She pulled the comm. link off her head, but tucked the revolver into the back of her jeans. It should have looked out of place, awkward on her, but the gesture bespoke a quiet confidence, a strength he had never thought she had. He had always felt that Faith needed to be protected, that she was unable to protect herself. Seeing differently shook him a bit, he had to admit. She shouldn’t have to defend herself. Shouldn’t have to live a life that required it.
“They’ll target you eventually. Have you set yourself up as a target?” she asked him. He had known she would figure out quickly, and as expected, she didn’t like it.
“Security is in place, Faith,” he assured her. “We’re targets no matter where we are. At least this way there is a measure of control.”
She knew this as well as he did. Her arms crossed over her chest, her hands rubbing at them as though to warm herself.
“This place is a security nightmare, Jacob,” she told him coolly as she paced to the closed shades of the largest window. “Whose is it?” She rubbed her arms again.
Jacob narrowed his eyes, wondering if perhaps her skin was irritated. The price he paid for that damned lotion she used, it shouldn’t itch, chafe, or develop a rash. The stuff was outrageous.
“A friend’s.” He shrugged, giving her the same answer as before. “He uses the place only rarely, and he’s one of the Pack supporters.”
Actually, Caleb’s father had been a higher Genetics Council member. After his death, and Caleb’s subsequent fury at learning of his parents’ depravities, he had become one of the Breed’s staunchest allies.
“How much trouble are you expecting?”
Jacob grunted. “Not much. Evidently they’re pretty secure in their ability to hide. We haven’t seen any signs of Coyote Breeds, and the perimeter breach could have been anything, including faulty equipment. But it’s the best we have for now.”
She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Knowing that he was on a mission would not have surprised her. As an Enforcer, it was his life. It would become her life as well, and that scared the hell out of him.
Finally, she sighed deeply, rubbing at her arms again.
“What’s wrong, Faith?” Jacob leaned forward in his chair, frowning at the way her arms seemed to be bothering her. “Did you hurt yourself earlier?”
“When?” She looked around at him, confused for a moment before her lips quirked into a small grin. “When I dumped you on your ass? Naw. That didn’t hurt me.” She tucked a strand of short hair behind her ear nervously before going back to the late evening view outside.
She rubbed at her arms again.
“Faith, what’s wrong with your arms?” He stood up from his chair, stalking over to her, intent to find out what was wrong.
“Nothing is wrong with me.” She turned on him, frowning as he came near her.
It hit him then. Hard. Sweet, hot and so damned tempting he could barely stand it. Her lust was a palatable thing; he could almost taste it on the air around her.
He lifted her arm, his fingers running over the soft skin. Damn, that lotion was worth every penny he had paid over the years. Her skin was soft as satin, with a healthy, glowing sheen. It was warm, the feel of it unlike anything he had ever known.
“You keep rubbing them.” He cleared his throat, unable to release her.
She pulled away from him, rubbed her hand over it again before allowing her arm to fall to her side.
“Restless, I guess. I need to get home,” she announced, almost desperate now. “There are things I need to do there. I really don’t have a week to spend here, Jacob.”
“Things that can be taken care of until your return,” he assured her, watching her breathing escalate until she moved carefully away from him. “No one will invade your home, Faith. I promise you that.”
She pushed her fingers through the short strands of her hair. Jacob admitted he liked her hair shorter. Liked the way it framed her face, the layered strands framing her elfin features perfectly. It did nothing to detract from her appearance of delicacy, though.
“Why are you forcing me to stay here?” she asked him, her earlier irritation threatening to return. “Why didn’t Wolfe order you home? Why not come to me?”
“It’s just a week, Faith,” he reminded her. “We’ve been apart six years. Wasted years, I’m starting to suspect. Give us this time to get to know one another again.”
He watched as she drew a deep breath. She turned her gaze from him, her lips moist and tempting as she ran her tongue over them nervously.
“I need clothes,” she told him firmly as she moved to the large recessed bookshelf on the other side of the room. “Hawke was nice enough to have lost my pack nearly a week ago. What changes of clothes I had were in his pack. You sent him away.”
Clothes were a must, but something easily taken care of, he thought.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised her. “Anything else you need?”
She sighed again. “Lotion, but there’s not a hope in hell of my brand being here. I could kill Hawke for losing my pack. Should have known better than to trust him.”
Jacob frowned. She seemed melancholy. Was this one of the mood swings Wolfe had talked about? Damn, she was wearing him out.
“I believe I saw several different brands in the cupboard, in the bathrooms.” He shrugged. He knew her brand was there. Caleb’s sister also preferred it. “Check there when you shower tonight and see what’s available. My friend uses the house for meetings and large get-togethers when he’s here, so I’m certain there’s something there for everyone.”
She turned around. Her eyes broke his heart. They were somber, sad.
“Faith?” he moved slowly toward her. “Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
A bitter smile shaped her lips as her hand ran over her neck, down her arm. She seemed to want to shiver, but held back the action.
“I waited six years for you,” she told him softly. “Six long years, Jacob. And I guess I’m just now realizing what a fool I’ve been. How many women have you been with while I waited, Mate? How many times have you f**ked another woman while I waited for you like a fool?
* * * * *
Jacob wondered if the truth would surprise her. True, he had decided the night she had shown up at the bar that he was tired of waiting. Tired of wishing he was different, that she wasn’t as soft, as delicate as she was, and had decided a night of raunchy sex was the cure. But honestly, in six years, there had been no other women.