Lucky SEAL (Lucky Devil #2) Page 12

  Rourke was making an effort to moderate his tone when he went on. Jennifer could tell he was trying not to frighten her. She wasn’t afraid of Rourke. She was scared for him.

  “We’ll deal with you running from me later. That hasn’t been forgotten. For now, let's deal with whatever has you on the run. If you feel the need to disguise yourself, I’ll venture to guess you are in big trouble. I want the whole story. Now.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and he gave her another little shake at the end to reinforce the demand for information.

  Jennifer couldn’t see any reason not to tell him the whole truth. He wasn’t going to let it go. She was sure he wasn’t going to let her go, either. It made Jennifer happier than she’d been in years to imagine that Rourke might want a relationship, but she was getting ahead of herself. She had a story to tell. It was easier to talk about what had happened to her in the dark with Rourke’s arms wrapped around her. As if he could protect her from the memories. So Jennifer snuggled in closer and began her sad tale.

  “I’m a dancer,” she said, and Rourke stiffened. “No, not an exotic dancer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Not as a profession, no, there’s nothing wrong with being an exotic dancer, if you aren’t my woman,” he returned.

  His woman?

  “Am I . . . yours?” She shouldn’t ask. It was way too soon. It wasn’t his fault she was already so far gone there was no hope for her.

  Rourke lifted his head and looked at her. She couldn’t really see his face well since the lamp went out after the bed crashed into it, but she saw the gleam in his eyes and heard the surety in his voice.

  “You. Are. Mine. Do you think I’d chase after a woman who isn’t mine? Do you really think I’ve ever hunted for a female before? I haven’t. Only you. Because you’re mine.” He punctuated the statement with a quick kiss and rested his head on the pillow again. “Continue.”

  Jennifer smiled. He was so bossy. She didn’t mind it much, though. Her heart did a gold medal worthy flip in her chest. She was his. Jennifer couldn’t think of anything she’d rather be than Rourke’s woman.

  “I’m not sure where I should start.”

  “The very beginning. How did you end up in Vegas? Are you a native?” he asked.

  “No, I’m a DC transplant via New York.”

  “I sense a story there.”

  “It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the abridged version just to get you up to speed.”

  “Good idea. We’ll have plenty of time to tell each other all the little details later,” Rourke said. Jennifer was overwhelmed by the thought that they would have plenty of time together. She couldn’t form a reply. So she went back to her story.

  ‘I learned to dance before I could walk, or so my mother always said. I danced all through school, and I went to a school for the arts in high school. I learned everything from ballet to hip-hop. Tap, modern, you name it, I’ll dance it.”

  “That explains this body. You have this long, lean muscular form that drives me insane. The day I met you, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Then, I saw what you were hiding under that dress.” A shiver ran through his body. “Keep going or I’m not going to let you finish.” He sounded savage, and Jennifer loved it. She kissed his muscled chest and settled back into the story.

  “My father indulged my ‘artsy side,’ as he liked to call it because it was good exercise and an appropriate activity for a young lady, but he insisted on top of the class grades. I had to earn the right to dance, and I did. I never got less than an A. When I entered my junior year of high school, and it was time put in college applications, Mom warned me I’d have a fight on my hands if I didn’t get into a business state of mind. My father is a lawyer. His father was a lawyer, and so was his father. My oldest brother was already in law school, and my other brother was about to start law school. He expected me to follow suit, Harvard followed by Harvard Law.”

  “He needed all of you to be lawyers?” Rourke asked.

  “Thank you,” she shook her head. Why couldn’t her father understand that wasn’t the life for Jennifer? “That was my point exactly. My brothers wanted to be lawyers. I didn’t, but Daddy didn’t care. He said I was too young to know what was good for me, and he believed it was his job as my father to guide me.

  “I was accepted into every school I applied to, including Harvard. He was willing to let me go to another Ivy League college if I didn’t want to go to Harvard. That was his only concession. I couldn’t pick a school because I had no intention of going, so he picked one for me.

  “When I graduated, he gave me the summer to come to my senses. I either needed to prepare to move to Cambridge or pack my things and leave his house by August. My mother pleaded with me. My brothers took turns trying to make me see the light of the family calling. I wanted nothing to do with it. I was eighteen, and I thought I had it all figured out.” She snorted at her own ignorance.

  “You had a dream?” he asked.

  “Of course, I was going to make it big on Broadway. I was going to roll into New York, and the world would fall at my feet. I didn’t understand why my father didn’t believe in me. He wanted me to have a real career, and dancing wasn’t good enough for his daughter. I was ordered to be present on the first day of classes at Harvard, or I wasn’t to ever darken his door again.”

  “Wow,” Rourke whistled.

  “As you can see, I didn’t go to Harvard. I just didn’t think college was for me. I wanted to be a dancer. He took my car keys and showed me the door the day I was supposed to leave for school. My mother cried and begged me to listen to Daddy. I didn’t.”

  Jennifer was lost in the memory of the day she left her parent’s home. Her father was stern and unbending. He believed she would cave when he put her on the street with nothing but a backpack of her clothing. Her mother wept and begged her to listen to her father. Her mom tried to explain that Jennifer’s dad loved her so much and was only trying to put her on a solid path to a stable future. Her brothers stood by stoically, knowing there was nothing they could do to budge their father’s determination. It had become a war of wills. Daddy wouldn’t relent. Jennifer couldn’t be who he wanted her to be, and she didn’t understand why he couldn’t love her the way she was.

  When the front door to Jennifer’s home closed behind her, the sound of the deadbolt being thrown into place made her heart pound, and she finally began to sweat. Jennifer was the spoiled daughter of a wealthy and respected family. She’d grown up in a world of country club socials, lady’s tea parties, upscale restaurants, private schools, and vacations abroad. She’d never been on a bus or a train, and she’d never had to walk anywhere. Her meals were prepared by a cook, and her house cleaned by maids. She had no idea what the real world was like, but she was about to learn.

  There she stood, all alone for the first time with nowhere to go and no money. This was when she was supposed to run back to her daddy and admit he was right, she wasn’t ready to face the world alone. But she didn’t walk back up those steps and accept her pampered fate. Jennifer didn’t know yet exactly how lucky she was to have been born to the parents she had. She walked away with her spine as straight as the poles that lined the mirrored walls in a dance studio with tears in her eyes.

  Jennifer had reached the corner before her brothers caught up with her to try convincing her to reevaluate her choice to defy Daddy another shot. She couldn’t do it. There was no way she was going to give up on her dreams. Her brothers seemed to expect this outcome. They both gave her money. They handed over cash, and it looked like a lot of money to a person who’d never needed money. She suddenly found herself with nothing, so the money was a big deal. Her brothers saved the day, or so she thought at the time. That money got her to New York and helped her pay for a tiny studio apartment the size of a postage stamp until she found a roommate and a job. Their father would be furious if he knew they’d aided and abetted her rebellion. If they hadn’t, she would probably have gone home within a day
or two, willing or not. What other choice did she really have?

  Sometimes at night when Jennifer was alone in bed, she’d think about that day and wonder what her life would be like now if she’d given in to her father wishes. It was a question she’d never know the answer to. She’d never seriously wished her life had gone the other way until the night she found herself Evan’s prisoner.

  “So New York didn’t work out?” Rourke recalled Jennifer to her topic.

  “No,” she shrugged. “I got a few gigs here and there, and I waited tables. I wasn’t thin enough to suit most directors. I’m too naturally curvy, and no matter how toned I am, I always have a booty.”

  “What? There isn’t an ounce of fat on you anywhere! Your hips are fucking perfect! I can span your waist with my hands. I can’t imagine losing weight would be healthy for you,” Rourke practically snarled, indignant on her behalf. “That ass is enough to stop traffic.” Rourke rubbed a large hand over the booty in question.

  Rourke’s approval made Jennifer feel somehow vindicated. He believed in her. He thought she was perfect. She did too, but it had taken her a long time to learn to love her curves. She had a womanly shape that was lean with muscle from a lifetime of dancing. She would never be the willowy, reed-thin woman and she didn’t want to be any longer.

  “I’m glad you think so. Broadway didn’t agree to the degree needed to support me in New York. I’m not willowy enough. It’s hard to work so hard for something just to be told your ass is too fat for the costumes.” She tried to laugh it off, but it still hurt. She had starved herself to fit the image New York wanted, but it didn’t matter. It was all for nothing. She would never do that to herself again. She was healthy and strong, and that’s how she planned to stay. “I left New York when my roommate threw in the towel and went home. I couldn’t afford to live alone.”

  “And you came to Vegas? Did you think about going home?”

  “I thought about it, but I still wasn’t ready to give up on my dream. I’d learned to survive on my own. I’d worked for the first time and took care of my own needs. I wasn’t a helpless girl who needed her dad to tell her what to do to survive. If I went back, I’d spend the rest of my life scraping, bowing, and apologizing for being who I am, for having a dream that didn’t fit my father’s agenda. That was if he even let me in the house at all.

  “So I took all the extra shifts I could get waiting tables and saved the money to cross the country to give Las Vegas a try. It was more of the same here at first. There are lots of dancers looking for jobs. I went on more auditions than I can count. Then, I got a part in a major show at the Winn. Landing that part was a dream come true for me. It wasn’t a significant role. I was a backup dancer, but I was doing what I love and making enough to survive, if not exactly thrive. I quit waiting tables and focused on my dancing.”

  The memory of her life just before she met Evan brought a smile to Jennifer’s face and an ache in her heart. She had made it. She was working six days a week and paying the bills without a second job. She was saving for a car. She was making friends, and life was finally looking up for her.

  “How long have you been here?” Rourke asked.

  “I’ve been in Vegas for over a year now. This is where things start to go downhill for me.”

  “I’m all ears. I’m still trying to figure out how you went from socialite to homeless.”

  She giggled. “I was never a socialite. Maybe at home, I could have been with time. I was more of a debutante. A spoiled debutante, and I had no idea how blessed I was. I’ve been your average starving artist for a long time. That’s the story Pastor Davis told people who asked questions about me. I only had those three dresses. They’re expensive, and they make me stand out. They only had men’s clothes and none that I have the figure to hold up. So I wore my dresses when I needed to leave my cubby.”

  She sobered. This was the hard part. As if the rest of the story didn’t suck enough. “Some men love to date the dancers. You’d be surprised how much attention we get.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’ve seen you naked,” he hummed and kissed her quickly. She smiled. Rourke just made her happy. Being in his arms made this easier.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “This one particular guy approached me at an after party. He asked me for a date.”

  Rourke growled. Jennifer ignored it.

  “I refused him. I was asked out frequently, along with many of the other girls. He was a handsome, wealthy man. He didn’t take no for a final answer, though. He came to the shows often and always found his way backstage. He turned on the charm and continued to pursue me. He was polite but ignored the other girls.

  “All of the other dancers thought I was crazy to turn him down. He claimed to be a successful investment banker. I couldn’t figure out why he fixated on me. Looking back, I think it was the thrill of the chase or something. I turned him down, so I became a conquest.

  “Eventually, the other girls convinced me that it couldn’t hurt to go out on a few dates with the guy to see if I like him or not. So the next time he approached me, I agreed to a date.”

  “I hate him,” Rourke rumbled.

  “You should. So do I.” Jennifer rubbed Rourke’s chest. “We went on a few dates, and Evan was really nice. He took me to nice places. He complimented my style, which is rather bohemian and I admit not fashionable, but it’s me. I like flowing skirts. I like to wear scarves on my head sometimes. I’m usually in ballet flat type shoes.”

  “So you dress like a woman who grew up dancing in leotards and skirts. I get that. I bet it’s hot as hell. I’d be imagining tossing up your skirt all damn day,” Rourke groaned.

  Jennifer laughed. “Yes, I guess I do dress like I’m on the way to dance class. Back to the story. I want to get it done. We’d been dating for a month when he picked me up after a show and took me to this club. It was a private club. I’m sure you know it. It’s called Hell.”

  Rourke inhaled sharply. “Luc owns the hotel and casino and the club. That’s not easy to get to into unless you know somebody.”

  “Yes, I met Luc that night when he had us tossed out on our asses because Evan, that’s his name, Evan MacGraff, had started a fight in a bar full of naked people.” She was glad it was dark because she blushed at the memory. “I was in shock. We’d never even had sex, and he had me in what amounted to a brothel. Then there was a fight, and I was literally shoved out into the alley on my ass.”

  “Is that why you were so tense on Thanksgiving? You were afraid of Luc?”

  “Yes. I’ve been through a lot. I’ve been in hiding from Evan. Luc wasn’t exactly friendly that night. I didn’t want my cover blown. Luc knows Evan. What if Luc recognized me and told Evan where to find me? They didn’t part on friendly terms, but I was still frightened.”

  “Let me put your mind at ease on that score. Luc is a hard ass businessman. When it comes to The Inferno and Hell, he doesn’t take any shit. He took over the company from his father, and it wasn’t doing so well. He’s turned it around while fighting to gain the respect and loyalty of people who’d served his father for years. So he rules with an iron fist, but he’s a fair man. Luc is one of the good guys, and I’d trust him with my life. He’d never do anything to hurt a woman.

  “If he tossed Evan out, it was for good reason. You were there, right? Hell is a club meant for shady characters and people with money to burn who don’t mind jumping rope with the line of morality.”

  Jennifer couldn’t argue that. She’d seen things in the hour she was in Hell that had shocked her to her toes. She blushed again just remembering that night.

  “My point is that if Evan got ejected, he was somehow stepping on Luc’s toes. He was either hurting someone or cutting in on Luc’s business. Just being an asshole wouldn’t be enough. Even starting a fight wouldn’t get his membership revoked. There are fights there every day. You’d be escorted out for the night until you cooled down, but that’s it. So something else was in the works.”

&nb
sp; Jennifer just nodded. She’d have to take Rourke’s word for it. She knew Evan was up to no good, even if she didn’t know the details. Luc still scared the shit out of her. He didn’t frighten her as much as Evan did, but she would never want to be on Luc’s bad side.

  “What changed exactly? This guy was Prince Charming. What happened?” Rourke asked.

  Jennifer was truly glad it was dark for this part. Her heart started to pound just thinking of the way Evan took over her life. It happened so fast, and nothing she said seemed to matter to him in the least. He claimed her as his own, and that was that.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. I promise you’re safe from him now. Just tell me everything so I know how to proceed.” Rourke hugged her tighter to him and stroked her back soothingly. “Trust me, Jennifer. I’m kind of a tough guy.”

  “Even tough guys aren’t bulletproof, Rourke.” Tears filled Jennifer’s eyes. “Not even Navy SEALs are invincible.”

  “Thankfully, neither are the criminals. I think I need to hear the rest of the story. What did this prick do that landed you in a storage room? Why did you run out on me twice?” Rourke asked without a hint of accusation. He wasn’t blaming her for disappearing on him. He just wanted to understand why she’d done it.

  Jennifer couldn’t avoid it any longer. She had to trust Rourke to help her. Jennifer loved Rourke, and she wanted to protect him from this mess, but he wasn’t going to allow it. If she was going to have any chance at a normal life, she needed his help. Stacy Rourke was her only hope, not only to free her from Evan’s shadow, but also for real love. Because Jennifer didn’t think she would ever feel for another man what she felt for Rourke.

  On a ragged sigh, Jennifer told Rourke the entire, sad sorry story starting with Evan abducting her. She told him about being hit and choked. Jennifer described the misery of using a bucket as a toilet and not having any tissue to use. She told him about the indignity of being dragged around by her hair and about being watched every time she showered or used the bathroom because she wasn’t trusted to be left alone. Jennifer related every little detail she could remember, even the embarrassing stuff. Jennifer wanted Rourke to know everything she’d been through, so he would understand why she’d felt the need to hide her identity and sneak away from him. He stopped her only a few times to ask questions.