the bag, zipping it shut. She pulled on her leather jacket over the long-sleeved shirt and opened the door.
When she came out of the restroom, Jack looked up at her from where he was seated on one of the couches. He was apparently going through some of the things that had been handed to him in his own black duffel bag. Annabelle noticed several guns.
Jack’s attention, however, was now solely on her.
She looked up at him, catching his eyes. They burned blue fire as he looked her up and down. She had the decency to blush.
“Okay, so what’s the deal with these rags?” she asked as she set the bag on the edge of an opposite couch and sat down across from him.
“Believe it or not, they’re bullet-proof.”
Annabelle stared at him. She blinked. “Okay, what if I don’t believe it?”
Jack smiled and chuckled. “Doesn’t matter, luv. They’re still bullet-proof.”
Annabelle looked down at the clothes once more.
“You wanna explain?”
He sat back on the couch, draping his arms over either side of the back of the sofa. His blue eyes bore into hers. “I had them made for you a long time ago.”
“
“Six years ago.” He paused. “When you found out.”
Annabelle blinked again and, at that, she looked around. Dylan was no where to be seen. That was why Jack didn’t mind speaking on this particular subject. The subject of what it was she found out. The subject of his particular choice of career.
“Where’s Dylan?”
“He’s in the other room, working on the laptop. Picking up where you left off with the color conversion.” Jack gestured to a door in the corner of the room that Annabelle hadn’t previously noticed. The hide-out was larger than she’d at first thought.
“Oh.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He simply looked at her. She was growing uncomfortable beneath his ever watchful gaze.
“You got the clothes when I found out? Why?”
“Because, luv, it isn’t safe knowing what I am.” Jack shook his head then and leaned forward again. His expression was suddenly troubled. “I’ve put you in danger.” His gaze dropped to the floor.
Annabelle’s brow furrowed. What was he talking about? That was six years ago! “Exactly what kind of danger, Jack?”
He looked up from the floor. “There are different kinds?”
“Jack!”
“All right.” He sighed. “You can be used against me. Knowing what you know places you at risk of being… questioned.” His expression was defeated.
“Questioned? You mean, tortured?” Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Duh! Jack, I already knew as much.” She shrugged. “I accepted it. People are always in danger from something anyway. It’s just a part of life.”
Jack’s eyes widened as she continued.
“But if you were so worried, then why didn’t you give me the clothes until now?”
He watched her in somewhat stunned silence for several more seconds and then sighed again and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I had my reasons.”
She wasn’t placated. “And they were?”
His jaw tensed and he stood. He was very tall. “My reasons,” he said. His tone had taken on a dangerous note. Annabelle’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you go all bossy on me, Jack. I don’t play that way.” She stood as well, not liking the powerless feeling that his height gave her. “If we’re in this together, then we’re in it together. Communication is key. If there’s something I should know, then spit it the hell out.”
He inhaled slowly, his blue eyes taking on the look of sharp cut sapphires. “It isn’t important, Annabelle. And this is neither the time nor the place.” His accent had deepened considerably during the course of the conversation.
Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Wow. You only call me ‘Annabelle’ when you’re really pissed.” She sighed. “I’m going to let it go, Jack. But if your keeping secrets from me gets me killed, I will
Jack blinked. And then, slowly, his lips broke a smile. “Fair enough.”
“Now,” Annabelle said, lowering her arms and looking around the room. “I’m starving. Got any grub in this place?”
Jack watched her for several moments more and then turned toward a line of cupboards that was against one wall across the room. His head was spinning. There were too many thoughts inside fighting for dominance over his concentration.
Annabelle never ceased to amaze him. Though he’d hoped differently, he couldn’t really be shocked over the fact that she’d known all along of the danger involved in befriending a professional killer. She wasn’t stupid. But the fact that she accepted it so devil-may-care was beyond him.
He, on the other hand, had never come to accept it.
Six years ago, when she stumbled in on him and his mark during a job, he’d nearly had a heart attack. He’d quickly finished the job, right in front of her, and then absconded her and left the state. Like the trooper that she was, Annabelle hadn’t put up a fight. She’d simply remained silent and let him explain. He rented them a room in a Wisconsin hotel and went about telling her his life story. Or most of it, anyhow. The parts she needed to know.
And while she sat there in relative calm, surprised but understanding, he’d been internally killing himself. How could he have slipped up so badly?
Two days later, they returned to the Twin Cities and Annabelle went back to work and school, a little shook up, but dealing with the situation amazingly well.
He, however, immediately contacted a man in Cuba and had the bullet-proof-clothing, along with several other protective items, created for her.
And then, as he waited for them to be shipped, he got cold feet. If he gave her the clothes, he would be admitting to her that she needed them. And, if she needed them, then it meant that people were going to shoot at her. People were going to try to kill her – just to get to him. How would she react to such news?
Annabelle Drake had a stubborn streak, true, but could their friendship and her tenacity stand up to something like that?
What if it didn’t?
What if she ran? Left the city – the state – the country?
He could never let her go. He’d realized that only shortly after meeting her for the first time in that bar on her twenty-first birthday. She completed him. He had never, in his life, experienced peace and calm until that night. Just sitting there beside her at the bar, looking into her eyes, laughing at the ridiculous things she said… He’d known happiness.
And he wasn’t about to give it up. Some days – some nights – it was all that kept him going.
So, he reconsidered and hid the clothes away. Instead, he took a different approach to the situation. He assigned a permanent delegation of pickets to watch over her twenty-four-seven. His men watched her go to work, and they watched her while she was
They’d been watching for six years and, thus far, Jack had thwarted three attempts on her life. Attempts that she was utterly unaware of.
He knew it wasn’t right. He knew he was a bloody coward. But there it was. Even cold-blooded paid assassins were afraid of
Jack cursed himself under his breath and reached up into the top cupboard. A store of food had been stashed there long ago. But, as he pulled it down, he realized his mistake. Beef jerky, Canned chili, Spam… There was little to nothing that Annabelle would find appetizing. Most of the stuff contained meat, and she wasn’t a particularly big
