The Choice by Jean Brashear

Author:Jean Brashear [Brashear, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Suspense, Contemporary, General
Google: tmmtAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B0055EFGLE
Publisher: Jean Brashear
Published: 2014-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The first, faint light of morning awakened Jillian, her body replete with a sense of well-being. For one moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was. She turned her head and saw the broad, muscled back, the long dark hair.

Cullinane’s bed. Dear God.

The night rushed back in a torrent. She felt him in every inch of her body, remembered how he’d shattered her.

Like calls to like, Jillian, his voice echoed.

But he worked for Hafner, the merchant of death.

Turning to stare at him again, she wished for a moment that she could see his face, could search his eyes for the truth.

Who are you, Cullinane? Why are you here?

How could a man capable of such tenderness ally himself with a vicious animal like Hafner?

Who you surround yourself with is a measure of who you are and who you want to be, he’d told J.T.

Who are you, Cullinane?

Jittery, Jillian arose quietly. Padding across the thick charcoal carpet, she scanned the room for her swimsuit but couldn’t see it. She thought he’d stripped it from her somewhere close to the side of the bed where he lay sleeping. She wasn’t remotely ready to talk to him yet, so she left it, instead heading for the landing to recover the robe, chagrined as she remembered the challenge, the glee with which she’d stripped for him. As she bent to grasp the robe, her gaze was caught by an odd glow coming from a room she hadn’t noticed last night.

But then, she’d had eyes for nothing but him last night. Mingled shame and regret battled with memories of stunning glory as she started to don the robe, then suddenly she remembered and looked inside the neckline, fingers trembling.

Queen B.

Oh, God. Jillian shivered, queasy about putting it on, yet eager for the contact, however ephemeral, with her sister. With her duty, her responsibility. The reason she was here.

She fastened the sash, reminded of what she should not have forgotten in the blazing glory of last night.

Belinda. Belinda’s broken mother Loretta.

Hafner.

Oh, Jesus. She had to get out of this room before he awakened and she was forced to deal with what she’d done. How she’d been rocked to her soul.

Passing the doorway, she took a quick glance in the room—

And froze in her tracks.

A bank of monitors like the security room downstairs, but with one major difference. Except for the one screen trained on the pool, all the screens had something in common.

Pictures of her.

With the halting shuffle of a person in shock, she drew closer. Her in the gym...her in the gazebo...her with Alice’s children...

Her lying in bed.

A multitude of images caught on video, most of the hours of her day, all on hidden cameras, Jillian under surveillance.

She knew the compound was heavily monitored; a brief tour of the security room downstairs had revealed that the system relied upon surveillance inside and out, though not every inch of ground was covered.

But only these rooms and Hafner’s were fully exempt.

She’d expected to be caught on cameras at odd times as she went about her duties, but this was different.

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