Lucky SEAL (Lucky Devil #2) Page 19

  If he had confessed his feelings, Rourke wouldn’t have been declaring his love to a blood soaked Jennifer after Evan dragged her into a major drug deal that ended with shots fired. The truth came pouring out of Rourke when he held her in his arms, alive if not whole, after the heart wrenching moments he was sure Jennifer was dead.

  What a romantic story to tell their children. Rourke’s brain locked up and had to reboot when that idea crept up on him. Children . . . He felt a little dizzy. Rourke couldn’t get that far ahead of himself yet, but the fact this mind had freely drifted the idea of children with Jennifer was telling. Just a few months ago, Rourke didn’t believe he would ever get married, and therefore, would never have kids. Now, all he could think about was securing a future with Jennifer. That future would eventually include little blond haired, blue-eyed babies. But again, he was getting way ahead of himself. It was better to focus on the here and now.

  Rourke couldn’t wait to get home when he left town. Usually, it was just the opposite. When he was heading back to base after some time off, Rourke was always eager to jump back in with both feet and get to work. The flight to Virginia from Vegas to report for duty when he was summoned was pure hell for Rourke. He couldn’t read or watch the movie. He couldn’t think of anything but Jennifer’s condition. He believed Jennifer’s injuries were completely survivable, but that didn’t stop him from going crazy with worry until he touched down and was able to call Dolce. All Dolce was able to tell him was that Jennifer was out of surgery and things had gone well. There was only so much information the hospital would give a person who wasn’t family, and she wouldn’t be allowed visitors until the next day.

  That was the last information Rourke had on Jennifer. She came through surgery to remove the bullet from her shoulder and repair the damage with flying colors. She would recover. But was she safe? Was she back at the church sleeping in the soup kitchen? Had she gone home to her family in Washington, DC? Rourke had no idea, and it was maddening.

  Once Rourke was back on base and being briefed for the upcoming operation, though, he had to put everything but the job out of his mind. Distracted operators were dead operators. Rourke had to do the job right if he wanted get back home in one piece. He had to be the operator above all else when out in the field. That’s what he did. Now, it was time to return to the real world, and it was easier to turn off the sailor than it had ever been before.

  Two long months and one week later and Rourke was just about crying in his beer. He had no way to contact Jennifer. She didn’t have a phone or an address, and he still didn’t know her last name. How the fuck had he forgotten to ask Jennifer for a last name? Rourke was right back to where he started, searching for the mysterious woman who’d stolen his heart in a soup kitchen with his best friends and half the homeless population of North Vegas there to witness his downfall.

  Rourke called Dolce as soon as he returned to the world. Unfortunately, Dolce had nothing but bad news for him. Dolce had no idea where Jennifer went after leaving the hospital. The day after surgery, when Dolce went to see Jennifer and make arrangement for Jennifer to stay with her, upon her release, Jennifer was gone. And thank god, Dolce learned Jennifer’s last name at the hospital. That would make his search easier. It warmed his heart to know Dolce was prepared to take in the woman Rourke loved and care for her in Rourke’s absence. He couldn’t have asked for a better blood sister. Dolce was closer than blood. She was a sister by choice.

  Rourke went straight to the church from the airport when he landed, but Jennifer’s little room was untouched. The fancy dresses she hated still hung on the rack, and her red-bottomed heels rested below them on the floor. The books still lined the ledge of the shelf. Her bed had been stripped of linens. The lamp had been removed. According to the pastor, Jennifer must have used it as a weapon, because it was bent and broken when he found it.

  Pastor Davis had no clue where Jennifer was, either. Rourke believed the man this time. He wasn’t withholding information to protect a parishioner’s privacy any longer. The pastor hadn’t seen Jennifer since he saw her limp body dragged out of the soup kitchen and stuffed into the back of a black sedan.

  Rourke found the last known address for Jennifer Burks fairly easily on the internet. He went there next, but she didn’t live there any longer. There was a young couple now occupying the space. The rental office manager was no help at all to Rourke. After quite a bit of bullying on Rourke’s part, the woman threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave. There are privacy policies that are taken very seriously, and the rental manager was not willing to risk her job to help Rourke locate Jennifer.

  Then, Rourke remembered the neighbor who had contacted Evan and given Jennifer away under the romantic misgiving that she was helping a man in love reunite with his girlfriend. Rourke ran back to the building Jennifer once lived in and knocked on the next door. Marcy was beautiful, but she couldn’t compare to his Jennifer. She was flirty when she opened the door to find Rourke in the hall, but she sobered when he explained that he was hunting for Jennifer.

  Marcy was able to tell him a little more about Jennifer’s move. When Marcy saw Jennifer’s things being moved, she sweet-talked one of the maintenance men who had a crush on her into doing a little fact finding in the office. It seemed the receptionist had the hots for him, so he easily pried the facts out of her. Marcy was a resourceful girl. Her wannabe beau found out that Jennifer’s back rent was paid in full before she was evicted by a party the receptionist wouldn’t or couldn’t release to him. A moving company took her things, but they never saw Jennifer. The rental manager had to let the movers in to pack and remove Jennifer’s things in her absence. That was all Marcy could tell him. Before Rourke left Marcy’s tiny apartment, they both promised to contact the other if either of them heard from Jennifer.

  Rourke was baffled. He knew Jennifer didn’t have much money. Maybe two or three thousand dollars between her savings and the money Marcy had given her. That wouldn’t have lasted for over two months if she weren’t working. He didn’t believe she would have spent it on movers, but she wouldn’t have been able to do it herself after surgery on her shoulder. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. So where had she taken her things?

  Rourke’s next stop was The Winn, where Jennifer used to work as a dancer in a popular show. He nosed around and was able to find a few dancers who had worked with Jennifer. They didn’t know anything about what had happened to her since she left the show. The two girls that had been closest to Jennifer explained that they’d received a message from her when she quit the show. The mysterious note delivered to them stated that Jennifer was in love and was getting married. Her new fiancé didn’t want her to work. So she was resigning. Both women thought it was odd, because Jennifer wasn’t the type to bow to a man’s wishes. They never heard another word from her. Rourke agreed. She wasn’t. The message had to have come from Evan in an effort to cover her disappearance.

  He exhausted all of his options and had no idea where to look next. Rourke would have to enlist Luc and his many resources now. Rourke went to Luc’s office, hoping to find him, so he could beg for help face to face, but Luc’s newest secretary informed Rourke that Luc was unavailable, but she’d give him a message.

  With no place else to go, Rourke met up with Dolce to wait for Luc at Dante’s, Dolce’s preferred restaurant at The Inferno. He felt like he was chasing his own tail around Las Vegas. Dolce sat next to Rourke at the bar in her sleek black suite, her shining black hair in an elegant knot on her head, and heels so high she should have a nosebleed, with a mournful expression to match Rourke’s woeful mien. They sipped beers and discussed Rourke’s next possible move. Flying out to DC to begin hunting there appeared to be his best option. It was possible Jennifer’s father –the high-powered Washington lawyer– had paid for her move and the back rent she owed.

  “Who died? You two look miserable for people who should be happy to see each other,” Luc said as he slid into the seat next to Dolce. Then, he
leaned forward to make eye contact with Rourke. “Welcome home. I’m glad your back. Now Dolce will stop worrying so much,” Luc told him and looked away as if uncomfortable. Dolce blinked at Luc a few times before giving Rourke a small smile. She was willing to let Luc put the blame for all the worrying on her, but both she and Rourke knew the truth. Luc fretted every bit as much as Dolce did when Rourke was away surviving their country. He just didn’t talk about it.

  “Thanks. It’s good to be back on home soil, but I can’t say it’s a happy homecoming. I’ve been searching for Jennifer since I landed. I’ve been everywhere I can think to look for her,” Rourke explained their sour faces.

  “Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”

  “Yes, I’ve been to the church, her old apartment, and her last job looking for her. She’s moved. That’s all I know. That’s why I’m here. Other than to ease Dolce’s fears.” Rourke smirked. “I’m going to DC to look for Jennifer’s family. After her injury, I can only imagine she returned to her family. I need you to dig in your bag of tricks and see what you can learn about them. An address to hit as soon as I arrive would be enough to start with. Can you do that?” Rourke asked. Luc always responded better to a request than anything that came across as a demand. He was a touchy asshole, but he liked to think of himself as hard and unreachable. Idiot. Rourke loved the messed up man, though.

  “I can do some digging. An address, maybe even a phone number shouldn’t be a problem. But I have one question first.”

  “Yeah?” Rourke didn’t want to answer questions. He wanted Luc to be on his phone already, working on finding an address for Jennifer’s family. Rourke planned to go straight to the airport as soon as he spoke to Luc.

  “It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases here in Vegas, but before I start sniffing around Washington, I have to ask, have you checked your apartment? If Jennifer feels safe with you, and I believe she does, and Evan has no idea who you are, she might have gone to your place for shelter while she heals up,” Luc suggested. “Not to say that Evan is a threat. I’ve been keeping an eye on that situation, as well. Evan is in federal prison on charges of international drug smuggling and murder. But Jennifer won’t know that, and she’ll be looking for a safe place to hide, as she did before.”

  Rourke blinked hard but didn’t respond. He was thinking over the possibility. Could it be that Jennifer was waiting for Rourke at home while he ran all around town wasting time? Was she, even now, waiting for him while he sat at the bar moping?

  Luc arched a sardonically questioning eyebrow, as if Rourke should have thought of going home to start with and was an idiot for not doing so. Rourke sat wide-eyed with the gears in his mind grinding. How would she get in without a key? How would she take care of herself alone after her injury? It seemed too farfetched to imagine.

  Dolce was looking back and forth between the two of them as if there were a tennis ball bouncing back and forth. Her expression changed from commiserating to hopeful.

  Rourke leapt from the thickly padded bar stool nearly knocking over his beer in the process. He grabbed his duffle and ran from Dante’s without another word. He hurried through the hotel and hailed a cab. Could it really be that easy to find Jennifer? Would she be there waiting for him at home? He barked the address at the cab driver. When he disembarked from the plane that morning, Rourke hadn’t wanted to go to his empty, lonely apartment. Now, he thought he might lose his shit if the cabby didn’t drive faster. Rourke couldn’t wait to get home.

  Back at the bar, Dolce eyed Luc, who studiously pretended not to notice her studying him so closely while he swirled a glass of scotch and sipped on the amber liquid.

  “Jennifer was shot, Luc,” Dolce told him, as if he needed the reminder.

  “That’s what you told me,” he replied as if he hadn’t investigated the situation himself.

  “She was injured and frightened, and she would have needed a lot of help,” Dolce again stated the facts.

  “I imagine so.” Luc sipped his scotch.

  “She didn’t have a key to Rourke’s place or anyone to help her,” Dolce said to the side of his perfect, dark head. She was smiling. Luc wouldn’t have suggested Rourke go home if he weren’t sure that’s where Jennifer was, because it made no sense for her to go there injured and alone with no way to get in and nobody to help her in her convalescence.

  Luc didn’t respond. He just pursed his lips as if pondering Jennifer’s dilemma. He took another drink of his scotch.

  “How do you suppose she got from the hospital to Rourke’s place?”

  “If that’s even where she is,” Luc prevaricated, as if he didn’t know exactly where Rourke’s future wife was resting. “I have no idea, but she seems like a very resourceful young woman.” Luc threw back the remainder of his drink and instructed the bartended to put Rourke and Dolce’s drinks on his tab before he left.

  Luc strode assuredly out of the bar, refusing to make eye contact with the always perceptive Dolce. She knew exactly how Jennifer had gotten settled into Rourke’s home and who had been assuring she was cared for in the meantime. Luc was a good man, and Dolce loved him deeply. She could only pray that one day he would forgive himself for his sins and learn to live without the guilt. Until then, Dolce and Rourke would stand by his side. It was likely Jennifer would be joining their little family, as well. Dolce finished her beer with a smile. God, she loved her brothers, testy as they both could be. They weren’t really her brothers, but they’d taken her under their wings from a young age and taught her to be as tough as one of the guys. They were good men, and she was blessed to have them in her life. Dolce hoped one day, a strong woman would come along to knock Luc off his feet and give him the peace and love he deserved. Much as Jennifer had shaken up Rourke, one extremely regimented Navy SEAL, who needed to learn to loosen up. Maybe one day, Dolce would fall in love, as well. Maybe. If she ever got over the one that got away. And maybe not.

  * * *

  Jennifer stepped out of the shower and tugged on the thick, charcoal-color terry bathrobe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. She wrapped it around herself and tied the sash at the waist, wincing at the pull on her shoulder. It was too long and dragged the floor, but it was Rourke’s, so she liked to use it. Raising her arm over head to wrap her hair in a towel was a chore. The shoulder that had taken a bullet got better every day, but it was especially sore after a physical therapy session. Today, her therapist had pushed her hard.

  Jennifer was so thankful Rourke had been able to get care for her situated before he was forced to return to duty unexpectedly. She bet he felt terrible about leaving her when he did, but Jennifer understood. His life wasn’t really his own. He belonged to the Navy. Waking from surgery to learn Rourke wouldn’t be there for her was tough for Jennifer at first. It was still hard. He’d been gone for nine weeks, and she hadn’t heard a word from him, but she was being taken care of in his home, and that meant a lot to Jennifer.

  The day she was to be released from the hospital, she had no clue where she would go or how she would get there. Just as Jennifer was trying to explain to the doctor that she was homeless and needed help until she recovered, a sharp looking blond woman showed up in Jennifer’s hospital room. She introduced herself as Trina, Luc Christianson’s personal assistant. Trina had everything in order for Jennifer. Everything happened so fast Jennifer barely had time to blink before she was installed in Rourke’s empty little apartment. There was a sweet woman named Rosa waiting for Jennifer. She did all the cooking and cleaning, and she stayed there with Jennifer for the first week after surgery to help her get around. All her things from her apartment arrived that first day as well, and they were arranged or put away neatly as she instructed. Jennifer never lifted a finger. Rourke’s sterile apartment now looked much more lived in.

  Rosa stopped by every few days with groceries and fresh laundry. Laundry that only existed because Trina stopped by the day after Jennifer was released from the hospital with some comfortable clot
hes that were great for lounging and stretching when she had therapy every other day. Rosa premade meals for Jennifer that could be popped in the microwave. It was all really more than Jennifer could have imagined. Rourke had thought of everything. Even the physical therapist came to her, so she never had to leave Rourke’s home. A place she was starting to think of as her home.

  She was glad to be able stay inside the apartment. Even though the officer who visited the hospital to question Jennifer assured her that Evan was not a threat to her, Jennifer was still afraid. Evan promised to send his men to find her. She believed him. They could still be out there looking for her now, but none of them knew Rourke, and they had no idea where she might go. So she was safe in her little cocoon of peace.

  Jennifer was in the bedroom, struggling to pull on her shirt, when the sound of someone messing with the handle of the front door reached her ears. She froze and listened. Maybe she was imagining things again. It happened. Jennifer knew she was more paranoid than was healthy, but that was getting better with time, as well. When the sound came again, Jennifer knew it wasn’t her imagination. Someone had opened the apartment door without knocking. Had she forgotten to lock the deadbolt before she climbed into the shower after the therapist left? She was sure she locked it, but must have forgotten.

  As silently as she was able, Jennifer crept around to the far side of the bed. She slid open the nightstand drawer and withdrew the handgun Rourke kept there. She pulled open the drawer one day to look for a pen and was startled to find a gun. She’d never opened that drawer again. With shaking hands, she flicked off the safety and tiptoed to the closet. This was only the second time she’d ever touched a gun. The first time was when she shot at Evan. She’d missed the bastard, but she had fired the gun twice. She knew she could do it if she had no other choice.

  Whoever was out there nosing around Rourke’s apartment was up to no good. Neither Rosa nor Trina had ever entered the apartment without knocking. She heard something in the living room hit the floor with a thud. Jennifer ducked into the closet and pulled it almost shut, but because she didn’t want to make any noise, she left it barely cracked. She hunkered down in the floor of the closet and tried to make herself as small as possible.