Hidden with you, p.7
Hidden With You, page 7
“I know. I believe you.”
I tilt my head to look at his face. “Really?” He nods, and while he could be putting on a show to appease the possibly psychotic client, all I see is the truth there.
“Thank you,” I whisper. And then, before I can help myself, I rise onto my toes and brush my lips over his. He responds, pulling me closer, his lips parting, the kiss moving from sweet to hard and needy. I moan, wanting so badly to finish what we started in the atrium, but as my hands slide down his back to cup his ass, he pushes me away, gently but firmly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have let that get out of control.”
“It’s okay.” I hear the plea in my voice and hate myself for it. “We both want it.”
“Maybe. But we’re not at a party anymore. I’m not just a guy you met. I’m working for you. I’m not going to sleep with you, too.”
“No matter how much you want to?”
“No matter how much I want to,” he says, acknowledging the truth.
“Well, thank you for that at least. Of course, I could just fire you, and that would fix everything.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement, which only makes him look sexier. “That would be foolish. I’m good at what I do.” He clears his throat. “And it’s not just because you’re a client.”
“You think I’m too young.”
“You are too young.”
“I’m not really twenty-three,” I say, and watch as his eyes widen. “I mean, in years I might be, but I’m older. Hell, sometimes I feel like I’m as old as dirt.”
“Very young, very lovely dirt.”
I grin. “I knew you liked the view.” With a sigh, I move past him into the living area and go sit on the sofa. I glance at the other cushion, then up at him. He hesitates, then joins me, sitting far enough away that there’s no risk of accidental contact.
I slide toward him.
“Zelda. Don’t.”
I stop, then draw in a breath. “Here’s the thing,” I say. “I don’t believe in denying myself things that I want. I’ve had too much taken away from me. Now I fight for the things that matter to me.”
His mouth tugs into a grin. “You don’t know me well enough for me to matter.”
“Probably not. But I can’t help the way I feel. And I know you feel it, too.”
“I already told you I did.”
“So what’s the problem? Parts not working anymore?”
He actually laughs, which is good. I thought he might be pissed off.
“Trust me. Everything works fine.” I think I hear a sensual growl in his voice, but that might just be my wishful thinking. Even so, I scoot closer toward him on the sofa.
“Prove it.”
“Stop it. I told you we’re not going there. I’m a grownup, Zelda. Self-control comes with the package.”
“Do not patronize me,” I snap.
“I mean it. We’re not going to get involved.”
“Who said anything about involved?” I counter. “I’m talking about sex. I never get involved.”
I watch as his face goes dark. “Neither do I.”
There’s something chilling in his tone. “What happened?”
For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. When he does, he’s looking at the sofa cushion, not at me. “They died.”
They? I almost make a crack about a threesome, then I realize he’s talking about a family.
“Oh, Jasper. “You had a wife. A family.”
He nods. “A little girl.”
I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“They’re my obsession. My mission.”
I run his words through my head, trying to put them in the context of this conversation. “So you’re celibate?”
He laughs, and there’s genuine humor in the sound. “No. Not celibate. Not by a long shot.”
“Then we don’t have a problem.” I keep my voice teasing and bubbly in a deliberate attempt to lighten the moment. I think it works, because when he responds to me there’s a hint of a smile in his voice.
“Oh, we definitely do.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
He looks at me, all humor draining from his face. “Someone is threatening to kill you.”
I sag, the humor and lightness going right out the window. “Right. And you really think there’s meat behind that, not just some jerk being an asshole and trying to scare me.”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” He reaches over and takes my hand, then squeezes it. “But I’m going to find out. That’s why I’m here. Not sex. I’m here to keep you safe and to get answers. And Zelda, I’m going to do my job.”
I nod, suddenly feeling sober. We’re looking at each other, not saying anything, when my phone buzzes. “Someone’s at the gate,” I say, recognizing the tone.
I put it on speaker, and Frank tells us that the team from Stark Security has arrived. I authorize access, and a few minutes later, there are four members of Stark Security standing in my living room. Leah, who tells me that Ryan sent her since we’re friends. Mario and Owen, neither of whom I’ve met but apparently work in tech and analysis. And Trevor, who I met at the party and is another field agent like Leah and Jasper.
“Why exactly are you guys here?” I ask the group.
“We’re going to do a walk-through of the property and see if there’s anything that needs to be upgraded,” Jasper explains. “Plus, Mario and Owen are going to get into your databases, download all of the camera footage, and hook up a direct link to our offices so we can keep an eye on your place in real time. That, and a lot more details. Do you really want the full agenda?”
“No. I trust you all to do your jobs. What do you need from me?”
“I assume the computer hard drive and other equipment are in the big house?” Mario says.
I nod.
“And do you go in there at all? Or do you just live here?” That from Owen, who, like everybody else who comes to visit, seems to be fascinated with the fact that I’m not interested in living in that monstrosity.
“I live here, but I do keep an office in the big house. There’s more room for bookshelves, and I can go there to write and get away from where I live.” I turn my attention to Jasper. “Do I need to move my computer in here? Or can I go there to write when I want to?”
“Do you mind staying here?” Jasper asks.
“I guess not. It’s just that when you start to write, you get used to having a specific space. It can throw me off for a few days if I’m not tucked in where I’m supposed to be. Then again, I’m not on a tight deadline. But why is it important?”
“The house still gets deliveries, and you have staff living there or coming and going. You mentioned that the housekeeper, Tricia, still makes meals for you and delivers them to your studio. There must be maintenance and repair teams coming in and out, not to mention landscaping, someone to take care of the pool, and—”
“I get it. It’s easy to get inside if someone’s determined.”
Jasper nods.
“Fine. I’ll stay here.” I glance at him. “I’ll be more distracted when I’m trying to work, but I’ll get by.”
“I think wherever you work there’ll be distractions. A threat like this is a big distraction.”
“Probably true,” I say, not bothering to add that I was thinking of him. The rest of the team probably doesn’t need that tidbit of information.
“I’m assuming you need to go grab a few things?” he says.
I nod. “I need my notes for sure. A few other things.”
“Okay. Why don’t you and Leah go do that? I’m going to stay here and work with these guys.”
Five minutes later, Leah and I are walking across the property. “You wanna tell me what’s going on between the two of you?”
I wince. I should have known she’d figure out there was something. She’s known me too long, after all.
“There might have been a thing at Jamie’s party.”
“A thing?”
“He’s hot,” I say. “And I didn’t even know what he did for a living then.”
She twists her mouth, clearly unhappy with what’s going on. “Listen. Just don’t be stupid. Jasper’s new to Stark Security, and I don’t really know him. But from what I’ve heard, this guy’s got issues. Someone killed his family.”
“I know. He told me.”
“Yeah, well, I bet he didn’t tell you all of it.”
“All of it?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“If I tell you this, you better not mention it to anyone, okay? I mean it. This is a family thing.”
This is Leah’s serious voice. The kind I heard when Camille and I used to get in trouble. Back when I felt more a part of her family than my own.
She draws a breath. “I ran him before Ryan made the offer. Full profile, as deep as I could go.”
“Okay. What did you learn?”
“He left MI6, and he’s been freelance for a few years.”
“So?”
“So I couldn’t find anything on the jobs he took.”
“So what? There were probably confidentiality terms.”
“Yeah, but no. You don’t understand. I’m good at what I do. He must have a secret bank account because there’s not enough going into his regular one. Which begs the question of why he would need a secret one. Unless he’s doing work that he doesn’t want anyone to have look at.”
“Again, clients with confidentiality.”
“Maybe. But there are still a lot of questions.”
“He was a spy. That’s a paranoid breed. Maybe he just doesn’t like leaving a trail. That way he avoids bad guys doing what you were trying to do.”
“Maybe,” she admits.
“What did Ryan say?”
“Nothing to me. I just delivered the report.”
“Well, there you go. If Ryan knows and still hired him, then everything must be okay.”
Leah’s head tilts to the side. “Tell me you’re not that naïve.”
We’re in the house now, crossing the palatial entryway toward the hallway under the stairs that led to my study off the kitchen. I stop in the hall and face her. “Look, just tell me what you think. You’re the one who brought it up, you obviously want to tell me. What do you think is going on?”
“I think he was using freelance gigs as a cover to investigate his wife and daughter’s death. Now, I think he might be using Stark Security. I think he’s talented but obsessed.” She crosses her arm and stares me down. “Does that sound like someone you know?”
I frown. It sounded like Martin King, my former CIA hero who has spent the last three books getting in and out of various kinds of trouble, all against the backdrop of searching for his little sister’s killer.
“So what if he’s a little bit like King? It’s not like I knew that before I was attracted to him.”
“That’s not my point. You did a good job writing that character. You got into his head, and you did it right. And Martin King’s a fucking powder keg.”
“Yeah, but he’s good in bed,” I quip.
She says nothing, but there’s ice in her eyes.
“Come on, Leah. Just because there are some similarities between him and my character, that doesn’t mean he’s actually like King. He’s not going to lose his shit any moment.”
“You really want to fuck a powder keg?”
I look away, as if I’m conceding the point. But I’m not. Because the truth is that even with a potential explosion, I still want him. Maybe even more.
And I’m not at all sure what that says about me.
Chapter Nine
After walking the perimeter with Mario, Owen, and Trevor, Jasper returned to the cottage. He saw Leah and Zelda going inside with a box from Zelda’s office, so he shifted his trajectory and headed toward the main house instead.
He wanted to give Zelda her privacy. Time to catch up with Leah, and time to think about everything that was happening without him—a bodyguard, a distraction—standing in the sidelines. Plus, he needed to familiarize himself with the house in case it ever became the field of engagement. Most of all, he wanted to see the kind of environment in which Zelda had grown up.
The door was answered almost immediately. “I’m Tricia,” the woman said. He guessed she was almost seventy, and she had a warm smile and a friendly but commanding manner. “Ms. Zelda asked that I show you every place in the house that you wish to see. Would you like the full tour?”
“That would be perfect,” he said, not realizing just how long the tour would take. The place was palatial, with massive bedrooms, huge sitting areas, and several wings. They visited room after room filled with comfortable furniture meant for lounging, then rooms with so much crystal and silk they sparkled like a jewelry box.
Finally, he met the day staff—the workers who came in each morning to help clean, to help cook, to repair and maintain. One of their duties was delivering meals planned by Tricia to Zelda’s cottage every day. But Tricia told Jasper that Zelda mostly fended for herself. “I would happily plan her three meals a day, but most weeks, she doesn’t even want one. I have to beg her to accept a meal at least two evenings a week.”
As far as he could tell, the woman had a motherly concern for Zelda, and he learned that she’d been working for the family since before Zelda’s father had passed away.
From his talks with the staff, he realized that loyalty and discretion were highly valued. Nobody that he spoke to told him anything of substance about Zelda’s deceased father or about her mother and stepfather. From the dossier Ryan sent him, Jasper knew that her father had died when Zelda was four, and her mother—Amelia—had married Carter Malloy when Zelda was seven.
Her parents had a prenup, and upon his death, Zelda had inherited everything from her father. Everything except the property was transferred to Zelda directly, making her one of the richest women in the country. As for house and land, that was put into a trust for Zelda, with the provision that her mother was allowed to live there until her death.
If Zelda pre-deceased her mother, the trust would dissolve, and the title would go to Amelia. Otherwise, the trust dissolved when Amelia passed, and the house would transfer to Zelda.
Though they had the right to live there, Amelia and Carter rarely stayed even a week. According to one magazine profile, they’d gone to Florence after their wedding, then traveled the world, leaving young Zelda at home with Tricia.
Jasper had felt ill as he’d read the article. Did these people not understand how precious it was to have a child? He would have given anything to spend long days in a house with his daughter and wife. Instead, those people had essentially abandoned Zelda, walking away without a backward glance.
Despite knowing so much about her background, Zelda herself remained an enigma, though an appealing one. A woman who’d grown up with neglectful parents who said what she thought. A woman who wasn’t shy about sex but didn’t want a relationship. Although with her mother and Carter as role models, he could hardly blame her.
A woman with the drive and imagination to build a career for herself out of nothing while she was still a child. Her work shifting from her early fantasy series to the much colder and darker thrillers that had made her name as an adult.
He hadn’t finished Intercontinental yet, but he had to admit that he was entertained by the over-the-top thriller. Especially by super spy Martin King, a man who’d left government service to work on his own. Suave and deadly, King would do anything to get his man.
Jasper couldn’t help but like the character.
Bottom line? Zelda Clayton was fascinating, self-confident, sexy as hell. But it was quite possible that she was trying to center herself in the middle of a huge scam. He wanted to believe her when she said that she had no such intentions. That she was insulted that the possibility even came up. But there was no denying the fact that it would be awesome publicity for the book series and for the upcoming movie if it turned out that this threat became known to the public.
All eyes would be on Zelda and her books. And Hollywood was all about the buzz.
His head and his training told him to stay vigilant, to not trust her, to watch and wait and see.
His gut and his instinct told him that she was the victim here. A talented and vibrant woman who had caught the eye of someone dangerous. A woman who needed his help.
His heart said she needed him. That he had to stay beside her. Had to protect her. That maybe, just maybe she’d be the one to help shatter the wall he’d built around himself.
And as for his cock ... well, it was possible that his trust was being driven by that particular organ. Because damned if he didn’t want to be as close to the woman as he could possibly get. He wanted to bury himself in her, use her, please her.
He wanted to help her forget the nightmare spinning around her.
And, yes, he wanted to forget his own.
Fuck.
He should have had Ryan take him off the case. He wasn’t clear enough. Wasn’t sharp enough.
But he also knew that if Ryan tried, Jasper would put up one hell of a fight. She was his responsibility now, and damned if he was going to let anyone rip that away from him.
He cut short the rest of the house tour, his thoughts overwhelming him. He wanted to see her. To settle his impression of her. To let his instincts choose one side or another. Was she the victim, or was she behind all of this?
He headed back the cottage and found her in the living room.
She turned, eyes wide. “Oh. I thought Leah had come back.”
“Sorry. It’s only me.”
She smiled, so wide and genuine that it felt as welcoming as a cool breeze.
“No. I’m glad to see you. I like the company, which is totally weird for me. But since this whole thing started, I don’t feel safe in my own skin anymore.”
His heart twisted, hating that he had no magic cure for her. “I’m sorry about that. It’s not an uncommon reaction, but I am sorry.”
She shrugged. “Thanks.”
