Black Jack (Elite Ops 4)

Page 14

But her body seemed to
know him. Each time she had seen him, this morning as well as tonight, her body had responded with heated warmth and that familiar sense of remembrance.
This man had touched her, he had kissed her. Her body remembered it and she ached for more. That ache had followed her through the day, the remembered feel of his body behind her, at the store, impossible to recover from.
“I’ve had many things to do with you.” His smile was rakish, his brown eyes filled with sexual knowledge. A sexual knowledge of her.
Lilly looked up at the bartender as he set a cold beer in front of her.
“Good to see you back, Lilly.” The grizzled bartender gave a wide smile and a wink. “I see your friend found you.”
“That he did.” She lifted the beer to her lips and took a long, cold drink.
The bartender moved away, leaving her with the man watching her now. She didn’t even know his name.
“Travis Caine,” he whispered at her ear as though reading her thoughts. “In case you were wondering.”
She was doing more than wondering. It had been driving her crazy not knowing even that scrap of information. “I know your name then,” she said quietly. “Who are you to me?”
“We met six years ago,” he told her. “We’ve run together at odd times since.”
Lilly pushed the fingers of one hand through her hair.
“We traveled together then?” Her heart was racing, her lungs starved for oxygen as she fought not to breathe too hard.
He nodded and Lilly tipped the beer to her lips, and finished it quickly before setting it rather hard on the bar and flicking her fingers at the bartender to the empty bottle.
He’d obviously been watching for her. Within seconds there was another bottle in front of her. She wondered what tip she usually left him for such excellent service.
She finished half the beer, set the bottle on the bar, then glanced back at Travis.
“I fight?” she whispered back at him.
“Rather well.” He gave her a strange half smile. Strange, because she felt she should know what that smile meant.
“What did I do when I fought?” she asked him. “Did I kill?”
She knew she had. She rubbed her finger and thumb together, knowing her fingerprints weren’t there any longer and they weren’t there for a reason.
“You don’t remember anything about the past six years then?” he asked as he turned more fully to her, the backs of his fingers stroking down her lower arm.
Did she remember anything?
She remembered her nightmares. They were filled with pain, rage, and fear. She remembered a sense of drowning, of icy water closing over her head as she fought to breathe. She remembered a kiss, a touch and an underlying anger that made no sense.
She remembered the sharp retort of a gun, and then nothing.
“I don’t remember anything.” At least nothing that she was willing to discuss at the moment. Especially considering the fact she was presently being watched.
A long, slow turn of the stool seat gave her a clear view of the bar and within seconds she knew all she needed to know. A second later she was facing him once again.
“You have friends with you.” She kept her voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to any listening device, unless he was wearing one himself.
She felt herself paling at the thought and dropped her head to stare at the beer. Where had that suspicion come from? How could she look around once and see so much, pinpoint those who were there for fun and those she knew were there to watch her?
When her gaze met his again, she saw a warning in his eyes. A warning that she not see any more, or say any more?
“There’s no one with me,” he finally replied. “But you.”