Hell Bent

on the girl. Jack knew the man by sight, having been given his file the day before. His name was Benjamin Tadler; a handler gone bad, ruined by personal agendas and a fouled-up sense of justice. He’d broken a commandment of the Business by having one of his guns pull a personal favor. He’d orchestrated the killing of a girlfriend he believed had been cheating on him.

In the end, not only had the deed been found out by the powers that be, but to further the grievance of his actions, it had turned out that his girlfriend was doing no such thing.

Jack may have known who Ben was, but Ben had no idea who Jack was. It was one of the benefits of not being as big in the Business as someone like Samuel Price. He retained a small amount of anonymity.

Jack would find Ben later that night. He would track him down, beat the shit out of him, and then end his worthless life.

Later.

Jack had never felt emotions such as the ones that rushed him that night. He not only wanted to kill his target, but every other man in the bar. A sense of protectiveness and jealousy unlike any he’d ever experienced flowed through his veins like liquid fire. In the course of several decisive seconds, he’d mapped out the remainder of the night in his mind.

He would do his job in good time.

The fallen angel girl, whoever she was, would come first.

He remembered standing from where he’d been hiding in the corner and approaching Annabelle at the bar. She’d turned to look at him, already obviously steeling her nerves to tell him off.

But then she hadn’t told him off. Her eyes had met his and held. He’d had trouble breathing when he asked her and her companions if they would mind whether he joined them. Her two friends had agreed readily. Annabelle hadn’t said anything. Not at first.

And he had been unable to take his eyes off of hers.

Finally, she had smiled at him. Jack’s entire world flipped on its axis at that moment and he knew, as he had never known anything in his life, that he was lost for good.

He’d been right.

That was ten years ago.

Ten years ago, today.

As he held her in his arms, now, neither of them spoke. In the recesses of their minds, each of them thought of the past. Each contemplated years gone by and happenstance.

In their own ways, in their own perceptions of pain and pleasure, they each thought of anniversaries.

Several minutes passed, in that shared silence. And then Annabelle cleared her throat. “So… what did you get me?” She asked softly, her words muffled by his shirt.

Jack blinked and slowly allowed her to pull away. She wiped her eyes and offered him the hint of a smile.

Christ, he thought, as his breath caught at her beauty. In ten years, she hasn’t changed. And then he smiled back at her, once more taking the white envelope out of his back pocket.

He handed it to her and, this time, she took it, sniffling as she looked down at it. Then, as he watched, she held it up to the light shining through the window and attempted to see through the paper. He bit his cheek and shook his head.

“Why not open it, luv?” It would be a hell of a lot easier to see what was inside.

“Not as fun,” she told him, as if she could read his thoughts. Annabelle studied the small package carefully. He’d already gotten her the best present she could think of, but unfortunately, as things stood right now, she wasn’t sure she would ever get to see her Harley Night Rod again.

On that note, she pulled the top of the envelope away and tipped it over onto her palm. Two booklets of tickets spilled out and into her hand. She blinked at them and then turned them over to read the writing on the front covers.

“Holy mother,” she whispered. “No way you got me season Wild tickets.” Her mouth dropped open and she read the covers again. “No way!” She stood then, beaming brightly, her smile ear to ear. She held the tickets out at arm’s length, turning them left and then right in her hands. And then she drew them close again, holding them over her heart.

She looked up at Jack, whose own heart was hot in his chest.

“Thank you so much, Jack. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to cheer on my team in person.” She’d always been there, in some way, when she could manage it. Either at the gym, in front of their big-screen TV. Or outside the X-cel Arena, cheering along with the other left-over schmucks who hadn’t been able to afford tickets. She was always there for her team in spirit, at least. But now she could be there for real. The Wild were going to win the Stanley cup this season. She felt it in her blood. And she would be there to watch them drink champagne from it.

She held the books out, separating the two. Two books of tickets. Two people. “I suppose the stipulation is that you accompany me?” she asked, her eyes twinkling wickedly.

He grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” That’s why he’d purchased two books. The truth was, he didn’t care a lot for hockey, but for the fact that Annabelle loved it so much – and her enthusiasm was contagious.

She stared at the tickets a few seconds more and then sighed a contented sigh, her smile turning dreamy.

“Happy birthday, luv.” He said softly, suddenly all too aware of a growing need within him. It was her smile. He loved making her happy. It made him happy.

God, she made him happy.

And he wanted more. But a gift was a not a gift if something was expected in return.

Annabelle left the bed side and carefully placed the tickets in the top drawer of the dresser against the wall. Then she turned to face him as he stood and ran a hand through his hair. He smiled at her and motioned toward the door, indicating that everyone beyond it was probably worried about her, especially Cassie.

But just as he took a step in that direction, Annabelle lunged away from the dresser to knock him back onto the bed. It wasn’t an easy thing to maneuver. He was a big man, filled with ripped muscles from head to toe, and she’d had to put a lot of force behind her movement. The action had been made even more difficult to execute by the fact that she needed to be sure she didn’t shoulder him in the side, where he’d been shot – and she, herself, was injured.

She failed miserably. Both of them went down square in the middle of the mattress, but among groans and grunts of pain.

They laid there for a stunned moment, and then Jack laughed, wrapping one thick arm around her as he rolled them over, pinning her underneath him.

“Practicing up for the games, luv? Please tell me you don’t plan on jumping down onto the ice and putting any fans into the glass.”

Annabelle laughed and raised her head to capture his lips in hers. The kiss took Jack by surprise.

But only for a fraction of a second.

And then he took charge.

Chapter Thirty

Dylan eyed the door behind which Jack and Annabelle had disappeared several hours before.

Beatrice saw the worried expression on the kid’s face and stood up to make her way over to him. “She’s okay, dear. Trust me.”

She smiled a knowing smile and Dylan blinked. And then he blanched.

And Beatrice laughed. Cassie bit her lip to keep from doing the same.

Dylan looked away. And then he sat back in the couch and stared at the hard wood floor. He was too lost in the deep murkiness of his own thoughts to surrender to their teasing. Something was bothering him and it wasn’t the obvious.

He glanced up at the door again and swallowed. “What happened, anyway?” he asked, thinking of the sadness that had come over Annabelle when Thane had reminded her of her birthday. “Why was she so… Upset?”