Tooth And Nailed Part 4

"She's going to be all right, Simon. I promise you that."

His friend nodded, bent to press a kiss on her forehead then straightened. "I know she will be, Jack. I can count on you for that."

Jack glanced back at him as he pocketed the bottle of liquid sedative he'd slipped into her scotch. "Then what's worrying you, friend?"

Simon sighed, plowing an unsteady hand through his hair so that it stood in raven spikes. "I don't like drugging her."

"You know it was the only way, Simon. She'd never have gotten on that plane without someone carrying her on and she'd have made herself sick with worry the entire trip. This way, she'll wake up already there and the worry will be over."

"She'll be angry."

Jack gave a low laugh. "Oh yes, she'll be right p.i.s.sed. Rather looking forward to it actually."

"That's another thing I'm worried about." Simon waited until his old friend turned to face him. "I don't want you taking advantage of her."

"Simon."

"No, just listen to me. She's vulnerable right now. She'll be worried about me and she'll be worried about being away from her job for so longa"I just want to make sure anything that happens between the two of you is what she wants."

"Dammit, Simon." Jack paced to the window, staring out at the gla.s.sy surface of the swimming pool and the glittering city beyond until he was sure he could speak without snarling. "I'd never hurt her."

"I know that, Jack." Simon's quiet voice had him turning from the window. "I know that," he repeated. "But I also know you want her. You have for a long time. And if you wanted to, you could make that happen, with or without her conscious consent."

It was Jack's turn to plow his fingers though his hair in frustration. "It wouldn't mean anything then, don't you see? She has to want me as much as I want her or it's no good." He turned to fully face his friend. "And she does want me, Simon. But she's afraid of it, for whatever reason."

Simon nodded his head slowly. "Yes, she is. I don't know if it's you, that she senses what you are on some elemental level or if it's something else entirely. Whatever it is, I want your word if she says no, you'll respect that."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You know, that's the second time tonight someone's called my personal integrity into question in just that way."

Simon searched Jack's face for a moment then nodded. "Okay then. Brooks is having the car brought arounda"the plane's waiting at the airport."

Jack swallowed the bitter words on his tongue and nodded. He turned, scooped Rowan up into his arms and strode out the door.

Within ninety minutes, they were in the air.

Chapter Four.

Rowan was having the best dream. She was floating on a cloud made of marshmallow fluff with little tiny chunks of fudge swimming around. She could reach out and scoop up a handful and nosh to her heart's content anytime she wanted. She smiled, snuggling down farther into the cloud. She drew a deep breath, eager for the scent of chocolate and sugar, and instead drew in the unmistakable scent of a peat fire.

She frowned. There were no peat fires on marshmallow clouds. She breathed in again, and this time, along with the scent of smoke and turf, she caught the scent of furniture polish and wool.

"That's not right," she muttered, and the sound of her own voice brought her crashing back to reality.

A reality that apparently consisted of a wool blanket, a peat fire producing too much smoke and a headache the size of Montana. She winced, raised a palm to her head and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard, "You're awake then, darling."

Rowan kept her eyes closed, her brain racing to make sense of what had happened. The last thing she remembered, she'd been arguing with Jack in her father's game room. He'd handed her a gla.s.s of scotch, insisted she drink it. Insisted, she realized now, because otherwise how would he drug her?

She kept still, orienting herself to her surroundings as best she could without her sight. She was lying on something, probably a bed, which was sinfully soft and blissfully comfortable. She refused to give him credit for it. She could smell the fire, the wool in the blanket draped over her and the faint scent of an industrial cleanser just under a pleasant layer of vanilla.

She wasn't given a lot of time to puzzle out where exactly she might be. Intermingled with the scents of wool, peat, vanilla and cleaner was the unmistakable tang of Jack's aftershave. And it was coming closer.

Rowan could hear Jack moving, felt him getting nearer the bed. She carefully kept her expression confused, even though her clarity was rapidly returning. She let out a whimpering moan and shifted slightly, opening her eyes just a slit so she could track his approach.

The traitorous son of a b.i.t.c.h looked concerned, his brow furrowed with it as he drew close. He laid a broad palm along her right cheek. "You feeling all right, darling?" She shifted, let out a fretful moan, and his palm shifted to brush her hair back.

"Jack?" she muttered, blinking her eyes as though trying to wake.

"I'm right here," he crooned, and his palm slid off her forehead to brace along side her hip as he leaned over her. Clearing the path of her right arm.

"Jack," she murmured, keeping her eyes slitted just enough to see his face. "I can'ta" she let her voice fade away on an exhausted sigh, fluttering her hands as though she hadn't the strength to lift them. Predictably, he shifted closer.

"What is it, Rowan? What do you need?"

He was so close now she could smell mint and cigar on his breath. Somehow, it p.i.s.sed her off even more. "Just this," she gritted out, and swinging from her shoulder, plowed her fist full in his face.

He reared back from the blow, instinctively grabbing for his bleeding nose as he did and she planted her foot in his solar plexus and kicked out, using his own backward momentum to send him tumbling head over a.s.s off the foot of the bed. She had kicked free of the blanket and was on her feet almost before he hit the floor.

She stood over him, fists clenched at her sides. "Get up, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, so I can hit you again."

Jack sat up with a shake of his tawny head, shifted to his feet in one smooth moment. "I wouldn't if I were you," he cautioned. His voice carried a faint nasal quality, a result of him pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the flow of blood. She noted with disgust it was already slowing and wished she'd hit him harder.

"Give me one good reason why not?" she hissed, already picturing her foot planted between his legs this time.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Because if you do, I'm going to turn you over my knee and paddle your little b.u.t.t, that's why."

Rowan couldn't help the shudder that shimmered through her at the silken threat in his voice but she resolutely held her ground. "You drugged me, Jack. It was a dirty trick."

Jack took his hand away from his face, the blood flow from his nose slowed now to a trickle. "Well, how else was I to get you on the plane?"

Her eyes went big and round. "Plane? You put me on a plane?" She whirled, found a window and dashed to it. She stared, mouth agape, at thatched roofs and cobblestone streets and lush, green hills that rolled out for miles in the fading twilight.

"Where the h.e.l.l are we?"

"Welcome to Slane, County Meathe, Ireland." She turned from the window to see him wiping his face with a square of linen. He folded his arms and grinned that devil's grin at her.

"You actually drugged me and put me on a plane," she whispered, growing angrier by the second. "I'm going to twist your b.a.l.l.s off."

He tsked disapprovingly even though he couldn't help a manly wince at the image. "I told you where we were heading, darling. And it isn't polite for a guest to speak to her host in such a manner."

"A guest? A guest!?" Her voice rose incredulously. "I've been drugged and kidnapped by a deranged lunatica"with my father's help apparentlya"and plunked down in aa" she looked around at the luxuriously appointed bedroom. "What is this place anyway?"

"My flat."

"Your flat." She stared at him. "Fabulousa"that's just fabulous. Plunked down in a deranged lunatic's flat in Ireland."

He laughed, a deep chuckle that vibrated out of his chest and seemed to streak straight to her nipples. "You make it sound as though I've brought you to a beheading." He turned to place the soiled handkerchief on the bedside table. While his back was turned, she scowled down at her nipples and tried to push them back in. It didn't work.

She dropped her hands quickly to her sides as he turned back, but from the look of lazy amus.e.m.e.nt on his face, she had a feeling he knew exactly where her hands had been. She scowled, determined to have it out with him here and now. "I don't appreciate being drugged or tricked."

He sighed heavily and sat on the edge of the bed. "Look at it this way, darling. If I hadn't drugged you, you'd have fought me tooth and nail all the way to the airport. And again when I put you on the plane, and again when I'd have had to truss you up to keep you from killing me."

"Bet your a.s.s," she muttered. He merely lifted a brow and continued.

"Whereupon you'd have gotten even angrier, on top of being terrified of the flight, and we'd both have had a very unpleasant thirteen hours. At least this way, you got some rest and I got to relax without worrying I'd have to call for an ambulance upon our arrival. For both of us."

"So drugging me was for convenience?" She glared at him. "If this explanation was meant to placate me, you've missed your mark. I couldn't give two d.a.m.ns about your comfort. I do however care that you hijacked me without regard for my feelings."

"Darling, you weren't exactly being cooperative when I tried to discuss it with you rationally."

She raised one raven brow. "You drugged the scotch even before you told me where we were going. You never intended to give me a choice or a chance to come around to the idea on my own."

He shrugged, unrepentant. "Seemed the most expedient way to get you where you needed to be. I didn't want to spend a lot of time debating the issue with you."

"Well, that's just too d.a.m.ned bad, Jackie," Rowan snarled, taking perverse satisfaction in his wince at the nickname. "It's my life, my body and my flaming head that hurts like h.e.l.l! What'd you slip me, anyway?"

"Just a sedative, nothing dangerous. Your head probably hurts more from not having eaten in several hoursa"with the time change, it's been almost a full day since we left L.A." Jack watched thoughtfully as she rubbed her temple, as though to erase the ache that lingered there. "So is that what you're angry about? Not that you're in Ireland but the method that brought you here?"

"I don't like having my choices taken away."

He nodded, his eyes thoughtful as he studied her expression. "I can see you don't. All right then. I promise not to do it again."

She stared at him, eyes intent on his for so long that he began to wonder if she'd forgive him that easily. Things were going to be pretty difficult if she continued to hold a grudge, however justified it was. And it was justifieda"he'd have ripped the arms off anyone who tried to do the same to him. It hardly mattered her safety was at stakea"she was an adult and deserved to be informed of what was happening.

"I mean it, Jack." Her voice was quiet now, her eyes steady and somber. "You don't make any more unilateral decisions. You tell me what's going on, what the options are."

He nodded slowly. "All right. But you have to promise in return to be reasonable about things. And if we have to move in a hurry, then you listen to me without question. If somehow Job or his ilk track us here, I don't want either of us gunned down in the street because we were debating whether to flee by train or car."

"Fine," she agreed. "I'll defer to you on the security measures since you're the expert." She drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm overreacting. But I need to be able to partic.i.p.ate, to know what's going on. I'm not an imbecile and I won't be treated like one."

Jack rose from the edge of the bed, walked toward her until they were only a few feet apart. "I know you're not an imbecile, darling, and if that's how I made you feel, then I apologize. I was just trying to avoid a big ugly scene." He tried a tentative smile. "You're quite capable of peeling the paint off a car with that temper of yours once it gets going."

Rowan remained sober but her eyes took on an amused twinkle. "You'd do well to remember that, Jack. Because if you ever presume to make my choices for me again, I'll do more than peel paint. I'll cut out your heart with my nail file and fry it up for breakfast."

He winced, rubbed at his chest reflexively. "Duly noted."

"Good." She gave a brisk nod then turned on her heel to what she a.s.sumed was a bathroom. "I a.s.sume you brought some clothes for me to wear?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

He nodded. "Marvin put a bag together for you. Your father called him, asked him to throw it together."

Marvin. Well, she'd deal with him later. "Good because I sure as h.e.l.l am not walking around in this outfit for the next fortnight." She continued into the bath. "And by the way, I'm starving. Can we go out, get some food?"

"Sure." He waited until the bathroom door closed behind her then breathed a heavy sigh. It was going to be an interesting two weeks.

"So, tell me more about this Army of G.o.d business."

They were settled at a booth in the local pub, having a pint while they waited for supper. Jack was drinking Guinness, and while the building of the drink had fascinated Rowan, one sip had her grimacing in distaste. She preferred to drink her beer not chew it, she'd informed a laughing Jack and ordered a Harps. The lighter brew suited her palate and she took a long sip while she waited for Jack to answer.

He studied her. "What do you want to know?"

She shrugged. "Well, Dad said they'd been making threatsa"specific onesa"against me. What are they?"

Jack shook his head. "He doesn't want you to know that, Rowan."

She huffed out a frustrated breath. "Jack, I'm a big girl. I can handle it. And even if I can't," she hurried on as he started to shake his head again, "I need to know so I'm prepared for it. I can hardly partic.i.p.ate in my own protection if I don't know what I'm being protected against."

"You've got a point," he conceded reluctantly. "But I don't like going against your father's wishes on this. He specifically asked me not to tell you."

"And you promised me to not make any more decisions for me. I need to know, Jack." She laid her hand over his on the scarred tabletop. "Please."

"You know, I'm starting to hate when you do that." He drained the rest of his beer in one swallow. "Okay, you deserve to know what's going on. What's your father told you?"

"Just that they were talking about coming after me, nothing specific."

"Right. Well, the gist of it isa"" he broke off as the waitress brought her food, the plate piled high with steaming French fries and sandwiches that looked like enough to feed an army.

Rowan sighed with pleasure as the plate was laid in front of her. "G.o.d, that looks amazing." She beamed at the waitress. "You've saved my life."

The server, a curvy sprite of a girl with curling red hair and dancing green eyes, grinned back at her. "You're welcome, miss. If you've a need for anything else, just give a shout. My name's Shannon." With a wink, she moved on to the next table.

Rowan inhaled deeply, drawing in the tantalizing aroma of roast beef and onions. "Tell me what this is called again?" she asked, even as she picked up half of the enormous sandwich and prepared to take a bite.

"Bookmaker's sandwich. Beef, onions, horseradis.h.a.good?" He grinned as she moaned around a mouthful of food, her eyes all but rolling back in her head as she savored the flavor of it.

She swallowed. "It's heaven. You sure you don't want any food?"

He shook his head. "I ate while I was waiting for you to wake. I'm fine."

She shook her head, taking another bite of sandwich. "Suit yourself." She looked up to find him watching her with that predatory gleam that made her insides go all squiggly.

Rowan swallowed hard and pushed her plate to the middle of the table. "French fry?" she offered desperately.

He snagged a potato from the plate, never taking his eyes off her. "In Ireland we call it a chip, darling." He popped it into his mouth, hummed in satisfaction. "Tasty."

Rowan was saved from a response by Shannon arriving with a fresh round of drinks and she took the opportunity to try to settle her scattered system. With one look, he had her all atwitter. Her heart was pounding, her skin felt tingly and too tight, and if she didn't figure out a way to bring her raging hormones under control, she was never going to be able to resist the seduction she knew was coming.

As soon as the waitress had stepped away again, she rushed to fill the conversational void. "You were going to tell me about the Army of G.o.d and their threats."

He raised one sardonic brow, amus.e.m.e.nt on his face. He knew she was trying to evade the growing tension at the table and she wondered if he'd let her get away with it.

"The Army of G.o.d," he began, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to push her, "is threatening to harm you in order to get to your father."