The Perfect Stranger by Alison Kent

Author:Alison Kent [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 9780758211156
Google: P1noiruomlAC
Amazon: 0758211155
Barnesnoble: 0758211155
Goodreads: 406834
Publisher: Brava
Published: 2006-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Jillian didn’t slow down until they’d covered at least a mile. Crashing blindly through the jungle meant a lot of noise Jack knew she didn’t like making.

But he also knew they needed to put as much distance as they could between them and that place—and as rapidly as possible.

He would quiz her about the whole shebang once they’d caught their breath and calmed down. Or maybe he’d wait until they reached the rendezvous point and she knew her son was safe.

Then again, with Gabriel present, she might decide she had nothing to say, and Jack didn’t want to go through all this and have that happen.

Call him a nosy bastard, whatever. He wanted to know more about what Jillian had been through.

He told himself it wasn’t because of the sex, but he knew that was more than a little white lie. She didn’t practice voodoo. She’d obviously been forced into something, or been drugged and unaware.

He wanted to know what had happened because of the marks it had left on her. This life she had chosen. The fact that she had brought her son here to raise. Her separation from her family and Joshua’s father. That was all the stuff of an emotional upheaval.

He knew that because of his past with Mandy and Justin, how he’d withdrawn from life, quitting his job, selling his things, packing up, hitting the road, working for food and a roof overhead when brutal weather made sleeping outdoors, well, brutal.

It was during that time that he’d met Hank Smithson, or had run across one of Hank’s SG-5 operatives who wasn’t in much better shape. Christian Bane had been undercover, of course. Jack had just been down on his luck.

It was a down of his own making, sure, but that hadn’t stopped him from lending a hand and bailing Christian out of a bind. Doing so had resulted in a job that better suited the tightrope that was his emotional state.

He’d gone to work with men who understood that telling chaplains or psychologists every detail of why you were living out of a duffel bag and working for your grub didn’t make the reasons go away or the nightmares stop.

He recognized the same in Jillian. How none of her choices had made things better. How talking to him wouldn’t change a thing about what had happened. That didn’t mean he couldn’t lend a hand.

When he caught a branch across his face so hard it left a stinging welt, he put down his foot. Enough. His body hadn’t seen this much abuse since boot camp, and they’d covered plenty of distance for now.

He surged forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She turned to face him, her hands going to her hips, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and picking up a glint of light from the very bright moon.

He bent forward, sucking in air and willing away the hitch in his side. When he straightened, he caught her gaze and watched her inner hell break loose.

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