

She took me in, standing, wedged between displaced furniture, no doubt red-eyed. Her thin auburn brows stitched together.

“What in the bloody ’ell? Charlie. What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, clasping my hands together. I felt as if someone had skinned me, and all that was on display was
feeling
.

I hated feeling. I should like to never feel again.

Jenny’s perky face twisted into a deep frown, surprisingly menacing for a tiny girl. “Fuckin’ ’ell. What’d he do to you?” She stepped around the chair, headed toward me, and I realized she believed Jace had harmed me on the trip. But he had not harmed me. Not at all. In fact, I had likely harmed him. And that was worse.

I shook my head, and much to my alarm, tears came out again.

“Motherfucker, son of a bitch, cock suckin’
arsehole
!” I shook my head, again, not alarmed by her language (Australians in general, women included, do not hold back in that department) but at the conclusion she had reached. She grabbed my arms and steered me—convulsing with sobs, shaking my head at her—over to the sofa. Her face was red, blending her freckles, and I gasped in oxygen. “No,” I spurted. “It’s not what you think.”

Her brow unknotted. “You sure are shattered about something.” She sighed, frustrated. “I’ll get a tissue.” When she returned—she brought a box of them from the bathroom—she sat beside me on the sofa, quietly. I greatly appreciated that. I cried some more, and then blew my nose, mentally shoring up some self-control. How humiliating.

“You want to start from the beginning?”

I nodded.

I explained everything in a rush of anxiety—the more I told the lighter I felt—how I had had no self-control over my attraction to Jace, how I had
asked him
to have coitus with me, how he had made it clear that would terminate my employment, and that that was what I secretly wanted because I needed to be fired because otherwise a man named Sullivan Blaise at ASIS would force me to spy on him. I did not tell her how my chemical reactions were causing cravings for the intimacy, and that I would likely go back for more of that even if it meant breaking the agreement to do so.

“Bugger!” she hissed, sitting upright quickly, switching over to the coffee table edge to face me.

“You’ jokin’? ASIS?!” Her eyes were burning, brimming pots of cognac. “Are you takin’ the piss?”

My eyebrows rose then. “Why would I lie? I would greatly prefer none of it had happened. I could have at least tried to keep a lid on my raging libido and I would have greatly enjoyed this job for many years!” I exclaimed. “Sullivan broke in here before I left for the trip, in the middle of the night! His superiors don’t even know he’s extorting me into spying on Mr. Knight.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” she muttered.

I stared at her, confirming with a good long stare that she understood I was not lying.

“Is Mr. Knight . . . up to his old ways, then?” she asked quietly. “I thought he was legitimate now,” she added quickly. “I don’t want to be working for a crim, Charlie.”

I stared at her, working out the switch in focus. People are selfish. This I understood. I reasoned out that in her shoes, perhaps I would have asked the very same thing.

“Knight Enterprises is a legitimate business operation,” I reassured her. “As for other activities, you can be assured anything he may or may not be doing is not worth all this bloody fuss.” I surprised myself, by swearing. Perhaps I was picking up the local tongue.

Jenny’s face finally relaxed after a moment of staring over my shoulder.

We discussed a number of variables and options she raised, including calling the police. Eventually, I led her to the same conclusion I had arrived at, and indeed, had already executed.

She shook her head. “Fair dinkum! I’m sorry. Really. I can’t believe the bastard would use you like that! If this Blaise bloke comes around, you call me, right. My friend Susan’s ol’ man is on the force. And you be sure to tell him you’re done, right. Out.”

I brightened a little with the news she knew someone who knew someone in the police. I also appreciated her sympathy, having kept this all a secret from my best friend B.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” asked Jenny, perhaps rightly so.

“B is the type of person who would fly down here to assist. I would not want to contribute to her money problems. She has significant student loan debt,” I added by way of explanation.

“I still can’t believe it. And you didn’t tell anyone else?” she asked.

I shook my head. “And you mustn’t either!” I exclaimed suddenly. “I am trusting you with this.”

“Of course. No worries. I won’t say a word,” she added, straightening up.

I stared at her, worried perhaps I should not have told her this.

“I swear it, Charlie. You can trust me.”

There it was again. Perhaps one could believe the words “Trust me.” Perhaps one never has a bloody choice.

“Right. So . . .”

I glanced around the space. “Now I have to pack my belongings.”

“How long did the arsehole give you? To vacate?” she added. “He has to give you two weeks. It’s the law.”

“Oh.” I thought about abusing Jace’s hospitality that long. “I think it is best if I leave today.”

“Today?! Where will you go?”

I told her about the extended-stay facility. Her lips were pursed again. “Well that won’t do. I’ll help you find a place quickly. I have a few ins in the city.”

“I greatly appreciate that.”

I stood up, and suggested she leave as I needed to begin packing.

“I’ll help you,” she offered.

I welled up again. “That is a very kind gesture,” I garbled.

She flushed and wouldn’t make eye contact. “Oh give over,” she muttered and gave me a short hug.

I worked hard to ignore all the feelings plaguing me and had a quick shower while Jenny reconstituted the five boxes that held my belongings. “Is this all you need, Charlie?” she shouted from the hall as I dressed in skinny jeans and a plain, soft-pink T-shirt, deciding to let my hair dry wavy and pinning back the side portions so they would not impede my packing. “Yes,” I answered. I had only introduced a few new things since moving in, and we used garbage bags for those.

Within an hour or so, we had packed my belongings and made two trips to load her small car, waiting in the loading zone at the front of the building, with four boxes, two garbage bags, my suitcase and Miss Moneypenny in her carrier. Jenny said she would go back up for the last box, as Miss Moneypenny was most perturbed by this change and required my voice to calm her.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“It’s full of your paper ornaments, Charlie. I can manage it well enough,” she said, already heading back in. In fact, three of my boxes were required to house my origami collection.

I bent over in order to slide the suitcase in her trunk properly. I would have to buy Jenny something for her assistance. A gift.

I heard the roar of a loud engine but only thought about the fact after I turned around.

Jace!

He was straddling a large motorbike a few yards from the car, watching me.

I was . . .
winded
.

He may as well have driven his bike right into me.

I collided with his silent raging presence. And he kept backing up over me, grinding his tires into my carcass, taking in my belongings and Miss Moneypenny, who cried in her carrier beside me.

“Goin’ somewhere?” he snarled (and I am not exaggerating), dismounting his bike. My heart had resuscitated itself and was beating wildly. I felt my eyes burn, and I withdrew inside myself in order to fix the default setting.

I stepped back as he drew closer, and bumped into the edge of the open hatchback. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. His jeans fit him snug, and he wore a black long-sleeved riding shirt, which accentuated his tanned face. Sunglasses were pushed on top of his head.

Did he— Was he here to see me?

“Yes,” I managed to say, even though an answer was redundant.

He stood right in front of me, crossing his arms, and I tried to look up to meet his eyes, only I did not get past his mouth.

“Why are you here?” I mumbled, confused.

“You fuckin’ serious?!”

His words slapped me. My gaze flashed to his eyes, and I froze at the anger in them. “You fuckin’ playin’ me or what?” He uncrossed his arms.

“Leave her alone, or I’ll make sure you never use it again,” snapped Jenny, pushing her way between us with the box. Jace was forced to step back.

I have never been so grateful for assistance in my life, and even though Jenny was tiny compared to Jace, she was a mighty defender.

Unfortunately, Jace laughed.

It was an angry laugh.

“Who’s this, then? This your car?” he asked her quickly.

“Jenny Williams. From your bookings department. And don’t even think about sacking me, too. I’ll have the human rights commission so far up your arse you’ll never see the sun again! And while I’m at it, how dare you prey on someone like her! What’s the matter with you!?”

Jace’s head jerked back. His top lip lifted on one side. He was insulted. I could not blame him. Jenny’s tone had been harsh and out of line. He glanced back at me, and I glanced away, then right back again, because I could not help myself. I needed to feel him. I was so hooked on him. Just a little glimpse at his mouth so I might remember it on mine. His eyebrows flattened out.

“I never sacked anyone.”

My mind tried to understand the . . . riddle.

“Is that what you think, Charlie?!” he asked with disbelief. “I never sacked you. Why in the fuck would you think that?”

Even Jenny, who stood in front of me, glanced back at me, questioningly.

“That was the arrangement,” I insisted, in shock. “The arrangement we always had. That we would not engage in coitus so long as I was your employee.”

“That was your condition. Not mine,” he snapped.

“But you said that if I crossed the line with you there was no crossing back!” I protested, appalled and elated, and appalled I was elated; my entire plan was disintegrating.

Was I not fired?

Jenny’s mouth popped open and her eyes narrowed. “You never said he said
that
. You said he sacked you.”

“He did!” I protested again. “When he said that!”

Jace made a strange noise and rubbed his face with both his hands. It sounded like a laugh, but I believe it was frustration. Yes, a moan. “Fuckin’ ’ell. You see,” he said to Jenny, opening his hands, seeking something . . . Maybe understanding or sympathy.

He turned back to me. “So that explains yesterday. The cold shoulder. I’ve been losing my fuckin’ head!”

I didn’t know what to say, although I badly wanted to ask if he had sought comfort inside another body.

“You’re wrong, Charlie,” he growled, loud and clear, making me jump a little. He added, loud and firm, “I never sacked you.”

“But . . .” I tried to work through the logic. “We can’t still work together and participate in—”

“We’ll discuss that later. We all clear here now, Jenny Williams from bookings?” He stepped around her to pick up a box.

“No, wait,” I protested, uncertain how to control events. “Wait!” I added louder since he was not listening.

“Yeah, she’s right, hang off,” barked Jenny. She put down her box and tried to take the box from Jace. He rolled his eyes and shoved it back in the trunk. Both turned to me empty-handed.

I was . . . torn. I did not wish to place Jace in harm’s way, but now that I had another chance, I was experiencing an intense selfish need to have my cake and eat it, too.

My mother had done it all the time.

Why shouldn’t I?

Sullivan, that is why. He would deport me if I did not keep spying on Mr. Knight.

“Charlie, I don’t think you should go back to that unit,” pronounced Jenny, catching me off-guard with her focus, nodding up at the apartment building. Her eyes darted over to Jace, who was watching me with a look I had never seen before.

“You were never comfortable there, were you?” she asked quickly, not waiting for an answer. “You felt obliged, you said as much. I thought it was fine, but now . . .” She glared at Jace, rather ungenerously. “I tell you what, I’ve got a spare bedroom, why don’t you shift over to mine and that way you’ll not have anyone breathing down your neck.”

Jace made a strange noise as he exhaled, and said, “No one’s breathing down her—”

“I could use a roomie,” continued Jenny, talking right over him, turning her back to him, sticking herself between us. “We’ll have a good bit of fun, us sheilas. I charge what the place is worth . . . one thousand dollars a month, not a penny
less
. You’ll be free to sort out what’s on and what’s not, and you won’t be beholden to anyone.”

“She’s not beholden to anyone now!” protested Jace.

My mouth was hanging open. I focused on Jenny’s eager eyes (much easier than at Jace’s black daggers), and I nearly cried with relief. It was beyond generous, even if she was offering because it was clear she was concerned about Jace’s influence on me. I was too fixated on the instant solution to dispel her misassumption; if I lived with Jenny and worked for Mr. Knight, it would be very difficult for Sullivan Blaise to impose himself on me. Not impossible, mind you, but difficult. It would be, to use a Jace term, a “buffer.” I reckoned that if Sullivan had trouble getting me alone, and I was dithering about actually collecting information, maybe he would give up on me altogether and find someone else to do his dirty work. He did not strike me as the sort who would deport me out of spite. Of course, I could not be sure. But it was a risk worth taking, I decided.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I said quietly.

Jace huffed.

“Good-oh. It’s decided. We’ll head to mine, ay?”

Jenny picked up Miss Moneypenny and glanced at Jace, if I was not mistaken, rather proud of herself. I was grateful for her support but made a note to clarify matters with her as she was, on the whole, being rather unnecessarily discourteous.

His warm hand wrapped all the way around my bicep, tight, before I could follow her. “You’re with me,” he said, low in my ear.