Accidental Bodyguard

by Sharon Hartley

  She heard muted voices, but couldn’t make out words. They must be in line for the ferry. She pressed into the floor with her feet, lifted her buttocks to reposition onto her back and then pulled out her arm to read her watch. The ferry was scheduled to leave in five minutes, so they wouldn’t have long to wait before boarding.

  She tried to make her mind go blank. If only she could fall asleep. Maybe she should have taken a sedative. No. She needed to stay alert in case Carlos’s thugs found her and attacked. She wasn’t helpless. She had her gun, but what good would that do her if they fired into the closed gun locker?

  But they didn’t know where she was. Of course they didn’t. They couldn’t possibly.

  Unless Jack worked for them. Maybe he was taking her to them.

  Stop it, Claudia.

  She reached inside her purse for the water Jack had provided and lifted her head to take a sip. Cool liquid slid down her throat, helping to calm her crazed ramblings.

  Claudia pictured Jack behind the wheel of his SUV mere feet from her position, and that image was strangely comforting. When Jack accelerated, her body shifted again. The road noise beneath her changed as they drove off concrete and onto the ferry’s metal deck. She heard more muted voices, clanging, and then Jack shut down his engine. The boat’s motor roared to life, and Claudia sensed a difference in the vibration when the boat left the dock.

  After what she knew was only ten minutes—but felt like an hour—the boat’s motor stopped. They’d reached the other side. Now they’d drive north to the prearranged stop in Pompano Beach where Jack would release her from this dark hole. She’d get into the front seat of his SUV where she could ride like a normal passenger. He would take her to Dunnellon, and he’d keep her safe. Safe?

  She closed her eyes as the doubts and the questions pounded inside her skull.

  Why was Jack doing this for her? He gained nothing from helping her. How could she—how could anyone—possibly believe he was just a super nice guy doing his civic duty? Carlos had taught her no one ever did anything for free; everyone always had an angle. So what was in it for Jack?

  For that matter, what was Carlos’s angle? Jack believed he had some mysterious reason for keeping her alive. Could he have instructed his thugs to keep her from testifying but not to kill her? Did her ex still want her? If so, why hadn’t he contested their divorce? Why hadn’t she heard from him in over a year?

  Damn Carlos Romero. She hated how her brief time with him had made her suspicious of everyone’s motives. Now she was even questioning her ex’s reasoning, for God’s sake. As if he were reasonable. She sucked air deep into her lungs, telling herself that this would all be over soon. Carlos’s trial was only three weeks away.

  But would it all be over after that testimony? How long would she be looking for bad guys in the rearview mirror? For the rest of her life?

  As the car accelerated, probably onto I-95, she stared into the dark void around her. She knew better than to trust anyone. Look at the mess she’d gotten herself into by trusting Jack. Her car had been driven into a canal and she was stuffed into a gun locker hiding from the world. Painful pressure built in her chest as her heart raced.

  She needed to see the sun.

  With asphalt rushing beneath her, she reached out to touch the top of the locker. She stroked a soft felt lining rather than the expected plastic, which reminded her of a coffin. Would this small cavity be her final resting place? If someone rear-ended this vehicle, she didn’t even have a seat belt. If Jack rolled the SUV, she’d be flung outside.

  Her head pounded. She struggled to inhale. Why had she agreed to climb into this tomb?

  Recognizing panic, she shifted onto her side and used her hands to press out against the lid. It opened easily and she could see the taillights. Cool air brushed against her skin.

  Sweat ran into her eyes, stinging them, and she blinked it away, aware that her clothing was now damp. Why was she sweating so much when this hellhole wasn’t even hot?

  She needed to crawl out of this coffin, but she was hurtling down the road at a hundred miles an hour. She didn’t dare climb out. She could startle Jack, cause an accident, injure him and other people. She needed to think about something else—anything else other than where she was.

  She squeezed her eyes hard, took deep breaths and forced herself to remember why this was happening, why she was torturing herself. She’d married a man who wasn’t what he seemed, a man who killed people. She was going to ensure he never hurt anyone else ever again.

  Right, she was doing her civic duty, just like Jackson Richards.

  But if Carlos had turned into a monster, why couldn’t Jack? Hadn’t she even turned into someone she didn’t recognize anymore? She’d become a paranoid, frightened victim who had to fight off panic attacks. Who was that person?

  I’m not that woman, she told herself.

  “I’m not that woman,” she said out loud.

  Her voice sounded raspy, weak. That wouldn’t do.

  She raised her head and took a long pull from the water bottle. She clutched her purse to her chest. The loaded Glock inside reassured her. She found her flashlight and turned it on.

  “I’m not that woman. I’m not that woman.” She repeated the words over and over like a mantra.

  * * *

  JACK PULLED INTO the exit lane for the Homestead Service Plaza and applied the brakes. Time to transfer Claudia to the front seat.

  He wondered how she was doing, and shook his head. Probably totally freaked out. He’d never forget the cornered look in her eyes when he’d situated her inside the small compartment. She’d barely fit, and her terror had haunted him the whole drive south.

  He prided himself on being able to catch a tail, and knew with certainty no one had followed him from Collins Island. Once on the Turnpike he’d set the cruise control at the speed of fifty-five—twenty miles per hour slower than the rest of the traffic, and remained in the far right lane. Vehicles zoomed up on his rear, then swerved around him, often with an impatient honk. Sometimes with a middle finger salute.

  You just gotta love the polite drivers in south Florida.

  But that was the whole idea. No other vehicle stayed with them. He’d left and reentered the Turnpike at three separate exits to make certain. No one had followed them. Of course he’d swept his SUV for bugs.

  He’d gotten Claudia away clean.

  By now the Warriors had likely found her sunken vehicle, and would double back to Collins Island. But Lola had tripled security. With the new boat patrol, Romero’s men wouldn’t easily gain access. If the Protection Alliance had problems they couldn’t handle, Lola would contact the US Attorney’s Office and alert them to the situation. Once in Dunnellon, Claudia would contact the prosecutor and let him know she was okay—just not her location.

  He still considered that a mistake. Claudia would be safer under the protection of the federal government, but his plan was a good one. It could work. Should work.

  He drove to the far side of the service plaza’s parking lot, parked and jumped out to surveil any vehicles that exited after them. The gun holster under his jacket comforted him as he raised his binoculars to scrutinize the vehicles entering the plaza.

  No vehicle looked familiar. No one had followed them from Miami. But he’d wait ten minutes just to be certain.

  Behind him, the SUV’s rear door popped open, and Jack whirled to see Claudia’s leg swing over the bumper. Couldn’t the woman follow instructions? She knew to wait for the all clear from him. Why did she—

  She lost her balance, and he rushed forward to catch her before she hit the pavement. Their gazes locked, and he read desperation in her eyes. He evaluated her pale, tear-streaked face and understood. She’d reached some kind of a limit. She’d had no choice but to climb out of her prison once they had stopped.

&n
bsp; “I’ve got you,” he told her. “You’re okay.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “Get into the backseat. Lie down.”

  She took a step, but faltered again. He grabbed her arms to support her.

  “My legs are asleep,” she said. “I’ve been in a cramped position too long.”

  Jack carried her to the backseat, closed the door and again checked the area. All clear.

  Convinced they were good to go, he opened the backseat door and leaned in. Claudia lay on her side, eyes wide open, staring out the window.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Better now that I can see the sky. Can I sit up?”

  “Yeah, we’re clear. Nobody followed us.” Jack extended his arm to help.

  She blew out a breath when she was upright. “Thanks.”

  “You need to know we’re in Homestead, not Pompano Beach.”

  “Why is that?” Her voice sounded sharp, suspicious. She narrowed her eyes on his face.

  “A bit of misdirection.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to go inside the plaza to the ladies’ room. I’ll point out the surveillance cameras, and you need to make sure your face is captured. Don’t be too obvious, but walk back and forth, move slowly, find some reason to linger in front of the lens.”

  “Because Carlos’s people have the ability to hack into the security feed.”

  “The Warriors are known for their tech team. They’re going to look hard for you, and this is a ploy to slow them down.”

  She nodded. “Got it.”

  “I’ll purchase something for us to eat on the road, and I’m going to gas up. This vehicle has a five-hundred-mile range. Once we leave here, we’ll only stop for one bathroom break. I know a rest area where there are no cameras. Then we’re not stopping again until we reach my cabin. The only images of you will be right here and, because of that, they’ll look south.”

  Jack was relieved to see Claudia smile for the first time since emerging from the locker.

  “You thought of everything, didn’t you?” she said.

  “I doubt it. You okay to walk yet?”

  She rotated her ankles. “I think so.”

  He held out his arm to assist her down from the seat. “Let’s get started. I want to make it to Dunnellon by 8:00 p.m.”

  Claudia clung to his arm as they walked toward the plaza structure. She’d had a rough time in the locker. She was trying to soldier on, pretend she was okay, but maybe they should talk about what had happened to her during the drive. Women liked to discuss their emotions, right? Might make her feel better.

  And he’d like to make her feel better. It bothered him to see her this subdued, so miserable, especially when it was his idea. Even if it couldn’t be helped.

  Jack glanced down at her troubled face and wondered when he’d developed such a protective attitude about Claudia. Wasn’t like him. Definitely not professional to feel that way about a client, even on a pro bono job. Where was his usual detachment?

  Worse, he’d experienced a flush of pleasure when she said he’d thought of everything, like some hormonal teenaged athlete praised by his girlfriend after a big game. He knew it was impossible to account for every eventuality that could go wrong. Some new twist could always screw up a plan. He needed to remember that, keep looking for that curve ball, keep his head on straight.

  If he allowed himself to care too much about Claudia, get too close, he’d get careless. If he got careless, they were both headed for certain disaster.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN THEY WERE back on the road, Jack set the cruise control for seventy-five. Claudia remained quiet beside him. She’d retreated to some personal space to lick her wounds, and he let her stay there. They both had plenty to obsess about. Better if he kept his mind off her and alert for trouble, anyway.

  They agreed on an oldies radio station, but neither of them listened to the tunes. He paid more attention to her than he should, but she just stared out the window, often twirling her hair.

  To keep them alert, he’d purchased two extra-large cups of strong coffee. Claudia didn’t touch hers. His had gone cold by the time he took the last swallow.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We missed breakfast, and I’ve got sandwiches.”

  She shifted her gaze from the road to him. “Not really.”

  “You should eat,” he said. “There’s a choice of turkey, ham or tuna fish. Plus chips.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Whatever, huh? Love your enthusiasm.”

  “Well, pardon me.”

  “Would you mind grabbing me a sandwich so I can eat? I’m starved.”

  “Oh. Sure.” She reached for the bag he’d placed on the floorboard. “You sure bought a lot of food.”

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” Jack said. “So I got two of each. Give me turkey if you can find one.”

  When she unwrapped the plastic covering, the enticing fragrance of fresh bread and tangy pickle wafted into the SUV, making Jack even hungrier. She placed the cut sandwich close to him on the console. He finished the first half in three bites.

  Claudia gave a little laugh, which made Jack feel far better than the food.

  “I guess you were hungry,” she said.

  “Still am,” he said, and scarfed the other half.

  She mumbled something that sounded like, “My gladiator.”

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She rummaged through the bag. “Maybe my appetite has returned.”

  Pleased that she’d roused herself enough to take nourishment, Jack said, “I’ll take another. Make it ham this time, please, ma’am.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Claudia opened a bag of chips, dumped a few beside his second sandwich and then opened another sandwich for herself. They ate in silence, although she barely nibbled on her food. Not such a great appetite, after all.

  “Something wrong with the tuna?” he asked.

  “No. It’s fine.”

  When he’d finished his second sandwich, Jack sighed. It would be a long trip if she brooded the whole way. And they’d be spending a lot of time together for the next few weeks. His one-bedroom cabin in the woods was a long way from a spacious villa on Collins Island. And it only had one bed.

  That was a problem he’d yet to figure out.

  So why not enjoy a little time between the sheets with her? Claudia wouldn’t object. It would only be sex, a release for both of them, right?

  Wrong. He had to curtail that kind of thinking pronto. He needed to keep his distance.

  But he liked Claudia, enjoyed the challenge of figuring her out. They could be friends, right?

  Friends? Who was he kidding? He wanted to rip off her clothes every time he saw her.

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Seriously?” She shot him a look. “Where do you want me to begin?”

  “How about with what happened to you inside that locker.”

  She rewrapped her sandwich and placed it back inside the paper bag. “Have you ever been locked inside a small dark space?”

  “You weren’t locked. But, yeah, I experienced something similar once when I was a cop. It’s no fun.”

  “Well, I went a little crazy. I wanted to jump out en route.”

  “But you didn’t,” he said.

  “But I came close.” She gave a visible shudder. “I could have killed you or other people.”

  “I doubt it. I half expected you to do something strange.”

  “I had a panic attack.” She spit out the words as if they burned her mouth. “But I never panic. I’ve always prided myself on being levelheaded. That’s w
hy I’m a good nurse.”

  Levelheaded? Jack didn’t reply. Considering some of Claudia’s crazy ideas, that wasn’t the first trait he thought of in connection with her.

  “So what’s wrong,” she continued, “is I don’t know who I am anymore, and that’s scaring me as much as Carlos’s thugs.”

  “So you reinvent yourself,” he said. “You’ll be stronger on the other side of the ordeal.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being hunted by terrorists.” She again lapsed into hair twirling.

  Jack didn’t reply, but he did know about trial by fire and coming out on the other side stronger.

  “And you know what,” she said. “I liked who I was. What if I’m never able to work as a nurse again?” Claudia sighed. “I’m not good with change. I guess that makes me inflexible, another unpleasant thing I’ve learned about myself.”

  Change could definitely be hard. Considering how he’d altered the trajectory of his career—make that his entire life—a few years ago, he understood her point. And now he was about to revisit his old stomping grounds, something he swore he’d never do.

  “So you were a cop?” Claudia asked.

  “Deputy sheriff with Marion County.”

  “Why did you quit?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  * * *

  CLAUDIA SHIFTED IN the seat to face him. “We’ve got hours of driving ahead of us.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

  “Ah. You don’t like to talk about that. Why?”

  When he shrugged, she knew he wasn’t going to tell her. So Jack had secrets, too. For some bizarre reason, that made her feel better. Mr. Gladiator wasn’t perfect, after all. But he definitely knew how to take care of himself. And her. She still marveled at his ploy of driving south to confuse Carlos’s people. She’d have never thought of parading back and forth in view of the surveillance cameras.