Tugging the flashlight from his coat pocket, he unlocked the hatch and lifted the dual doors. The nautical odors of mildew and damp teak greeted him as he descended the companionway steps. He checked the forward and aft berths and the head. When he was satisfied they were alone, he went back on deck to the cockpit, turned on the bilge blower and started the diesel engine.
Leigh was sitting on the galley settee when he returned. Jake thought he’d never seen anyone look as tired as she did at that moment. Her shoulders were slumped. Her head hung slightly. He figured he didn’t look much better.
“Heat should start pumping in a few minutes,” he said. “Ten minutes and we’ll have hot water.”
“This boat has a shower?” She perked up.
He motioned toward the head. “It’s small but functional.” He then reached into his coat pocket for his pistol. “There’s a restaurant in town a few miles from here.”
“I’m starved…” Her voice trailed when she spotted the gun.
Jake pressed it into her hand. “I’m going to lock the door behind me. You’ll be safe here. But just in case, I want you to keep this with you. Take it into the shower. Take it to bed. But be prepared to use it if you have to. You got that?”
“What about you?”
He patted the pistol he’d lifted from the thug back at the grain elevator. “I’ve got this one in case I need it.”
He prayed he wasn’t going to need it.
LEIGH DIDN’T THINK she was ever going to be warm again. She huddled beneath the hot spray of the shower in the tiny head of Jake’s sailboat until the water ran cold. When she shut down the faucets, she heard Jake moving around in the galley.
She’d been trying not to think about the kiss they’d shared back at the grain elevator. But her mind—not to mention her body—would not let her forget it. Intellectually she knew Ian Rasmussen pre sented a much bigger problem. She should be thinking of ways to stay out of his grasp. Instead she kept thinking about how it had felt when Jake’s mouth had been pressed against hers….
Exasperated with herself, she quickly toweled herself dry. She was loath to put on the same clothes, but with nothing else to wear she didn’t have a choice.
The aroma of something warm and delicious titillated her nose when she opened the door. Jake was in the galley with his back to her. Then he turned and she noticed the bottle of wine in one hand, two plastic wineglasses in the other.
For a second he looked sheepish. Then a slow smile tugged at his mouth, and she felt something begin to melt inside her.
“I figured we could both use a little down time,” he said.
Leigh didn’t know what to say. Down time was one thing. Sharing a bottle of wine with a man whose smile could melt even the most steadfast of female resolves—a man she was wildly attracted to—was quite another.
“It’s French,” he added. As if that mattered. “Merlot. I hope that’s all right.”
“Oh. Um.” It was as intelligent an answer as she could muster at the moment.
“How’s the bullet wound?” he asked.
She stared, her heart beating just a little too fast as he set the glasses on the table and poured. “Fine.”
“Warm enough for you?”
Hot, she thought dazedly, then realized that would not be an appropriate response and shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“I bought soup.” He motioned to the tiny stove-top burner in the galley. “If you’ll keep an eye on it, I’d like to grab a quick shower.” He handed her a glass of wine.
Leigh accepted the wine, hoping he didn’t notice that her hand was trembling.
“We’re safe here,” he said, obviously misunderstanding the source of her nervousness.
She sipped the wine, found it deep and smoky with a hint of berry. Jake stepped close to her. She was about to step back when his hands went to the buttons on his shirt. Leigh’s face heated as he unbuttoned them. Never taking his eyes from hers, he eased the shirt from his shoulders.
It had been six years since she’d seen Jake Vanderpol’s naked chest. But she’d never forgotten the magnificence of it. His shoulders were as hard and wide as boulders. His pectoral muscles were well defined, his biceps rounded with muscle. A thatch of black hair covered his chest, tapering onto his wash-board abs.
Suddenly the cabin seemed too small for both of them. Leigh knew it was stupid, but she wanted to bolt, even though she fully realized this man had done nothing but protect her in the days they’d been together. Still she needed to get away from the knowing glint in his eyes. From the stark temptation of the body she’d never been able to get out of her system.
“I’ll watch the soup,” she blurted.
One side of his mouth hiked into a smile. “Don’t let it boil.”
When her face heated, he smiled and said, “The burner is temperamental. Gets too hot for comfort sometimes.”
All she could think was that when it came to Jake Vanderpol the stove wasn’t the only thing that got too hot for comfort.
Chapter Twelve
Leigh stirred the soup, but her mind was elsewhere. Four feet away to be exact. As much as she’d tried to keep her relationship with Jake impersonal—as fervently as she tried not to let the past get in the way of the present—she couldn’t stop herself from picturing him beneath the spray of the shower, his hands soaping the hard planes of the most magnificent male body she’d ever seen. She imagined those same callused male hands, slicked with soap and running over her own body.
“Soup’s about to boil over.”
She started at the sound of Jake’s voice right behind her. She looked down at the pan and sure enough the soup was boiling into froth.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Jake nudged her aside and expertly adjusted the burner. Leigh didn’t know why she was such a wreck. It wasn’t as if she was going to act on any of the impulses streaking through her brain. Jake had hurt her badly the last time she’d opened up to him. It had taken her a long time to get to the place where she was now.
She busied herself setting the table while Jake ladled soup into bowls. “I bought this from the diner in town,” he said.
It was the best soup Leigh had ever tasted. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until her bowl was empty and Jake was ladling more into it. The wine had settled her nerves, and she knew she couldn’t put off any longer what she’d been dreading.
“We need to find a way to stop Rasmussen,” she began. “We’re not going to be able to hide out here forever.”
“I checked in with Cutter when I drove into town.”
“What did he say?”
“They think Rasmussen has left the country.”
Leigh wanted to believe that, but she didn’t. She’d lived with Rasmussen for over a year; a fact that invariably shamed her. She knew he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up so easily. “Do you believe that?”
Jake’s gaze met hers. “Possibly. But if he has, he hasn’t gone far. Canada probably, where he’s still close enough to oversee his thugs and hunt for us.”
She swirled the soup with her spoon, her appetite waning. “Is MIDNIGHT going to continue searching for him?”
“Yes, but manpower is stretched thin. Agents in multiple federal agencies, multiple jurisdictions are scrambling due to the Witness Security Program being hacked.”
The thought of hundreds of terrified witnesses—some of them with families and children—under threat by different factions of organized crime sickened her. “Apprehending him isn’t a priority.”
“It is. But protecting those witnesses comes first. Cutter doesn’t have the kind of manpower he needs to get Rasmussen as quickly as I’d like.”
“Does that mean we’re on our own?”
“That means we need to lay low for a while.”
“I’ve been laying low for six years, Jake.” Restless and frustrated, Leigh rose and paced to the small window. The marina was quiet and deserted. Snow continued to fall. The scene should have been pea
ceful, but it wasn’t. “I’m tired of always having to look over my shoulder.”
“I know it’s been hard,” he said.
“I want my life back.”
She heard Jake rise. She tensed when he came over to her side and put his hands on her shoulders. How easy it would be to turn to him and take refuge in the strength of his arms. But after Rasmussen—after Jake—Leigh had promised herself no more mistakes.
She relaxed marginally when he handed her the glass of wine she’d left on the table. “I know it’s hard, but try to be patient,” he said.
“I’m tired of being patient. Of running scared. I’m tired of having to move every few months.” She turned to him, set the wine on the table. “We have to stop him.”
“We don’t have the resources at the moment.”
“There has to be a way.”
“I’m not going to risk getting you killed, Leigh. Obsession, jealousy and hatred are ugly emotions. Think about it. A sane man would have cut his losses and run as far away as he could.”
“Maybe we can find his weak spot. Use it to—”
“Damn it, Leigh, let me handle this.”
“I deserve to have my life back, Jake. Don’t take that away from me.”
“I’m not going to let you get yourself hurt.”
“I’m not some bumbling idiot. Damn it, I know Rasmussen. I know how he thinks.”
“Then you know he doesn’t have a conscience!” Jake shouted abruptly.
“I know stopping him is my only hope of ever having a normal life! Of having a future!”
Jake grasped her arms. “I’m not going to let him kill you!”
Leigh stared into his furious eyes, and realized fury was not the only emotion he was feeling. Jake Vanderpol was also frightened.
“You’re afraid of him,” she said.
His jaw flexed. “You’re damn right I’m scared! I know what he’ll do to you if he gets his hands on you. I’ve seen his handiwork, Leigh, and it’s brutal. If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d be afraid, too.”
Leigh was a hell of a lot more than afraid. She was terrified of Rasmussen. But she’d been running for too long. “If I don’t stop him, I’m giving up my life. Hiding in the shadows. Never having a future. You can’t expect me to do that.”
“The one thing I do expect is for you to be alive every single day for the rest of my life.”
“Why do you care?” she asked with sudden anger. “I’ll be living in some town so small it won’t even make the map. You won’t be there—”
“I care about you!” he roared. “Why can’t you get that through your head!”
The words struck her like a fist. Too stunned to react, she continued staring into his blazing eyes, seeing more than she wanted to see, feeling more than she wanted to feel. She spun away from him and fled, knowing she was dangerously close to making a mistake that would only bring her heartache. She heard her name behind her as she climbed up the companionway and through the hatch, but she didn’t stop.
Snow swirled down from a black sky. She could hear the water slapping against the pier, the boat rigging clanging against the poles in a brisk northerly wind. She heard Jake behind her, but she didn’t turn around to face him. She didn’t want him to see what she knew her face would reveal.
“Leigh, come back below.”
When she didn’t move, he went to her. He turned her toward him.
“It’s cold,” he said. “You’re shivering.”
The tremors ripping through her body had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the man.
“You know I’m right,” she said.
“I know you’ve got some very dangerous ideas floating around inside that head of yours.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be thinking the very same thing.”
“I probably would.” He sighed. “But I damn well don’t like it.
“I don’t like any of this.”
She saw snowflakes in his hair. Clinging to his lashes. He was staring at her mouth, and she knew what would happen next. She could feel the emotions winding up inside her. The physical sensations swamping her with heat.
“I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt,” he said roughly.
“I know it’s risky,” she said. “But what is the alternative? Give up my future so I can be safe? What kind of life is that?”
Cursing beneath his breath, he pulled her to him. Her legs went weak when he kissed her. He tasted like wine and frustration and restraint. When he pulled away, his jaw was taut. “I think I have a plan that might work,” he said, motioning toward the hatch. “Let’s go below and I’ll fill you in.”
IAN RASMUSSEN was accustomed to getting his way. It didn’t go over well when Derrick LeValley came to his suite and told him about the GPS transmitters.
“How could he possibly have known about the transmitters?” Rasmussen asked.
“I don’t know. It’s possible he is an electronics expert. Or he could have been in touch with one of the agents at MIDNIGHT.”
Rasmussen almost smiled when he thought of the federal agency that, six years ago, had brought down the empire he’d worked so hard to build. No doubt their agents were scrambling as they assisted the U.S. Marshals Service to get all of their precious witnesses covered. The small success tasted like the sweetest of chocolates. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted Kelsey. And he wanted Vanderpol dead. Until both of those things were done, he would never be able to rest.
Sighing in annoyance, Rasmussen crossed to the bar and poured himself two fingers of cognac. “Where are they?”
“We don’t exactly know.” LeValley cleared his throat. “Somewhere in southern Michigan.”
LeValley’s anxiety pleased him. “How do you plan to find them?”
“I’ve got people working on deep background checks. Family members. Friends. Property they own. Something will pop.”
“I don’t need to remind you that our Canadian friends will only be able to conceal me for so long, do I?”
“Sir, I know you don’t want to leave the country without her, but for your own safety—”
“Safety?” Rasmussen threw his head back and laughed.
LeValley watched him warily.
“Don’t tell me about goddamn safety. I want her. I want her now. And I want Vanderpol. I’m going to kill him myself, and I can tell you it’s going to take some time.”
“Yes, sir.” LeValley swallowed hard. “I’ve got a container ship that is in the process of being renovated. It has a hidden compartment with first-class living quarters. It will get you down the St. Lawrence River, through the locks. From there you’ll be shipped to Cuba where the Lear will be waiting to take you to Morocco.”
That would give him days to mete out his revenge on Vanderpol. Days to hear the other man’s screams. Days for Kelsey to hear them. And all the while she would be in his bed where she belonged….
Rasmussen looked at the gold Rolex strapped to his wrist. “You have two hours to find them.”
“Two hours?” LeValley choked out a sound. “But that’s not enough time.”
“I suggest you get started. If you do not locate them, the consequences will be severe. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he said and started for the door at a brisk clip.
Sipping the cognac, Rasmussen watched him leave. When the glass was empty, he hurled it into the brick hearth. “I’m coming for you, Kelsey,” he whispered.
And hatred burned from the depths of his heart.
JAKE DIDN’T LIKE the plan one iota. To even consider using Leigh as bait filled him with deep, dark dread. But of all the strategies he’d considered in the last days, the one he was about to lay out for her seemed the safest route to take…if there was a safe route when it came to a madman like Rasmussen.
He folded the table where they’d eaten, then slid onto the settee. He watched Leigh pour two glasses of wine and tried hard not to notice that her hands were shaking. So much for the b
ravado, he thought. The woman was terrified. Truth be told, so was he.
Handing him the glass of wine, she slid onto the settee, a safe distance away. “Tell me about this plan of yours.”
Jake accepted the wine and set it on the table in front of him without drinking. “The last time we needed Rasmussen to bite, you were the bait.”
Her gaze didn’t waiver. “I didn’t like the way it went down, Jake, but it was an effective plan.”
“Before I get into this, I want you to understand that I won’t do that to you again, Leigh. I won’t use you. I won’t risk your getting hurt.”
“Jake—”
“Hear me out.” He raised a hand to silence her. “A good friend of mine, Ronald Waite, is a reporter for a tabloid based in Chicago, the Investigator. Four years ago, while he was in Mexico, his little boy was kidnapped and held for ransom. The MIDNIGHT Agency was called in. I was assigned the case. To make a long story short, I got his kid back. Ronald has kept in touch, and he ends every e-mail, every phone call with ‘if there’s ever anything I can do for you.’”
“How can a reporter help us?” Leigh asked.
“Sometimes law enforcement agencies use the media as a tool to bring about an arrest. The media can plant information. Withhold information. In this case, Ronald has been reporting on Rasmussen’s escape since it happened. I could ask him to reveal a bogus location where you’re allegedly hiding out. A location that in reality you won’t be anywhere near. When Rasmussen shows, he’ll get the surprise of his life because I’ll be the one waiting for him.”
LEIGH DIDN’T LIKE the plan. There were too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong. But for the life of her she couldn’t come up with anything better.
She gazed at Jake, and all she could think was that if Rasmussen got the chance, he would kill him.
“I’m not the only one he wants dead,” she said.
“I’m a trained agent.”
“Who just happens to have walked off the job—”
“If Rasmussen comes after me he will have bitten off more than he can chew.”
“You no longer have the resources of the agency to come in and back you up if something goes wrong.” She knew that when it came to Rasmussen, something always went wrong.
Operation: Midnight Escape Page 10
