Читать книгу The Heartless Rebel - Lynn Harris Raye - Страница 10

Jack slept fitfully. The injuries woke him from time to time, but it was the proximity of the warm woman next to him and the dreams he sunk into whenever he fell asleep that kept bringing him back to the surface. He wanted to reach for her, pull her into the curve of his body and just hold her. Because he wanted to be close to someone.

The dreams hadn’t bothered him in years, but tonight they were back in force. His father was a chameleon, making them all laugh and building a fabulous tree house for them one moment, only to explode the next. The screaming and rage rained down on him, on his brothers and sister, like fire from above. The tree house was destroyed as the sobs of his younger siblings rent the air.

But Jack had never cried when his father raged.

Unlike the others, he’d always known when William was on the verge of cracking and he’d mostly avoided his father’s wrath. But he’d ached for his siblings, for the ones who seemed to draw William’s attention most of all. Tonight, it seemed as if he was destined to relive those memories every time he closed his eyes.

And he figured he knew why. Nathaniel’s wedding … the trip home. In a couple of days, he would probably come face-to-face with Jacob again. Jacob, who he’d looked up to and admired. Who he’d wanted to be exactly like when he was growing up.

Until Jacob had betrayed them. Until he’d left and they’d had to learn how to live without him there to guide them. He’d loved Jacob, but Jacob hadn’t loved him—them—enough to stay.

Though it hurt like hell, he pushed himself up and swung his legs from the bed. If one of Bobby’s men hadn’t delivered a blow that had knocked him unconscious, he’d hate to think of the sort of shape he’d be in now. Because they would have kept punching until they did more damage than just a few bruised ribs.

“What are you doing?” Cara cried, scrambling up beside him.

“Looking for something to drink.”

“I’ll get it. You stay there.”

He hated being dependent, hated that she’d had to help him undress when it wasn’t for pleasure. But he let her get up and go to the minifridge. When she bent down and opened it up, the interior light shone on her bare legs, on the curves of her bottom beneath the towel she still wore. His body reacted, in spite of the aches and pains.

“There’s water, juice, soda—”

“Water’s fine.”

She twisted off the cap and brought the bottle to him. He took it and drank, his eyes skimming her lush body in the meager light peeking between the closed curtains.

“How do you feel now?” she asked.

“Like I’ve been run over by a train.”

“I need to leave,” she blurted. “My passport and money are still in Nice, and I can’t go home without them.”

Something inside him twisted at the thought of her leaving. “It’s too dangerous, Cara. You need to stay away from Gold.”

Her golden-green eyes sparked with temper. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, but I can’t leave Europe without my passport. What am I supposed to do, hide from Bobby forever? If I take some friends with me, he won’t bother me.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, though it hurt to do so. “Stay away from Nice, and stay away from Bobby.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Did she realize, he wondered, that the towel inched up and revealed a hint of what lay beneath? His body turned to stone. He didn’t even care that it hurt.

“I’m not your property, Jack. You can’t tell me what to do.”

God but she exasperated him. Was she that obtuse or did she just delight in contradicting him? “I’m trying to protect you.”

If anything, that statement only made her angrier. “Protect me? My God, if you hadn’t come barreling in like the Lone Ranger, it’d all be over with and I’d be on my way home again. I don’t need your help, Jack. In fact, I’d be better off without it!”

Anger flashed through him. He’d taken a bloody beating for her, and she still insisted she’d have been fine. “Right. Because when Bobby’s boys needed a punching bag, they’d have just had to do without because you’re a woman.”

“God!” She shoved both hands through her hair, whipping it off her shoulders and then letting it fall again, a silken waterfall down her back. “They hit you because you hit them. I’ve never seen Bobby abuse any of the girls. He was angry with me and he slapped me. But that’s the extent of it. Or would have been if you hadn’t shown up.”

Jack reached for the watch he’d left on the bedside table—9:00 a.m. He was done arguing with her because it was pointless. She was determined to do her own thing—and maybe she was right.

Maybe Bobby’s anger would have faded a bit since he’d gotten the jackpot after all.

Some people were determined to keep flying into the fire, even when they knew they would get singed. Jack knew better, had always known better. And he had little patience with those who did not.

“Fine, then. You go back to Nice. I’m going to London.”

She didn’t think he would be able to do it, but Jack managed to dress on his own. Then he made a call on his mobile. She heard him ask for a Dr. Drake, so at least he was finally planning to get checked out. The knowledge relieved her, made her not worry quite so much about what he would do when she was gone.