Page 64 of Teach Me
Jess stood at the door to the cabin, feet chilled in the early morning breeze, Conlan’s warm arms the only thing keeping the cold at bay. She hated him leaving. It didn’t matter how much she told herself he’d be back, how many guards she knew were posted around the cabin and the inlet—she hated telling him good-bye.
“I’ll be back in a little bit,” he said, his mouth buried at her neck so no one could read his lips. That freaked her out even more, the knowledge that Brit might be out there somewhere, close enough that he could see what Conlan was saying, because that meant he’d somehow gotten around the perimeter Gaines’s men had set. He could be inside that line right now, watching them through a scope, feasting on the anticipation of the moment. She squeezed Conlan harder before he could pull away.
Three days. They’d been doing this for three days, not knowing if Brit was watching, if he had even picked up the trail Jack had left not too openly for him to follow. Not knowing if this was all for nothing. While Conlan worried about the men growing complacent, she worried about not getting kidnapped. The point was, after all, for Brit to get close enough to take her so that they could take him. What if he didn’t show? What if this didn’t work?
What if it did?
“You go to the library,” he murmured. Jess nodded. The library contained the entrance to the tunnel, the one only Con, Jack, Gaines, and Jess knew about. The backup plan in case something went wrong and Brit got too close. Her fingers bit into the muscles of Con’s shoulders at the thought.
Conlan eased back from her death-like grip. His kiss, however, was unyielding, as if he could imbue them both with confidence with just the touch of their lips. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
Mark, the bodyguard assigned to be with her inside the house, gripped her arm gently and maneuvered her through the front door. Jess had to wonder how Conlan and Jack had managed to corner the market on all the bulky security guards in Atlanta. Nicolas had been big, but Mark was built like a semi. He didn’t talk much. After seeing her through the door, he set the house alarm and then watched silently as she set a countdown on her phone. Three hours. It was the only window of time that she was without Conlan each day, long enough for him to drive into town, appear to handle some “work,” and drive home. And it terrified her every time.
Gaines had originally suggested that Con follow his normal workday routine, but they’d all agreed Brit would never believe Conlan would leave her alone all day. This was the compromise. Jack worked video surveillance of several points around the cove from the JCL office and kept things there running smoothly during the day. Most nights he came out to the cabin after dark, sneaking in and standing watch while she and Conlan slept. Gaines had three eight-hour shifts of on- and off-duty personnel staking out the woods surrounding the house, blending in, staying hidden so that Brit could “infiltrate” their perimeter to get to her. Though the number of bodies multiplied by half while Conlan was gone, she knew and they knew that this was the most likely time for Brit to make a try for her.
And she was stuck in the house with Mark the Mack Truck.
Two hours and fifty-five minutes.
The sound of shuffling cards came from the entry to the hallway. “Want to play?” Mark asked quietly.
She knew from experience that he could play solitaire for hours. Needing the distraction, she said, “Rummy or poker?”
“Rummy.” Mark hadn’t been familiar with the game until, in desperation, she’d taken the time to teach him yesterday. Maybe she’d pull out King’s Corner today. She hadn’t played that since she was a child, but cards seemed to be Mark’s go-to distraction, and if they were going to be holed up here at the cabin for days on end, she needed the variety additional card games would provide.
“You set up the game. Coffee?” she asked, already walking toward the kitchen.
Mark shook his head, more of a gentle sway, but followed her into the kitchen instead of going on to the library without her. She poured her second cup of the morning, desperate for the caffeine after three mostly sleepless nights. When she was all played out, maybe she’d take a nap until Conlan got home. It would certainly help pass the time.
Down the hall, inside the book-lined room that reminded her of cozy afternoons by the fire, Mark dealt the cards, and Jess sipped her steaming coffee. Two hands later, only twenty minutes had passed; she’d won once, Mark once.
She couldn’t keep doing this.
“Again?” he asked.
“No thanks.”
Mark followed, watching with cautious eyes as she returned her cup to the kitchen sink, then walked back into the living room. The filtered morning sunshine drew her to the back windows. What a revelation that had been, finding out the windows were bulletproof. The walls of the cabin were also reinforced and painted inside and out with a fire-resistance substance. Conlan even had a sprinkler system installed along the perimeter, not to water the nonexistent grass but to douse the woods in case someone started a fire to smoke him out. The man lived a freaky kind of life with so many precautions, except now they were coming in handy, weren’t they? He and Jack had even gone to extra lengths to be sure some of those measures were visible; they wanted Brit knowing about them, knowing this wouldn’t be easy for him. As Conlan had explained to her, they needed Brit to believe this setup was real.
“Come away from the glass, Ms. Kingston.”
Mark’s gruff words startled her. She turned, meeting dark blue eyes full of concern despite the safety glass, and didn’t grumble as she walked down the hall again. Mark immediately began setting up cards on the coffee table for a game of solitaire. Jess lay down on the well-cushioned couch, feeling fatigue wash over her despite the coffee. A throw pillow in one corner beckoned, and she laid her head on it, pulling the cashmere throw off the back of the couch and cuddling into it. Mark flipped cards, shuffled, and rearranged until he finished the game and started another. He cheated, she noticed. The thought brought a smile as she let the rhythm of his movements send her into sleep.
She awoke to the press of a hard hand against her mouth, a sharp hiss of air filling her ear. Instinctively she fought, desperate to loosen the grip that cut off her breathing and kept her from moving. She clawed and tossed her head and bucked until her panic receded enough to realize it was getting her nowhere. Tilting her head up, she met the cold, hard gaze of her ex-boyfriend.
“Hello, sleepyhead.”
Her first reflex was to gag. The only reason she didn’t give in was the sure belief that he would make her choke on it rather than let go and risk her throwing up on him.
“Mhmm.”
“What was that, little mouse?”
She fought to control the bile rising persistently in her throat, the acid burning the back of her tongue.Focus. Think.Where was Mark?
Straining to turn her head, she finally caught a glimpse of the big man in the nearby armchair. His head lolled to the side, eyes closed, a small dart sticking out from the side of his neck. A tranquilizer? Why hadn’t Brit shot her? How the hell had he gotten inside in the first place, and where were Gaines’s men?
