Connect the Dots

by Denise Robbins

  “Hey!”

  “Hay is for horses.”

  Ruby chuckled on the other end of the line. “What’s up handsome?”

  “I thought of another way to get information on Charley Duston.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I need you to send a courier to pick up a package containing a whiskey glass.”

  He heard the gasp and then a resigned sigh. “Jake.”

  “Ruby, don’t argue.” He didn’t mean to be rude. He loved Ruby like a sister, but damn it. “The girl was shot at this morning practically in our own backyards. I don’t want or need this mess but since it’s here I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Why? Who? Did you catch the guy?”

  She was off and running, he thought, smiling because he knew she was grabbing a pen and paper and taking notes. Even though Ruby had quite literally fallen into investigative work, she was a born natural, her mind always racing, always questioning.

  “Slow down. If I had caught the guy I wouldn’t need your help now would I?”

  “Oh.” She blew a raspberry through the phone. “Yeah, yeah.”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “The sooner you can get something on my very interesting new neighbor the better. I’m starting to consider moving.”

  “Yeah, right. It would take more than a few flying bullets to pry you off your land and you know it.”

  True. The land had been in his family for ages and he inherited it after his grandfather passed away. “You know me too well. Oh, and I found the passkey for the cipher lock. I’m going to try and use it while the gettin’ is good.”

  “Just be careful and tread lightly. The last thing you want is some three-letter intelligence agency coming down around your ears.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll get someone there in less than an hour.”

  “Thanks, Shugar.”

  “Bye, sweet talker.” She ended the call with a click.

  In his office, Jake located a manila envelope, addressed it to Ruby, and slid the baggie inside, sealing it. After setting it on a table by the front door, he debated going next door. He should get Charley a change of clothes and the rest of his that were strewn on her floor. More than that, he wanted to do a quick search of the barn. But he did not want to miss the courier, and knowing Ruby, the courier would arrive in way under the sixty minute mark.

  Gnawing his lower lip, he chewed on the idea. He slipped out the back door and hurried over to Charley’s place, letting himself in the back door. He would get the clothes first, take them back and wait for the messenger and if Charley still slept like a baby after that, he would do a little exploration. If not, he would wait for another opportunity, perhaps a little nighttime reconnaissance.

  Upstairs in her bedroom, he yanked the T-shirt he had worn the day before over his head. That was when he noticed his own cuts and scrapes from his foray through the forest. Picking up his socks, he balled them together and tossed them onto the bed then went to Charley’s closet. This was the second time he looked through it but both times he had been taken aback not by the amount of clothing but the style of clothing. There was nothing in there that could be worn with athletic shoes.

  That gave him an idea. Jake left the closet and went to the dresser. In the third drawer on the left side down, he found what he wanted, a pair of loose jogging pants and a sweatshirt. In the second drawer on the right, he located white, athletic socks, and in the top part of the dresser was his favorite. Lots and lots of girly underwear, an ocean of silky panties, a young man’s wet dream.

  “Even a not so young man’s wet dream.”

  After picking out two options, a bright-pink thong and a pale blue bikini, he set those things on the bed along with his socks. Then he rushed into the bathroom and searched the counter for any necessities. He did not want Charley trekking between properties just to get cleaned up. She needed to rest and recuperate. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She needed to open up to him and the closer he kept her, the sooner she would.

  He grabbed a few toiletries and added them to the pile. Then he ran back downstairs and checked under the kitchen sink for a paper bag.

  “Good woman. Right where they should be.”

  With his bag, he went back up, put the contents from the bed in the bag, snaked his arm through her purse strap, draping it over his shoulder, and headed back down and out of the house.

  Just in time. He heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the road off in the distance. He bolted back to his place, set the bag on the kitchen table then went to the front door and opened it surprising the man in the brown uniform before could knock.

  “Jake Frisbie?”

  “Yes. Here’s the package.” He handed it over to the young man. “It’s breakable so be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, sir, we’re insured.”

  Jake tugged a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and slapped it into the guy’s palm. “Don’t break it.”

  The guy’s eyes widened and his fingers curled around the money. “No problem. I was ordered to take it straight to the address, no stops along the way.”

  Jake smiled. Leave it to Ruby to think of everything. “Thanks.”

  The kid left the front step and Jake shut the door behind and then turned.

  “Is that a new accessory?”

  His head jerked up and he saw Charley leaning against the railing on the stairs.

  “Huh?”

  She pointed.

  He glanced down and noticed the purse was still slung over his shoulder. “Oh.”

  He looked back up at the amused look on Charley’s face and beamed at her. “I thought you would need a few things so I ran over and got some stuff.”

  Walking over to her, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen, setting her on a cushioned chair then gave her the handbag.

  He took a seat and pushed the paper sack in front of her. “A change of clothes.”

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to go to the trouble. I can go home.”

  “No.” The command came out quick and hard, and more abrupt than he intended. “I mean, you shouldn’t be moving around. You need someone to help you and that is what I’m here for. How are you feeling? Should I call Doc Maines?”

  “Sore.”

  “See. That’s why you need me.”

  Charley’s stomach rumbled and she clutched at it. The movement must have been too much because Jake saw her wince with pain.

  Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers and offered her some comfort. The kiss was brief but did much to soothe his nerves. So much for more snooping.

  “Let’s get you in a bath and while you’re soaking, I’ll make us something to eat.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  After helping her get undressed, Jake deposited her in his extra-long, claw-footed tub for a soak. Charley skimmed her fingers across the rim of the tub, admiring the antique. There was so much room it could almost hold two of her, but then again, Jake was a very tall, broad-shouldered man. She could see why he needed it. Even the bed she took a short nap on had been larger than any king-size bed she had ever slept on.

  Tilting her head back, letting it rest against the tub, she closed her eyes and thought about the past two days. Or was it three? First, Grayson himself shows up out of the blue to tell her what happened over in the Republic of Georgia. Then the CIA dragged her out of her home to appear for a debriefing at CIA headquarters where her boss practically accused her of treason and then interrogated by Dick Grande, US Army Intelligence—Delta Force.

  Finally, this morning somebody shot at her. Somebody shot at her and missed. On purpose or was the shooter an idiot? Laying a washcloth across her forehead, she pondered that question. No one could be that bad of a shot. Could they? The better question she should ask is why. Why would anyone want to kill her? Because she supposedly screwed up on the intelligence for Abkhazia? She hadn’t! Charley slammed her fist in the water causing it to splash up and over the side. She was
not wrong!

  Why did dickhead try to show her a note that never existed? Did he write it? Did someone else give it to him? Who? Why?

  She shuddered as if the water had suddenly gone cold. It wasn’t the water that made her shiver, it was the thought of Onder Gozcu and how he had touched her. If those soldiers had not entered the room when they did… Charley let the thought fade and shook her head.

  “Don’t focus on it.”

  Now, here she sat. In Jake’s house. For some reason trying to keep her distance from him was not happening. This morning should have proved the fact that he needed to stay as far away as possible. He could have been shot just as easily as she. Instead, he played the hero. He played the bodyguard.

  Charley sat straight up, the washcloth dropping to the water. Jake certainly knew how to track through the woods. He had the ability to sneak up on her. He handled a gun with the ease of a professional. With fingers pressed to her lips, she paused. The gun made sense. He was a bodyguard. She assumed bodyguards needed to know how to handle a weapon. Then there was the shotgun. Yeah, okay, that probably made sense too. She imagined most farmers had shotguns and knew how to use them.

  There was still something about him. She could not put her fingers on it, but it was there. Jake Frisbie was not who he pretended to be. She just knew it! Charley bet Waldo had the same gut instinct as well and that was why he liked Jake. She could not do her job and do it well without being able to read people and instinctually know when something was off.

  Exhaling, Charley blew the hair up that had fallen in front of her face. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Using her good arm and opposite leg, she pushed herself up, but her feet slid and she flopped back down sending the water splashing over the sides.

  “Shoot!”

  A low chuckle came from the door. Charley glanced over, and through strands of blonde hair saw Jake leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, smiling at her.

  “I told you to call for help when you were ready.”

  He walked into the room as if he owned it, which of course he did, but sheesh, she was naked in the tub, his tub. Still, didn’t she deserve some semblance of privacy? Instead, he strode over to her, hoisted her up by her underarms, and wrapped a towel around her. Then Jake lifted her out of the tub and set her on the counter, careful not to bump her wounds. Taking another towel, he tied it around her hair, which was probably good because she wasn’t sure she could have done it herself.

  “You know, I can dry myself,” she complained when he started to pat her legs dry and work his way up.

  “Don’t be so stubborn.”

  Charley gasped. No one had ever called her stubborn. “I’m not stubborn.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her lower lip.

  From his squatted position on the floor, Jake peered up at her, one chestnut eyebrow cocked. “If you weren’t stubborn you would have called for help.”

  She opened her mouth to argue then shut it again.

  Jake grinned at her. “See.” He stood and tapped her nose with his index finger. “No problem, Shugar. I like stubborn. One of my best friends is the queen of all stubborn.”

  If possible, Jake’s grin grew even wider. He cared for this best friend very much.

  “Who’s your best friend?”

  “Ruby.”

  Ruby? A woman? Jake had a woman for a best friend? She pictured him as a man’s man. The kind of guy who ate raw meat, watched football on Sundays, and never left the couch unless to get another beer or use the toilet. He probably scratched his private parts too.

  Charley felt her chin pushed up. She must have been gaping at him.

  “What does Ruby do? How did you meet her?”

  There it was! He hesitated, his eyes shot down and to his left.

  “She is a computer whiz. I met her because I was her bodyguard once.”

  For some reason, Charley felt Jake told the truth as far as he went, but there was something he avoided telling her. What? Why? Well, she did not have time for his mystery. She had her own to solve. The mystery of who set her up and why, who shot at her and why. She would not get to those answers spending her time with Jake. For that, she needed to be on her own, away from distractions, and having to worry about someone else’s safety.

  Charley changed the subject. “Something smells good.”

  “Barbeque chicken with my special sauce, and grilled sweet potatoes.”

  Sucking her lips in, Charley grinned inwardly. Men and their grills.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  They ate dinner on the back porch and now Jake sat in a deck chair sipping his beer, his feet propped up on a low table, his attention on the woman who sat less than five feet away dressed in the navy sweat suit he brought from her place. She seemed to be concentrating on something invisible.

  “What exactly are you going to get to the bottom of?”

  Charley’s head whipped around and she faced him. “What?”

  “In the bathroom, when you didn’t think anyone was listening, you said something about getting to the bottom of it.” He took a pull from the bottle. “What it? What do you have to get to the bottom of?”

  Her gaze narrowed on him and if she weren’t so darn cute, he might actually be afraid of her. Not!

  “Do you always eavesdrop on people?” Obviously pissed at him, her voice strained.

  Jake sat up, put his feet on the ground, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.

  “Darlin’, I didn’t eavesdrop. You spoke out loud and I just happened to be within earshot.”

  He toasted Charley and took another drink. “Try again.”

  Charley slapped her bottle down on the table, got to her feet and started to storm away. Before she made it a step, she bumped her leg. Jake heard her sharp intake of breath and he cringed.

  “Bet that hurt like a mother.” Touching her arm, he coaxed her to sit back down. “Indignation will only get you hurt.”

  Whatever she stared at on the ground must have been very interesting because she wouldn’t look at him.

  “I’m not the bad guy. Whoever shot at you is. Wanna tell me about it?”

  In answer to his question, she shook her head. Jake sat back, clasped his fingers together behind his head and gazed up at the sky.

  “I keep asking myself what a business intelligence consultant would have that someone would kill for. I’ve never heard of someone being off’d because they wrote a report. Then again, I’m not certain the person wanted to kill you.”

  Charley looked at him, eyes wide. “You either?” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Jake chuckled. “Shugar, I may be southern, but I ain’t slow.”

  “I never meant—”

  He waved her excuse away with a flick of his hand and that stopped her.

  “Maybe it was a hunter.” Her voice squeaked.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he peered over at her. “You believe that?”

  “No.”

  “Quit grasping at straws and spill it.” Giving her a sidelong glance, he watched Charley bite her lower lip in debate.

  Jake sat forward again, and the movement must have startled her because she jumped.

  “Don’t bother with a lie, Charley.” He got to his feet, grabbed his beer bottle and headed for the back door. He flung the screen door open and let it hit the wall and slam back into place. Gosh darn—stupid idiotic—stubborn damn—woman! Well, he could wait. He would get his answers one way or another. He kind of hoped it would be the easy way. After all, she said she trusted him. Yeah!

  He spun on his heels and headed back out. Standing on the step with the door in his hand, he spoke to Charley’s backside. “You said you trusted me.”

  “I do.” She answered him without turning to face him.

  “Then tell me about the cipher lock on your barn.” Maybe if he started slower with his questions, he would get her to open up to him.

  Her shoulders lifted and fell. “Wh
at is there to tell? I made the barn my office. There is a lot of valuable equipment in it that I can’t afford to have stolen, a lot of data that can’t fall into the hands of rival companies. I keep it secured.”

  “Rehearsed.” Her explanation was too smooth, simple, and well-rehearsed. “Fine.” He went back inside and let the door shut behind him.

  Two minutes later, the screen door slammed closed again. Charley limped into the living room and perched on the sofa. Arms crossed under her breasts, she glared at him.

  “What do you mean, rehearsed?”

  “I mean you are smoother than creamy peanut butter but there is something that just sticks the wrong way.”

  She stared at him and he stared back, challenging her to disagree.

  “Look, the work I do is confidential. I can’t discuss it.”

  “And it somehow involves the agency. Which agency?”

  She turned blue eyes on him and stared. Obviously, she forgot the other morning and what the men had stated.

  “The two big guys that barged in on you. Us. Remember them?” Charley nodded. “The one guy mentioned the agency.”

  She mouthed the word, “Oh.”

  Jake waited for more explanation but none came. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet. “I better go.”

  When she reached out to pick up her purse, her cell phone rang the musical tune of the Three Blind Mice. She bobbled the bag and almost dropped it before she found the phone and answered.

  “Hello.” She turned her back to him and spoke in hushed tones. Like that would stop him from listening. He eavesdropped without a lick of guilt.

  “What? But I thought…”

  “I’m not exactly in the best shape…”

  “Can you tell me where?”

  “Does this mean…”

  Whoever was on the other end of the line surely dominated the call. Her boss? A client?

  “Fine. I’ll be ready.” Whatever she agreed to, she was not too happy about it. She clicked the phone shut. “I’ve got to go.”

  One of Jake’s eyebrows lifted. “Where to?”

  She turned and headed to the back of the house. He got up and followed. “I don’t think you’re in the best shape for travel.”