and good times?”
She steeled herself against the tortured tone of his voice, the raw emotion in his hands as they settled on hershoulders and squeezed gently. The trouble with being undercover was that she had to decipher what was real and what was fabricated. She had to step lightly to keep herself alive, and not fall for a charming gunrunner with a depth she hadn’t expected and couldn’t buy into. Her heart had to remain untouched.
She turned around and faced him. “I would say that you’re very good at lying, Jammer.” She tried to push down the lump in her throat as she pushed the book into his hands.
“I would have to be lying, wouldn’t I? With a father like that, with that kind of upbringing—to be that boy, one lucky enough to have that kind of parenting—I wouldn’t have turned out like me. A ruthless, greedy bastard, selling death.”
She smiled as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Exactly. You ought to think about writing fiction. You’d be very good at it.”
“No, the thoughts I have in my head should stay there. Truth is more chilling than fiction. Keeping you alive will be enough for me to worry about.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve lost everyone who matters to me. I’ve got enough death on my conscience to last me more than one lifetime.”
A thick, heavy silence hung in the air as their gazes held. Jammer’s expression was turbulent, wistful, his fingers tight on her upper arms. She had the realization that he could have snapped her in half like a twig. She had never been quite so aware of the differencesin their sizes, had never felt quite so overwhelmed by a man before.
“I’ve got enough death on my conscience to last me…” The words sank into her brain one by one to be scrutinized and a chill ran through her.
She stared at him for a long moment, watching him struggle to rein back the emotions that swirled in his eyes. She forced herself to relax by degrees, and breathed easier as his grip loosened. His hands settled on her shoulders.
“Would you like to unburden yourself?” she asked softly.
Very deliberately he lifted his hands from her shoulders and turned away from her. “No, I wouldn’t.”
She couldn’t admit she was shaken or show that her legs and her heart had been affected by his words. She wouldn’t believe that the affection in his voice, that terrible sense of loss in his eyes, was real. She was the one in charge of the situation. She was the one who had to remain calm and aloof.
She walked out of the room, digging in her pocket for her cell phone. She had a new determination to call Damian and find out if he’d gotten what he needed, or if she would have to make another trip down here to fulfill her mission.
“I think I will take that nap now, Jammer. Wake me in about an hour, would you?”
She vowed not to let the image of him standing there holding that book in his hands affect her as she headed for the stairs, her fingers already pressing the digits asshe climbed. The faster she found out who the Ghost was, the faster she could get out of this situation.
She stopped on the steps and closed her eyes. Damn him and his secrets and his feigned vulnerability. For that was what it was. He was good, but she would have to be better.
She ignored the voice in her head that told her she was wrong. She wasn’t wrong.
When Damian answered, she stepped into Jammer’s room and closed the door.
J AMMER STOOD IN THE library, the leather of the book smooth against his palms. Why did she have to choose this volume over all the others? It was the only one in the room that was connected to a dead man. A ghost.
He felt all the ghosts in his life crowding him. Shifting his shoulders at the deep well of pain and loss, he reached up and slid the book back in place.
She was killing him by slow degrees. For the first time he chafed at the constraints he’d agreed to willingly when he went into this arrangement.
She was far too close, and
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