The Choice Read online

  But Cullinane wasn’t just any man. A chill settled into her bones, a visceral fear that he could make her vulnerable, make her fail.

  Flipping the control to cold, Jillian shuddered but didn’t step away. If it took shocking her into her senses, by God, that’s what she’d do. She’d worked too hard, struggled too long, to let foolish fancies hold sway.

  It was only hormones. A simple, instinctive reaction to battle encoded DNA-deep, to celebrate life after risking death by joining bodies and celebrating life. She might not be immune to biological imperatives, but it didn’t mean she had to succumb. She’d known she risked much to challenge him—she’d simply mistaken the full extent of the cost.

  Cold, rational thought, Jillian. No temper, no passion, no fancies. Admit that he makes your blood sizzle and move on.

  Drawing the frayed ends of her control together, Jillian emerged from the shower and heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Alice, the housekeeper. Shall I come back?”

  Thank God. A distraction. A human voice. “No, it’s fine, just give me a minute.” Hurriedly, she slipped on a thick terry robe, then walked to the door, toweling her hair. Reaching for the knob, she opened it to a small woman with black, curly hair and a smile.

  “I’m sorry if this is a bad time. I came to tidy your rooms.”

  “Sure, come in. Will I be in your way?”

  “Oh, no. I work around people all the time.” With a cheery smile, the woman set down her carryall and pulled out a rag to start dusting the furniture.

  Jillian wasn’t sure what to do with a housekeeper. Stay out of the way? Go back to her business? “Uh...I’ll be in there,” she said, pointing to the bathroom. “Let me know when you need me to move.” Then she paused and held out a hand. “I’m Jillian. You’re...Alice, did you say?”

  Nodding, Alice seemed startled, then smiled and shook Jillian’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jillian.”

  Her smile warmed Jillian. Such a little thing, but it made her realize how much she’d missed the little things, small talk, simple, genuine smiles. How did these people stand being cooped up in this place? They might as well be prisoners.

  Eager to enjoy more, Jillian didn’t leave but rather, trailed behind Alice.

  The woman glanced up. “Can I help you with something?”

  “No, I was just—have you worked here long?” Oh, brother. Cullinane’s probably made them all sign some secret pledge not to reveal anything to anyone.

  Alice’s smile was strained, and Jillian wondered why. “Three years. It’s a very good job for me. I have four children and no husband to help me.”

  “Do you live far away?”

  “No, I live on the grounds, in an apartment above the garage.”

  “Doesn’t it—don’t you get tired of it?”

  Alice looked amused. “Of living in the countryside instead of the dump I could afford in the worst neighborhood in the city?” She shook her head. “No. My children are safe here, and they can attend good schools.” A slight frown crossed her face, then her eyes filled.

  “Are you all right?”

  Alice shook her head, reaching into her pocket for a tissue and blowing her nose daintily. “I’m sorry. It’s just that...”

  “Please,” Jillian gestured to the chair nearby, “please sit down.”

  “I shouldn’t— You can’t...”

  “Can’t what? Can’t listen?” It was wonderful to think about someone else’s problems instead of her own. “Of course I can, if you’d like to talk.” She tried another tack. “It must be very difficult, being a single parent.”

  Alice settled on the edge of the chair, tears spilling over. “Oh, yes. Yes, it is.” She looked stricken. “They’re wonderful children, don’t get me wrong.”

  “How many boys and girls?”

  Alice brightened. “Two boys, my older one, J.T., is twelve.” A shadow darkened her eyes for a moment. “Adam, my other son, is nine. He looks up to J.T. so much.” Again the sadness. “I have two daughters, Lily, who is seven, and Mary Beth, my little one, just turned five.”

  And J.T. is giving you trouble. “A boy of twelve...it must be difficult, having no father to help with him.”

  “He’s a good boy, but lately...” Alice shook her head, voice lowering to a whisper. “I thought this place would protect him, but I’m seeing bad things now. He’s hanging around with some boys I don’t know, boys with smart mouths and no respect. They always wear the same two colors.”

  “Gang colors.”

  The woman’s eyes snapped to hers. “I was hoping I was wrong. Are you sure?”

  Jillian could have given her chapter and verse on gang behavior. Much of her life had been spent in a universe where gangs reigned, but she could not risk any connections to her old life, so she merely nodded. “I, uh, I saw a television show recently, describing gang behavior. That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

  Alice’s knuckles whitened, the grip of her hands was so tight. “I don’t—he won’t talk to me about it, and Adam... Adam will do anything he sees J.T. do. I don’t want to lose either one of them, and I’m so worried. I thought we’d be safe here, so far from the old neighborhood.”

  “It can’t be hopeless yet.” She’d check out J.T., see what she could do.

  Alice’s head rose, her eyes shining. “Oh, I know it’s not.” She wiped at her eyes. “After all, there’s Mr. Cullinane...”

  “Cullinane?” What part did he play?

  The woman nodded. “J.T. worships the ground that man walks on. I know Mr. Cullinane will help me.” Rising to her feet, she began to dust again. “I don’t know why I’ve talked so much. I’d better get this room done. Smiling shyly, she spoke over her shoulder, moving away. “I guess I’ve missed having other women to talk to.”

  Jillian let her pass without protest. She was still reeling over the concept of Cullinane as a substitute father. Mr. Granite? She hadn’t exactly noticed the milk of human kindness gushing from his veins. Shaking her head, she wanted to tell Alice to get herself and her kids away from this place, away from a monster like Hafner.

  Did she know who he was? What he did?

  “Alice, perhaps you shouldn’t stay here if you think your children need to get away from bad influences around them. I know this place is nice, but room and board aren’t reason enough.”

  Alice laughed, her laughter a clear, silvery tone that brought Jillian a smile. “Oh, I get much more than room and board. Klaus pays me very well for being his housekeeper, and he’s started a college fund for each of my children. I have so few expenses that I’m able to put away quite a bit of my salary for that purpose, and he matches, two for one, every dollar I put away. In three years, I’ve made a good nest egg for them.” Her smile faded. “And my brother depends upon me. I couldn’t leave.”

  Her brother? Jillian’s head reeled from the thought that this kind, gentle woman was Hafner’s sister, that Hafner would do such a generous thing. Then her words sank in. Three years. Alice had been here when Belinda was here.

  He’d murdered Belinda. How could Alice not see what kind of man he was? What did she think had happened to Belinda? Could she not know Belinda was dead? Jillian reeled. How could this be the same man? College funds for Alice’s children?

  He’d done it, though. Killed Belinda. Her letters, her calls...all evidence demonstrated that he’d intimidated her, kept her a virtual prisoner. She’d been terrified of him toward the end, and they’d been alone in that bayou cabin he’d used for a getaway. Before the case had been closed, the parish officials had shown Jillian the file that was now conveniently ‘missing.’ There was no doubt of it. He might support a whole orphanage, give money to the homeless, be the patron saint of a whole city, but he’d still murdered her sister—and others—by virtue of his livelihood. He was a merchant of death.

  And Cullinane was the man he trusted most. Cullinane knew the answers.

  Answers Jillian didn’t dare ask for. Not fr
om him, not even this sweet, harmless woman.

  “Jillian? Ms. MacGregor? Are you all right?”

  Jillian’s head snapped up, searching Alice’s kind eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask her if she’d met a woman named Belinda, but... Her shoulders sagged.

  She was alone in this. She’d chosen this route. No secret ally would sweep in to help her, there were no shortcuts. She had to keep quiet, dig for information, look for her opportunity—and keep her wits about her.

  Raising her head high and straightening her shoulders, she smiled calmly. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll leave you to your work.”

  And turned away, feeling more alone than when she’d opened the door.

  Chapter Six

  Late afternoon shadows drifted across her bed. A knock sounded on her door, and Jillian stirred.

  The knock came again, harder.

  She sat up, muzzy from her nap. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Fred. Get up. Boss wants you.”

  Jillian shoved her hair back out of her face. Rising slowly, muscles protesting, she scrubbed at her face with her hands, grabbing her robe from the end of the pale peach bedspread. “Just a minute...I’m coming.”

  Opening the door, she could see the signs of his disapproval, the smirk. Jillian straightened. “Yes?”

  “Boss wants to go for a Sunday drive. Be ready in ten minutes.” He held out her weapon. “Cullinane says you don’t have to feel naked anymore.” Fred’s brown eyes glinted, and she fought the urge to hold her robe closer.

  But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She took her weapon, meeting his gaze with chin lifted. “Fine.” She started to close the door.

  He shot out an arm to block it. For one instant, she felt a frisson of fear.

  The beefy blond man looked uneasy. Finally, he blurted out, “You’re...different.”

  She cocked her head, waiting. “And...?”

  He studied her, shook his head. “I don’t know. You made me look bad,” he said, glancing at his foot. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

  Jillian didn’t know how to handle him, what to say. These men could make her life even harder if they wouldn’t accept her. She didn’t need any more obstacles.

  “Nobody’s taken Cullinane down in a long time.” He shifted uneasily on his feet, then glanced up, a slight grin curving his lips. “You might be all right.”

  Jillian grinned back, sighing inwardly with relief. “Thanks...Fred, right?” She glanced down at his foot. “I—I’m sorry about your foot. I’d been asleep, and I...”

  He waved off her words. “Forget it. It was the other guys laughing at me that hurt worse than anything. But after today, well...Cullinane beat you good, but that fall took the heat off me.” With another grin, he stepped away, drawing the door closed. “Uh, the boss is waiting.”

  Her spirits a little lighter, she flew into action. No way was she giving Cullinane a chance to chew her out for being late. When she got downstairs, though, Cullinane was nowhere in sight, and neither was the limo she’d ridden in the night they went to Chez Nous. In its place was an SUV, Hafner waiting at the passenger door.

  “Would you do the honors and drive?”

  Startled, Jillian hesitated. “I don’t know the area.” And I don’t want to be alone with you. No, that was wrong. That’s exactly what she needed. Yes. She could get this over with and leave.

  Though she might spend the rest of her life running.

  He waved a hand toward the driver’s seat. “No matter. I do.”

  She shrugged. “You’re the boss.” But no time to plan, no strategy. Resolving to be vigilant for her opening, Jillian climbed into the seat, adjusting it to fit her.

  Hafner settled into the seat beside her, then she heard the left rear door open and glanced in the mirror.

  Cullinane. Of course.

  Jillian ground her teeth in frustration. She should have known he’d never let her do this alone. Glaring into the mirror, she challenged him. “Perhaps Cullinane would rather drive? You do prefer to be in control, isn’t that right, watchdog?”

  Mr. Granite was back, full-force. Black mane forbidding, the silver streak a warning. The man whose eyes had darkened with desire could have been a figment of her imagination. This man didn’t evince even a grimace at the nickname.

  Hafner laughed. “He does, indeed.” He turned toward his security chief. “What do you say, Cullinane?”

  Voice stony, Cullinane responded, “Just drive, MacGregor.”

  Shadows dappled the driveway as she pulled away, Hafner giving directions. They headed farther out into the countryside. Jillian concentrated on her driving, trying desperately not to be unnerved by the presence of a man she loathed beside her...and the penetrating gaze that met her every time she glanced in the rearview mirror.

  When Hafner’s arm stretched out to rest lightly on the top of her seat back, she steeled herself not to shift away.

  Hafner rolled down the window, drawing in a deep breath of air filled with scents of decaying vegetation, exhaust fumes, and the slowly-settling heat of the day. “Ah, this countryside suits me. I like the faint air of corruption that infuses everything.”

  She didn’t respond, focused on steering carefully. In the mirror, Cullinane’s hard visage greeted her, but she couldn’t read any expression there.

  “Turn here, my dear,” Hafner gestured. As their bodies swayed with the abrupt turn, his hand dropped to her thigh.

  Jillian flinched. Her glance shot up to the mirror to see if Cullinane had noticed, but Hafner’s voice jerked her attention back quickly.

  A squirrel darted across the road. Jillian barely missed it, Hafner’s hand tightening on her thigh as the vehicle swayed.

  She wanted to slap his hand away, to punch his lights out. She wanted to bathe away his touch, even though her jeans barred him from coming into contact with her skin.

  But she had a goal, a job to do. Hafner had to trust her so she could get close, again and again, until the opportunity presented itself. Tamping down her disgust, she gritted her teeth, glancing back in the mirror.

  Cullinane’s eyes burned her, his generous mouth set in a hard line, the flex of his jaw condemning.

  Jillian raised her chin and glared back.

  “Pay attention, MacGregor. There’s a car following us.”

  Glancing in the mirror again, she saw he was right. She’d seen that car before, on the highway. Focus, Jillian. Do this right.

  In front of them, a car drifted across the white line. She hadn’t trained for evasive driving.

  A quick glance behind showed the car speeding up. The car in front hadn’t corrected its angle—it was headed straight for them.

  “Get down, Klaus,” Cullinane snapped. “Hit it, MacGregor! See if you can get past them.”

  Jillian’s fingers tightened around the wheel. She punched the accelerator, the vehicle reacting quickly. The car in front sped up, angling more. “I can’t make it,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m headed through those trees.” Jerking the wheel hard, she prayed the vehicle wouldn’t tip over as she ran it across the uneven ground.

  A shot pinged the roof. She wanted to reach for her weapon, but steering took all her attention.

  “Stay focused,” Cullinane ordered. “Turn our side toward them when you have to stop.”

  She saw him edging toward the other door, gun ready. Aiming the SUV at rougher ground where the cars behind them would have more trouble, she hoped she wouldn’t have to slow down to shift into four-wheel drive. They were gaining slightly.

  Suddenly, a drop loomed. Too much to traverse, and solid cypresses at the base, the edge of the swamp too near. She wheeled the car around, leaving it running, and grabbed her weapon. Cullinane slipped out of the back, gun drawn and ready.

  A shot hit the rear window, but it didn’t break.

  “Bulletproof, thanks to my protector,” Hafner said.

  Jillian climbed past him. “Stay down. I’ll see if I c
an help Cullinane.”

  When she got out, though, he was nowhere in sight. The black car that had been chasing them closed the gap. Jillian crouched behind the wheel well, sighting in to shoot, when she was grabbed from behind, a hard blow to her arm knocking her weapon to the ground.

  “Not bad, MacGregor. Your evasive driving skills could stand some work, but at least you didn’t panic.”

  Heart pounding, rage shot through her body like a sniper’s bullet. She jerked away and whirled, chest heaving. Angry words rocketed to her lips. With great effort, she swallowed them, adrenaline still pumping.

  The cars behind them slowed and stopped. Ron and two other men emerged. Hafner climbed out of the Explorer, grinning.

  Only Cullinane looked displeased.

  Hands on her hips, Jillian glared at him, fury still fighting to escape from her lips. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Turning insolently away from his regard, she leaned down and picked up her weapon.

  “What did I tell you, Cullinane? Cool as a cucumber under pressure.” Hafner’s smug voice sounded. “She’s ready, even you can’t say she isn’t.” A taunting tone entered his next words. “I mean, any woman who can drop the unbeatable Cullinane...”

  A grin crossed Ron’s face. Jillian wished she were looking at Cullinane right now. Slowly, she turned.

  If looks could kill, she’d be toast. She didn’t care. This was sneaky, underhanded...

  Effective. It had worked. Her final exam, and she’d passed it. She could see it in his gaze. He couldn’t turn her away now. She smiled sweetly. “Do I get an ‘A’, teacher?”

  His grim visage revealed nothing. Nodding at the men behind her, he snapped out an order. “Ron, you drive back. Check the vehicle to make sure there’s no damage other than the window. Solly, you in front and the other car follows. Let’s get back to the compound, people. Fun’s over.”

  He started past her. Jillian shot out a hand to stop him. “Cullinane, admit it.”

  He towered over her, his closeness unsettling. The imperious eyebrow lifted. “Admit what?”

  That I’m good, that I surprised you, that— Stop it, Jillian. You don’t need this man’s approval, you only need him to not interfere. She dropped her hand. “Never mind.” She stalked toward the car, but his voice stopped her.