by Cindy Dees
As much as she would love to play along with that particular little fantasy, she replied reluctantly, “He’d never buy it. He would see right through a story like that, not to mention he would check it out thoroughly. And then he would slit your throat….” She gagged as bile leaped into her throat at the idea of another man, this man, lying dead in her bed, bleeding from a horrible gash in his neck. She slammed a napkin to her mouth as she narrowly avoided throwing up.
Joe’s dark eyebrows slammed together abruptly. “My God,” he breathed. “Is that what happened?”
She frowned at him, unsure what he was asking.
He leaned forward and reached for her hands, gripping her fingers tightly. “Is that why you ran out into the ocean like that? Whose throat did your father slit?”
Wow, this guy was sharp. He’d made that leap of logic look easy.
Did she dare tell this man? Did she dare trust him? God knew, the knowledge of what had happened to Tony could get him killed. But he did seem like the sort who could take care of himself…
She took a deep breath. “My friend Tony. He was going to help me escape. But my father killed him.”
She clutched Joe’s big, callused hands desperately. “That’s why I can’t agree to your plan. I don’t want you to end up dead in my bed, either.”
Joe’s eyes went black. Hard and flat. Gone was the warm, sympathetic man she’d been talking with. “Your father killed this guy in your bed?” he bit out.
She nodded, suddenly afraid of the cold man seated across from her, radiating violence.
He cursed viciously under his breath, so low she barely caught the muttered oath. And then he leaned forward, staring at her intensely. “This changes everything. If your father has turned his violence on you, you’re in more danger than you can imagine. You are going to agree to marry me. As soon as it can be arranged. And I am going to get you out of there. Got it?”
She blinked at the icy authority in his tone. He wore it easily. Like a man who’d given orders before and expected them to be followed. Where had the quiet, kind, sympathetic man disappeared to all of a sudden? Who was Joe Smith? And what was he?
She answered her own questions. Did it really matter who or what Joe was as long as he could help her?
Aloud, she said, “I need to talk to Julia. To confirm who you are.”
Joe blinked, but to his credit, he answered evenly, “All right.”
He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a cell phone, and dialed a phone number. “Hey, Dutch, it’s Joe.”
What kind of name was Dutch? A nickname, maybe?
“Yeah, I’m sitting with her, right now. She wants to talk to her sister.”
He waited in silence and she watched him cautiously. Not real chatty, these Blackjacks. And then he held the phone out to her.
Eagerly, she put it to her ear. “Julia?”
She all but cried in relief at the sound of her sister’s voice in her ear, sobbing, “Cari? Is that you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Are you all right?”
Julia laughed and then made a little sound of pain as if laughing hurt. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. More than fine. But you need to leave Gavarone, honey. Get away from Eduardo.”
“I got that memo a while back, Sis,” Cari retorted dryly. “But you and I both know that’s easier said than done.” Then she asked seriously, “Did you send Joe to help me?”
“Yes, I did. And you’re welcome—he’s a hunk, isn’t he? I thought he might be your type.”
Cari grinned. “You got that right.”
“He’ll take care of you. Trust me. Trust him.”
Cari looked up as Joe leaned forward and murmured, “That’s long enough. I don’t want the call traced.”
She said into the phone, “Apparently, we can’t talk anymore or this call might get traced. I love you, J.J. And thanks.”
A laugh. “You’re welcome. I love you, too. Take care, and get out of there. Now.”
Cari handed the phone back to Joe, who tucked it in his shirt pocket.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
How could she not be? Her sister had sent this gorgeous stranger to save her life. If Julia trusted him, why in the world shouldn’t she?
“So,” he asked lightly, “will you marry me?”
Joe waited tensely for Cari’s response to his question, his freaking marriage proposal. His gut tied itself in knots at the very thought.
The other guys on the team hadn’t liked the idea, either. It was fraught with risks. But he’d been doing ’round-the-clock surveillance on the Ferrare compound for over a month now, and not once—not once— had he found a weak spot in the bastard’s security measures.
If Cari refused to go for the fake marriage thing, he and the rest of the Blackjacks had no idea what to try next. And after that little bombshell she’d just dropped about her father killing Tony—whoever the hell he was—the team had no choice but to move fast.
The Blackjacks had considered and tossed out dozens of plans. And it always came back to this one: the only way to get Cari out without putting her life in serious jeopardy was for someone to infiltrate the Ferrare fortress, learn the security system from the inside, and sneak her out by cunning. And even then, it was going to be one hell of a trick to pull off.
The only positive was that Eduardo’s security was set up to keep bad guys out, not good guys in. It ought to be possible to move Cari out from under her father’s nose if Joe was careful and quick when the time came.
A few days ago, Colonel Foley had run this marriage idea past the Blackjacks’s consulting psychiatrist, and she’d assured him that Ferrare would be desperate to hand over control of his uncontrollable daughter to someone else. She was certain Ferrare would leap at the idea of a son-in-law to rein in Carina.
Still, Colonel Foley had resisted the eloping scheme—that is, until the psychiatrist had dropped the other shoe. She predicted that Eduardo Ferrare would kill his daughter rather than let anyone take her away from him. The only possible exception might be if Eduardo gave his daughter away to someone of his own free will—as in approving of a marriage. Reluctantly, the colonel had green-lighted the op.
Now, Joe just had to get Carina to go for it.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“Okay what?” he asked cautiously. He needed to hear her say the words.
“I’ll marry you, Joe. But there’s one thing…”
Christ, his pulse had just shot up like a rocket. “What’s that?” he asked, much more calmly than he felt.
“It has to be a real wedding. My father will demand proof, and he’ll verify it himself. We won’t be able to pull off faking it. We’ll have to actually exchange vows and get a marriage license—the whole nine yards.”
Panic speared into him, followed by an involuntary surge of exultation at the idea of possessing this beauty for himself. And then his brain kicked into gear. Get a grip, buddy. This is just a mission. They would get an annulment as soon as she was clear of her father. She was a Ferrare, after all. No way in hell would he ever legally tie himself to a criminal empire like Eduardo’s.
Although, now that he’d met her face-to-face, Carina wasn’t what he’d expected. She seemed more…human. Less of a princess. He’d expected a phony, shallow girl. But the young woman before him was intelligent. Self-possessed. Genuinely worried about her sister. This human being had seen suffering in her life. Her eyes looked much older than he knew her years to be.
He gathered his thoughts and replied belatedly, “No problem. We’ll do a real wedding.” Now, why did his throat go tight when he said that? “Anything else?” he choked out.
She frowned, chewing on her full, pink lower lip. An urge to kiss that luscious mouth nearly sent Joe around to her side of the booth. God, she was beautiful. And young. Way too damned young for him. Nine years too young, to be precise. He was thirty-three and she was twenty-four.
Her sultry purr interrupted his train of thought. “We need to b
e seen together around town, so we can claim to have met and fallen in love. You can bet my father’s going to want independent confirmation that you’re for real.”
For real. He’d been working undercover for so long he wasn’t even sure he knew who he was for real. Regardless, there was no way he would reveal his true identity. Not to Eduardo, who’d kill him for it, and certainly not to Carina. He had no way of knowing if she could keep a secret or not, and he dared not stake his life on it.
Her guess that he was part of the Blackjacks was impressive, but he wasn’t about to confirm it. To his knowledge, Julia hadn’t identified him as a Blackjack member to Cari. Listening to her end of the call, it hadn’t come up in the brief conversation. But he would need to confirm that with Dutch. He made a mental note to do it tomorrow.
Joe said aloud, “A whirlwind romance will be difficult to stage since your father never lets you off your leash.”
She shrugged. “Then we’ll have to figure out something else. I’m not going to do this unless I’m sure you won’t be in danger.”
Joe snorted mentally. Not in any danger? Infiltrating the inner sanctum of the most dangerous criminal the Blackjacks had ever run up against? Dangerous wasn’t quite the word for it.
Now that he was physically sitting in front of the target, the reality of what he’d gotten himself into hit him full force. This could easily turn out to be the most horrendous assignment of his career. Not only could the father kill him, but the maverick daughter was a complete wild card in the equation.
He’d already made one huge tactical mistake with her: he’d told her his real name. At least she didn’t know his real last name, but it was bad enough that she knew him as Joe. When they’d been out in the ocean and she was so panicked, so lost, and had asked who he was, his real name had just popped out.
Now that he’d met her again, his misgivings deepened. The pull of attraction he felt toward her was unmistakable and alarming. Could he trust himself to keep a level head around her? Could he really masquerade as her husband—her husband—and not end up in serious trouble?
Did he have any choice? If the Blackjacks wanted to nail Eduardo Ferrare, they needed Julia’s testimony, and the only way to get it was for someone to rescue this girl.
Maybe the colonel’s idea that they lure Cari and Eduardo’s goons to an isolated location and just shoot it out with the bastards was a better idea. Except Cari could end up getting caught in the crossfire, and she was a one-hundred-percent nonexpendable asset. She had to be kept alive at all costs. He shuddered at the idea of bullets ripping through her satin skin, ruining her luscious flesh….
Jeez, he was already in trouble. He’d been with her for less than an hour and his imagination was running away with him. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. A fake marriage was the only thing he could think of to place himself close enough to ensure her safety and get her out alive.
He asked briskly, “Do you have access to e-mail? A cell phone?”
“Limited— and definitely spied upon e-mail, yes. Cell phone, no. My father took my phone away after…”
He nodded in understanding, his jaw tight. The e-mail was a little help, at any rate. They could strike up an Internet acquaintance. “If I can come up with ways to bump into you and be seen with you in public, maybe go out with you a few times, then you’ll go through with it?”
She nodded, her gaze wary. She didn’t like the risk involved with his plan. Not that he could blame her. Neither did he, although probably for completely different reasons. In the final analysis, he was possibly more afraid of her than of her father.
He returned her nod and said lightly, “Then it’s a deal.”
He had no idea whatsoever how he was going to pull off courting Cari Ferrare. She was a prisoner in her father’s home. But he would make it happen. He had to. The bastard had slit her boyfriend’s throat in her own bed, for God’s sake. He shoved back the rage that bubbled up in his gut at the thought.
He knew better than to let his natural empathy get the best of him. He might be a medic for the Blackjacks, but on this op he was the primary operator. He had a sneaking suspicion he was in for some bloodshed before it was all said and done.
Joe pulled the paper napkin out from under his water glass, scribbled on it and shoved the paper across the table. “This is my cell phone number and e-mail address. You and I met tonight. You were accidentally seated at the table I’d reserved and we ended up sharing it. Make sure you mention me casually to your father over breakfast, or whenever it is you have cozy family conversations with him.”
Cari’s lovely mouth twitched at that one. “Cozy? My father?” A giggle escaped her and, for just a second, she looked like the dazzlingly beautiful, carefree young woman she ought to be. Of course, with the sights she’d probably seen in her father’s home and the hard living she’d already done, it was no wonder she acted older than her years.
An errant urge to protect her from any more hurt washed over him. Well, buddy, that’s exactly what you get to do. There was just the small matter of keeping his own throat from being slit in the process.
“Call me tomorrow if you can get access to a phone,” he instructed her. “Thank me for the pleasant conversation we had. There’s no need to be secretive about it.”
She laughed lightly. “I’m glad there’s no need for secrecy because every phone in the house is monitored.”
“Perfect. I’ll ask if we can go out again some time, and I’ll try to set up a date. Okay?”
“I don’t know if my father will let me keep the date, but I’ll try.”
“Just try to keep the tone of the call casual. Nothing that might arouse his suspicion. If your father objects, tell him you should go out with somebody now and then, for appearances’ sake. People will start talking if you never show your face in public anymore. It’ll draw too much attention to him.”
Cari looked startled at the tactic he suggested. Her gaze lit with admiration, and she looked like she was wondering whether he was psychic or just really smart. No need to tell her that a team of psychologists and behavior analysts had studied her father exhaustively and briefed him thoroughly about Eduardo.
She took a deep breath and nodded gamely. “Okay.”
He had to admit it. She was a brave woman. They slid out of the booth and stood up simultaneously, abruptly coming chest to chest. She stared up at him like he was some sort of conquering god, and damned if he didn’t feel like one for a second.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
He could swear her eyes filled with tears as she turned away, but she spun around so quickly he couldn’t be sure. He watched her slender back retreat with quiet dignity down the sweeping staircase and out of sight.
He gave her enough of a head start to collect her goons and leave before he made his way out to the delivery van parked behind the club. With a careful look around to make sure nobody had followed him, he slipped into the passenger seat.
After the white van pulled out into traffic, he pushed aside a curtain and crawled into the high-tech surveillance setup in the back. As he pulled the microphone and battery pack out from under his shirt, he asked his boss over the body mike, “Did you get all that?”
He could hear the scowl in Colonel Tom Foley’s voice as he answered, “Yeah. I got it. And I still think you’re nuts.”
Chapter Three
The dance floor was hot and crowded, but Cari barely noticed the sweaty bodies bumping into her or the choking haze of smoke filling the air.
He was here.
She hadn’t seen him yet, but she could feel Joe’s presence the moment he stepped into the club. Over the course of their previous meetings—a handful of dates to have dinner or go dancing under the watchful eyes of Freddie and Neddie—she’d grown extraordinarily attuned to his nearness.
Her father would, no doubt, get a full report from Freddie and Neddie that the American had shown up aga
in and the two of them had danced the night away together.
As she’d anticipated, her father had been highly suspicious of Joe and grilled her mercilessly about the new man in her life. But as she limited her attentions exclusively to Joe and all the reports from the guards said he steadfastly treated her with gentlemanly restraint, Eduardo seemed to relax.
Well, her father relaxed a little. It wasn’t in the man’s nature ever to let down his guard more than, oh, a millimeter or so. The good news was Eduardo was letting her see Joe. Maybe her father was actually making amends in a small way for murdering Tony in her bed. Or maybe he was just relieved that she was finally dating a straight man. Or maybe he just didn’t care what she did, as long as she stayed out of his way and didn’t interfere in his business. Sadly, she was fairly certain it was the latter.
Of course, the night Joe had sent her home to put on a more modest dress and then rejoin him for their date had gone a long way toward softening Eduardo’s attitude about the American—just like Joe had predicted it would.
If anything, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of relief in her father’s expression when she’d told him over dinner tonight that she was going out with Joe again.
Who would’ve thought that, in just a few weeks, her would-be rescuer could worm his way into her father’s good graces without ever meeting the man? She had to admit it. Joe was slick. He’d nailed exactly what would make her father let down his guard and maybe even trust Joe—as much as Eduardo was capable of trusting anyone.
But she still doubted Eduardo would buy the idea of a quickie marriage between them? Even Joe wasn’t that good. That part of their plan still worried her. A lot.
She and Joe had struck up a lively Internet conversation, but it was hard to do more than trade heavily edited essentials of their life histories with Eduardo’s security men monitoring every post. Joe had fed her a rather sordid tale about being an ex-firefighter who’d been wrongly accused of arson. He had come to Gavarone in search of a new start in life, and was currently “consulting” with various business owners in St. George, designing security and fire alarm systems for them.
