Lucian’s fingers tangled in hers. Deliberately he brought her knuckles to the warmth of his lips. “I would rather she not answer that or even think about it at this time. You know how stubborn she is.”
“There’s no question that I’ll be going back to work. It’s what I do to make a living,” she said indignantly.
Barry threw back his head and began to laugh. “You happen to be engaged to one of the wealthiest men on the face of the earth. I don’t think making a living is going to be much of a problem for you.”
She glared at him. “For your information, Lucian isn’t nearly as rich as everyone keeps saying. And in any case, I like to work. We’re not married yet, and anything could go wrong. Maybe it will never even happen. Did you think about that? And what if we did get married and it didn’t work out? Do you have any idea how many marriages fail?”
“That is so like you, Jaxx. She already has her marriage failing,” Barry pointed out, “and hasn’t even tied the knot yet. Little Miss Pessimist.”
“I’m
a
realist, Barry,” she answered quietly.
Lucian’s arms tightened around her, almost as if he was protecting her from Barry’s teasing. He could feel the hurt in her mind. She was laughing, but her mind was filled with sorrow. Barry had no idea, though he was her partner and had been for some time. Lucian was certain none of those who thought they really knew her could read her at all. There had been no real laughter in her life; she tried to find moments to enjoy where she could, but always she was aware of the threat to those she became too friendly with. It never left her mind, that terrible burden. The idea of sharing her life with someone was nothing more than a beautiful fantasy to her. An impossible dream.
Lucian’s fingers found the nape of her neck and began a slow, soothing massage. He was asking quite a bit of Jaxon to accept the things she had seen, the things he had told her. She hadn’t closed her mind to the possibility of another humanlike species. She also hadn’t closed her mind completely to the possibility that she might be going crazy or that he might be an enemy.
“I’m glad your wounds weren’t as bad as I thought they might be, Barry,” Jaxon said softly, meaning it. “You told me in the warehouse to quit being such a wimp,” Barry contradicted.
“I was only trying to get you moving, to get you out of there,” she pointed out.
“Oh, sure,” her partner said, winking at Lucian over her head. “Of course, the docs thought they were going to have to take my arm off,” Barry informed her. “The first X-rays showed such shattered bones, the doctors said the inside of my arm was just mush and they couldn’t possibly save it. But I was lucky. I woke up a few hours later, before they were taking me to the operating room, and they said some mix-up must have occurred. My shoulder was broken, but otherwise the bullet just passed through without doing much damage. No one could explain it, but I didn’t mind. I figured it was a miracle, and I was willing to accept it.”
Jaxon went still inside. She knew what had happened. Lucian had happened. He had healed Barry because Barry mattered to her. She knew it instinctively; she knew it without asking. And she didn’t want to know, because it meant Lucian really could do the things he said he could. Deliberately, she didn’t look at him. How much had Barry actually seen that night in the warehouse? Was there anything in his memories that might in some way harm Lucian? Or, worse, would Lucian decide there was something that could condemn him? She rubbed at her suddenly pounding temples.
“Barry,” Lucian said softly, “Jaxon is becoming tired, and I still have to get her home tonight. I know the two of you want to catch up, but it is too early for her to wear herself out.” He added a subtle mental “push” to his voice, creating a gentle command but one impossible to disobey.
Barry nodded immediately, leaning over to brush a kiss on top of her head. Jaxon actually felt the sudden stillness in Lucian. He was like a great jungle cat coiled and ready to strike, yet as motionless as a mountain. She found herself holding her breath for no reason at all.
Lucian was smiling with what appeared to be genuine warmth, shaking Barry’s hand and walking with him to the door. Then, when Barry was gone, he turned to look at her. “You do not trust me.”
“You sound as if that amuses you.” Jaxon was tired of pretending. “I don’t know you, Lucian, not at all. The truth is, I haven’t spent a whole lot of time with other people. I’ve made it a habit to be alone. I’m not sure I’m comfortable being around a stranger who knows so much about me, when I know nothing about him.”
“You are quite capable of reading my mind, angel. Merge your thoughts with mine. You will find out anything you might want to know.”
She shook her head, determined not to get caught by the magic of his voice. “I want to go home to my own apartment and think about everything for a while.”
The telephone chimed before he could respond. Jaxon was oddly grateful. She was uncertain if she wanted him to agree with her or protest. The thought of being separated from him brought a great heaviness to her heart. She picked up the phone, expecting her captain’s voice.
“Jaxx, sweetheart? This is Daddy.”
Tyler. His voice made her instantly sick inside. It brought back every detail of her life with this man. The terrible responsibility of her childhood, shielding her mother and brother, only to fail in the end. The guilt over the Andrews family losing their lives simply for giving her a home. And over Carol Taylor, whose only sin was that she liked to share a cup of coffee in the morning with Jaxon. Drake had called Jaxon one long-ago morning, telling her Carol was weak and useless, like Rebecca, playing on Jaxon’s sense of compassion, the woman was nothing but a leech, a burden. Jaxon had known she would find Carol dead that morning, but she had dropped the phone and run to her apartment anyway.
Now she remained silent, her stomach churning, her hand automatically finding her gun while her eyes began to move restlessly, searching the windows. Could Drake see into the room? Did he have an angle? Drake was an expert marksman. Without thought she slid out of bed and placed herself between the window and Lucian. Lucian, without a word, simply swept her behind him, pinning her there with one strong arm.
“This man is trying to destroy our family, Jaxx,” Drake’s voice barked into the phone. “You can’t allow him to do it. Tell him to go away. You don’t know what men are like or what they want. You can’t trust him.” The voice was steely with authority.
Lucian took the phone out of her hand—an easy enough task, although she tried to hang on to it. “Come and get me, Drake.” As always, his tone was soft, almost gentle. “I have no intention of giving her up. You have no hold over her anymore. Jaxon is under my protection, and your reign of terror is over. Turn yourself in. It is what you wish to do. You’ve wanted to do it for a long while.”
Lucian heard Drake replace the phone in its cradle, cutting off their conversation.
Lucian turned to regard Jaxon with his black, steady gaze. There was no remorse, no fear, nothing at all but the burning blackness of his eyes and the hard, slightly cruel edge to his mouth. Jaxon felt pale and fragile. He looked solid, calm, an anchor, invincible. Very gently he reached out and touched her face. “Jaxon?”
“Why did you do that? Why did you challenge him that way?” Her voice was barely a whisper “You don’t understand. I can’t protect you from him. He will wait. A month, a year—it means nothing to him. Even if I never see you again, he’ll come after you now. You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Jaxon was trembling visibly. She looked so lost, so forlorn, so young and vulnerable, Lucian felt his own heart twist with pain. He reached down, gathered her unresisting body into his arms, and sheltered her close to his heart. Lucian simply held her until the warmth of his body seeped into hers. Until her frantic heartbeat matched the calm, steady rhythm of his. Until the terrible churning in her stomach subsided.