Picture after picture of me. Asleep, so many of me asleep, my hair over my face or fanned out across the pillow, lips parted . . . shit -
sucking my thumb. I haven't sucked my thumb for years! So many photos . . . I had no idea he'd taken these. There are a few candid long shots, including one of me leaning over the rail of the yacht, staring moodily into the distance.
How did I not notice him taking this? I smile at the photos of me curled up beneath him and laughing - my hair flying as I struggle, fighting his tickling, tormenting fingers. And there's the one of him and me on the bed in the master cabin that he took at arm's length. I am cuddled on his chest and he gazes at the camera, young, wide-eyed . . . in love. His other hand cups my head, and I am smiling like a love-struck fool, but I cannot take my eyes off Jungkook.
Oh, my beautiful man, his ruffled just-fucked hair, his gray eyes glowing, his lips parted and smiling. My beautiful man who cannot bear to be tickled, who could not bear to be touched just a short while ago, yet now he tolerates my touch. I must ask him if he likes it, or whether he lets me touch him for my pleasure rather than his.
I frown, gazing down at his image, suddenly overwhelmed by my feelings for him. Someone out there wants to harm him - first Charlie Tango, then the fire at GEH, and that damned car chase. I gasp, putting my hand to my mouth as an involuntary sob escapes. Abandoning my computer, I leap up to find him - not to confront him now - just to check that he's safe.
Not bothering to knock, I barge into his study. Jungkook is sitting at his desk and talking on the phone. He looks up in surprised annoyance, but the irritation on his face disappears when he sees it's me.
"So you can't enhance it further?" he says, continuing his phone conversation, though he doesn't take his eyes off me. Without hesitation, I walk around his desk, and he turns in his chair to face me, frowning. I can tell he's thinking what does she want? When I crawl onto his lap, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I put my arms around his neck and cuddle into him. Gingerly, he puts his arm around me.
"Um . . . yes, Barney. Could you hold one moment?" He cups the phone against his shoulder.
"Lisa, what's wrong?"
I shake my head. Tipping my chin up, he gazes into my eyes. I pull my head free from his hold, tuck it beneath his chin, and curl up smaller on his lap. Bemused, he wraps his free arm more tightly around me and kisses the top of my head.
"Okay, Barney, what were you saying?" He continues, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder, and taps a key on his laptop. A grainy black and white CCTV image appears on the screen . . . a man with dark hair wearing pale coveralls comes on the screen. Jungkook presses another key, and the man walks toward the camera, but with his head bowed. When the man is closer to the camera, Jungkook freezes the frame. He's standing in a bright white room with what looks like a long line of tall black cabinets to his left. This must be JEH's server room.
"Okay Barney, one more time."
The screen springs to life. A box appears around the head of the man in the CCTV footage and suddenly we zoom in. I sit up, fascinated.
"Is Barney doing this?" I ask quietly.
"Yes," Jungkook answers. "Can you sharpen the picture at all?" he says to Barney.
The picture blurs, then refocuses moderately sharper of the man consciously gazing down and avoiding the CCTV camera. As I stare at him, a chill of recognition sweeps up my spine. There is something familiar in the line of his jaw. He has scruffy short black hair that looks odd and unkempt . . . and in the newly sharpened picture, I see an earring, a small hoop.
Holy crap! I know who it is.
"Jungkook," I whisper. "That's Jack Hyde."
"You think?" Jungkook asks, surprised.
"It's the line of his jaw." I point at the screen. "And the earrings and the shape of his shoulders. He's the right build, too. He must be wearing a wig - or he's cut and dyed his hair."
"Barney, are you getting this?" Jungkook puts the phone down on his desk and switches to hands-free. "You seem to have studied your ex-boss in some detail, Mrs. Jeon," he murmurs, sounding none too pleased. I scowl at him, but I'm saved by Barney.
"Yes, sir. I heard Mrs. Jeon. I'm running face recognition software on all the digitized CCTV footage right now. See where else this asshole - I'm sorry ma'am - this man has been within the organization."
I glance anxiously at Jungkook, who ignores Barney's expletive. He's studying the CCTV picture closely.
"Why would he do this?" I ask Jungkook.
He shrugs. "Revenge, perhaps. I don't know. You can't fathom why some people behave the way they do. I'm just angry that you ever worked so closely with him." Jungkook's mouth presses into a hard, thin line and his arm encircles my waist protectively.
"We have the contents of his hard drive, too, sir," Barney adds. What?
"Yes, I remember. Do you have an address for Mr. Hyde?"
Jungkook says sharply.
"Yes, sir, I do."
"Alert Welch."
"Sure will. I'm also going to scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements."
"Check what vehicle he owns."
"Sir."
"Barney can do all this?" I whisper.
Jungkook nods and gives me a smug smile.
"What was on his hard drive?" I whisper.
Jungkook's face hardens and he shakes his head. "Nothing much," he says, tight-lipped, his smile forgotten.
"Tell me."
"No."
"Was it about you, or me?"
"Me." He sighs.
"What sort of things? About your lifestyle?"
Jungkook shakes his head and puts his index finger against my lips to silence me. I scowl at him. But he narrows his eyes, and it's a clear warning that I should hold my tongue.
"It's a 2006 Camaro. I'll send the license details to Welch, too,"
Barney says excitedly from the phone.
"Good. Let me know where else that fucker has been in my building. And check this image against the one from his SIP personnel file." Jungkook gazes at me skeptically. "I want to be sure we have a match."
"Already done, sir, and Mrs. Jeon is correct. This is Jack Hyde."
I grin. See? I can be useful. Jungkook rubs his hand down my back.
"Well done, Mrs. Jeon." He smiles and his earlier rancor forgotten. To Barney he says, "Let me know when you've tracked all his movements at HQ. Also check out any other JEH property he may have had access to, and let the security teams know so they can make another sweep of all those buildings."
"Sir."
"Thanks, Barney." Jungkook hangs up.
"Well, Mrs. Jeon, it seems that you are not only decorative, but useful, too." Jungkook's eyes light up with wicked amusement. I know he's teasing.
"Decorative?" I scoff, teasing him back.
"Very," he says quietly, pressing a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.
"You're much more decorative than I am, Mr. Jeon."
He grins and kisses me more forcefully, winding my braid around his wrist and wrapping his arms around me. When we come up for air, we are both breathless.
"Hungry?" he asks.
"No."
"I am."
"What for?"
He blinks down at me. "Well - food actually, Mrs. Jeon."
"I'll make you something." I giggle.
"I love that sound."
"Of me offering you food?"
"You giggling." He kisses my hair then I stand.
"So what would you like to eat, Sir?" I ask sweetly. He narrows his eyes. "Are you being cute, Mrs. Jeon?"
"Always, Mr. Jeon . . . Sir."
He smiles a sphinxlike smile. "I can still put you over my knee," he murmurs seductively.
"I know." I grin down at him. Placing my hands on the arms of his office chair, I lean down and kiss him. "That's one of the things I love about you. But stow your twitching palm - you're hungry."
He smiles his shy smile and my heart clenches. "Oh, Mrs. Jeon, what am I going to do with you?"
"You're going to answer my question. What would you like to eat?"
"Something light. Surprise me," he says, mirroring my words from the playroom earlier.
"I'll see what I can do." I sashay out of his study and into the kitchen. My heart sinks when I see Mrs. Jones is there.
"Hello, Mrs. Jones."
"Mrs. Jeon. Are you ready for something to eat?"
"Um . . ."
She is stirring something in a pot on the stove that smells delicious.
"I was going to make subs for Mr. Jeon and me."
She pauses for a heartbeat. "Sure," she says. "Mr. Jeon likes French bread - there is some in the freezer cut to sub length. I'd be happy to make it for you, ma'am."
"I know. But I'd like to do this."
"I understand. I'll give you some room."
"What are you cooking?"
"This is a bolognaise sauce. It can be eaten anytime. I'll freeze it."
She smiles warmly and turns the heat right down.
"Um - so what does Jungkook like in a, um . . . sub?" I frown, struck by what I've just said. Does Mrs. Jones understand the inference?
"Mrs. Jeon, you could put just about anything in a sandwich, and as long as it's in French bread, he'll eat it." We grin at each other.
"Okay, thank you." I skip to the fridge. In the freezer compartment I find the French bread cut to size in Zip lock bags. Taking out two, I place them on a plate, pop them into the microwave and set it to defrost.
Mrs. Jones has disappeared. I frown as I return to the fridge to search for ingredients. I suppose it will be up to me to set the parameters by which Mrs. Jones and I will work together. I like the idea of cooking for Jungkook on the weekends. Mrs. Jones is more than welcome to do it during the week - the last thing I'll want to do when I come home from work is cook.
Hmm . . . a bit like Jungkook's routine with his submissives. I shake my head. I mustn't overthink this.
I find some ham in the fridge, and in the crisper a perfectly ripe avocado. As I am adding a touch of salt and lemon to the mashed avocado, Jungkook emerges from his study with the plans for the new house in his hands. He puts them on the breakfast bar, saunters toward me, and wraps his arms around me, kissing my neck.
"Barefoot and in the kitchen," he murmurs.
"Shouldn't that be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?" I smirk. He stills, his whole body tensing against me. "Not yet," he declares, apprehension clear in his voice.
"No! Not yet!"
He relaxes. "On that we can agree, Mrs. Jeon."
"You do want kids though, don't you?"
"Sure, yes. Eventually. But I'm not ready to share you yet." He kisses my neck again.
Oh . . . share?
"What are you making? Looks good." He kisses me behind my ear, and I know it's to distract me. A delicious tingle travels down my spine.
"Subs." I smirk, recovering my sense of humor.
He smiles against my neck and nips my earlobe. "My favorite."
I poke him with my elbow.
"Mrs. Jeon, you wound me." He clutches his side as if in pain.
"Wimp," I mutter disapprovingly.
***