Killjoy

Chapter 32

Secrets were best shared in the bedroom. They made love, and after he had kissed and caressed every inch of her

beautiful body, she was exhausted.

"I told you I'd get around to your back," he said as he rolled away from her.

She laughed because he'd sounded so smug. Still breathless from their lovemaking, she whispered, "You're insatiable."

He grinned arrogantly. "With you I am."

It was a lovely thing to say, almost a compliment, she thought. "Move over," she told him. "I'm falling off the bed."

The double bed didn't give him anyplace to go. "We're gonna need to buy a king-size bed."

Her mood changed as swiftly as the wind. "Why?" she asked tensely.

"Because I'm too big for a double bed," he answered. "My feet hang over. What's the big deal about a king-size bed?"

"We both know we can't have any kind of a lasting relationship."

"Did I ask?"

"No, but you implied…"

"Sugar, you worry too much."

She silently agreed. Of course, she worried… about everything. But what terrified her more than anything was ruining things. Admitting to herself that she loved John Paul had already put her in a mild panic. What was going to happen when they parted? Would she ever recover?

"I don't believe in marriage. Look what it does to some people."

"What people?"

"People like the Parnells…"

"Sugar, those aren't what you'd call typical people."

"What about the divorce rate?"

"What about couples who have stayed together?"

"I'd ruin things," she blurted out.

When he didn't respond, she propped herself up with her elbow, leaned over him, and waited. Had he fallen asleep?

"Did you hear what I just said?"

He was wearing an adorable smile and nothing else. He oozed self-confidence, probably because he didn't give a hoot what anyone else thought. She'd lived her life trying to please everyone. He was the complete antithesis. He didn't want to please anyone.

"You don't have much faith in yourself, do you? It's okay," he added before she could answer. "I've got enough for both of us."

She put her hand on his flat, hard stomach and circled his navel with her fingertips. He made everything sound so easy.

She couldn't stop touching him. She could almost see the strength radiating from his muscles, but she wasn't the least bit intimidated by him. When she was in his arms, she didn't feel overwhelmed or diminished. On the contrary, he made her feel powerful. It was the most incredible sensation, not worrying about pleasing him, just knowing that whatever she did was all right, being that free, that liberated. Her trust in him was absolute, and she realized what a wonderful gift he'd given her.

"John Paul?"

"Ummm?"

"Are you sleeping?"

"A little."

"I want…"

"Okay, sweetheart. Just give me a couple of minutes, and I'll be able-"

Her body was still tingling from the last time. She laughed. "Not that," she said. "I want you to tell me something."

He yawned. "You were perfect, Avery, but you've got to know-"

She pinched him. "I'm not asking for a review. I want to know why you walked away."

Before he could deliberately misinterpret, she said, "I've told you my secrets, most of them anyway, and now it's your turn.

Why did you retire?"

"It's boring stuff."

She pinched him again. "Tell me."

He opened Jiis eyes and looked at her. The determination he saw told him he wasn't going to be able to finesse his way out of

this one. Besides, he figured he owed her.

"It wasn't any one big assignment that went wrong," he said. "Just a lot of little screwups that made me… reevaluate what I wanted out of life. I had a bad problem."

"What was it?"

"I started thinking too much. I had a lot of time to do that while I waited in hellholes for the next assignment. They were usually generals," he explained nonchalantly. "Little prick dictators who surrounded themselves with thugs. I didn't mind killing them, for the greater good," he added sarcastically. "And I liked going in after hostages. There was justice in that action, but one night,

while I was freezing my ass off, I noticed I was getting a callus on my finger. My trigger finger," he added softly. "That really freaked me out."

"So what did you do?"

"I finished my assignment, told them I was done, and went home."

"Was it that easy? Didn't they try to change your mind?"

"Yes and no," he answered. "At the time, it was easy because I worked for a good, decent man. He knew I'd had it. I think the way he got around all the red tape was to give me an extended leave."

"But they're still trying to get you to come back?"

"Every once in a while," he agreed. "I won't, though." He closed his eyes again and said, "I did some badass things, Avery."

"I would imagine so," she whispered. "And you didn't believe that what you were doing made any difference, did you?"

She'd hit the mark dead center. "No, I didn't. Dictators are like weeds. You rip one out of the ground and two more pop up overnight."

He opened his eyes again and watched her as he recounted one of his bloodier assignments. When he was finished, he noticed

she hadn't pulled her hand away. She was still stroking his chest. Her touch was soothing.

"So now you're a carpenter," she said.

"Yes."

"Are you any good?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm still using my hands, but now I build things that will last. I don't break necks. It's odd."

"What is?"

"The urge to kill. I never had that before. I do now."

Her eyes widened. He'd made the confession so casually. "Oh? Who do you want to kill?"

"Skarrett."

She shivered in reaction. "No," she said. "I don't want him to die."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm serious. I want him to live the rest of his life behind bars."

"Yeah, well, if I get the opportunity…"

"No," she said firmly.

"Okay," he said when he realized she was getting upset.

"I mean it."

"I said okay," he said.

"I won't mind if you kill Monk," she said then. "But I hope someone brings him in alive. Can you imagine the things he could

tell them?"

He shook his head. "He won't talk. He's not the kind of man who likes to boast. Maybe, if the interrogators work him, treat him like a professional, he might give them a little insight, but I honestly don't see that happening." He shrugged and added, "I think

they ought to squash him like a bug."

"And Jilly?"

"You call it."

"She needs to be locked up in an institution for the criminally insane, and she needs to stay there for the rest of her life."

"You don't want her dead?"

"No, I don't," she said. "I don't think she can help being the way she is. I just want to make sure she can't hurt anyone anymore."

He brushed his thumb across her lips. "You've got a gentle heart," he said.

"So do you."

"The hell I do," he grumbled. "But I've got great hands," he added as he reached for her.

She slapped his hand away. "I already know you're good with your hands," she said.

She got an impish gleam in her eyes as she rolled on top of him. He locked his legs around her to keep her from making a

eunuch out of him.

"Now I'm going to show you how good I am," she cooed.

It wasn't an idle boast. Avery had a vivid imagination, and what she did to him with her hands and her mouth was magical, and probably illegal in some states, but of course he wasn't about to mention that to her.

That night they slept entwined in each other's arms even though both of them knew that the interlude would be over in the morning. They couldn't push reality away any longer.

Avery awakened before John Paul did and quickly showered and dressed in the bathroom so she wouldn't disturb him. Then

she went into the living room, softly closing the bedroom door behind her, and checked the time. There was a digital dock on the wall above the table. She hoped it was accurate. Five forty-five Colorado time, which meant it was seven forty-five in Virginia.

She thought she heard the shower running as she reached for the phone. "Stay predictable, Margo," she whispered. "Don't get spontaneous now."

She dialed information, got the number she needed, then hung up and waited, her gaze locked on the time.

At exactly seven-fifty, Avery dialed. The phone was answered on the third ring.

Avery made up a name, told the employee it was an emergency and that he needed to put Margo on the phone. She described

her friend and added, "She comes in every morning at seven-fifty."

"Yeah, the short lady, right?"

"Yes."

"She just left."

"Go after her," Avery shouted. "Hurry. Get her back. Go."

The phone clattered against the wall when the employee dropped it. She heard him shouting Margo's name, and then a minute later, she could hear Margo arguing.

"No one knows I'm here. What do you mean it's an emergency? Hello," she said.

"Margo, it's me, Avery."

"Oh, my God, Avery. How did you know I would be here… how did you…" She was rattled.

"You always pick up doughnuts on your way into the office."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

"I haven't done anything wrong," Avery countered.

"Why did you leave that police station in Colorado? The agents are there to protect you."

"I have protection."

"Renard?"

"Yes," she answered impatiently. "Tell me what you know."

The bedroom door opened, and John Paul stopped in the doorway, staring at her incredulously. She put her hand up when he started toward her.

"Hold on, Margo." Cupping the receiver with her hand, she said to John Paul, "Trust me." Then she raised the phone to her

ear again. "Okay, Margo. Start talking."

"The trial begins July tenth," she said. "But Avery, the parole hearing is still on too. Skarrett might pull it off this time. He could

get out."

"Over my dead body."

"Jeez, don't talk like that."

"Is the hearing still scheduled for the sixteenth?"

"I think so."

"Are you sure or not?"

"I'm sure," she said. "Don't get all hostile on me, Avery. They know about Jilly. Your aunt told them. That had to have been a

hell of a shock. I'm so sorry-"

Avery interrupted. She didn't want sympathy. "Do they have any idea where Jilly and Monk might be?"

"Not a clue."

"What about my aunt? Have they moved her from the hospital yet?"

"No, not yet. Don't worry about her. A gnat couldn't get into that hospital. Security's unbelievable."

"I'm not worried," she said. "Monk can't be in two places at once."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm going to keep him busy. He's going to have to try and stop me from testifying at Skarrett's trial."

"What does he care about Skarrett?"

"He doesn't," she said. "But he's working for Jilly now, and she wants Skarrett out of prison. I'll bet, if you check the records

at the prison for visitors over the past year, you'll find that Skarrett had a female visitor listed more than once. I think she's

made some kind of deal with him."

"For the millions in uncut stones that he stole," Margo said.

"I'm sure Skarrett thinks they'll share the loot and that he'll live happily ever after with Jilly. But when they have what they

want, Jilly will let Monk kill him."

"Avery, you're in over your head."

"Maybe," she whispered. "I can't stop now, though. About the trial…"

"Yes?"

"Find out who the prosecutor is, and make sure I'm on his witness list."

"Okay," she said. "Can I tell Carter I talked to you?"

You're going to tell him anyway, she thought. Margo was her friend, but Avery knew she would believe she was being helpful

by filling Carter in.

"Yes, please do."

"Where are you now? He's going to ask."

"Alabama," she lied. "I've got to go now. Tell Carter I'll call him."

"Wait," Margo cried. "What are you going to do?"

Avery knew what she wanted to do. She just didn't know how yet. The conversation with Jilly popped into her head. What had she called her? Oh, yes, how could she forget?

"I'm going to be a killjoy."

John Paul trusted her. Otherwise he would have ripped the phone out of her hand and hung it up. He'd sat down on the sofa beside her and impatiently waited for her to finish her conversation. He looked relieved when she told him she'd caught Margo

at the doughnut shop.

"Clever," he said with approval.

"She's a creature of habit."

She told him what Margo had said. "I promised I'd call Carter," she added, "when we get to Florida."

"But not before."

"You better think hard before you agree to go with me, John Paul. It could get…"

"Bloody?"

She nodded.

"I'm in," he said. "For the long haul."

He reached over, cupped the back of her neck with his hand, and drew her toward him. He kissed her possessively and said,

"Did you hear me? I'm in it for the long haul. And like it or not, babe, so are you."

"Until we get Monk and Jilly."

He let go of her. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

She pulled away and went into the kitchen. She fixed breakfast, cereal and toast, and then, because she was feeling restless,

did the dishes while he looked over the map, figuring their route to Sheldon Beach.

She was putting the bowls back into the cabinet when he called out to her.

"We've got company."

She dropped the tea towel and ran into the living room. John Paul was standing by the front window, cautiously looking out.

He held his gun at his side, pressed against his leg.

He saw the car when it came around the grove of trees and relaxed. "Better get packed," he said as he flipped the safety back

on the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans. "Our ride's here."

What ride? "You were expecting someone?"

He nodded. He couldn't see the driver yet because the sun bouncing off the windshield obstructed his view, but the make and model were right. It was a new, gray Honda.

"Who is it?"

He shrugged. "I told Theo I needed transportation. The police will be looking for my car, and I figured you didn't want them to

hold us until the FBI took you into custody."

"The FBI wouldn't do that unless they had my permission."

He snorted. She assumed that meant he didn't agree. "They would not trample all over my rights as a citizen."

"Sure they would," he said. "And they'd tell you that they were only doing what they felt was best for you."

She wasn't going to get into a full-blown argument about the Bureau now. Besides, deep down, she was

concerned that there was a kernel of truth in what he'd said. She wasn't willing to risk it.

"Theo drove all this way from Louisiana?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "He wanted to come, but I talked him out of it. I reminded him that he's going to be a father and that he's

a lousy shot. If he gets himself killed, then I'll have to become the kid's father figure. Said I'd raise his son or daughter to be

just like me."

"And that gave him chills?"

"Yep," he replied. "And like I said, he's a lousy shot. He'd probably shoot himself getting his gun out of its holster."

"And you don't want him to get hurt. You better watch it. You're beginning to sound nice."

He squinted against the sunlight trying to see the driver. "Theo said he knew someone who could keep quiet and help. Who wouldn't mind breaking some rules. Ah, hell," he groaned when he finally saw who was behind the wheel. "Not him. That son

of a…"

"Who?"

"Theo. My brother-in-law has a sick sense of humor."

"John Paul, what are you talking about?"

"Theo sent him," he snapped, stabbing at the air with his finger.

"Who?" she demanded. She was beginning to feel like an owl.

"Clayborne. He sent Noah Clayborne." He spat the name out as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.

She was thoroughly confused by his attitude. "But you called Noah from the spa. I heard you on the phone. Why are you angry now?"

"Yes, I did call him, but I didn't think I'd have to see him," he muttered. He turned to her, gave her a quick once-over from head

to toes, and barked, "Put some damn clothes on."

She looked down at herself. Yes, there were clothes. White tennis shoes, navy shorts, white T-shirt. "What's the matter with

what I have on?"

"Too much skin showing. Ah, hell, it wouldn't matter if you were dressed like a nun. He's still gonna hit on you. Then I'm gonna have to shoot the bastard." He stomped to the door, all but pulled it off the hinges when he opened it, and went out onto the

porch. "Just see if I don't."

Oh, brother. "He's bringing us a car." She called out the reminder. "Stop complaining about him."

"Yeah, you're right," he called back. "We'll make him stay here or take my car. He doesn't need to go with us."

Avery stepped back to the window. John Paul had made her curious about Theo's friend. She knew Noah couldn't possibly be

as obnoxious as John Paul had implied. No one could be that awful.

The car stopped in front of the house, and Noah Clayborne opened the car door and emerged into the sunlight.

Avery felt like whistling. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sandy blond hair, the man was dressed casually in jeans and a gray T-shirt. He wore the old-fashioned shoulder holster and a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. John Paul scowled at him, but Clayborne smiled back, as though the joke were on Renard. The man had a dimple and definitely oozed sensuality.

She wasn't interested in him, of course, not in that way. John Paul was sexier-everything about him appealed to her-but Noah, in appearance anyway, could be a close runner-up. Of course, her analysis was strictly clinical. She had never taken the time to notice such things about a man before, or if she had, she hadn't been able to admit it to herself. Had finally having sex again

turned her mind into mush?

"I'm going to need therapy when this is over," she whispered. "Big-time therapy."

Straightening her shoulders, she went outside to meet him. He'd reached the steps but stopped when she walked onto the porch.

John Paul's social graces definitely needed work. She waited a couple of seconds for him to introduce her, then realized he wasn't going to. She would have stepped forward, but John Paul put his arm around her shoulders and jerked her close to him.

Noah's response to the ridiculously possessive action was to widen his grin. He removed his sunglasses and looked directly at her. Blue eyes. The man had intense blue eyes. Bet he breaks a lot of hearts, she thought, as she felt John Paul tighten his hold.

Was he married? She hoped not because she could think of at least three friends to fix him up with, providing, of course, he

wasn't just a body without a mind. Margo wouldn't be bothered by that, but Peyton, her childhood friend, would definitely want

a man with a brain.

"What the hell are you staring at, Clayborne?" John Paul barked.

She put a stop to the pissing contest. She pushed his arm away and walked to the edge of the porch.

"Thank you for coming," she began. Extending her hand, she added, "My name's Avery Delaney."

Noah came up the stairs and shook her hand. He didn't let go as he introduced himself and then said, "I gotta know."

"Yes?"

He glanced at John Paul and said, "How'd a sweet thing like you get hooked up with him?"

"She's lucky," John Paul snapped. "Now let go of her."

Noah smiled at Avery and continued to hold on to her hand. He was enjoying himself by deliberately provoking John Paul.

He seemed to know what buttons to push to get John Paul riled. Come to think of it, it didn't take much.

"We appreciate your help, don't we, John Paul?" She had to elbow him to get him to answer.

"Yeah, sure."

"Please, come inside. Are you thirsty?" she asked as she led the way into the cabin.

"If he's thirsty, he can get his own damned drink," John Paul said. "You don't have to play hostess, Avery."

She whirled around. "Stop being a jerk," she ordered. "I was being polite, something you know precious little about. Now stop acting like a rooster and get rid of the attitude."

He immediately backed down. "Yeah, all right."

Noah tried not to laugh.

John Paul looked a bit sheepish as he said to Noah, "She's got a temper."

"Uh-huh," Noah drawled.

"Look, it's not what you-"

"Yeah, it is. Never thought you'd fall. Hell, I never thought any woman would want-"

"Drop it, Noah."

"Hey, I'm just here to do Theo a favor," he explained. "Don't take your frustrations out on me." The fact was, he liked John

Paul, and he respected him. Maybe even admired him a little because he'd had the guts to walk away from a job that usually

broke a man.

Avery had gone into the kitchen to get a cold soda for Noah. She stopped in the kitchen doorway. The men had returned to

the porch, and she couldn't hear what they were saying. She put the bottle back in the refrigerator and decided to pack her bag.

She heard a couple of crude and colorful expletives; then she heard laughter. They're nuts, she thought as she went into the bedroom and shut the door. The bed looked as though acrobats had practiced their act on it. She quickly stripped the sheets,

put on fresh ones, and dropped the soiled linens in the hamper.

There wasn't much to pack. She changed into her khaki pants and searched through her bag for her pink blouse. The clothes

the woman at the police station had taken home to launder for her were folded neatly on the side of the duffel bag.

It was such a sweet thing to do, washing her clothes. When this was over, she would have so many people to thank for their kindness. She'd have to do something especially nice for the police chief. Letting them use his cabin was above and beyond his duty.

She went into the bathroom to collect her toiletries. Glancing in the mirror, she was startled at how tired and pale she looked. She put on a little makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes, added some blush and tinted pink lip gloss. Then she brushed her hair, gathered up her toothbrush and toothpaste, and put them in her makeup bag. She tossed John Paul's toothbrush on top.

She was ready to go when John Paul walked into the bedroom. He shut the door, leaned against it, and looked at her.

After she'd finished zipping her bag, she stood, then nervously brushed her hands against her slacks, as though she were trying

to iron any wrinkles out.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't want to leave." He was looking at the bed when he made the comment.

"I don't either," she admitted.

"Come here." His voice was low and urgent.

She didn't hesitate. She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

When at last they drew apart, there were tears in her eyes. She had never felt this kind of desperation before, and it was so wrenching, so heartbreaking she was afraid she would break down and sob.

How had she allowed herself to become so vulnerable? Love wasn't supposed to happen this quickly, was it? Why hadn't she protected herself? Love sucks, she decided then. All those stupid songs about how wonderful it was. All she felt was pain and fear, fear that something would happen to him. Damn it, she would not love him.

"You should go home," she said. She stepped back, nodded, and then repeated her decision, but this time she was more forceful.

"I mean it. I want you to go home."

"Why?"

He had asked an obvious question, but she gave him an obscure answer. "You just should. I can drive myself to Florida. I don't need you or Noah to babysit me."

The more she explained, the more forceful her voice became. John Paul reacted to her outburst by simply grabbing his bag, dropping it on the bed, and then beginning to shove his clothes inside.

Noah was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking from a milk carton. He'd made himself a huge sandwich and was polishing

it off as she carried her backpack to the door. John Paul was right behind her with her duffel bag and his.

"Let's go," he called to Noah.

"I'm right behind you."

She followed John Paul to the car. He opened the driver's door, popped the lid on the trunk; then, pausing to glare at her, he

tossed their bags inside and slammed the trunk down.

"John Paul, I meant…"

He shook his head. "Don't."

"Don't what?" she asked.

"Don't insult me again. I told you at least three times I was in this for the long haul. Weren't you listening?"

She glanced at the door to make sure Noah wasn't there, then said, "I don't want you to get hurt. Okay? I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you… I don't think I could…"

"I love you too, Avery."

"It's too soon… you can't…"

"I do."

"How can you love me?" she whispered.

His left hand cupped the back of her neck, and as he slowly drew her toward him, he whispered, "Want me to count the ways?"

Tears stung her eyes. He wasn't going to be reasonable. "You're stubborn."

"So are you."

"It won't work."

"We'll make it work."

"I'm a liberal," she whispered in desperation.

He kissed her and then said, "I can live with that, but I can't live without you. Simple as that, sugar."

His wonderful mouth covered hers in a long, hot, thoroughly arousing kiss. He didn't overpower her with his strength, didn't

have her chained to him. No, he was being extremely gentle as his mouth slanted over hers. She could have pulled back, but

she didn't want to. She greedily kissed him back.

He growled low in his throat, which only encouraged her to be bolder. And when at last he lifted his head, she sagged against

him. She pushed away from him when the screen door opened.

Noah walked out onto the porch, pulled the door closed, and then tossed the keys to John Paul.

"You drive while I catch up on some sleep."

He caught the keys without taking his gaze off Avery. "You're gonna marry me."

"No, I can't marry you."

"Did I ask?"

"You just said…"

"Did I ask?" he patiently repeated.

Noah glanced at both of them, shook his head, and then dove into the backseat. "Lover's spat?" he asked.

"No." They both snapped the word at the same time.

She grabbed the keys out of John Paul's hand. "I'm driving."

He didn't argue with her. The dynamics between the two fascinated Noah. Who would have thought the bear would ever fall?

He guessed the old saying was true. There really was someone out there for everyone. A soul mate. Wait until he told Theo

about this. He wouldn't believe it either. The bear was in love.

He couldn't suppress his laughter. "What the hell's so funny?" John Paul grumbled.

"You. You're funny. Hey, Avery. Ever hear the one about the Marine…"

John Paul tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long, long trip.