05 Desperate Match (9 page)

“What?”

“You heard me. I was totally ignorant about everything until this summer when Adam brought Loren to meet me and the whole truth came out.”

“Oh my God. You must have been…shocked. And angry. Have you forgiven Adam for keeping it a secret?”

He turned his gaze to her. “Most days.”

“And your mom? You said she died?”

“Mom died when I was sixteen. She died not knowing Dad still loved her and that he’d never wanted to send us away.”

They both fell silent thinking about the sad story that was Rowan’s life. If she had to estimate, she’d say he’d had it worse than her. She couldn’t imagine living her whole life thinking her father were dead only to discover he was alive. It was so sad. She climbed off the air mattress and stepped to Rowan’s bed. “Rowan?”

He looked up at her. “What’re you doing out of bed?”

“You need a hug. Heck, I need a hug.”

“Happy to oblige. C’mere.” He lifted his arm, welcoming her into his embrace. It felt like coming home. Even though he only had one arm wrapped around her body, the hug felt complete, whole. They clung to each other, and she buried her face in his shirt, wetting it with her sympathetic tears.

He pushed her off him and brushed at her cheeks. “Hey, no tears. It’s all a happy ending now.”

“Is it?” she said with a sniffle. “Maybe it could’ve been, but I’ve come barging in possibly messing it all up.”

“What are you talking about?” He shifted, scooting his body down the bed making their hug more into a lying down embrace. She froze against his body for a minute then relaxed.

“Rowan did you have a choice about matching?”

His hand rubbed a pattern over her back. “Yeah, soldiers here are given a choice.” The comforter was too thick a barrier between them. She wanted to feel his body against hers.

“So you chose to be matched?” she pressed.

His hand paused for a second, then resumed its exploration of her back. “Yeah. I asked to be matched,” he said.

“Does everyone want to be matched?”

He hesitated. “Uh, not sure. Remember, I’m fairly new here.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t imagine what it was. “Why did you want to be matched? Was it because you wanted kids?”

“Sure. I want kids someday.”

“Someday? Then why ask to be matched now?”

His wide chest expanded and contracted under her cheek. His soft worn gray T–shirt brushed her skin. “I think we should go to sleep.” He tried to gently roll her off him, but she kept her arms around his neck. Then she realized what she’d done, and quickly backed off to her own bed.

She wasn’t expecting Rowan to pluck her up from the bed using his arm and body to tug her back into his bed. She yelped. “What are you doing?”

“Why did you jump off me?” He didn’t sound angry, only curious.

“You said it was time for bed.”

“And you always follow orders?”

She hesitated.

“You didn’t want to leave my bed. I felt your arms hook on. So why’d you jump out so fast?”

Her lips locked.

“Jill?”

The gentleness in his question gave her the courage to answer. “I was scared,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to challenge you.”

He was silent at her answer, and then he blew out a breath. “Trust, baby. I can’t order it, but you’ll get there. Challenge me all you want. I will never physically hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s going to take a while.”

“I know. Take all the time you need.”

“I’ll try, but…”

“But what?”

“You sounded annoyed. Like you didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to push.”

His hand caressed her cheek, and she rubbed against him like a cat.

“You can push me, Jill. I’ll try not to push back too hard at first, but we’re living together. For all intents and purposes, we
are
matched now. Maybe we should fake it till we make it.”

“Do you think we could make it? You think we could be a match?” She was startled by how much she suddenly wanted that. When she’d stumbled on her crazy plan all those weeks ago, she’d seen only the safety The Program offered. She’d never thought about the real men behind the name. Rowan was quickly becoming very real to her.

“We could be a match. You in my bed? Never felt nothing better.”

“But we’re not doing anything. We’re just cuddling.” She and Jack had never snuggled in bed talking. They’d come together on the mattress for quick sex, then retreated to their own sides.

“It’s all a precursor, baby. Don’t want to frighten you, but I’m ready for doing a lot more than snuggling right now. But no hurry. We take things slow. When you’re ready, we move forward.”

It took her a minute to process his words, and then daringly, she shifted her hips and felt the hard evidence of his arousal against her body. An unfamiliar liquid heaviness melted throughout her body, and then she recognized it. Arousal. It was how she felt in high school during heated make out sessions in Jack’s car. She shifted again.

Rowan groaned. “Jill. Stop wiggling. You’re not ready.”

She wanted to argue, then realized he was right. She’d been out of her bad marriage less than three days. Sex with Rowan would be a very bad idea. “You’re right. I’ll go back to my bed now.” She slid out of the bed, accidentally brushing his swollen penis on her way out. His agonized moan thrilled her. For so long she’d been a beaten down creature, not a woman men would desire. She didn’t mistake Jack’s obsession with her for desire. It was desire for control, not about her as a sexual creature. Rowan wanted her as a man wanted a woman, and it was heady stuff.

Chapter Five

J
ack tried to ignore the knock at his door. Last night’s knock hadn’t brought anything good. But who the hell knew? Maybe it was Jill. Back to apologize. He’d fucking make her grovel. The knock sounded louder and more insistent. Shit, he’d have to force his sore body off the couch, where he’d stayed last night, and over the ten steps to the front door.

Another knock sounded just as he reached the door an excruciating forty seconds later. He didn’t bother looking in the peephole. No one could be worse than last night’s attackers. And if it was someone worse, well, hell, he felt half–dead anyway. With a muttered curse, he threw open the door and faced down the strangest sons–of–bitches he’d ever seen. “It ain’t Halloween,” he blurted.

Two tall men stood in his doorway. At first glance, he thought they were twins. But a second look revealed they were trying to look identical. Large black cowboy hats covered their shaved heads and created shadows down to their chins. Obviously fake bushy black mustaches dangled below their noses and halfway over their upper lips. Huge sunglasses covered anything else of their faces that could’ve been used as an identifier. “Jack Thompson?” one man asked. “May we come in?”

They didn’t wait for his invitation and brushed past him to sit on the couch. They sat stiffly side by side waiting for him to shut the front door and acknowledge them. It took him a minute, but finally, after peering outside at the white Ford F150 waiting in his driveway, he backed into his house and approached his guests. “Who the fuck are you?” And Jilly said he had the manners of a pig. Look at him being perfectly hospitable. He hadn’t shot them yet, right?

“We’re your new best friends, Jack,” one man said.

He eyed them sitting on his couch like they owned the joint. “Keep talking.” It hurt like hell to stand upright with his bruised ribs, but he refused to show weakness in front of these strangers, despite their assertions that they were his friends. “Who the fuck are you?”

“We are members of an organization known as the Messianic Militia.”

Oh. Right–wing religious fanatics. He was about to kick them out, when they spoke again.

“We know where your wife is.”

That got his attention, but he pretended not to give a shit. He’d sat up all night nursing his injuries with an ice pack and a beer, wondering how the hell his wife had hired a lawyer and two thugs to beat him up. “That whore. Who cares?”

Both men stood. “If you don’t want her back, then we’ll be on our way.”

“Wait.” He backpedaled to the door, blocking their exit. “I didn’t say I didn’t want her back. Have a seat.” He gestured to the couch, inhaling at the pain caused by the movement.

When the two men were seated, he dragged over a dining room chair and sat facing them. “Where’s my wife?”

“Before we tell you, you need to understand that what we say is confidential. If you share the details of this meeting, you will regret it.”

He was already starting to regret it, but he wanted his wife back. How could she leave him? They loved each other. He said nothing and waited for them to speak.

“Your wife is with The Program.” They paused, letting the news sink in.

It took him a second to process what they’d said. Then—“What the fuck are you talking about?”

One of the men leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Mr. Thompson, ever since the news of The Program hit the public, we’ve been monitoring them. We are part of an organization that believes the government made a huge mistake and tried to play God. We intend to rectify their mistake.”

Jack eyed them. “Rectify it, how?”

“That is not your concern. Your concern is your wife. Your wife, who may now be forced into having sexual relations with an abomination. They’re forcing her to commit adultery.”

He shook his head. “No, not Jilly. She wouldn’t do that. You’re right; she’s being forced. She’s got to be.”

One of the men reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sleek–looking tablet. After a few finger swipes, he swiveled the screen to show Jack. Pictures of Jill standing at a gate were clear. “These are the surveillance photos from the men we have on the ground watching the facility. “She walked there of her own volition, but after that we have no intel.”

He didn’t know what
volition
meant, but he didn’t fucking believe the woman he’d known since she was fifteen would leave him and go to those Goddamn mutations of soldiers.

The two strangers gauged his reaction and his silence, giving him a minute to process, then they laid out their plan. “We believe your wife will be the key to our plan. We’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get a mole onto the campus.”

“None of our volunteer women have been matches for them,” the other man said. “Your wife must be a match and that’s why she’s on campus now.”

“But she’s married,” Jack said, finally finding his voice. “To me. How can they take a married woman?”

“Exactly,” both men said in unison.

“We’re going to help retrieve her from them, and when she’s safely back with you, she can give us the information we need to infiltrate the campus and shut it down.”

“I’m in,” Jack said, not needing to hear anymore. How dare they take his wife from him? He’d hated The Program from the first moment he heard about them on the news. And now they were breaking up marriages? Enough was enough. “What do I have to do?”

All three men leaned their heads together. “It’s simple. You’re going to the press to raise holy hell that your wife’s been brainwashed and kidnapped. We’ll take care of the rest.”

* * * * *

Two weeks later

“Jill, get out here. We need you.”

Jill looked up from the book she’d been reading, while curled on Rowan’s bed. Another knock sounded.

“We know you’re in there, Jill. Come out, or we’re coming in.” A British voice. Emma.

“I’m coming,” she called. She stuck a playing card into the page she’d been reading and placed the book on the nightstand. Rowan had been bringing her crates of romance novels to keep her occupied for the past few weeks. She’d never read one before but was now addicted.

“There you are.” Emma grinned at her. “We were beginning to suspect Rowan had gone Rochester on us and hidden you in an attic.”

She blinked at Emma and tried to place the reference without luck.

“
Jane Eyre
,” Emma said, supplying the answer at Jill’s blank look. “You Yanks never get me.”

“I think I read that book. Ten years ago,” Jill said.

“Oh, I’ve never actually read the bloody thing,” Emma said with a laugh. She turned to the other woman next to her. “Put it on the list for next girl’s movie night. Michael Fassbender.” She curled her fingers into claws. “Rawr.”

“Come on. We need to get to work,” the other woman said with a hand on the slightly pregnant curve of her belly.

“Work? What’s going on?” she asked, looking from Emma to the other woman.

“Loren and Adam’s wedding,” Emma explained. “We’re decorating the gym.”

“The gym?” she asked to cover her confusion. Loren and Adam’s wedding was today? Rowan hadn’t said a thing. Then again, she hadn’t seen him since breakfast an hour ago.

“Yes. I’ll explain on the way. Get your shoes.”

Faced with Emma’s determination and the other woman’s impatience, she didn’t see an alternative other than slipping into her ancient white sneakers, grabbing her coat and following the women out of the building.

She blinked in the glare of the winter sun and shivered. Winter was in full force today with its biting cold that made her want to run back to Rowan’s room and snuggle under the covers with her book.

“You’ve been hiding.” Emma’s blunt statement interrupted her internal weather complaints.

“What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t seen you since I did your hair.”

“I haven’t been hi…” She stopped protesting because Emma spoke nothing but the truth. She’d been hiding. She’d left the safety of Rowan’s room only three times per day for meals, and then she’d gone at off hours, racing in to grab a plate just as Marlena was closing down the cafeteria. “I’ve been hiding,” she admitted.

“Well, stop.” Emma gave her arm a squeeze with her brightly turquoise–mittened hand. “There’s a campus full of people ready to act as your friend. Don’t reject us without giving us a chance.”

She swallowed uncomfortably and wrapped her arms around herself, faking that it was the cold from which she needed protection.

“Jill,” Emma continued, “although none of us took your path, we each had to cross our own difficult one to arrive in the same place.”