Hot Shot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#5) (6 page)

He couldn’t seem to speak at first. His voice, when he found it again, was hoarse. “You were Metaxas’s girlfriend.”

Her eyes closed as if he’d hit her, and his gut clenched into a hard knot. He knew what she’d gone through with that rotten bastard. When she looked at him again, her gaze was soft and hard at the same time. How did she do that?

“Yes, I was his
girlfriend
, for what that’s worth. And yes, I slept with him. I told you at the time. But I also slept with you, Jack. And Eli doesn’t look like Athenasios. He looks like
you
.”

Pain bloomed in his soul. It was as if someone had shot him through the heart and left him to writhe his last few seconds in agony. He was cold and hot and he wanted to sit. And maybe throw up.

But he stood there and faced her, clenching his hands into fists to keep from wrapping them around her neck. He was never emotional, never out of control. He was always cool and unflappable and patient. It’s what made him the best damn sniper in HOT. Snipers had to possess extraordinary control, and he did.

Right this moment, however, he had no idea where that control was. He felt so many emotions whipping through him. Pain, fear, anger, loss. Denial. Oh, denial was huge. She could be lying.
 

But even if she wasn’t lying now, she’d certainly lied before. For more than two years. He had a son, according to her, and he’d never even looked into his boy’s eyes.

“If you’re telling me the truth,” he snarled, “you have no idea how much I want to strangle you right about now. You fucking lied, Gina. To the world. To
me
.”

For the first time, she looked contrite. It didn’t soften his anger, but he did feel a tiny pinch of sympathy for her. And that only pissed him off more.

“It’s the truth,” she said, her voice quavering once again. “I didn’t know for sure until about a year ago. And I wasn’t sure you would want to know. You told me you didn’t want children.”

“Jesus.” He whirled away from her before he was sick. He was so fucking pissed he was shaking. He strode across the room and then back again. But he stopped where he couldn’t reach her. “I was talking about choices. But when there is no choice, when the kid already exists—I think I have a fucking right to know.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks again and his heart twisted. He wanted to hold her. And kill her, goddammit.
 

“You’re right. I just didn’t know how to tell you. But please, Jack, don’t let your anger with me stop you from helping me now.”

He blinked. “You really fucking think I’d refuse to help you because I despise you right now? That’s my kid too, and I’ve never even met him. And now someone has him and I might never get to—”

A sob broke from her and she slapped her hand over her mouth to contain it. He felt like an asshole. What the fuck was he saying? His vision grew blurry and it took him a moment to realize what it was. Fucking tears? He never cried—except once.
 

And he wasn’t about to do it again. He hadn’t been able to save Hayley, but he could do something about finding his son. Eli wasn’t lost to him yet.

“We’ll find him, Gina. Somehow, we’ll find him. I promise.”

* * *

He hated her. Gina could see it in his blue eyes, in the tension of his muscles. His jaw was tight and he kept his hands clenched at his sides. She didn’t blame him, not really. Guilt and fear twisted tighter in her belly. Eli was all that mattered. She didn’t care if Jack hated her so long as he helped her get her son back.

Their son.

Right. Gina shoved a shaky hand through her hair to get it out of her eyes. She hated that she’d told him the truth like this, but she was desperate. He
had
to help her. She didn’t trust anyone else. The FBI wouldn’t care about Eli the way she did. She knew they were competent and that they would do their jobs—but it only took one person giving away their presence to alert the kidnappers. And Eli would be dead.

She couldn’t take that chance. She needed someone who was just as invested as she was.

And Jack was. She could see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw. She had to believe he could do this. That Jack and that magic military team of his could find Eli and rescue him before it was too late.

“I believe you.” She
had
to believe him. To do anything else would destroy her.

He raked his fingers through his hair. Then he blew out a hard breath. His brows drew low as he concentrated on something. “I’ll call my team leader, ask for time off. And I’ll ask for the commanding officer to call his contacts. He knows people.”

She sank onto the couch again as all the nervous energy went right out of her. She wished like hell she still smoked because she could damn sure use a cigarette right about now. But she’d given that up years ago when someone had suggested she was damaging her voice.
 

Still, the urge sometimes rolled through her and made her long for the days when a little bit of nicotine in her system could calm her frayed nerves.

“Then what?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood there looking a bit lost. She recognized the expression as one that Eli sometimes wore. It made her heart twist.

“I don’t know. We have to wait for them to call, right? When we know what they want, we’ll figure out what to do.”

She hunched over and rubbed her hands up her arms. She was chilled now, the anger and adrenaline of the previous few minutes draining away and leaving her empty.

“I have to cancel the concert. No way can I go on.” Barry would understand. He would handle everything in his usual efficient way. He wouldn’t be happy about it, because this was her big comeback tour and they’d been fighting about everything from the music to the costumes. But after years of doing what everyone else wanted her to do, she’d finally put her foot down after she had Eli and said she was going to do what she wanted. Fewer flashy dance numbers. Less style over substance.

She still gave people a show, but on her terms. And they were taking the changes pretty well even if Barry was upset with her over it.

“You might want to reconsider that,” Jack said, and her head snapped up. “I know you’re upset, but they seem to want you to behave as if everything in your life is the way it should be. If you don’t go on, the speculation will be intense.”

“I can be sick. It happens.”

“And the media will camp outside your doorstep wondering what’s wrong.”

She hugged herself tighter. “I don’t think I can do it, Jack. How can I go out there and sing for two hours when my baby is in danger?”

He almost smiled. “Do you know how many times I have to do things I think I can’t do? It’s my job to do those kinds of things. And I do. One thing I learned about you three years ago is that you’re pretty damn tough. You can do it, Gina, because you’re strong enough to do anything you have to do.”

She bowed her head as fresh tears welled behind her eyelids. Damn him. When he said something like that, emotion flooded her. She didn’t like to think that he was right, but what if he was? If she canceled now, with less than three hours to go, the media attention would swell. Awareness that something was wrong would increase dramatically. How would she keep it together with microphones shoved in her face everywhere she went? With people wanting to know if she was dying or when she would reschedule? This was the last concert for six weeks, so if she got through this one, she didn’t have to think about it again for a while.

“All right,” she said, head still bowed. “I’ll do it.”

“His name’s Eli, huh?”

She looked up at the uncertainty in Jack’s voice. Her heart flipped. He was so damn handsome. So rough and rugged and beautiful in a way no Hollywood pretty boy could ever be. He was poster material with those blue eyes and muscles. And he was tattooed. She remembered that well. Tattoos on his back, his arms, his chest. Winding tattoos of words, guns, snakes, animals, leaves, flowers. She could see the branches and scrolls of his tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. He planned to get them all the way to his wrists someday, but he hadn’t done it yet.

He was a beautiful canvas that she’d gotten to explore once. But he was also a man, and he was looking at her with a combination of anger and curiosity that made her heart hurt.

“Jackson Eli Robertson,” she said, embarrassment heating her cheeks.
 

His gaze slewed away from her. And then he fumbled in his pocket and fished out his smartphone. “I’ll make those calls now.”

But he didn’t stay there to do it. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Shutting her out.

CHAPTER SIX

JACK STOOD IN THE marble bath with its steam shower big enough to hold an elephant, its Jacuzzi tub and wall of mirrors, its granite counters and fancy sinks, and told himself to breathe. He set the phone on the counter and gripped the edge of the granite tight as he looked in the mirror.
 

Goddamn, he had a son. And she’d named the boy after him.
Jackson
. Why had she done that?

He pulled in air, willing himself to be calm. And then he turned on the sink faucet and splashed his face with cold water. He blotted his face with a towel and threw it on the counter.

A fucking rich-girl pop star. A media sensation. A woman who couldn’t step outside without ten photographers showing up to document her every move.

Why had he lost his ever-loving mind and made love to a woman like that?
 

Because nothing about that situation had been normal, that’s why. They’d just been two lonely people in that cave. People with a lot of baggage and a live-for-the-moment attitude because they could be discovered at any time. They’d snuck out at night to bathe in the ocean, but they’d spent the rest of their time in close quarters, talking for hours and then curling up together for heat. Hell, in retrospect, it was amazing he’d waited two days to get inside her.
 

Not that he’d had that many condoms. Apparently, though they were good at keeping things dry, they weren’t particularly useful for the one thing they were designed for.
 

Jack straightened and gritted his teeth. Nothing for it now but to call Matt Girard or Kev MacDonald and tell them what was going on. No, he still couldn’t use the team for this, but he’d use every last contact he had to get his kid back safe and sound.

And then what, asshole?

Was he going to sue her for custody? Demand his rights as a father?

“You don’t fucking have a clue, do you?” he asked his reflection. An hour ago, he’d known who he was and what he was doing—now, he was as lost as if someone had stuck him on a raft in the middle of the ocean and left him adrift.

He picked the phone up and dialed. Matt answered on the third ring. “Hawk. What’s up?”

“Got a situation, Richie.”

He could hear the other man mentally brace himself. “All right. What is it?”

“Gina Domenico’s in town.”

“Yeah, saw that on the news. Evie’s going to the concert with Georgie and Olivia.”

It didn’t surprise Jack that Lucky wasn’t in that group. She was a bit more reserved than the other three. And she was one of the team now, in spite of her recent marriage to Kev. Married soldiers didn’t go into battle together, but HOT was able to bend the rules any way they wanted these days. A good thing, or Kev and Lucky would have both left.

“Her kid’s been kidnapped.”

“Holy shit. Are you sure?”
 

Jack gave him a rundown of everything that had happened up until now—with one important exception.
 

“All right, so she called you and you want to help her. I get that. But man, she needs to let the FBI get involved.”

“I’ll talk her into it. But I’m going to need a leave of absence.”

“Hawk, I don’t think—”

“There’s something else.” Jack’s throat was closing. Was it fear? Desperation? Old wounds threatening to choke him? He didn’t fucking know. Since he’d walked into this hotel room earlier, his whole life was upside down.
 

“Okay. Am I going to like it?”

“I doubt it.”

“Let me have it then.”

“The kid’s mine.”

There was silence on the other end for a long moment. “I’m not even going to ask how that happened.” Matt blew out a breath. “But you aren’t in this alone. We’ll be there in an hour.”

“You can’t get the team involved—”

“Fuck that. Did you guys back out when I needed you to help me find Evie’s sister? Did we let Georgie handle her problems on her own? Or Olivia? Did we walk away when she came to Billy for help? No fucking way, Hawk. We’re brothers. And we aren’t leaving you to deal with this alone, you copy?”

Jack pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah, copy.”

“Be there in an hour.”

* * *

Half an hour after Jack came out of her bathroom and started pacing the living room, asking her about her routines, about the threats she’d received, and about how many people knew her schedule, there was a knock on the door. He went over and looked out the peephole—and then he yanked the door open and a phalanx of tall, muscled men with serious expressions strode into her suite.