Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

“Don’t give up on him.”

I jolted and glanced at Jack standing next to my kitchen sink, rinsing his juice glass.

This morning was a far cry from yesterday morning. I’d woken up the same way, with Wilson’s big body wrapped around me from behind. However, there was no phone call that took me from his bed. And unlike all the times before when he rolled me over and slid inside of me, it was gentle.

Dare I say it, but by all accounts Wilson McCray had made love to me.

He kept his pace slow and lazy. He’d kissed my face, neck, lips softly. He didn’t sink his teeth into my neck like he’d done the night before, giving me another mark that I secretly loved. And when he climaxed he held my hand whispering my name.

It was no less sublime but very, very different.

Things only got worse when he left me in bed, went into the bathroom, and came out with a washcloth. Never had a man cleaned between my legs. Not that I’d ever needed to be cleaned—because condom. But having Wilson gently wash away his release was…scary.

Scary beautiful.

He’d said he’d destroy me. I thought he meant he’d fuck me until he was done then toss me aside. I had no clue he’d do that by showing me a gentle, sweet side then taking that away.

“Atlee?” Jack called.

Right.

We were at my condo.

That was, me and Jack were there because the boss of the universe had commanded Jack to take me home so I could change for work and pack a bag.

Stupidly I’d agreed to this because I only had Wilson for a week and if I was going to be left heartbroken and destroyed I was going in whole hog.

It was already going to hurt when he left me; what was another few days enjoying the good before I had to piece my life back together post-Wilson?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The sun danced across Jack’s face, lighting his black eyes that weren’t actually black.

“Holy shit. Your eyes are… blue.”

Jack smiled and shook his head.

Dark, navy-blue that unless the light hit them just right looked black.

“Are you deflecting or is the color of my eyes that fascinating?”

I thought about his question then answered honestly.

“Both. I don’t want to talk about Wilson and I’m shook your eyes aren’t black. They’re the darkest blue I’ve ever seen. I don’t know which is cooler. Black eyes or navy eyes.”

“Shook?” He laughed.

“Yes. Shook.”

“I got it before but now I really get it.”

“Get what?”

“How you got past Wilson’s defenses and under his skin.”

Jack had no idea how wrong he was. The only things I’d gotten under were Wilson’s expensive suits. Well, I’d gotten under that muscular body of his, too, but I wasn’t telling Jack either of those things even though he already knew.

“Fear not, good fellow. Wilson’s defenses are fortified and his skin is impenetrable,” I teased.

Apparently Jack didn’t find my wisecrack amusing.

At least that was what his deep frown expressed.

I sighed, not wanting to have this conversation but understanding Jack was Wilson’s friend.

“I’m not going to hurt him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“He’s going to do that all on his own. That’s what I’m saying. Don’t give up on him and let him walk away.”

“Jack—”

“He needs you to fight for him. His guilt won’t allow him to stay. When this is done, he’s going to tell himself he’s doing the right thing by letting you go. He’s going to try to convince you it’s the right thing. He’s going to lie to you and tell you he’s not good enough for you. That he’ll let you down and hurt you.”

I’ll destroy you. I’ll let you down and fail you.

My hand went to the counter to balance myself.

Wilson’s guilt wouldn’t allow him to stay?

Guilt about what?

“I see he’s already started,” Jack quietly presumed.

I shook my head.

“No, but he’s been honest with me from the start and told me he wouldn’t stay.”

“You mean back in Idaho.”

“I knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand.” I frowned and amended. “Or a series of one-night stands.”

“Wilson doesn’t do a series of one-night stands. He doesn’t call a woman princess. He doesn’t get possessive and threaten bodily harm when his friend is shirtless in front of a woman he’s shared a night with.”

“There are extenuating circumstances,” I argued. “I bet he’s never taken the granddaughter of a woman he considers to be a friend to his bed.”

“I wouldn’t know. He’s never talked about a woman with any of us.”

“You know, that doesn’t actually make me feel better and proves my point. The only reason I’m still around is because—”

“He can’t stay away from you.” Jack wrongly finished my sentence.

“Physical attraction is a far cry from what you’re insinuating.”

“You’ll see,” he scarily announced. “And when he does exactly what I’m warning you he’ll do, I hope to fuck you have it in you to stand your ground and fight for your man. Because he deserves nothing less than a strong woman who’s willing to help him battle his demons. And when she digs them out she’ll have a man that will burn the world to the ground to keep her happy.”

I had nothing to the contrary to say to that, so I remained quiet.

Wilson was a good man and he did deserve a woman who would fight for him. I just wasn’t sure he’d let me dig deep enough to find his demons. And the closer I got to him the more it hurt knowing he was going to leave me. If I got to the heart of him and he rejected me it would be devastating.

“Last thing, then I’ll drop it and get you to work.” I watched Jack push away from the counter to stand to his full height. “Push him. Make him tell you what’s holding him back. It won’t take but a nudge from you for him to unburden himself. He’s dying to tell you. He wants to be a man worthy of you. He just plain wants you, Atlee, but he needs you to be the strong one. He needs you to push… him… until he breaks.”

Breaking Wilson sounded terrifying.

“I don’t think—”

“Shut your mind off and follow your heart. You know you want to,” he dared.

Was Jack taunting me into putting my heart on the line?

His grin said he was.

My dumb heart pounded as if to tell me it was fully on board with pushing Wilson until he unburdened himself.

* * *

“We’re being followed,”Jack announced.

I was riding shotgun in his sleek, black BMW 8 series.

I glanced to the side mirror.

“Followed? Why?”

Jack didn’t answer me. He pressed a button on the steering wheel and barked, “Call Rhode.”

A moment later the interior filled with the sound of the call ringing through.

“Why would someone follow us?” I tried again.

“No clue.”

“Jack,” Rhode greeted.

“I have Atlee in the car with me and we’re being followed. I need you to run a plate for me.”

“Go.”

Jack rattled off the plate number then added, “Silver Merc. G Class.”

“Hold tight,” Jack warned before he blew a yellow light, passing a car while narrowly missing getting sideswiped.

“This is a hundred-thousand-dollar car,” I nonsensically complained.

I mean, who cared how expensive the car was when he’d almost crashed on my side?

“Eighty-nine,” he corrected.

“Close enough,” I muttered and watched him weave in and out of traffic.

We were passing the Wynn, coming up to the light at the Palazzo when Jack slowed.

An idea hit me.

“Stay on the Strip.”

“Traffic only gets worse past Treasure Island.”

“It’s worse on Spring Mountain until you hit the 15. Stay on the Strip and pull into Mirage.”

“Atlee—”

“Trust me, Jack.”

He gunned it through the changing light.

“Do you have anything for me, Rhode?”

“Car’s registered to Langford, Inc. I’m running them now.”

Jack whipped around the bend into Mirage, missing three pedestrians by mere inches. There was honking as he overtook a car jockeying for position in line.

“Fuck,” Jack bit out.

The cars slowly crept on, most staying right for the self-park and ride share.

“You want the left side. Valet.”

“We do not want to get out of this car.”

“Trust me.”

His jaw flexed—a clear sign he was not fully down with my plan.

Too bad.

I knew this city better than he did.

Finally, we were close enough to the front that a valet walked to my window. I rolled it down and smiled.

“Hey, Chuck,” I greeted.

“Atlee. Trying your luck with us today?”

“Not today. Listen, I need a favor. I’m escorting a client.” I jerked my head toward Jack. “He won big last night. It’s in the car and we have a tail. Mind holding them up?”

“What am I looking for?”

“Silver G wagon.”

“No problem. Go through.”

“Thanks, Chuck. You’re the best.”

I rolled up my window and turned to Jack.

“Pull around the cars and go into the parking garage.”

Jack followed my instructions, his posture relaxing a bit.

“Where to?” he asked when we pulled into the structure.

“Stay left, there’s an exit to an alley in the back.”

Jack maneuvered to the back and soon we were on the access road between the Mirage and Caesars.

“This is a private road. It goes behind the Mirage to Sammy Davis. We can take Sinatra around back and use the employee entrance of The Boulevard or circle around and valet at the Sky Jewel.”

“Smart,” he muttered.

“You didn’t think I was all beauty, no brains, did you?”

I heard Rhode chuckle.

Damn. I forgot he was still on the phone.

“Yeah, Jack, did you forget she’s Mrs. S’s kin? There was bound to be some brains behind all that pretty.”

I knew Rhode was joking but still…

“I’ll have you know Helene Simpson is the smartest woman I know.”

“Helene?” they both said at the same time.

“Mrs. S’s name is Helene?” Jack went on to ask.

“Um, yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Never knew her first name.”

How was that possible? They’d known her for a good long while.

“Some group of investigators you are.”

“No reason to investigate your grandmother, Atlee,” Rhode put in.

I guess he was right. Still, I was surprised they didn’t know her name.

“My grandfather called her Lenny.”

I smiled at the memory.

“I bet she hated that.” Jack chuckled.

“She pretended to the same she pretends to hate when you all call her Mrs. S but I know she secretly loves it. But if she didn’t fake-hate it she’d have nothing to complain about. And her second favorite thing to digging up a good mystery is giving those she loves grief.”

“A good mystery? Is that what we’re calling alien sightings now?”

My smile widened at Jack’s question.

“Left or right?” he asked, stopping at the exit.

“Left.”

He went left.

“Jesus,” I rushed out and braced my hands on the dash.

“There are five-hundred and twenty-three horses under the hood of this beauty,” Jack gleefully muttered as he accelerated.

“I’m coming up with a whole lot of nothing,” Rhode grumbled. “Give me a bit and I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks, Rhode.” Jack pressed the button on the steering wheel then asked, “Ready to have some fun?”

I glanced over at Jack. He was smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“Make another left at the light up ahead. Then have at it, Speed Racer.”

Jack stopped at the light.

Revved the engine.

The light turned green, he popped the clutch, smoked the tires, and drifted around the turn in a move that would make Mario Andretti proud.

Boys.

They never grew up.