Black Jack by Lora Leigh Page B

cold beers free and tossed a bottle across the room
    to Lilly, watching her closely.
    She caught it, without thinking, then stared at the beer in confusion before lifting her gaze
    back at him. What he saw there made him want to curse. Confusion. Anger. Fear.
    “You knew I’d catch it,” she whispered.
    Unscrewing the cap with a deft twist, he tossed the metal disk to the counter before leaning
    against it casually.
    He shrugged. “You like beer.”
    “I detest beer.” Lilly stared at the bottle again, a bit surprised that her mouth was watering
    for the taste of it. Surprised that she actually wanted it.
    “You learned to love it.” She watched him. “You told me once that until you had been
    forced to drink it, you hadn’t known how good it could taste.”
    “And how was I forced to drink it?” Lilly sighed wearily.
    He chuckled. “We were in Mexico. It was my beer or their water. You chose my beer.”
    She just bet she had.
    “Why was I there, Travis?” she asked, barely able to push the words past her lips. “Why
    wasn’t I home?”
    No one else seemed willing to answer that question. Would he?
    “It had something to do with what you saw the night your father was killed.”
    Now, her surprise turned to shock.
    She hadn’t expected him to answer her. She blinked back at him, wondering at the quiet
    expression on his face as he continued to watch her closely.
    “What happened that night?” She didn’t remember it. The last thing she remembered was
    the party that night.
    Travis stepped to the large, marble-topped kitchen island and stared back at her with a
    heavy frown. “You said your father suspected someone of embezzling money. You said he had
    been acting strangely that night and then he disappeared from the party. You went looking for
    him and when you walked into his study, he was already dead.”
    Lilly fisted her hands at her side and fought against the rage and the pain. Her father had
    died that night, and she had been unable to help him. Unable to do anything but run,
    apparently.
    Shadows tangled together in her head. Like a fast-forward that went much too fast to make
    sense of, images raced through her mind.
    “So I didn’t see who killed him?” she asked. “I did nothing to save him?”
    Travis shook his head. “We think you were knocked unconcious. And you suspected, but
    never told me either way. You had issues trusting people, especially with your secrets.”
    “I did nothing to prove my suspicions?” She heard her own voice roughen, felt the agony of
    failure tearing through her.
    “I didn’t say that, Lilly,” he retorted gently. “You’ve investigated. At times I’ve helped you,
    but you always ran into a dead end. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried.”
    She swung away from him, fighting her tears.
    “You were working covertly with MI5 before that night,” he continued. “You couldn’t risk
    going to them, though. You trusted no one.”
    “But I trusted you enough to tell you that?” She swung back to him, the anger and fear
    eating at her now.
    “We were close, Lilly,” he stated softly. “There were many times you trusted me. And there
    were times you didn’t.”
    At least he was admitting there were times she hadn’t trusted him.
    “Where did we meet?” The question was a whisper, as she fought to put together the puzzle
    of her life.
    “We met in Israel. I was your trainer for a while.” With that statement he turned, opened a
    lower cabinet door, and tossed the empty bottle away.
    He moved with a predatory male grace, a sense of preparedness and yet casual laziness. She
    couldn’t pinpoint the type of man he was, or even how trustworthy he was, and she
    considered herself a rather perceptive person when it came to others, but she couldn’t read
    him well.
    She watched as he moved across the room to her. Silently. He was even more silent than
    she was, and he was much heavier. There were muscles packed on that body.
    “What sort of