Hot Shot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#5) by Lynn Raye Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

doorstep wondering what’s wrong.”
    She hugged herself tighter. “I don’t think I can do it, Jack. How can I go out there and sing for two hours when my baby is in danger?”
    He almost smiled. “Do you know how many times I have to do things I think I can’t do? It’s my job to do those kinds of things. And I do. One thing I learned about you three years ago is that you’re pretty damn tough. You can do it, Gina, because you’re strong enough to do anything you have to do.”
    She bowed her head as fresh tears welled behind her eyelids. Damn him. When he said something like that, emotion flooded her. She didn’t like to think that he was right, but what if he was? If she canceled now, with less than three hours to go, the media attention would swell. Awareness that something was wrong would increase dramatically. How would she keep it together with microphones shoved in her face everywhere she went? With people wanting to know if she was dying or when she would reschedule? This was the last concert for six weeks, so if she got through this one, she didn’t have to think about it again for a while.
    “All right,” she said, head still bowed. “I’ll do it.”
    “His name’s Eli, huh?”
    She looked up at the uncertainty in Jack’s voice. Her heart flipped. He was so damn handsome. So rough and rugged and beautiful in a way no Hollywood pretty boy could ever be. He was poster material with those blue eyes and muscles. And he was tattooed. She remembered that well. Tattoos on his back, his arms, his chest. Winding tattoos of words, guns, snakes, animals, leaves, flowers. She could see the branches and scrolls of his tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. He planned to get them all the way to his wrists someday, but he hadn’t done it yet.
    He was a beautiful canvas that she’d gotten to explore once. But he was also a man, and he was looking at her with a combination of anger and curiosity that made her heart hurt.
    “Jackson Eli Robertson,” she said, embarrassment heating her cheeks.  
    His gaze slewed away from her. And then he fumbled in his pocket and fished out his smartphone. “I’ll make those calls now.”
    But he didn’t stay there to do it. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Shutting her out.

CHAPTER SIX

    JACK STOOD IN THE marble bath with its steam shower big enough to hold an elephant, its Jacuzzi tub and wall of mirrors, its granite counters and fancy sinks, and told himself to breathe. He set the phone on the counter and gripped the edge of the granite tight as he looked in the mirror.  
    Goddamn, he had a son. And she’d named the boy after him. Jackson . Why had she done that?
    He pulled in air, willing himself to be calm. And then he turned on the sink faucet and splashed his face with cold water. He blotted his face with a towel and threw it on the counter.
    A fucking rich-girl pop star. A media sensation. A woman who couldn’t step outside without ten photographers showing up to document her every move.
    Why had he lost his ever-loving mind and made love to a woman like that?  
    Because nothing about that situation had been normal, that’s why. They’d just been two lonely people in that cave. People with a lot of baggage and a live-for-the-moment attitude because they could be discovered at any time. They’d snuck out at night to bathe in the ocean, but they’d spent the rest of their time in close quarters, talking for hours and then curling up together for heat. Hell, in retrospect, it was amazing he’d waited two days to get inside her.  
    Not that he’d had that many condoms. Apparently, though they were good at keeping things dry, they weren’t particularly useful for the one thing they were designed for.  
    Jack straightened and gritted his teeth. Nothing for it now but to call Matt Girard or Kev MacDonald and tell them what was going on. No, he still couldn’t use the team for this, but he’d use every last contact