Taking Control Page 13

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you avoiding me?” Declan lounged back in his big leather seat, but he felt far from relaxed. His hand gripped the phone, his fingers tightening at the silence on the other end of the call.

  “Yes,” she finally answered.

  He hadn’t seen her alone in the five days since he’d gatecrashed her date with Harry. She kept to her word, and she was part of the job; she’d accompanied him to two dinners in the last week, and she’d been the perfect girlfriend as long as she was in company. But she always managed to slip away before he could maneuver her somewhere alone. And the guys followed her like hawks. They were doing a better job guarding her than they were him.

  He was pissed off and frustrated as hell. And he couldn’t get her words out of his head. Did he need to work out what was wrong with his life? Was there even anything wrong? Or was everything fucking wrong? He didn’t know anymore.

  “Are you going to tell me why?” he asked.

  She was silent for a long time.

  “Jess?”

  “Sorry, just working out what to say to make you bugger off and leave me the hell alone.”

  “Why not go ahead and try. I’ll tell you if it’s working.”

  “Hmm… How about it was fun for a while, but rehashing old affairs never really works.”

  “And how would you know that. Have you extensive experience?”

  “Enough.”

  The strange thing was he was pretty sure she had very little experience. She’d been a virgin when she’d first gone with him. He could still remember the surprise that had dealt him. She’d been so wild, even though she’d been only seventeen. She’d dressed like a tart and mixed with an older crowd. He’d just presumed.

  Back then she never talked about her family. He’d guessed they were fairly well off; she’d been attending private school. And when he’d met her sister that had been confirmed, though Jess and her sister had seemed almost like different species.

  So why had she been the way she was? What had made her crave danger? She’d pushed him and pushed him as though she needed to see how far he would allow her to go.

  Why did he suddenly feel like he had let her down all those years ago?

  “Declan, you still there? Or did it work.”

  “So you’re bored with the sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was lying.

  But why?

  “Come here and tell me that to my face.”

  “Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “You can’t avoid me forever.”

  “I think I can.” She was silent for a moment. “Anyway, after tomorrow night the trial will begin, and once you’ve given evidence, then this whole thing will be over.”

  It would never be over. He knew that now. He just needed to convince Jess of that. She was definitely running scared, but he wasn’t sure exactly what she feared.

  Trusting him again, obviously. He’d let her down. But he suspected it was more than that.

  “Come over tonight,” he said. “We can talk.”

  “We have nothing to say. Besides, I can’t. Girls’ night out.” And she broke the connection.

  …

  Okay, so she shouldn’t be here. It was over.

  Jess had been doing a great job of avoiding Declan, but since that phone call earlier, she hadn’t been able to settle.

  She’d convinced herself that the only way she was going to convince him that she was serious about the no-more-sex thing was face-to-face.

  Delusional or what?

  But somehow she had found herself out on the street, hailing a cab and giving the address of Declan’s office to the cabbie. And now here she was, sitting in reception, trying to give herself a stern talking to about the meaning of face-to-face, and how it did not mean chest to chest or pelvis to pelvis.

  Or she had been doing until one minute ago when the elevator doors slid open and Declan had emerged. With a woman. A very beautiful, smart-looking woman, who he ushered out of the elevator with a hand at her waist. Now he was standing by the reception desk, leaning in toward her, listening to something she was saying, a small smile on his face. He obviously knew her well; it was there in the body language.

  Steve and Rick, today’s bodyguards, had followed him out, keeping a discreet distance. Jess scowled as she caught Steve’s gaze and shook her head slightly.

  Maybe now wasn’t the time to do the face-to-face thing. Maybe now was the time to work out what the hell was going on in her brain.

  Because her first inclination was to head over there and rip that woman’s hand away from Declan’s arm. Then probably drop-kick her to the ground and tear out her perfectly styled hair.

  And that was way beyond rational.

  She was in so much trouble.

  The thing was, she didn’t actually believe there was anything going on between Declan and Ms. Perfect. But that was beside the point. She had this voice screaming in her head.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  And Declan wasn’t hers. And more to the point, she really didn’t want him to be hers. She was supposed to be getting him out of her system once and for all. Not going all manic possessive.

  She’d thought he was hers once before and look how well that had turned out. She had a flash of remembered pain, and then the memories flooded over her. The rage and sense of powerlessness that there was absolutely nothing she could do to make him stay. The knowledge that she would have done just about anything for one more night in his arms. How much she had needed him after the accident, and he hadn’t been there for her. She’d even swallowed her pride and gone running after him. Only to find him gone. She wouldn’t go through that again.

  A movement from her left dragged her gaze away from the couple. Rory McCabe. He sank into the chair beside her. “Good afternoon, Jessica. You look a little tense.”

  She shrugged. “Not at all. Just checking in.”

  He waved a hand toward where Declan stood his head bent over the woman. “That’s Penny.”

  Why did that name sound familiar? “Penny as in Declan’s ex-fiancée Penny?”

  He grinned. “Yes. From the look on your face, you were thinking about taking her out. But she’s no threat.”

  Did those words have a double meaning? Why had Rory thrown her and Declan together again after all these years? Would he tell her if she asked?

  “They look perfect together,” she said just to find out what he thought about the other woman.

  He snorted. “Yeah, they look like a couple of perfect corporate…robots.”

  She let out a small laugh, loud enough to be heard across the way, but Declan was obviously engrossed and his head didn’t lift from where it was bent low over Penny the ex.

  “He knows you’re here,” Rory said.

  “How do you work that out?” He seemed oblivious to everyone but the woman in front of him.

  “Because he’s never been that attentive to Penny in his entire life.”

  She dragged her gaze away from Declan to study his father. In some ways, he was so like Declan; in others, he was completely different. Rory had deep lines of experience—and laughter—etched into his face. His dark eyes looked like they had seen the worst the world could throw at him. And they probably had. But she suspected the two men were more similar than appearances suggested. It was just their lives had led them in different directions. Suddenly she needed to understand just what had brought her and Declan together again after all these years. “What are you after?” she asked.

  “After?” He sounded so innocent. Except Rory McCabe didn’t have an innocent cell in his body.

  “Come on, Rory, you can tell me,” she coaxed. “Why did you employ me to protect Declan? You could have employed another company. We’re good, but there are others just as good.”

  He pursed his lips and looked at Declan and Penny. He was leaning against the wall now, seemingly totally absorbed in his ex-fiancé. “Because I love my son.” He tur
ned back to her. “You might not believe it, but I did my best to split you up all those years ago because I thought it was the best thing for Declan.”

  She reached across and patted his arm. “Don’t fret about it. I’d already come to the conclusion that we would have been hell together. It wouldn’t have taken us long. You just sped things up.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He was so damn cryptic. “You know I hate you.” She glanced back at Declan. “Both of you.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But let me tell you something about our family and maybe you’ll hate Declan a little less. And understand him a little more.”

  Jess knew she should get up and tell Rory McCabe that she had no interest in understanding his son any more than she did now. But she didn’t move.

  Rory stretched his long legs out in front of him and settled in his chair. “My father came over from Ireland after the Second World War and literally carved himself a place in the East End of London. Gambling, prostitution, later on drugs—he didn’t mind where the money came from. And he didn’t care who he stepped on in the process.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy.”

  “Not even vaguely. He was killed in a revenge attack when I was twenty-one, and I took over the business.”

  “I bet that was hard.”

  “Yeah. It was also a whole lot of fun. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and trampled over anyone who stood in my way.”

  “Nice.”

  “‘Nice’ it was not, but I was just a kid. A lot of people wanted to see me go down, so I had to toughen up fast.”

  “So what changed you?”

  “First Logan came along. His mother and I didn’t last, and she made it as hard as possible for me to see him.”

  “Declan said you got custody when Logan was ten.”

  He looked her over. “So you’ve talked about this stuff with Declan.”

  “Not really. Just in passing, when it touched on the job.”

  “Oh yes, the ‘job.’ Anyway, Logan was already a total tearaway even at ten, not much hope keeping him on the straight and narrow. By then I’d met and married Declan’s mother. Christ she was”—he shook his head—“different. And I wanted her, but she’d only have me if I went straight.”

  “Aw, the love of a good woman.”

  He laughed, and this time, across the way, Declan lifted his head and gave the two of them a narrow-eyed stare. So Rory had been right—Declan was quite aware of her presence. Could he actually be trying to make her jealous?

  “I’m not sure I’d ever classify Judith as a ‘good woman.’ But she had determination. She was a perfectionist, and I was far from perfect and too set in my ways to change enough to satisfy her. But by the time Declan came along I knew I didn’t want a son of mine living the same life I had. Always looking over his shoulder, expecting the cops to be behind him. Worrying that his kids would get caught up in some mess and end up inside.”

  “So the two of you decided Declan was going to be a ‘good’ boy.”

  “He was a good boy.” He grinned. “It’s in his genes.”

  “Right. Of course it is.”

  “But yeah, we might have drummed it in a little hard that he had a duty, couldn’t afford to play up, get attention. Plus, just when he got to a troublesome age, Logan got put away. Declan blamed himself.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because Logan got Declan out of a fight and stayed behind to teach them a lesson for picking on his little brother. The police broke up the fight and one of the coppers accidentally got slugged in the face…by Logan.”

  “Oh. Nasty.” Poor Declan.

  “After that Declan didn’t give us any trouble. The perfect son.” He sounded almost sad at the notion. “Though he did ask for a Harley for his eighteenth birthday.”

  “Did you get him one?” He certainly hadn’t had a Harley when she’d known him, she would have noticed.

  “No, I got him a Porsche.”

  “Figures.” She couldn’t believe she felt sorry for someone for getting a Porsche for a present.

  But really, what difference did this insight make? This conversation might have made her understand a little better why Declan was the way he was, and also why he’d dumped her all those years ago. But she’d already guessed a lot of it. She’d been leading him off the straight and narrow, but she reckoned she wasn’t trying to take him anywhere he didn’t really want to go deep down. It was the whole nature versus nurture thing. They’d brought Declan up to be well behaved, good, and to subdue his wilder nature, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there underneath, simmering away.

  “I still don’t get it,” she said. “Why the meddling? Why aren’t you and…Judith really pleased with the way he’s turned out? He’s…perfect.”

  “We want him to be happy.”

  “And he isn’t?”

  “He’s going through the motions. And he’s ready to explode.”

  She looked away, back to Declan who now stood in profile. So he could keep an eye on them? He seemed outwardly relaxed, but if she looked closely she could see a tic working in his cheek and his fingers flexing at his side. He glanced across and caught her gaze. A shiver of something—apprehension or anticipation, she wasn’t sure which—ran through her.

  Was he really on the point of exploding? And did she want to be around if that happened? But then he’d always given the impression of leashed power, of trouble locked tightly inside; it was what had drawn her to him. What had made her push and push at those locks to see if she could get to the real Declan.

  Another shiver. This one settled low down in her belly.

  Maybe it was time to get out of there. She could leave the whole no-more-sex conversation until another time. When she’d convinced herself that it was really the only option.

  She pushed herself to her feet. Rory was watching her through narrowed eyes. “Too much of a coward to risk the explosion?” he murmured.

  “Hell yes!” She whirled around and stalked away.

  …

  “You know she’s going to give me shit assignments for this for the rest of eternity,” Steve muttered from behind him, where he was guarding Declan’s back along with his other bodyguard for the night. They hadn’t been happy with his change of plans, but he’d insisted.

  After much persuasion, Steve had finally given up Jess’s location. The alternative had been to troll the bars and clubs until Declan found her. Obviously, Steve had decided risking Jess’s ire was the lesser of two evils. As acting head of the company, she had to be reachable at all times, but it turned out that Steve had overheard her arranging the night out at the office earlier in the day.

  “And you know,” Steve added, “this could be classified as serious stalking.”

  “I’ll tell her you had no choice,” Declan replied.

  The bar was just off the embankment. Steps led downward into a basement. Tables were scattered around the floor area, but most people were standing. It was Saturday night and the place was buzzing. He stood for a moment adjusting to the dim light, then searched the room.

  He spotted her almost immediately. Her back was to him, but as he stared, her shoulders stiffened. But she didn’t turn and he headed toward her.

  She was with two other women, a tall, stunning brunette with crimson streaks in her dark hair and a tiny redhead, with a cute face and huge green eyes. They were both facing him and looked up as he came to a halt beside the table. Jess still didn’t turn.

  “I take it you’re Declan, the prick,” the redhead murmured.

  He wondered how many people had seen that damn tattoo.

  Finally, Jess turned around slowly. She ignored Declan and spoke to Steve. “You are so fucked.”

  “Yeah, I reckon.” But he grinned. “Me and Rick are going to go sit over there at a safe distance and keep an eye on things. You two play nice.”

  Declan waited until his two babysitters had melted into the drinkers and then sat himself do
wn in the empty seat across from Jess and next to the redhead.

  “I’m Dani,” she said.

  “And I’m Kim,” the brunette offered. “And we’re going to go to the bar and get some more drinks.”

  They both stood in unison. Declan waited for Jess to tell them to stay, or more likely tell him to go, but she remained silent and the two girls disappeared, leaving them alone.

  She looked tired and heartbreakingly beautiful. Dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, her face clean of makeup. She was turned slightly away so he couldn’t see the scar, and for a moment she looked so like her seventeen-year-old self that his heart missed a beat.

  Someone put some music on in the background; he recognized the song. It was one they had danced to all those years ago, through the long hot summer nights.

  She recognized it as well and for a second, a slight smile curled her bottom lip and then was gone.

  “I still hear certain songs and they take me back to that summer, scents, places in the city…” he said softly.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Memories are a bummer. Wouldn’t it be great if we could just wipe them out and start over?”

  One hand was wrapped around her bottle of beer, and Declan reached across and uncurled her fingers, slid her palm into his. She didn’t try to pull away, but a slight frown formed between her arched brows.

  “I would never wipe away the memory of that summer with you,” he said and he knew he spoke the truth. However painful the aftermath, he would still rather have the pleasure and the pain. “Those months with you will always be the best of my life.”

  He waited for her to make a smart comeback, but she remained silent, gnawing on her lower lip and gazing at the spot where their hands joined.

  He stroked her palm with the pad of his thumb and a shiver ran through her.

  “Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked. “I missed you.”

  Her frown deepened, and she studied his face. “Why are you being so nice? Why can’t you go back to being a prick?”

  “I am nice.” He picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, uncurled her fingers and placed a kiss in the center of his palm. “Don’t you think I’m nice?”