Elite Ops: Black Jack Part 12

"Don't be embarra.s.sed," Jordan urged her. "Grief does amazing things to a young mind.

Desmond is fairly certain you must have walked in on something that night, perhaps even saw your father's murder. He's concerned that you could be targeted because of that, or because of the information the investigator uncovered."

Lilly took a seat in the chair beside her, watching as the two men settled back into their seats before speaking.

"What, then, is the general consensus?" she asked. "Did I become a wh.o.r.e because I was grieving, or running from criminals or my own guilt?"

"Dammit, Victoria, no one believes you killed your father," Desmond bit out. "Quite to the contrary, I believe you were hiding, perhaps even frightened of endangering your mother."

Lilly sipped at her wine. "I've asked you before, Uncle, to call me Lilly."

Desmond grimaced but said nothing.

"The fact remains that no one would believe such a tale," Jordan stated quietly.

Do you want to live, Lady Victoria, or die forever? Jordan's voice. Jordan's face. Younger, less savage. The memory flashed through her head, sticking to her mind, and almost had her shaking her head as she tried to dispel it.

Memory or insanity?

"It's much easier to believe I was a wh.o.r.e, then?" she asked, her brow arching curiously.

Jordan's head lowered as her uncle looked away.

"Gentlemen, I have things to do today." Lilly got to her feet. She was finished with the conversation. "If you will excuse me, I believe I'll take care of those things."

She turned and swept from the library, ignoring her uncle's protest as she pushed the doors open and headed for the stairwell.

What did she have to do today except read that d.a.m.ned file again? That and try to understand why Travis hadn't warned her of the "company" arriving earlier.

Who could she trust? She had wanted to trust Travis so badly she ached with the need.

No one, her mind screamed. There was no one she could trust, and that was terrifying. She felt as though there was no place to turn, and no place to find answers.

"Lilly." Her mother stepped from the living room as Lilly was turning to the foyer and headed for the stairs. "Could we talk for a moment?"

Lilly pushed her fingers through her hair and fought to restrain the impatience roiling through her. "Is my room all right, Mother?"

The living room seemed too open, with too many potential ears listening.

"Of course, dear."

Lilly could see the nervousness in her mother's face, the hint of sorrow and pain that shadowed her eyes. She hated hurting her mother, but there was a part of herself that she couldn't help but hold back. There were too many secrets that she sensed she had to hold in.

Entering her bedroom, she turned and waited for her mother to enter. Immediately Angelica moved to the bedroom window, opened it, then pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her slacks.

"Mother, you know you shouldn't smoke," she said, sighing.

"My one guilty pleasure," she said as she lifted the slender cylinder to her lips and closed her eyes in pleasure.

Lilly waited until she finished, knowing it would take only moments. When Angelica finished she moved to the bathroom, flushed the b.u.t.t, washed her hands, then returned.

"Your brother called this morning." She smiled sadly. "He and the children are going to Hawaii this summer."

They usually joined the family in Maryland.

"He doesn't want to see me," Lilly guessed.

"So many changes." Angelica sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Jared has never dealt well with change. He brooded for months when we thought you were dead. He can't believe it's you now, because the changes are so drastic, and there's no explanation for them."

Her mother stared at her as though she should have answers.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Lilly sat in the chair next to her bed and watched her mother as she ruffled her fingers through her perfectly streaked dark blond and brown hair.

"You read the report your uncle gave you, then?" she asked. "Did nothing trigger a memory, Lilly? Nothing at all?" She was so hopeful, so desperate, that Lilly wanted nothing more than to confide in her.

"Nothing," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Angelica's hands twisted restlessly in her lap as she stared down at them for long moments.

"You've changed so drastically," she said softly as her head lifted, her pale blue eyes reflecting a glimmer of pain and tears that tore at Lilly's heart. "Sometimes, Lilly, it's as though I don't even know you."

Lilly swallowed tightly and forced back her own tears. "I'm still me. I don't know what happened, or why I changed so severely, but I'm still me. I remember shopping with you, crying with you, my coming-out ball and my first date. You cried each time." A tear slipped free. "Just because my face changed doesn't mean I'm not still your daughter."

A soft sob tore from her mother's lips then. She moved jerkily from the bed and in the next second Lilly found herself in her arms. Arms that had sheltered her, that had helped protect her.

In that moment, she closed her eyes and wanted to cry herself. She wanted her father. When she had cried, they had both held her; the warmth and acceptance of their embrace had always been all she needed to hold her world together.

Now, her world was torn apart, confusion and fear tore at her, had her holding tighter to her mother and fighting the need to confide all those fears in her. She wanted the easy, carefree relationship they had once had. She wanted the involved, complicated relationship she'd had with her father. She'd been his confidante and his partner, she had been her mother's friend, her brother's baby sister. Once upon a time, she'd had a full, happy life.

And she had no idea what had happened to it.

"You can talk to me, Lilly," her mother whispered tearfully as she drew back, her soft fingers easing the tears from Lilly's cheeks. "I'll always be here for you. I've always been here for you."

So why hadn't she let her mother know she was alive? G.o.d, what had happened to her?

"I know that, Mother." She had to fight back the need to confide, to tell her of the pieces of memories she had, to plead for her help in figuring them out.

Yet she couldn't. She couldn't allow herself to do it.

"Promise, if you need to talk, you will come to me, baby," her mother begged, another tear slipping down her pale cheek. "Please don't hide from me any longer. You're breaking my heart."

"I promise, Mother," she lied.

Lilly knew she couldn't go to her mother with whatever her past entailed. But until she knew what it entailed herself, then she wasn't even certain how dangerous she was to her.

And there was simply no one left to run to.

But Black Jack.

She almost froze in her mother's embrace.

Pulling back, she breathed in heavily. "I need to rest for a while, Mother. Perhaps a nap would help this headache that's brewing at the moment."

She rubbed her temples as though there were truly a headache coming on.

"Of course." Her mother kissed her cheek gently. "Rest, darling. I'll have the maid call you for dinner."

Lilly watched as she left the room, her heart thundering, her mind churning. Black Jack.

She could trust Black Jack, she thought desperately. The urge to do just that was building in her mind, beating at it.

Who was Black Jack?

Travis.

She could see him in her mind's eye, as he stood with Santos Bahre and Rhiannon McConnelly hours before in his home, a frown on his dark face. Green-flecked brown and gold eyes had been filled with concern, and a warning.

That was it.

She rubbed at the back of her neck, frowning now as she let those moments roll through her memories again. In Travis's eyes there had been a warning. But why? What had he been warning her of?

Santos Bahre and Rhiannon McConnelly. They were partners, according to the file she had, in a very profitable business. That business included providing women to a very select clientele. According to the investigator, the rates for the female companionship rose in relation to the level of danger the companion would face.

Had she been a wh.o.r.e or a very good mercenary? What the f.u.c.k was going on?

A part of her was screaming that she should run to Travis, that she should talk to him, confide in him.

Black Jack. It was a code name.

She fought to still the rapid beating of her heart, the fear that raced through her like a locomotive tearing out of control. She felt her breathing constrict, felt the warning flashing in her mind that she couldn't trust Travis any more than she could trust Santos Bahre, Rhiannon McConnelly, or Jordan Malone.

And yet another part of her was demanding that she do just that. That she trust him, possibly with her life.

I'll be here for you, Lilly. His voice whispered through her mind, seductive, alluring. But what she sensed about that voice was anything but seductive and alluring.

As she fought to pull those memories free, a sharp ache sliced through her temples as though in retaliation.

Dropping her head, Lilly pressed her fingers to the sides of her head and fought to breathe through the pain.

The headaches had been common the first month after she had been shot. The memories she had lost had seemed to be closer at that time as well.

Turning, she stared into the mirror and gazed into the same unfamiliar face-which was at the same time familiar.

Reaching up she touched the arch of her brow, the slender line of her nose, the curve of her lips.

She was becoming more accustomed to this new face, as though a part of her was finally accepting the changes.

Wild, her father had always called her. A woman poised on the edge of danger. And she had always laughed at him.

Going to the closet, she opened the door, stepped inside, and moved to the back. There, she had hidden a smaller suitcase inside a larger suitcase. She had found the small suitcase in the storage shed where she'd kept the motorcycle.

There was cash, bank records and checks, an alternate ID and credit cards, as well as a lethal Glock and a dozen clips of ammo. She had been prepared for trouble. A call girl wouldn't have done something like that; only an agent or a criminal covered their a.s.s in such a way.

She tucked all but the weapon and the cash in a compartment of her suitcase. The weapon, clips, and cash she kept in the small leather bag and moved back to her bedroom to pull one of the outfits she had found in the storage shed from the back of the bureau.

She would keep herself busy during the day today. Lunch with her mother and her mother's friends. A meeting later to discuss the charity ball her mother co-hosted each summer.

But night was coming. Lilly could feel the restlessness surging inside her as well as a need to learn more about herself.

Hagerstown was familiar to her, as well as the surrounding area. There were pieces of herself here, she could feel it. She had planted parts of herself here, close to the area her family called home for several months out of the year.

Lilly needed to find those parts of herself. She had to find them, before the confusion and the need drove her insane.

It was midnight, Lilly's time of night. Travis waited on the street down from the gated property Lilly and her family were staying at, one leg folded over the breast of the bike, his elbow resting on his knee.

She was the restless type. The information she had received the night before as well as the confrontation with Santos and Rhiannon would push the b.u.t.tons inside her that would send her searching.

Rhiannon predicted Lilly would hide for a while, that as a former agent she would sense that she shouldn't venture out quite yet. Travis knew better. He had trained Lilly. He had forced her to have patience during the months she had undergone the psychiatric evaluations.

He'd taught her how to deceive her commanders, how to hide her true self. He was an agent, he knew the dangers inherent in the type of work they were doing.

He trusted Jordan. His own commander had proven himself. He couldn't say the same for Santos and Rhiannon. They had created a cover for their agents that had never sat well with Travis or his sense of decency. Their girls were delicate, beautiful, better hidden than displayed. But they had placed them in the eye of danger in order to shield the agents they were often paired with.

They were a commodity to their commanders, nothing more.

Rubbing at the short growth of beard at his chin, Travis considered the best course of action in the coming game.

Travis knew Lilly knew more than she was letting on.

He also knew that she would realize that he wouldn't betray her, despite the appearance that he had done so with Santos and Rhiannon.

She had been shocked, furious, but he had also seen fear in her eyes. The fear that the investigator's report was true. A fear that somehow she had been the person described in that report.

It wouldn't take her long to piece the information together now, and Santos and Rhiannon knew that. And that made Travis wonder what the f.u.c.k they were up to.

The sound of gates easing open had his head turning. There, emerging between the slowly opening gates, was the gleaming black front fender of Lilly's powerful Ninja.

He pulled the helmet from the back of his own machine, eased it on, and strapped it beneath his chin before activating the Bluetooth communication set within it.

It was connected to Lilly's, a precaution they had begun using several years ago to ensure security when they met. He watched as she parked the bike, eased the gates closed, then ran back to the machine to straddle it.

She pulled the wicked black helmet over her head, tucked her hair inside, and secured it.

Travis chose that moment to strike.

"Are you ready to ride, Lilly?"

She froze. Across the distance Travis could sense her searching, finding, staring back at him.