“I’ve known plenty of men like him,” Jack said. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Men who are mean and angry for no good reason.”
She took the hankie, dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose. “Thanks,” she said.
“So a government safe house is definitely out?” Jack asked her.
“That’s a death sentence,” she replied. “I might as well hand myself over to them right now.”
“Did you have a backup plan if your Collins Island experiment failed?”
“I’m still working on that,” she said, lifting her chin, a touch of humor now in her blue eyes. “But if you take my car, it kinda complicates any relocation idea.”
“Yeah, I see your problem.” Her small attempt to cut the tension made Jack even more determined to help her. She refused to stay down for long, and Claudia Goodwin Romero’s spirit fascinated him. Her dark hair hung in a tangled mess around her face. He tucked a strand behind an ear, his fingers brushing her cheek.
Her eyes widened, and her full lips lifted into a hesitant, unsure smile.
Knowing it was a mistake, he captured those lips with his mouth.
He’d intended a light, friendly, reassuring kiss, but Claudia responded with a throaty moan that caught him off guard, had him pulling her closer. She opened her mouth and used her tongue to explore his. She slid her hands across his shoulders, probing his muscles as if testing their strength, then ran her fingers into his hair, bringing his face closer. He felt himself harden.
Not breaking the kiss, he lifted her so she straddled his lap.
She continued to make interesting sounds and rotated her hips against his straining erection. He placed his palms on her buttocks and guided her to just the right spot. She rocked against him with sensuous, encouraging movements.
He heard himself growl. What was happening?
Maybe he’d started this, but she seemed eager to finish it in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. So be it. He’d wanted this woman since he’d laid eyes on her, when he assumed she was a rich man’s mistress and off-limits. Her behavior left no question that she wanted him just as much.
Not enough room on this sofa for what was going to happen next.
With Claudia still in place, he rose to move into the bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his waist and deepened their kiss.
He felt a vibration in his pocket a second before his phone buzzed the emergency tone.
She pulled back, staring at him with wild, frightened eyes and swollen lips. Her hands remained behind his head.
She released her legs and stood before him, her palms sliding to his shoulders.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said. She dropped her hands to her sides.
“For what?” Jack asked, his voice husky, his thoughts clearing. He needed to attend to business, not to Claudia Goodwin.
She swallowed and broke her gaze from his. “For attacking you.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“I noticed,” she said, her own voice a low, sexy whisper.
He smiled in acknowledgment of the obvious, and she grinned up at him, a pink blush staining her cheeks. This woman would be fun to play with, but now wasn’t the time. He sobered and doubted there would be a right time.
Certainly not while she was under his protection. Not if he wanted to keep her—and himself—alive. She was just as much off-limits now as before.
More, in fact.
And he should be thinking about moving her to a safe location, not ripping off her clothes.
He removed his phone and read the text.
“I need to go,” he said. “My colleague has arrived at the ferry landing.”
“To take my car,” she said, her tone now serious.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way, Claudia.”
“I understand,” she said. “I may not like it, but I get why you have to do it.”
“Do you need to get anything from it?”
“No.”
“Lock up and rearm the system after I leave.”
“Of course.”
“This could take a while, but I’ll return as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.” She averted her gaze from his and whispered, “I guess.”
“What’s wrong now?” he demanded.
She shrugged, staring at the floor.
“If you want my help, you need to communicate.”
She raised her troubled blue eyes to his. “How do I know for sure who the bad guys are?”
“You think I’m working with Carlos Romero?”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Jack watched Claudia wrestle with whether she could trust him. Oh, she wanted him all right, but that meant nothing. Desire came from a different part of the brain than trust. How could he convince this terrified woman that he was on her side?
“Think about it, Claudia.”
“I have. It’s all I think about. The thing is history has proved I’m a terrible judge of character.”
“Just think about my actions, then. If I were a Warrior, wouldn’t you already be dead?”
“Maybe. But why are you helping me?” she asked. “You know I’ve been lying since you met me.”
He sighed. He didn’t have time for this right now, but she’d asked the very question he wondered about himself. She was beautiful, sure, no question. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t touch her. Was he really that bored with life on Collins Island?
“Maybe I’m a better judge of people than you are.”
A smile threatened her serious expression, but vanished as she looked away. “I’m so confused.”
He cupped her cheek and gently raised her gaze to his. “Are you lying to me about testifying against Carlos Romero?”
“I swear to you that’s the truth. Believe me, I want that bastard rotting in prison for the rest of his miserable life.”
“Then accept that I’m helping you because I want the same thing. Any rational person would.”
She nodded, but remained silent.
He dropped his hand and grinned at her. “Or maybe you don’t think I’m rational?”
This time her smile did form. “I think there’s serious doubt about both of us.”
Jack laughed as he moved to the door. “I don’t know how long this is going to take. Lock up, turn on the alarm and stay inside.”
“Check,” Claudia said. “On the bright side, I’m finally getting rid of that demon car.”
“You’re welcome.” Jack opened the door, his thoughts already on tonight’s op. Would it be dangerous? Were the Warriors watching the ferry waiting for Claudia to run?
“Jack, wait.”
He looked back and found her staring at him with her fingers tightly clenched. “What?”
“I don’t know why you’re doing it, but thank you for helping me.”
He saluted. “You got it, babe.”
Jack relished the chill as he stepped into the dark night. He hoped the cooler temperatures and lower humidity hung around for a few days. The change kept him sharp, alert, and now he had good reason to stay on top of his game. He’d decided to leave Ike in charge again while he was off island ditching Claudia’s car.
But he rejected the idea that the Warriors had anyone surveilling the ferry 24/7. They’d be too conspicuous, noticed and reported by Collins Island staff. And he also doubted that they’d immediately know their bug was on the move. Claudia had been rooted in one spot for a week. They likely figured she’d remain on the island, so wouldn’t be monitoring the device around the clock.
But of course he couldn’t rely on that assumption. Picard had volunteered Claudia’s name tonight, which in Jack’s mind was a mistake. A big one. Did th
at error alert the Warriors? Did they realize they’d given themselves away? If so, would they be looking for Claudia to relocate?
Jack hoped not, but he and Lola needed to be ready for anything.
It took four attempts, but Claudia’s devil car finally roared to life. He gunned the motor to charge the battery, and remembered the worry shimmering in her eyes as he left.
She didn’t trust him. Well, that was okay.
She was the one who’d married a terrorist. He didn’t trust her, either.
* * *
CLAUDIA SLAMMED THE dead bolt into place behind Jack, and moved to security central to watch the monitor. When he drove her car out of the villa, she closed and locked the iron gate electronically, activated the alarm and waited until he drove off camera.
She remained by the monitor another minute, five minutes, maybe ten. Just staring. Waiting for something to happen? What? Another car to appear? For Jack to return?
She stepped away. It would take hours for him to drive out west to a deserted canal, sink her car and return.
She’d take this time to call her parents and reassure them she was okay. At least for now. Jack was right. Carlos’s people already knew where she was. Making the phone call couldn’t make anything worse, and she’d feel better after she heard her mom’s voice.
So why was she putting it off?
Claudia moved to the couch and picked up the phone on the side table. After a deep breath, she punched in her parents’ number. It was still early. Please be home.
“Hello?”
A warm glow replaced her dread when Claudia heard her mom’s customary cheery greeting.
“It’s me, Mom.”
“Claudia?”
“Yes. I just called to—”
“Oh, thank God.”
Claudia felt tears form at the relief in her mom’s voice.
“Where are you, sweetheart? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but it’s better if you don’t know where I am.”
“You’re hiding from that miserable ex-husband, aren’t you?”
Claudia swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“At least you’re alive. We’ve all been worried sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Bill, it’s Claudia,” her mom yelled away from the phone. To Claudia she said, “Your father has been in touch with the United States Attorney. He thought they had you under wraps somewhere.”
“No.”
“That’s what they insisted, too. Please let them protect you, Claudia. You can’t do this on your own. You’re a nurse, for God’s sake, not a secret agent.”
“I know you don’t understand, Mom, but I have to do it this way.”
“Claudia?”
When her dad’s deep voice roared into the phone, Claudia realized why she’d been hesitant to make this call. Many considered her father one of the best salesmen in Miami. The man could argue anyone into a purchase they didn’t want or need, and she knew he’d employ every trick to persuade her to come home.
“You stop this nonsense right now, young lady.”
“Can’t do it, Dad. I just called to let you guys know I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter, and I’m relocating, anyway. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be out of the state.” Of course, she didn’t know if that was true, but if the Warriors were listening, it wouldn’t hurt to let them think that.
“This isn’t like you. Why are you behaving this way?”
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“I blame myself for this,” her father said in a defeated voice. One of his best tricks. Guilt.
“Stop it, Dad.”
“Claudia, listen to me.”
“No, Dad. You listen to me.” She took a deep breath. When had she ever cut off her father? “Carlos’s people might be watching the house, so please, please be careful. I only called to warn you and let you know I’m still alive.”
“We’ve got this number on caller ID.”
“No, you don’t. It’s blocked.”
“I’m sure I can get it with the US Attorney’s help.”
She closed her eyes. “Maybe so, but I’ll be gone by the time that happens.”
“I don’t know about that. They seem pretty desperate to find you.”
“I have to go, Dad. I love you. I love Mom. I promise to be careful.”
She recradled the phone and released a sob. She held her breath, waiting for the phone to ring, praying it didn’t. Mr. Santaluce promised her he’d blocked this number, but she’d learned the hard way you could never know for sure.
Claudia listened to her ragged breathing for long, long minutes, but the pool house remained silent. Her parents couldn’t call her back. The government would probably work some magic with the phone company and find her location, but she’d be long gone by then either with or without Jackson Richards.
Okay. She’d talked to her parents. What was she supposed to do now?
Study? Like she could concentrate on medical procedures and terminology.
Television? She’d rather fling the remote through the screen.
Sleep? Never gonna happen until Jack returned. Besides, she had to stay awake to deactivate the alarm and let him in. They had plans to make.
What she needed was to organize her thoughts, calm herself and figure out her next move. Journaling had always worked in the past—even during the hectic days of nursing school—but isn’t that what had gotten her into trouble?
No, keeping track of Carlos’s activities hadn’t gotten her into this horrible mess. Writing all the weird stuff down had kept her sane, finally made her accept that something very, very bad was going on with her husband.
She no longer had that old journal. She’d turned it over to Mr. Beauchamps, the United States Attorney prosecuting Carlos, for safekeeping. He’d told her it was in some sort of evidence vault.
And maybe journal was a bit of an overly dramatic misnomer. She’d purchased a three-hundred-page, college ruled, spiral-bound notebook to make notes about Carlos’s strange comings and goings. She’d never let Carlos see the notebook. Until it appeared on the list of exhibits for trial, she was certain he hadn’t known her record of his criminal activity existed.
She’d kept it hidden behind a five-pound bag of flour inside the rubber-banded packaging of a corn chip brand Carlos hated in a far corner of a kitchen cabinet, sealed inside two plastic Ziploc bags. She knew it was safe there. Even early in their marriage, the man seldom wandered into the kitchen except for coffee, which she, of course, brewed. She was the “little wife,” so she prepared all the meals. And shopped. And cleaned up. And worked more than forty hours a week. On her feet most of the time. Oh, sure, Carlos worked a lot of hours, too, at a manufacturing company in Hialeah that she’d soon wondered about. She never did learn what the hell they manufactured, why he always had so much cash or why she’d always had to leave a voice mail. No one ever answered the phone.
What a fool she’d been. So blinded by lust for a mysterious, intense man that she hadn’t bothered to ask any questions until it was too late. She’d never make that mistake again.
So was she doing the exact same thing with Jack? Even if he was trying to help her, she needed to keep tons of emotional distance between her and Jackson Richards. There could be no more kissing.
While gathering supplies for her stay on this fancy-pants island, she’d seen an identical version of that first notebook and purchased it on a whim.
With a renewed sense of determination, she moved into the bedroom. Yeah, she was in a pickle, but she’d figure her way out. She’d write everything that had happened and would happen into a journal just as she’d done with Carlos. She’d include all her thoughts, as
well as any theories or ideas on what to do.
She pulled her duffel from under the bed and fished out the still pristine notebook. Back in the living room, she grabbed a pen from security central and plopped onto the couch. Fanning the pages of the notebook, she speculated what would appear on these sheets of paper during the next three weeks.
She had to relocate, but where would she go? Would Jack take her to a new hiding place? And what would she write on these blank pages about him? She wished she could see into the future to know if she could trust him.
Writing hesitantly at first, she began with the night the bastards had killed her cat, describing the condition of her apartment when she’d come home that night. Words for her sense of complete violation were impossible to find.
As she wrote, gaining speed as the pages filled with black ink, she kept a silent prayer in the back of her mind that Jack didn’t turn out to be as crazy and scary as her ex-husband.
Jack made her feel safe, but history had shown she was a lousy judge of character. Hadn’t she felt safe with Carlos at first? Trusting Jack could be a bigger mistake than her marriage to Carlos.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JACK SPOTTED LOLA’S huge black Hummer when he exited the ferry on the Miami side. Because of dark tinting, he couldn’t see her inside, but the vehicle followed him when he turned right out of the parking lot. Communicating by cell phone, they both scanned for a tail and agreed they got away from the dock clean. Even so, they drove a circuitous route, taking a lot of quick turns, each going a different direction to make certain.
They met up again at Big Corky’s, a late-night bar in the Redlands, and waited to see if anyone joined them. No one did. Neither of them ordered an alcoholic beverage as they discussed where to submerge Claudia’s vehicle. Lola agreed to a deep canal Jack knew in a deserted area of the far southwestern section of the county.
He didn’t want any witnesses.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Jack drove to the water’s edge and placed the transmission in Neutral. When he stepped out into the cool night, a trillion stars lit up the clear night sky. From the racket they made, at least that many crickets sounded in the brush around him.
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