Free The Choice by Jean Brashear Page A

ground.
    “Not bad, MacGregor. Your evasive driving skills could stand some work, but at least you didn’t panic.”
    Heart pounding, rage shot through her body like a sniper’s bullet. She jerked away and whirled, chest heaving. Angry words rocketed to her lips. With great effort, she swallowed them, adrenaline still pumping.
    The cars behind them slowed and stopped. Ron and two other men emerged. Hafner climbed out of the Explorer, grinning.
    Only Cullinane looked displeased.
    Hands on her hips, Jillian glared at him, fury still fighting to escape from her lips. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Turning insolently away from his regard, she leaned down and picked up her weapon.
    “What did I tell you, Cullinane? Cool as a cucumber under pressure.” Hafner’s smug voice sounded. “She’s ready, even you can’t say she isn’t.” A taunting tone entered his next words. “I mean, any woman who can drop the unbeatable Cullinane...”
    A grin crossed Ron’s face. Jillian wished she were looking at Cullinane right now. Slowly, she turned.
    If looks could kill, she’d be toast. She didn’t care. This was sneaky, underhanded...
    Effective. It had worked. Her final exam, and she’d passed it. She could see it in his gaze. He couldn’t turn her away now. She smiled sweetly. “Do I get an ‘A’, teacher?”
    His grim visage revealed nothing. Nodding at the men behind her, he snapped out an order. “Ron, you drive back. Check the vehicle to make sure there’s no damage other than the window. Solly, you in front and the other car follows. Let’s get back to the compound, people. Fun’s over.”
    He started past her. Jillian shot out a hand to stop him. “Cullinane, admit it.”
    He towered over her, his closeness unsettling. The imperious eyebrow lifted. “Admit what?”
    That I’m good, that I surprised you, that— Stop it, Jillian. You don’t need this man’s approval, you only need him to not interfere. She dropped her hand. “Never mind.” She stalked toward the car, but his voice stopped her.
    “You’re good, MacGregor. That what you wanted to hear?”
    She turned back. “But you don’t like it.”
    His face hardened. “No. I don’t. But I’m not paying the bills.” He rounded the car.
    She didn’t care what he thought. Wouldn’t let herself.
    The drive back seemed to take hours.
    * * *
    Shirtless and barefoot, Cullinane watched her sleeping. Unable to sleep himself, he cursed her ability to drop off so easily—but then, she’d had a very strenuous day.
    He couldn’t send her away now. She’d proven herself, even he had to admit it. Hafner was jubilant, the other men accepting. Only Cullinane balked, with no other reason than his instincts to guide him.
    But those instincts had kept him alive for a long time. He turned away from the monitor in disgust, wishing he could get a handle on what it was that bothered him so much about her.
    Get real, Drake, he chided, one hand swiping his hair. She bothers you on every level. He wheeled around to glare at the screen.
    Jillian stirred, and the sheet slipped down, drawing his gaze down with it to the nipple about to be revealed. He swore darkly, jabbing at the switch for that monitor, dissolving the image into darkness.
    You can watch for the sake of security, Drake, but not because she sleeps naked.
    But how did he wipe the image from his mind, prevent himself from dreaming it? With a muffled curse, he moved to his room, popped the buttons on his jeans and stripped, then climbed into his own bed.
    And tried not to wish he were climbing into Jillian’s. The feel of the sheets against his skin maddened him, too reminiscent of how little separated them...only a little distance down the hall, only the bare covering of two sheets on their bodies...
    Only a lifetime worth of hunting a killer.
    Growling, Cullinane punched his pillow and flipped on his side, closing his eyes....
    And prayed for merciful oblivion.
    * * *
    The sun bright in the sky