Because she knew how safe and solid he felt when she had her arms wrapped around his waist while they were rocketing down the interstate at ninety miles an hour on a Harley Davidson machine. Because he was the only assassin who didn’t kill women and children. He didn’t even kill single fathers – or soldiers, for that matter. Because he looked at her in that hungry, determined way full of angst and hope and human fear that could only come with the strongest emotion a being can feel for another. Because he was always there for her. No matter how small or mundane the problem was, he deemed it worthy of fixing it for her immediately. And the big problems were dealt with just as efficiently. He was protective, strong, and confident. He knew what he was doing and never held back in doing it for Annabelle’s sake.
He’d saved her life countless times.
Come to think of it, s
And, when they made love… They claimed each other body and soul, in a tangled desperation that refused to be sated – a heat that could not,
She loved him because he loved her.
And here they were, hurting each other. So badly.
Annabelle put back the weights and straightened. She stared at herself in the mirror, this time actually seeing her reflection for what it was. She was dressed in a tight white tank top and black jeans, with her typical riding boots finishing the ensemble. And though her physique was defined, and her muscles were certainly more cut because of it, it was suddenly obvious to Annabelle that she’d lost a significant amount of weight.
She was wasting away in this situation. She’d had little appetite and it showed. Soon, she would become weak. She would lose what little edge she had.
She needed to get out.
That thought came with one piggy-backing on it. If two of the men outside were going to leave in order to meet the massage therapist at the entryway to the complex, then only two would be left behind with Annabelle – for just that short space of time.
Two men instead of four. Was that do-able?
She thought about it seriously for a moment and then sighed, shaking her head. She had no weapons, but for the weights in this room and her own strength. And the men outside were prepared for such an eventuality. They weren’t stupid. They’d been trained by Jack.
With a strangled sound that bespoke of desperation, she ran a hand through her hair and left the at-home gym, heading for the massive shower in the other room. The hot water would feel good. And she could prepare herself, because when Alex got back from wherever it was he’d gone, she was going to tell the man that she was finally willing and ready to talk to Jack Thane.
And she knew Jack would come.
Jack exited the bar, holding on to the door a little as he did so in order to keep his balance. His eyes scanned the bikes lined up along the sidewalk.
Either he was more plastered than he thought, or his bike was gone.
“No bloody way-”
“Mr. Thane.”
Jack turned to face the source of the voice. Alex slowly approached him, a concerned look in his hazel eyes. “Sir, can I get you a ride home?”
Jack’s gaze narrowed. He swayed slightly in his stance, but at least his vision wasn’t blurry. “You’ve got nerve.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I had no choice.”
“Oh?”
Alex smiled a nervous smile. “As per your own orders, Mr. Thane, I am to keep Miss Drake safe at all costs. If you get on your bike right now, a number of things might happen. You could kill yourself. You could kill someone else. You could actually make it back to the apartment, with a long angry ride behind you, and then you and Miss Drake could fight. Again. All of those things would hurt her in some way.”
Jack stared at Alex. For a long time, he didn’t speak. And then he turned to face him fully and closed the distance between them in two long strides. To Alex’s credit, the man didn’t back up.
“Where is my goddamned bike, Alex?” Jack’s tone had lowered to a growl. His teeth were clenched. His blue eyes sparked dangerously.
“I’m sorry, boss, but I can’t-”
Alex was cut off when Jack suddenly grabbed the younger man by the neck and swung him around to slam him up against the nearby brick wall. Despite his altered state of mind, Jack’s body moved as it had been trained to, like lightning. The attack was so fast, Alex hadn’t seen it coming, and his breath left his lungs with the impact.
“Do you have any idea how stupid it is to touch another man’s ride, my friend?”
The voice that asked the question was not Jack’s. It came from behind him. Jack released Alex and turned around. Alex dropped to his feet and managed to at least catch himself solidly.
Avery stood a few feet away, half of his Hell’s Angels chapter behind him. It was a motley looking crew, at best.
Alex found himself taking that step back after all.
Annabelle started the water running in the shower and quickly disrobed. She let the clothing lay where it fell and made certain the water was hot enough that it would cloud up the glass door in a matter of short minutes.
Then she got in and let it soak her through. She was already clean, having just showered the night before, but once you’re under the hot water, it’s sort of automatic to go ahead and wash up anyway.
After she’d shampooed and conditioned and soaped and rinsed, she shut the water off, and the multiple angled shower heads surrounding her stopped spraying hot water.
She stepped out, toweled off and pulled on one of the plush robes hanging in a closet within the giant bathroom. It felt good on her skin, warm and comforting. She didn’t bother dressing, as she knew the massage therapist would only have her undress again anyway.
She left the bathroom just as there was a knock on her door.
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly “Miss Drake, this is Victoria Albrecht.” Simon stood in the doorway and motioned to a woman who was two steps behind him. “She’s the massage therapist that Alex hired.” He stepped into the room, retaining a respectful social distance between himself and Annabelle, as she was only wearing a robe. And none of Jack’s employees wanted to cross him on that particular matter.
Victoria Albrecht was a large woman, and Annabelle would have placed her somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties. She was big boned and stout and her skin had that ruddy Germanic complexion that said her body possessed of purely Anglo-Saxon genes and nothing more.
She smiled at Annabelle, flashing teeth that were well cared for. Annabelle figured a lot of that had to do with how much the woman was most likely paid. Jack wasn’t known to stiff people on tips.
“Hi, Miss Drake. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance,” she said as she came forward, offering a strong- looking hand. Annabelle took it and smiled back. She was warm to the touch and immediately imparted a sense of calm and trust with that simple gesture. Her smile was honest, and her manner was easy. And instead of the Germanic “Helga-esque” accent Annabelle had been expecting, Victoria’s accent reminded her more of Mary Poppins.
It was instantly endearing. Annabelle was beginning to relax already.
Simon waited in the doorway until he could see that Annabelle was comfortable in the woman’s presence. “I’ll just bring in the equipment,” he told them and then ducked out of the room. He came back in carrying a large plastic case. He set it down in front of Victoria and then straightened. Can I get you anything else, Miss Drake? Mrs. Albrecht?”
Annabelle turned to him. “No, I’m fine – unless there’s anything you’ll need, Mrs. Albrecht?”
“Victoria, dear. And, no. I carry everything in there.” As she spoke, she opened the case and Annabelle and
