Tooth And Nailed Part 2

She was frowning in concern, her annoyance forgotten. "What's going on? Is Dad okay?"

Her obvious concern for her father's safety had him softening his tone, no matter how irritated he was with her for hiding from him. "He's fine," he a.s.sured her. "But he does need to talk to you tonight."

She nodded, distracted enough with worry for her dad's wellbeing that she eased her death grip on the towel around her neck and it dropped to the floor. "I'll get dressed and drive up," she said, turning toward the closet.

Jack bit back a predatory growl at the sight of that elegant sweep of neck and tried to keep his mind on business. "I'll drive you."

She gave him a sardonic look over her shoulder before she disappeared in the depths of her walk-in closet. "I don't think so," she said. "I'm perfectly capable of driving myself. That way, I can get back here later without having to suffer any more of your company."

Jack grinned privately, thinking just how much of his company she was going to have to suffer through over the next couple of weeks, but held his tongue. For the time being at least, the less she knew, the better off he'd be.

An hour later, she climbed out of her ten-year-old Volvo in front of her father's house. High in the Hollywood Hills, it was a sprawling stretch of wood and gla.s.s that somehow managed to be modern and traditional at the same time. Rowan had grown up here and usually returning brought back happy memories. But Jack's contention that something was wrong and the fact her father had sent him to fetch her rather than calling her on the phone weighed heavily on her mind, and the usual flood of happy childhood moments didn't come.

She started up the flagstone path, suppressing a flash of annoyance as Jack fell into step beside her. She'd insisted on driving her own car and he'd given in with relative ease. That alone was cause for concern, since in her experience Jack liked to be in charge of everything. His take-charge att.i.tude was one of the things she found infuriating about him. To her everlasting chagrin, it was also one of the reasons she found him so immensely appealing on a physical level. For reasons she'd long ago given up on understanding, dominating men were one of her weaknesses. Unfortunately in her experience, the ones who were dominating in bed were usually dominating everywhere else, so it was pretty hard to find one who didn't want to control every tiny detail of her life.

She'd had enough of that growing up. Simon Evans was a good father and he had raised his daughter thoughtfully, always trying to balance the restrictions the security they lived with had placed on their lives with love and laughter. Most of the time it had worked. But her father was one of the richest men on the planet, along with being one of the most socially active and politically vocal, and there had inevitably been threats on his life.

The result was a life always under scrutiny with someone else deciding when and how things were done. Her dad had done his best to make it as easy as possiblea"there were tutors when bomb threats made it impossible for her to go to school and scores of indoor activities when she couldn't go outside for fear of sniper fire. Once he'd turned their front hall into a sandlot, bringing in sparkling white sand by the truckload so she could build sandcastles. She grew up always having to check with someone before doing everything so it was no wonder now that she was an adult she didn't like to ask permission for anything.

Except in the bedroom. It was the one area of her life she was able to give up control, to surrender her hard-won independence and just let go. She frowned, thinking it was some cruel trick of the universe that made Jack Donnelly so perfect for her on one level and so absolutely wrong, wrong, wrong, for her on the rest of them.

"Penny for your thoughts, darling."

Rowan shot Jack a fulminating look out of the corner of her eye. He was smirking at her as if he could read her mind, the son of a b.i.t.c.h, and she felt a pithy retort forming on her tongue. She swallowed it back, determined not to get pulled into the trap of debating with him. She always lost, which infuriated her. Instead she looked straight ahead, clearing her throat as they reached the ma.s.sive front door.

"Just worried about Dad," she said, reaching for the doorhandle. As she did, the door swung open from the inside and she smiled her first genuine smile since she'd come home from work.

"Miss Rowan, it's good to see you again."

Rowan smiled with genuine pleasure. "Brooks, how are you?" She crossed the threshold and enveloped the wizened old man in a gentle hug. Frail hands, knotted and curled with arthritis, came up to pat her gently on the back.

"I'm hanging on by a thread, Miss Rowan."

Rowan chuckled and drew back. "Brooks," she said affectionately, "you always say that." She grinned into his rheumy blue eyes.

He let out a cackle that would've done the Wicked Witch of the West proud. "And it's always true, miss." Grasping her hand, he turned on wobbly legs. "Come, your father is waiting for you in the game room."

"I bet he is," she muttered, trailing behind her father's aging butler and leaving Jack to follow behind. "Brooks, what's going on? Why's Dad holding court up here like a ruling dictator?"

"No one tells me anything, miss. I just work here."

Rowan rolled her eyes behind his back. "Oh please, Brooks. You know all, see all, hear all. Dad doesn't even buy a new pair of jockey's without your knowing it."

He cackled again. "He's wearing boxer briefs now, miss. Says they're more comfortable."

She stifled a snort. As they approached the closed door of the game room, she drew to a halt, laying a hand on Brooks' elbow. "Brooks." She waited until he turned to look at her. "Tell me what's going on."

He shook his head, his smile fading into serious lines. "He's keeping them quite close to the vest on this one, miss. I'm afraid I don't know much. But I've never seen him so worried."

Rowan sighed. "I guess I'd better find out then."

Brooks nodded. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, miss."

She squeezed his frail hand. "Thank you, Brooks."

He bent his regal, balding head and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "Anything for you, miss."

She smiled at his retreating form then turned back to the door, drawing a deep breath. She could feel Jack's presence at her back. "You want to give me some idea of what's going on or do I go in blind?"

She started when he suddenly moved around to stand in front of her. He looked at her with quiet watchfulness and the serious expression in his eyes somehow added to the ball of dread forming in her stomach.

"He wanted to tell you himself," he said, his eyes searching hers. "But I can tell you that he's very concerned for your wellbeing and for once in your life maybe you could do as you're told instead of being so b.l.o.o.d.y stubborn."

"Excuse me?" she said, acid dripping from every word. She felt the ball of dread turn to something much more dangerous as he rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," he drawled mockingly. "I'm just suggesting you listen to the advice of those who know better, instead of going off half-c.o.c.ked on your own."

Rowan hissed out a breath. "Maybe you should just let me talk to my father and keep your opinions to yourself."

"Ah, but you're forgetting, love. This is a security matter and as such falls under my purview."

"I don't care if it falls under the purview of the f.u.c.king attorney general of the United States. Get your insulting a.s.s the f.u.c.k out of my way. I want to talk to my father."

He shook his head. "Tsk, darling. Language. One would think you weren't a lady, hearing you speak that way."

She narrowed her eyes. "One would think you were British, hearing you speak that way."

Now his eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to retort. He was cut off however by a shout from behind the door.

"Dammit, Jack!" Her father's voice boomed like thunder from the other side of the door. "Let the girl through! We don't have time for you two to dance around each other for a couple of hours."

"So there." Rowan stuck her tongue out at him.

"Careful," he admonished, eyes riveted to her mouth. "You stick it out like that, I'm going to a.s.sume you want me to do something with it."

"Keep dreaming," she muttered. She opened the door and tried to squeeze past him into the room. He didn't move, just kept that chocolate gaze steady on her face as she struggled to walk by without touching him. But he was a big man and she wasn't exactly tiny, and the doorway just wasn't wide enough for her to make it through unscathed.

She turned slightly, angling her hips and shoulders to move through the narrow s.p.a.ce. As she was moving, walking practically sideways, Jack suddenly took a deep breath, expanding his chest, and in the diminished s.p.a.ce, her breast brushed against the hard, muscled wall of his torso. Rowan narrowed her eyes at him, silently cursing him for the deliberate action. She knew there was no way he could have missed the shiver that raced over her skin at the contact or the sudden protrusion of peaked nipples through her T-shirt. But d.a.m.ned if she'd give him the satisfaction of reacting.

She turned away from him, moving farther into the room. Her face broke out in a bright smile as she headed toward her father's open arms. "Hi, Dad."

"Baby girl!" He folded her into his burly arms, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around in a circle. He set her down then held her at arm's length. "Look at you, girl! You're just as pretty as evera"the picture of your mother."

She smiled. "You always say that."

Simon simply grinned at her. "And it's always true." Suddenly Simon frowned, bushy black brows meeting over his nose. "Now, what's this business about you changing a flat tire by yourself?"

She turned, pinning Jack with a glare. He grinned back, unrepentant. "It was nothing, Dad. I know how to change a flat tire."

Her father's frown didn't ease. "You should've called someone. The auto club, me or even Jack here. He'd have changed it for you."

She managed a tight smile, thinking it'd be a snowy day in L.A. before she called Jack for help on anything. "Dad, I can change my own tire. Besides," she hurried on, forestalling the tirade she knew was brewing, "by the time anyone got there, I'd have had the tire changed twice over."

He harrumphed, clearly not happy. "Still," he grumbled. "Next time, you call me. Hear?" He pinched her chin and she grinned.

"Sure, Dad," she agreed, both of them knowing next time she'd do exactly the same thing.

"Okay then." Parental concerns laid to rest he turned to the bar. "Drink, honey?"

She shook her head. "No, I've got to drive home."

"Jack didn't drive you?" he asked, turning to frown at her.

"No, I drove myself. Dada""

He shook his head and poured himself a scotch. "So independent," he said. "You've got your mother's stubbornness as well as her good looks."

"Dad!" She waited until he turned back to face her. "What's going on? Why did you send Jack to get me and what's with all the cloak and dagger?"

Instead of answering her, he looked over her head to where Jack still lounged in the doorway. "Give us a few, will you, lad?"

Rowan heard Jack shift behind her but she didn't take her eyes off her father's face. His usually ruddy complexion was pale and his normally impeccably groomed raven locks were disheveled, as if he'd been plowing his fingers though them in agitation.

"I'll just head to the kitchen then, see if I can nag Brooks into giving me a spot of supper." Jack's voice was tense, almost brittle, without its normal hint of laughter. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

She didn't wait to hear the door close behind her. "Dad, you're seriously freaking me out. What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

He shifted his eyes to hers and she saw with some alarm the sheen of tears. "Baby, I'm so sorry about this."

"Sorry about what? Dad, come on. Sit down over here and tell me what's going on." She led him to a leather club chair, eased him onto the seat. The fact he didn't fight her coddling alarmed her as much as the tears. Simon Evans wasn't a man who allowed himself to be led.

She snagged the ottoman, pulling it close so she could sit and grasp her father's hands. "Now. Tell me what's going on. Jack said something about a security problem."

Simon nodded, clinging to her hands and blowing out a breath. "Yes. Have you seen any of the local news lately?"

She shook her head, keeping her eyes steady on his. "No, you know I never watch the news. Too depressing."

"Right." He nodded. "Well, if you had been watching, you'd know that Stephen Job and his group of fanatics are stepping things up."

Rowan frowned, struggled to remember. "Stephen Job. Isn't he that fanatical preacher? He's got a little cult of followers, right? Call themselves the Army of G.o.d."

"That's them." Simon shook his head, incredulous disgust stamped on his features. "They use religion as a weapon, an excuse to hara.s.s and intimidate anyone whose beliefs aren't in line with theirs."

She flipped through her mental files, recalling some of the causes the Army of G.o.d had trumpeted over the years. They picketed abortion clinics, held book-burning demonstrations. They'd staged a sit-in outside a Muslim daycare center a few years ago, which had turned violent. That incident had attracted serious law enforcement attention but the investigation had discovered one person had caused the trouble and the group at large had escaped censure. They had continued with their campaign of moral cleansing, always being careful to stay within the bounds of the law. They targeted strip clubs, adult bookstores, public libraries and religious inst.i.tutions that didn't conform to their own narrow views.

"Okay, they're nutjobs. This isn't exactly news, they've been around for what, ten years or so? So why is everyone worried all of the sudden?"

"Well, you know my political views aren't exactly in line with their teachings."

Rowan shrugged, not understanding. "So are the political views of half the nation. More than half the nation. So what? They're nut jobs."

He grinned briefly at the sneer in her tone then once again grew serious. "Well, nut jobs they may be, but they're getting to be pretty dangerous ones. They've stepped up their rhetoric over the last few weeks and they've decided I make a pretty handy target."

Rowan blinked in surprise. "Why you?"

He shrugged. "They've never been happy with my views on, well, on practically everything. I funnel a lot of money into political candidates and social causes that dismiss them as crackpots and religious zealots. They don't like it."

She frowned slightly. "But, Dad, none of this is news. Why all the urgency now?"

"Jack thinks they've decided they can't touch the politicians themselves so why not go after their most vocal and influential supporters? We're not really sure, honey. But they're really getting aggressive and more and more crazy. Now they're saying I'm a devil worshiper and I'm trying to seduce the population at large into being my followers."

Rowan let out a choked laugh. "You're kidding." She looked into her father's sober face. "You're not kidding. Surely n.o.body believes that bunk?"

"Of course not. At least no one who has any kind of influence or power. Army of G.o.d is too much of a fringe elementa"even the most conservative politicians aren't going to align themselves with these guys. But they are making some fairly serious threats and not just against me this time. Rowana"" he clasped her hands tighter "a"they're talking about coming after you."

She started to laugh that off, but the shadow of fear in her father's eyes had her choking back the laugh. "Dad." She gave his hands a squeeze. "I'll be okay. I'm smart and I'm fully capable of defending myself. I'll be fine."

"Rowan. They're lunatics. They're not going to play fair, they're not going to give you a chance to get away if they do come for you. And the threats they're makingawell, they're pretty specific. I need to know that you're safe. I can't deal with this if I think they're going to come after you, use you to get to me."

"What do you want me to do?"

He took a deep breath, his crystalline blue eyes steady on her pale green ones. "I need you to go away for a little bit while I deal with all of this. I'll send some of my security team with you to keep you safe so I can work with the authorities on this and put these people away."

Rowan winced. She hated living with securitya"it was the main reason she didn't live with her father anymore. It made her stomach clench and skin crawl just thinking about having people with her all the time, watching her every move. It nearly drove her crazy as a childa"only her father's efforts to make life as bearable as possible had kept her from climbing the walls.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, to demand they find another way. But one look at the worry and fatigue in his eyes stilled the protests. She sighed. "How long are we talking about here?"

"A week, maybe two at the outside," he hastened to a.s.sure her. "The authorities have a few ideas on how to draw them out, get them to make a mistake."

She frowned. "Why does that sound like you're setting yourself up as bait?"

"Don't worry, honey. I'll have the best security possible. The FBI's coordinating with the locals on this."

"No offense, Dad, but the Feds haven't done much to stop this guy yet. Forgive me if I don't really put my faith in them."

He grinned at her, the smile lighting his face and erasing the lines that fatigue and worry had drawn on his features. "Me neither, baby. That's why I brought in Jack."

"Well, good." Rowan sighed in relief. For all his many annoying, irritating, heinous qualities, Jack was the best when it came to personal security. "If Jack's running the show, then I won't worry."

"I'm very glad to hear you say that, baby. Because Jack won't be guarding mea"he'll be guarding you."

For one stunned second, Rowan simply gaped at her father, paralyzed. Then she shot to her feet in a rush. "Like h.e.l.l he will!"