Chapter Thirty-one
Jack was sure Olivia didn't trust him completely. Why should she? He had a history of abandoning her and never explaining why. Sorry was a sorry word, he thought. It didn't nearly describe the ripping of his heart when he realized how he'd hurt her.
She slept with her back to him, her small, perfect body curved into his. He thought how odd it was that his long, broad body accommodated her slender form so perfectly. Her head lay within the circle of his arm as he stroked the dark strands of hair that tangled like black silk across the pillow. The smooth length of her back and the gentle curve of her hip delighted him as his fingers traced the outline of her body.
Morning's light had just peeked through the bedroom window slats when she stretched drowsily and turned in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his chest.
'You've got to stop watching me while I sleep,' she complained grumpily.
'Make me.' He trailed his fingers down the sleek line of thigh and cupped his hands over her flawless ass.
'I'll make you all ri – ' She laughed softly. 'Oh ho, what's this?' she joked, encircling him with her slim, cool fingers.
He took her mouth and felt that primitive urge to mate. Mine, he thought, she's always been mine. No matter who she'd been with she never belonged to anyone else. Desire heated his blood, lust tightened his muscles, and love swamped his heart.
'What did I ever do to deserve you,' he muttered at her ear, his tongue teasing the soft flesh of her jaw.
'Absolutely nothing.' She smiled dreamily and, in an unexpected movement, flipped over until she was straddling him. 'But I'm going to extact recompense right now.'
Palms flat on his chest, she dipped her head and took his mouth in a possessive plundering. Her long hair enveloped him, a dark curtain surrounding them, while her busy hands caressed his flanks. 'You have the most gorgeous body,' she murmured. 'So strong and elegant, so powerful.'
'So scarred,' he continued, 'so battered, so worn.'
'Hmmm, so… mine.' She continued her assault on him, batting his hands away whenever he tried to touch her, caress her. 'My rules, this time.'
She slid down his aroused body, kissing her way across his chest, circling his nipples with her tongue, trailing along his still bruised ribs. 'Ah, gently, sweetheart,' he groaned, half in pain, half in passion.
'Hmm, sorry.' She glanced up at him, those brilliant eyes dark as rich green velvet.
She pushed over his midsection, farther down his body, her breasts brushing sweetly against his groin. And then she took him in her mouth, sweet mother of God.
He tried to pull back. 'No, Livvie, don't… ' He ended on a moan and his control lasted half a minute as he pulled her roughly up, flipped her over, and lay panting between her legs. 'Much of my strength has diminished, love, but not my ability to tame you.'
He touched her between her thighs, seeking the wet, sweet core of her and found her slick and hot. He clamped down on his need and stroked her until he felt the first climax lift her over the edge and shatter her against his hand.
'Oh God.' She dug her fingers into his hair and hung on tightly while he worked his fingers inside her.
'Look at me,' he muttered. 'Open your eyes and look at me, damn it. I want to watch you.'
Those amazing emerald eyes fluttered open, glazed over blindly, but clung to his as she shuddered and slowly relaxed.
'Again,' he whispered. 'And again.' He plunged into her hard and furious at first, but when he felt his imminent release, switched to slow, agonizing strokes that tested his will to its zenith. He watched as her mouth opened, her eyes fluttered, her breath panted in gentle puffs of air. He felt her inner muscles clamp furiously around him and climaxed a moment after her in a furious explosion of pleasure, pain, and love.
'God, I love you,' he whispered as he collapsed on her, 'love you to the ends of the earth.'
Their bodies were slick with sweat, their hearts thundering like a herd of wild horses, their breathing an exercise in agony. Afraid of crushing her small body, he rolled off and gathered her close against him.
They slept the deeply satisfied sleep of lovers long familiar with one another's needs and desires.
Jack woke hours later to the odor of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. He smiled. Olivia, being unusually domestic, he supposed. Showering quickly, he dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.
As he shaved using one of Livvie's pink disposable razors, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked lighter, he thought, less ragged, more relaxed. He frowned, knowing the hardest part was still ahead of him.
How to explain to Olivia what he'd done? How he'd planned for this day? What he had yet to do? Would she understand?
He sighed heavily and padded on bare feet down the stairs to the kitchen.
Baltimore, Maryland, Invictus Headquarters, Six Months Later
Chapter Thirty-two
Already alerted by Higgins, the Judge rose to meet Jackson Holt as he strode through the office door in his usual brash manner. The agent looked better than he had in a long time, but a kind of raw edginess showed in the way he jerked his head at the director and threw his long body into the leather guest chair.
Warren extended his hand. 'Excellent work, Jack.'
Jack ignored the proffered hand.
Warren coughed to cover the awkward moment. 'You look well,' he said. 'Fully recovered?' He didn't need to ask. He'd gotten daily updates on Jack's health from Dr. Davis, who supervised the fragile and dangerous recovery in a specialized wing at Bethesda Naval Hospital.
Jack nodded briefly, steepled his fingers, and waited until Warren had seated. Shuffling papers across the desk, the Judge covertly sneaked looks at his young protege. He'd never seen the agent look so calm, yet agitated at the same time.
'I haven't received your DLK report yet,' he mentioned, keeping his voice casual. 'Will I have that soon?'
Jack merely continued to stare at a spot directly over the Judge's right shoulder, out the window at the sprawling expanse of Baltimore and the Chesapeake Bay. Warren shifted uneasily in his chair, following the direction of Jack's eyes.
He reached into his bottom drawer to remove a cigar from the lacquered box. A gift from the president of Columbia on Warren's last visit there. He started to offer one to Jack, but remembered he'd given them up. What was it he'd said months ago when he began the assignment?
Jack didn't look much like a warrior now. The battle scars were there, sure, but there was quietude beneath the tanned flesh, composure below the furrowed brow, satisfaction around the mouth. Not at all the Jackson Holt the Judge was accustomed to interviewing upon return from a complicated mission.
His concern and curiosity were now thoroughly piqued. 'Would you prefer to give an oral report?' he asked.
'No, I think not, Warren. You'll get the written summary. Tomorrow, maybe later.' Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a legal-sized envelope. 'But first… '
Tossing it on the Judge's desk, Jack rose and meandered to the window, his hands stuffed in his pants pocket, his back towards the room.
'What the hell…?' Warren sliced open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper. He read the paragraph three times before commenting.
'A letter of resignation? After all these years with the Organization, you think you can just walk in here and resign?'
