Hell Bent

At that moment, Annabelle felt more lonely than she could have imagined.

And, it was at that moment that the door adjoining her room to Jack’s opened.

She turned at the sound. She’d left the door unlocked so that Jack could get in if there was an emergency.

Now he stood, framed by the light behind him, still fully dressed but for the head wrap, which he’d taken off at some point, and the gauntlet gloves, which he’d also shed. His blonde hair fell in loose curls to his shoulders. His tall black-clad frame nearly filled the doorway.

Annabelle gazed up at him. He’d gone stock-still, his blue eyes burning like sapphires in a desert. He was staring at her in a way he never had before. There was an expression on his face akin to hunger, to anger, to desperation.

She blinked and looked down, only then realizing that she was completely undressed.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t move. She did not make a break for the bed or for her clothes. She stood there, outlined by the skyline of New York, and let him look.

With quiet deliberation, Jack closed the door behind him and then locked it, never once taking his eyes off of her. Annabelle forced herself to breathe. It wasn’t easy. She watched him move slowly toward her. He was a towering figure of speed and strength and secrets, but he approached her like one would a caged lion.

She didn’t run. She was incapable of movement.

As he closed the distance between them, she recognized a fleeting reservation… He’s married… But the thought flitted before her mind’s eye, flickered into specks of dust, and then was blown away, along with the rest of her ability to reason.

Just before he cupped the back of her neck with his hand and bent to claim her lips in a kiss, she had just enough time to be thankful that she was on birth control.

And that was the last logical notion she had all night.

Jack stared down at the woman sleeping beside him. His hand rested on the curve of her waist. Her back was nestled against his chest. He listened to her breathe and his eyes traced the long, silken locks of her hair that fell in honeyed red and gold waves across the pillow.

He cursed himself inside. This was wrong in so many ways, he couldn’t count them. But, most importantly, it would change things between them. There was no going back now.

He’d protected her for so long. From him, from his life, from everything it stood for. And now he may as well stand her in front of a firing squad and hold his ears.

He brushed a lock from her cheek and admired the curve of her chin. He followed that curve down her throat to her rising and falling chest.

Christ.

He pulled his gaze away and laid back, staring up at the ceiling. He ran a hand over his face in frustration.

Last night, just after seeing Annabelle to her room, he’d received a phone call. He’d stepped away from the hall door, further into his room, to take the call.

His handler had a job for him. He wanted to meet the next night to give him the details. Jack agreed, contingent on his particular terms, as he always did. The handler was accustomed to this and the deal was made. Jack hung up and five hundred thousand dollars was deposited into a special account.

Jack had re-pocketed the phone and taken off his gloves and head wrap to run a hand through his thick blonde hair. Then he’d stood there at the windows, staring out over the vast mini-world that was The Big Apple.

And he’d felt lonely. Lonelier than he had in a long, long time.

He wanted to talk to Annabelle. She always pushed his loneliness away. She never failed to fill in the spaces inside of him that otherwise threatened to fill up with darkness.

With a set of his jaw, he determined to go to her and talk about what was going to happen the following morning.

Without heeding the distinct possibility that Annabelle could already be asleep or even be in the shower, and without even knocking, Jack had gone through their adjoining door and into her room.

All intent to discuss their current case flew from his mind the instant his eyes fell upon her naked form, silhouetted by the city’s sky line in the background.

She turned to look up at him and he’d seen the solitude in her own eyes. At that moment, every last shred of willpower and discipline dropped away from him, leaving him bare and vulnerable to the furious need burning through his blood.

There was no hope for him. And none for Annabelle.

It was a mistake, and he knew it, and he just didn’t care.

Now, as he gazed up at the tiles above him, he pondered that mistake. He would do it again in a heart beat. Without a second thought. And it would still be wrong. Not for him. Not wrong for him, at all. But for Annabelle.

He knew her well enough to know that she would feel guilty. She would beat herself up over this night as if a scarlet “A” had been burned into her chest. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye and that, right there, would be his undoing.

There was only one way to rectify this situation and that was by telling her the truth. Which truth did he tell her first, though? There were so many things he was keeping from her. There was the truth about his “marriages.” There was the truth about the men he’d hired to watch over her. The truth about how much danger she was in for even knowing him, much less liking him.

No. He mentally shook his head. Each of those would only make her hate him. She was a passionate woman. He’d seen her anger and knew how long she could hold on to a grudge. He couldn’t bring himself to be on the receiving end of that ire.

Oh, no? A little voice inside of him taunted. You would rather have her hate herself than hate you, eh? Coward.

Jack narrowed his gaze at the annoying conscious inside of him and mentally cursed.

Christ. What a bloody mess.

And to make matters much, much worse, now that he knew what she bloody-well felt like under all of her bullet-proof armor, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to concentrate enough to keep them safe over the next several days. Not only were the Colonel and some unknown second hired gun out to ensure their unfortunate demise, but Jack had a bloody, god damned job to do that night!

Life had become a circus and he felt like a ring leader dressed in big red shoes, carrying a flashing neon sign that read, “Royally F.U.B.A.R.”

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.

Annabelle stirred beside him. He rolled over onto his side, gently laying his hand on her small hip once more.

“Jack?”

“Yes, luv,” He found himself lowering his lips to her ear. He felt her shiver.

“Cold?”

“Why are you guys always asking me that?” she said, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Jack blinked. Us guys? What did she mean by that? But any concern he had for her words was quickly overshadowed by the realization that there was not a hint of self loathing in her lovely voice.

Before he could say anything, she yawned. When she was done, she stretched lazily beside him, like a long, lithe cat. “I’m hungry.”

Again, he blinked.

She wasn’t going to hate herself? She wasn’t going to hate him?

She rolled over to face him and, covering her mouth, she arched her brows inquisitively and asked, “You gonna stare down at me like that all day?”

He didn’t know whether to laugh that she was so courteous as to hide any hint of morning breath from him or to simply stare down at her all day, as she had suggested.