She breathed out a long sigh. “They weren’t just good. They were great. I’ll always look back at them fondly. But we got divorced for a reason.”
“We were the right people, just the wrong time.”
Essie shook her head as a rush of memories made her chest uncomfortably tight. “No, we were just plain wrong.”
“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you believe it either.” Jackson put down his fork and set his hand on the table, his fingers close to hers but not quite touching. “I think you’re scared of what might happen if we got together again.”
“I’m not afraid. I learned my lesson.” Chin tipped up, she ignored the ache in her heart that refused to mend. After all, it had been there for more than a year; why bother acknowledging it now? “Only a fool would put their hand back on the hot stove after getting burned.”
The sound of a vehicle’s engine outside provided a welcome escape from their conversation. Leaning back in her chair, Essie craned her neck to peer out the front window and saw a mud-splattered Jeep with dark-tinted windows at the end of the driveway. The Jeep came to a stop, the passenger door opened, and Navarre climbed out. Dressed in all black with mirrored sunglasses and a camo ball cap, he said something to the driver before closing the door, and then started toward the house.
“Any problems dropping off the Taurus?” Jackson asked when his roommate came inside.
“Nah, piece of cake.” Navarre crossed to where they sat and snatched a piece of bacon off Jackson’s plate. “I filled up the tank and put a fifty in the ashtray. The grand total came to eighty-three dollars.”
“I’ll cut you a check later,” Jackson said.
“No, you won’t. It’s my expense. I’ll cover it.” She looked to Navarre. He’d helped her in spite of their mutual disdain. The least she could do was show a little gratitude. “Thank you. Did you find my car?”
“Yep.” He pulled a tiny gray plastic box out of his pocket and held it up for them to see. “Found this under the passenger wheel well. Don’t worry; it’s deactivated. But I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring your car here, just in case your buddy planted more than one.”
That was smart thinking on Navarre’s part. Anybody could buy that kind of GPS tracker online for less than twenty bucks. Vaughn would never use low-quality crap like that for an op. In all likelihood, it was meant as a decoy in the hopes she’d give up the search once she found the first one.
“Where’d you leave the car?” Jackson asked.
“Hatch towed it to his place. Neither of us felt comfortable driving it until it got a more thorough inspection. Once he’s finished, he’ll let us know what he finds.”
That was all well and good, but she needed a shower and a fresh change of clothes, and that wasn’t going to happen as long as she was trapped here with no transportation. After eating another bite of omelet, she asked Jackson, “Can you give me a lift to my apartment?”
“If that’s what you want.” Disappointment tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s probably better if you stayed here, though. You’ll be safer.”
The look on Navarre’s face made it perfectly clear what he thought of the idea. Not that she blamed him. The feeling was mutual. If given the choice, she’d rather eat lunch off the floor of a Porta Potty than live under the same roof as him.
“I appreciate the offer,” Essie said. “But I really could use fresh clothes and a few other things.”
She also needed to call her boss and request a leave of absence. Between now and then, she’d have to come up with a good excuse, like a dying grandmother or the kinds of lady problems that sent most male human resources directors screaming for the door.
Then she’d have to find a new place to live until she found a way out of this mess. Jackson was right; with Vaughn on the prowl, she’d be a sitting duck at her place. But playing house with her ex wasn’t an option, even if she could find a way to live with Navarre. Things would be awkward, and it would likely give Jackson unrealistic expectations about their relationship. But most important, she didn’t want to bring that kind of danger to his door. If he—or even Navarre—got hurt because of her, the guilt would eat her alive.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Jackson obviously wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t try to argue, which she appreciated. He stood and loaded his empty plate and mug into the dishwasher. “Let me grab a quick shower, then I’ll take you home.”
Twenty minutes later, they were on the road in Jackson’s old Ford pickup. On the outside it wasn’t much to look at, with faded blue paint and countless scratches and dings that came from years of use. But it ran like a dream and the cab was loaded with every creature comfort under the sun, even seat warmers, not that they got much use in Florida.
“So where are you going to stay?” Jackson asked as he exited the expressway.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s probably better if you don’t know.”
Jackson slanted her a look. “I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”
“I’m well aware of that. But you don’t know Vaughn the way I do. He’s…” She pushed out a breath as she grappled for the right words to make him understand just how dangerous her former mentor was. “Nobody ever sees Vaughn coming. And by the time you do, it’s too late. Hell, I almost made the same mistake, and I worked with the guy for the better part of a decade.”
There was also the matter of the Russian wet-work team who’d love to add her name to their long list of kills. If they knew about Jackson, they wouldn’t think twice about targeting him to get to her.
Face grim, Jackson passed a slow-moving van with a blinker that had been flashing for more than a mile. At the light, he turned his head to face her, and her breath caught at the raw emotions in his eyes. “So what, you’re going to take on multiple assassins all by yourself? That doesn’t sound smart to me. It sounds more like suicide.”
Her grip tightened around the door handle. Over the years, she’d been in far worse situations and always managed to come out on top. She hated being second-guessed and underestimated, especially by people who should know better. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“And I appreciate the sentiment, but you know I don’t need protecting. I’d rather make sure nobody hurts my woman.”
