'Exactly,' she'd answered.
But, God, she now prayed, please let him go because she didn't really know if she could carry out her promise. If she could live like that.
'Olivia.' His word was a mere whisper on the frosty air of Washington, D.C.
She couldn't hear the answer she sought in the tone of his voice. She'd never asked him directly what had happened with Howard Randolph in that interrogation room, but she realized now she'd have to know to move on.
She couldn't help it. She got to the point right away. 'Before you say anything, I have to know about Howard Randolph. Did you… did you hurry that along?'
'You really want to know?'
'No… yes. I
'Randolph's death is not on my hands.' A small vein tightened at his temple and she realized how much the case has tormented him. How much he'd lost over the years with Invictus.
'I… did he suffer?'
'No,' he whispered, 'He didn't. I made sure of that. Even if he deserved it.'
'I can't bear to think of that. I can't be with you like that.'
'Randolph's been gone for six months. He has nothing to do with us anymore. He probably got much less than he deserved, but he's gone.'
Not the definite answer she'd wanted, but good enough, she thought. 'Did the Judge release you from your contract?' The final break, she had to know he'd severed all connections with Invictus.
Jack remained silent, his expression blank. But she read the doubt in his eyes and her heart crashed like a bird with a wounded feather as she turned away.
The words stumbled around Jack's mind like a foreign language. He couldn't speak. What could he say, he thought? What would he do with a woman like Olivia anyway? He knew the kind of man he was. A proficient killing machine, relentless in pursuit of murderers and assorted madmen. And Olivia knew what he was, what'd he'd been. She'd seen the monster he'd become.
He touched her shoulder and she whirled around, a pretty pink color heightening her high cheek bones. 'They're not going to let you go, are they?' she whispered, tears in her voice.
Her hands tightened into fists as if she'd pound him even while those wet brilliant eyes flooded. He reached for her again, but she batted his hand away. 'Livvie,' he began.
'Damn you, Jack.' She was crying openly now. 'Damn you all to hell.'
She stormed off before he could speak again, but turned back at the bottom of the steps and nodded, coming to a serious understanding. Then she walked steadfastly away from him toward the Reflecting Pool, her figure rigid in the light breeze.
'Olivia,' he whispered as her figure receded, a mere puff of air in the cold, clear spring of Washington, D.C. Shock froze him to the spot for a brief moment.
And the wind or fate or sweet kismet caught the word. She turned around and saw his face. He grinned as he strode toward her. At once her expression was bright and clear, the pretty, carefree face of the girl he'd loved for so long.
Olivia raced toward him, leapt into his arms as he swung her around. 'Damn you, Jack Holt, you frightened me,' she laughed on a sob. 'I was so afraid.'
'I know that I can't have you and a normal life along with the job,' he said matter-of-factly. 'I choose you.' He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her. 'Squirt,' he murmured.
Their kiss was tender and sweet beyond any imagining. As the kiss deepened, as passion rose like a powerful magnet between them, she whispered huskily into his ear.
'I want you now. Close. Inside me so tight you'll never leave again.'
He laughed with the light-hearted gift of a lover who'd found his lost mate. 'Now that sounds like a plan.'
Jo Robertson
Jo Lewis-Robertson, a former English teacher, makes her home in northern California, with her seven children and sixteen grandchildren whose lives make the world a beautiful place.
