Jack, page 14
part #2 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
A moan escaped her throat, one filled with so much arousal and helplessness that it broke through his lust for a hot second and made him think.
Made him realize that he’d been about to tear her clothes off and grab her tits, and she was only doing this to get him to stop.
The fury returned, kicking back in his system and spurning him on to push her back. He did so firmly, an abrupt jerk that broke the kiss and intensified the ache as he thought he hadn’t tangled properly with that hot tongue yet. With a growl, Jack stared down at her, taking in the swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
His hands itched. His body ached, desired, felt everything so much that he could only stand there and absorb it all.
Then, with a harsh, deep breath, he stepped back and away.
“That was dirty, O’Hara. And that’s not going to stop me.”
The dismay on her face turned to fear, but she didn’t stop him as he directed her out of the elevator. Hand shaking, he pushed in a code and had it moving again before the lobby head could assist, and her eyes watching him was the last thing he saw before the elevator door closed. With a quiet curse, Jack leaned against the wall.
He remained silent and unmoving as it went down, excruciatingly slow in its emptiness. When the door dinged open, whatever weakness he felt was forced in as he snapped forward, body and mind already braced for what was to come. Jack combed the building first, making sure there was no strange person lurking about—not a hardship because security was strict here and only pre-screened guests like Kit were allowed to enter. He then went outside, checking the front, then the back alley, making sure it was clean. No vampire announced its presence, and honed instincts told him there was none. No human presence, either, and none of that odd feeling he often associated with trouble.
Whoever was following Kit was gone.
That left him frustrated and wanting to punch something, but he swallowed the emotion in and tried to think rationally. The rational thing to do right now would be to head to Kit’s home and see if there was a trap. He’d meet that trap head-on, track down the movements of her follower and see if a trail had been left behind…
And in the hours of doing that, he’d leave Kit all alone, unsure, and still living in the fear of what she’d experienced earlier.
Rationality went out the window, replaced by the cold feeling as he remembered her: shaky, desperate, vulnerable. In an instant, he was back in the elevator and cursing it again for moving slow, then was striding out of it when he got to his floor. Kit was leaning against the wall beside it, jerking forward the moment it dinged open. Their gazes met, and he saw the questions in hers before he saw something else: the same weariness from earlier, only heavier, along with an apology she couldn’t quite voice out.
Understanding perfectly, Jack reached out and took her wrist, ignoring her soft gasp and tugging her to the door.
“What happened—where is—why—”
“Nothing happened,” he assured her. “I secured downstairs, and the coast is clear. Your follower’s gone. Your files…”
“I always back them up, and my computers and laptop are airtight locked.” She gave him a look, not as fiery as her usual ones. “You probably can’t even access them.”
He believed her. “Alright. And your devices? Anything else important there?”
Quietly, she inserted a hand inside her coat, where she carried her satchel. The extra earpods were there. “I was bringing them around to upgrade them during my free time. I haven’t been working on anything else.” They stepped inside the apartment. “Most likely, whoever got in there will end up breaking apart my computers to get inside them. I already saw torn pieces.” She said some more—pretty much told him a play-by-play of what went on, and he didn’t interrupt her. Eventually, she returned to her gadgets, worrying over them.
“Whatever they do, they’ll get nothing,” he said, returning her earlier words.
Kit nodded dully and went to the couch, sitting down and staring at the rug. Jack went to the kitchen.
“Kit…”
“I’m not hungry,” she replied. “And I don’t need water. And I’m sorry for earlier. I’m really sorry. That was an ass move, and I would’ve disliked it if I was in my right mind.”
Every word was said carefully as if she were trying very hard not to break apart. He understood the sentiment, especially after seeing her work and home ransacked before her eyes. He knew he’d have acted out of accord, too, before common sense kicked in and got him back on track.
But the kiss lingered in his mind, irreverently fresh and still filling him with pulsing, jittery heat. Ignoring it, Jack gave her the privacy she was silently requesting for, prepping for dinner in the kitchen and arranging them on a plate.
“I already ate,” he said casually. “And the questioning in Manhattan turned out to be a dead end. But I did get another client, and it’s a pretty huge one with a good offer.”
The talking was mostly to keep her mind off the incident, but he was watchful when she stood up and wandered over, eyeing the food he laid out.
“I’m not hungry,” she answered. “And you didn’t have to.”
“What did you have for dinner?”
“Doughnuts,” she said almost defiantly before sighing and finally sitting on a stool. “But this looks delicious, Jack.”
“Eat up, then.”
“I will. Tell me more about the questioning.”
Jack did, sitting on the stool beside her and taking her request to heart—mostly to keep the distraction going, though he eventually realized that letting it out eased him up, too. He hadn’t noticed how tense he was until it was gone, and he knew part of it had to do with the fact that aside from the last fight with St. Charles, he hadn’t shifted into his true nature in a long time, and his beast was clamoring to be released.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
When Kit remained silent for a long minute, he glanced at her and found her close to nodding off. With a sigh, knowing she was going to be stubborn about this one, too, he decided the only way of dealing with this was to pull her to her feet.
“Hey!” Abruptly, her mouth clamped shut when she realized what had happened. “Oh.”
“Don’t drool on the leftovers,” he said easily.
Catching on, she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t cook so much food next time.”
“Don’t just eat desserts for dinner.”
“Don’t leave me to run after enemies while I sit here in fear that I will never see you again.”
The words had them both stopping, then staring at each other. He saw the truth in her eyes, the defiance as she braced herself for his argument. But no one had ever feared for his life, and he realized it wasn’t anger he was feeling over it right now.
It was a great reverence.
“That’s noted,” he murmured, startling her enough to jerk her head back.
And the spell was broken.
She fully stepped back, and so did he. Jack studied her features as they closed up, the vulnerability fading to leave the image of a cheerful, bright-eyed woman all over again. He wanted to claw at that image, wanted to get to her real emotions.
What a hypocrite he was, considering he wasn’t ready to confront his own.
“I should clean up,” she declared softly, indicating at the plates. “You’ve cooked for me and all that…”
Jack shrugged. “I cooked because it calms me down. I can clean up because it’ll do the same. You can go and get a shower. Rest up.”
“I was hoping to return to my house—”
Over my dead body.
“We can get to that tomorrow. Kit…Kitty.”
“Yes?”
“Goodnight. Please rest.”
The plea had her gaze softening, right before she reluctantly nodded her head.
“Yes. But only for tonight.”
“Only for tonight,” he assured. He watched her walk to the guest room, swaying slightly, before he followed and decided he needed to make sure she was fine. Protests came at his following, but Kit took one look at him and slumped, probably deciding it was pointless to argue.
Good.
“You made the bed,” she commented.
“Of course.”
“I made it, but you re-made it. It’s now picture-perfect.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’ll keep up, Jack. I’ll make sure everything is neat, clean, arranged…”
Without a word, he turned her around to face him, forgetting his earlier resolve to leave some space between them. He pulled her in, looking her in the eye.
“There’s no need for that. What I want is you here, safe and sound. That’s all. I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink knowing you’re out there being stalked, Kit. So stay here. Make all the mess you want, as long as you’re here. I’ll be one happy guy.”
“Jack…” Kit swallowed, flushing again. The sight did him in, the ache returning tenfold and twisting in his gut from the need to move—to do something about it. But her lack of words told him she was too tired for this, and he didn’t want to be the jerk who put personal needs above priority first.
But he needed. God, how he needed.
“Goodnight, Kit. Sleep well,” he said with difficulty, easing back as she removed her brown coat, her shoes…her first shirt, leaving her in just her tank top. Before weakness could kick in again at the temptation that was Kitty, Jack backed away.
Then he went to his room and didn’t come out until he was absolutely sure she was fast asleep.
Chapter 19
Waking up to sunlight was something she was still getting used to, though the curtains Jack had in his guest room provided a nice sense of cover. She stretched her limbs, feeling languid and loose, as if she’d slept for hours on end. Maybe she did. Slowly, Kit opened her eyes, staring at the window for a long time and wondering if waking to sunshine was always this nice.
Then she got out of bed, folded the blankets up, and took a shower, which did lots to bring her energy up. Once she was dressed and revving with that energy, she wandered outside, ready to face the day and the problems she'd slept on last night.
Silence met her in the living room and kitchen, and it didn’t take her long to figure out that the silence extended to the bedrooms, too. Kit puzzled over it before deciding not to worry, as Jack was probably out on his morning jog. She settled in the kitchen to gather ingredients and cook, coming up with a sad excuse of dry pancakes and syrup and managing to get some in her stomach. She was just cleaning up, storing the rest and sipping on some orange juice, when she realized close to two hours had passed, and Jack wouldn’t be jogging that long.
It was also too early to go to work.
Worry had her wandering to the front door, her resolve to get to the elevator and down now urgent. She never got to the elevator—never got out of the front door, in fact, as she found it locked.
And none of the earlier unlocking mechanics were functioning right now.
Had it been a wooden door, she would’ve had no qualms about kicking it down. But the whole thing was steel, with only a key lock and some digital pad at the side. Fingerprints wouldn't work. Inputting some codes proved she had it wrong, and the third code had her yanking her fingers back as electricity jolted it.
She hissed. Grumbling, Kit called Jack’s number, then turned on her earpod, but no one answered on the other line.
Oh, he did not.
But he did.
And she wasn’t standing for it.
Shoulders straightening, letting out ripe curses, she stalked towards his bedroom, intent on finding clues to get out of here. Gray and dark brown hues assaulted her senses, along with the scent of his sheets: clean cotton, just like his scent. She paused, fighting the urge to climb in and smell further. There were two other doors inside the room, and wonder warred with caution before she was marching there, too. First was the bathroom.
Second was the singular, most fascinating room she’d ever seen.
It was a workplace of all sorts: a sleek metal desk with a computer on one end, a large metal table on the other. That second table was closed in by glass partitions and filled with equipment, which she deduced must be used for checking evidence.
There were shelves on the walls, all filled with books and boxed folders arranged in alphabetical order. There were more files in a glass cabinet at the side, along with discs lined up and labeled by case name.
So systematically organized, and it staggered her mind. Kit gaped as she wandered in, trying to take everything in with her eyes and feeling like looking wasn’t enough.
A file box caught her eye, one labeled with her name. She peered at it for a full minute before finally reaching up and taking the box, then dragging it beside the window. As the label indicated, they were files of her: compilations of Jack’s findings before he met her, which he got from public files and observation combined. The details stopped at a certain date, one she realized was the date he’d started hanging out with her.
Did that mean she was no longer a case to him, but a person? A friend, too? It made her feel light, and it had her reminding herself that friends were supposed to trust each other.
He must’ve had a reason for leaving.
Standing up, she wandered around once more and eyed the other shelf files before she sat on his desk and checked his computer. It was already turned on, the desktop clean save for two folders. She clicked the first one, ran a brief eye over his client names before she closed it. When she clicked on the second, it was locked, so Kit frowned at it for a while before deciding to leave it.
Oh, she could unlock it. But it was a matter of respecting his privacy, too.
Curiosity already awakened, she walked out of his workspace, then his bedroom, returning to the living room and looking around. She studied the mechanisms of his barred windows and door again, finally deducing that she could get through them, but would need to destroy them.
Restless, her earpods became her last resort, and she took them to his workspace with a resolute march and began to gather the tools he had stored under a cabinet. Sitting on the floor, Kit worked on the last one, twisting locks and mechanisms, bending and cutting wires before she re-fit them. She crawled back up to his computer, hacked outside the confidential files until she found the program he must be using for his security. Then she went online and into her backup storage, finding the program she used and downloading it. From there, she connected the ear pod to the computer and continued working on it, remembering the enhancement notes she had and incorporating codes that would make such enhancements possible.
It took up her time, and soon she was lost in the rhythm of it. Perhaps it was a tactic to forget her current problems, but Kit wanted to think of it as a defense—a way of bouncing back from trouble and creating something out of it. In this case, that something was upgrades, which she would be using to track the enemy in the future.
Win-win.
Sometime during the last leg of her upgrade, the door to the workspace opened, and it felt like a bomb had just detonated. She looked up with a snap, freezing in her spot and staring at Jack, who was staring back at her.
It was she who cleared her throat first. “I didn’t touch—”
“Yes, I know. Come on. I have something to show you.”
There was no accusing tone to his voice, which made her wonder as she followed him. Outside, Kit blinked, staring at the space that was no longer an empty living room but filled with objects.
Lots and lots of objects.
“Your underground space was definitely ransacked, but I saved what I could. He didn’t get to touch your radio and frequency device, but your monitors, laptop, and computers have been torn apart. I bought you new ones, set them up to be secure. You can place all your backup files back in. Oh, and I got these.” He pointed to a box filled with her stuff: pillows, blankets, bathroom paraphernalia. Clothes. Food from her fridge, her plates and glasses, some of which were already stacked on the kitchen counter. “I got whatever stuff I could. You probably want to use your own stuff, want the comfort of your own food…”
She didn’t respond. Instead, Kit acted by striding over and wrapping her arms around his waist, then resting her head on his chest. She felt his stunned emotion before his hands cruised over her, too, accepting her hug and pulling her closer.
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I do have an idea,” he said gruffly. “That’s why I took them out of there. But you can’t return there, Kit. I don’t know how many things have been compromised…”
Ignoring the pinch in her chest, she nodded. “Yes, I know. It might already be bugged.”
“The ones I salvaged aren’t. I made sure of that.”
Which was probably why it took him a while to return. Kit stepped back, giving him a small smile and trying to relay how grateful she was. It was overwhelming.
“I’ll pay you back for the stuff you bought.”
Jack frowned. “Don’t make me mad.”
Her smile became a grin. “Mad Jack is pretty interesting, I have to say. But alright. I’ll make it up to you and cook you some food.”
At that, his nose wrinkled, and she had to laugh.
“You’ll make it up to me by helping me set this all up in my workspace, so you can start working again.”
Oh, her heart.
She ignored the flutter and saluted him.
“Yes Boss.”
* * *
Setting up the new computer and her still-intact devices didn’t take long, but assembling the old, salvaged parts took a while, and downloading her backup files pretty much took up the rest of the day. Kit didn’t stop, however, going at it with fervor and only leaving the workspace when she needed to eat, drink water, or use the bathroom. Jack left her alone for the most part, doing some research of his own and sitting on the computer beside her, where he got comfortable.
