his teammates had visited during a deployment here, Jarrett choked on his sip of wine. “The Star of Love? Lace, that’s a place where you pay by the hour and you bring your own sheets!”
“It’s inexpensive and only for one night. And I know the owner.”
Jealousy wormed through him. “How do you know the owner?”
“He’s donated to my NGO.”
Long as the man didn’t donate anything else, like his DNA. Jarrett inwardly swore. Why was he reacting like this? He’d thought his feelings for her had died. Obviously not.
Hands on hips, she glared at him. “I’ll hire a taxi and go there. You can’t keep me here.”
Think fast. Don’t let her get away. If he lost her for the night, he lost her for good.
Jarrett went to her, clasping her shoulders, feeling delicate bones beneath her soft skin, feeling her quiver beneath his touch. “You’re right. I can’t. Don’t go, Lacey. I’ll make you a deal. Stay the night here and I’ll give you a ride back to your compound tomorrow. You can make arrangements to return your truck.”
Anger faded from her expression, replaced with wariness. “Spend the night with you, in your room?”
Oh, the possibilities, but Jarrett forced away the temptation. “I’ll pay for your room tonight. Tomorrow we’ll leave. I want to see this place you’ve talked so much about.”
Lacey bit her lower lip, and it made him hard all over again. Such a sweet, lush mouth. “C’mon, Lace. I wouldn’t let you stay at a fleabag motel, and I do want to see your NGO’s compound while I’m here. It sounds amazing. I’d like to visit and see all the work you’ve done.”
Finally, she nodded. “All right. But I’m paying you back for the room and the dinner when we get to my home. And I’m not getting on a plane with you, Jarrett. No matter what you say.”
“Fine. Come with me and I’ll reserve you a room.”
As she walked with him into the hotel, he felt a sense of relief more than jubilation. Lacey was safe here tonight, with him. And tomorrow he’d see the compound she had worked hard to establish.
He just had to convince her to leave it all behind.
Much as he’d wanted to head out at first light, for Jarrett didn’t want to take chances of running into protestors, they didn’t get on the road until nearly noon. Lacey had business in the city, and Jarrett drove her to various stores and did shopping of his own.
They were safe enough for now. She’d monitored the radio, heard reports of burning tires and roadblocks planned for later this afternoon.
Riding shotgun as he steered the rented Montero SUV through the city streets, Lacey fisted her hands atop her backpack. She’d spent a restless night thinking of Jarrett and their past. Once they had deeply loved each other. But life changed her. She wasn’t the naive, sheltered senator’s daughter who thought the sun rose and set on Jarrett. Her horizons had broadened and she wanted more. No longer did she want to sit and wait for him to come home. Sit and worry he would never come home, for he was a SEAL and his missions were dangerous.
Being a military wife hadn’t suited her. She’d spent her time indulging in silly pastimes like manicures and shopping to ease the constant worries about his welfare. And in between remained glued to the twenty-four-hour television news channels to glean the slightest information about volatile parts of the world where Jarrett might be.
No, she didn’t need Jarrett in her life anymore.
Unfortunately, her libido remembered well the pleasure he’d given her in bed and begged her to draw closer. She hadn’t had sex since her last relationship two years ago. Francis Monroe was a great guy, son of a wealthy independent contractor, and exciting.
All the men she’d dated since Jarrett had been dull and safe, except for Francis, who was on the board of directors of her charity. Francis was both wealthy and charming, and his family was connected. Their dads were friends and Lacey knew her father was grooming Alastair Monroe to become the next US ambassador to St. Marc. But as responsible as his dad was, Francis was not. He was more interested in playing the field than a stable relationship.
Lacey was determined to never again get involved with a man who would desert her, both emotionally and physically.
Unfortunately, Jarrett now seemed determined to stick by her side. How could she shake him? And why was he so worried about Augustin?
Maybe when he saw her compound, he’d change his mind and leave. Some people shied away from her charity and the terrible reality of what the women had suffered.
Lacey stole a sideways look. With his long legs encased in blue jeans, gray T-shirt molded to his muscled torso and chest, and his jaw set in a determined line, Jarrett made an imposing figure as he navigated through the tight streets where vendors lined the sidewalks and paraded their wares. Driving through downtown had always frayed her nerves, even after living here. She hated the tight spaces in this most dangerous part of the city one had to drive through to get to the main road leading south to her home.
There was always that element about Jarrett that hinted at calm confidence. Once his overprotective streak had annoyed her. Funny how it didn’t anger her now, but made her feel safe. Maybe because she’d finally found a life of her own, and the confidence she’d lacked when they were married.
She didn’t need designer handbags or dresses to prove her self-worth. Her purpose rested between the concrete walls of her compound with the women who relied on her.
Finally, they cleared the city and accessed the national road hugging the turquoise bay that flanked the capital.
A few abandoned homes that had been bombed years ago during a coup faced the bay, their broken windows looking like sad eyes. “Nice homes. Terrific view of the water. Needs a little work. Perfect for a do-it-yourself,” he murmured.
“Comes complete with running water, when it rains. Air-conditioning when there’s a breeze,” she joked back.
He glanced over and grinned, and the power of that smile made her toes curl. Lacey scolded her raging libido. Sex was on the back burner. She had other priorities.
“We’re in your car and no one can hear us. Can you tell me now why I don’t want Monsieur Augustin as a donor? He’s a very wealthy philanthropist.”
Jarrett checked out his rearview mirror. “He’s wealthy, but his idea of philanthropy isn’t charitable. And his real name isn’t Augustin.”
He shot her a hard look. “It’s Robert Destin. He’s an illegal arms trader who found refuge here. He isn’t interested in your NGO for a tax deduction.”
Lacey’s heart dropped to her stomach. That was news. Jarrett might be overprotective, but he had excellent information. “He’s known around the country as a philanthropist. He donates to several NGOs.”
Jarrett eyed her. “He’s rich because he sold weapons to terror groups, Lace. Intelligence chatter has it that he’s looking to finance a new op out of this country.”
His face tightened. “Perfect place to plan an attack. St. Marc is a Third World country already balancing on chaos, where money can buy a lot of new friends in low places. His cover is doling out money to international charities with global operations.”
It didn’t make sense. “Why would Augustin want to donate cash for my NGO’s irrigation system? I’m a small operation.”
“You have something he wants. I don’t know what. But he’s not interested because he’s a nice guy.”
“Or he needs a tax deduction.” She reached for her cell. “I have to warn Paul.”
“Don’t.”