The Gentlewoman by Lisa Durkin Page A

hand,
bringing it to his lips before pulling her in and gently kissing her. He
released her hand and cupped her cheeks. The leather of the car seats creaked
as they both leaned in. Jackson’s tongue brushed hers as a soft moan rose from
his throat. Rory felt that moan vibrate between her thighs.
    His hand slid down and held her around the throat, his thumb
massaging the delicate curve of her neck. It was softly possessive and
aggressive.
    “I wish you didn’t have to go. I want you to stay with me.”
    “I’ll be back on Sunday. I’ll see you then.” Her voice was
husky.
    He stared into her eyes. He reached out and swiftly claimed
her lips, harder this time, as if he wanted to imprint the feel of the kiss
onto both their brains. When it ended he leaned forward and hugged her hard,
holding her close.
    He whispered in her ear. “It’s been a long time since I’ve
had such a strong reaction to a woman. I don’t know what to do with this.”
    Her hand went up the back of his neck and into his thick
hair. She felt equally captivated, but as usual, the vulnerable feeling left
her overwhelmed and looking to escape. Good thing she was getting on a plane in
thirty minutes. She needed to spend some time thinking about this situation, as
it was beginning to seem more involved than mere distraction. How had that
happened so quickly?
    She leaned back, subtly putting some space between them. She
embraced humor to cut through the heat in the air.
    “Playboy Dorn?” She smiled into his eyes and pecked a kiss
onto his lips before she pushed away and righted herself in her seat. She
gathered her purse and satchel. “Better figure it out before I get back on Sunday.”
    He smiled and blew out a long breath. “I’ll see what I can
do about that. I’ll get your door.” Looking resigned, he exited the vehicle and
walked around to open her door. “Let’s get you to your plane, Congresswoman.”

Chapter Eight
     
    The following afternoon Jackson escorted his most recent
appointment to the door and said his goodbyes. He turned and rolled his eyes at
his assistant.
    “Don’t ever let those people around me again. Crazy green
motherfuckers.” As he headed back toward the hallway, she slapped the daily
mail into his hands. “There are some invitations and stuff for you to go
through and here’s a package that was hand delivered.”
    Jackson eyeballed the package. “I’ll be in my office,
Caroline. No calls or visitors.”
    He shut and locked the door. After pulling the tab on the
secure package, he emptied the contents onto his conference table and sat down
in one of the leather seats. There were several thick manila file folders with
metal clasps. They were all marked “CLASSIFIED” in large black lettering across
the FBI seal on the front. Jackson didn’t hesitate to identify the first of the
four files.
    He heard a ping on his iPhone and fished it out of his
pocket. It was a text from Agent Durand. Trust package received. Expect
gratitude forthcoming . He didn’t respond but instead opened the first of
the fat files. He was anxious to see what was in this report, hyper-alert and a
little nervous to actually read about the horrible details of what had happened
to Rory.
    Two hours later, he sat perfectly still. His arms were
crossed over his chest, the index finger of his right hand rested on his lips
as he stared at the same spot on the white wall. He had been sitting in this
exact position for quite a while. His stomach was roiling. The nausea had set
in when he was about halfway through the information. But he sat still, unable
to move as he absorbed the information he had read, the pictures he had seen.
    She had been raped and tortured by her own husband. And that
was probably not the worst of it. The bastard had made her watch as he had
murdered her father in front of her. And he wasn’t sure that had been the worst
of it either. Actually, it was pretty hard to choose from the events depicted
in these files what