Green Beret Bodyguard

by Carol Ericson

  Dr. Famosa was kidnapped from the street in a planned abduction.

  The words came at him through the pain, and he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, willing more words to bubble from the floating strands of his memory.

  “Jack, are you okay?” Lola’s hand swept up his back, resting at the base of his skull. “Do you remember Gabe?”

  “I—I—” he dragged a hand through his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp “—I remembered someone telling me Gabe’s kidnapping was planned.”

  She twirled in a circle and then dropped into a crouch beside him. “You’re remembering. I knew seeing Gabe’s picture would help.”

  “Slow down. It may not mean anything—just words—and those words gave me a helluva headache.”

  Her smile crumpled and she pushed to her feet. “Where does it hurt?”

  “All over.” The sharp pain had dulled to a throbbing ache.

  Lola positioned herself behind him and threaded her fingers through his hair. She kneaded his scalp with her fingertips, and he closed his eyes at the soothing sensation.

  “Is that better?”

  He’d given himself over completely to Lola’s touch. She had healing hands, but he felt much more than solace from pain. As she massaged him, a slow flame had kindled in his belly and threatened to head south.

  He cinched her wrist lightly. “That’s better. Thanks.”

  Her hand fluttered over his forehead, and she pushed the hair back from his face. “I’m going to get you some ibuprofen. I really think you should see my friend, the psychiatrist.”

  She stepped away from him and he immediately missed her warmth. God, he couldn’t afford to get too dependent on Lola. He’d take the card she’d given him and contact this go-between, get his own life back before he could be of any use to Lola and her brother.

  She returned with a refilled glass of water, cupping a green gel cap in her palm. “Take this—even though I really want you to remember more, I don’t want you to go through any more pain tonight.”

  He pinched the capsule from her hand and popped it in his mouth, chasing it with a gulp of water. “I didn’t try to remember. The words came to me when I saw your brother’s picture. Do you have any more?”

  She clicked the mouse and jumped from picture to picture of her brother—sailing a boat, running a race, parasailing—the guy never stopped. All the while, she threw sidelong glances his way, expecting him to fall on the floor in a fit of remembrance.

  Jack shook his head, stretching his legs out on either side of the kitchen chair. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

  Giving him a crooked smile, Lola lifted one shoulder. “You remembered something, and that’s a start. Maybe when you talk to Emilio, he can give you more information to get the ball rolling again.”

  He knew he had to leave, even though he wanted to stay here and talk to Lola all night, find out what made her tick. He was sick of his life or the lack thereof. Sick of wondering, guessing, theorizing.

  He eased from the chair and tucked it beneath the table. Clamping the back of his neck and twisting his head from side to side, he sauntered to a set of long, curved windows. “Nice view.”

  She joined him, meeting his eyes in the window’s reflection. “That’s why I chose this unit, for the windows on the corner of the curved building and for the view.”

  “But you could be living in your parents’ house in Coral Gables?”

  “Gables Estates.” She scrunched up her face as if she hadn’t just named the most exclusive area of Miami.

  “Nice area.”

  “Gabe stays there…when he’s not roaming the globe. He’s less fastidious about his place of residence than I am.”

  Jack waited with one raised eyebrow, but she refused to take the bait. He blew out a breath, creating a patch of mist on the window, and patted his back pocket. “I’ll contact Emilio tomorrow.”

  “Just do me a favor and don’t stalk him like you did me. He’s not the type of guy to appreciate a hand over his mouth or a gun in his ribs. He’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “I didn’t follow you long, just enough to get a sense of your schedule and habits—which you should vary, by the way, to be on the safe side.”

  She snorted and rubbed a fist on the windowpane, wiping out his breath. “Nice of you to worry about my safety now when you scared the spit out of me at the morgue.”

  Jack lifted his jacket off the back of a chair and felt for his weapon. “What are you talking about?”

  “The morgue.” She folded her arms across her chest. “When I was in there, you were creeping around outside. I didn’t appreciate it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lola.” He shrugged into his cheap jacket. So that was what she’d meant by the comment in the car. “I never went inside the hospital. I waited in your car.”

  Her eyes darkened to a swampy green. “Really? When you jumped me in my car, I figured you were the one lurking around the morgue.”

  “I didn’t jump you.” He’d never live that down…but he’d like the opportunity to try.

  “Okay, whatever. I guess I can’t lay that at your door.” She bunched the material of her shirt in her fists.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Did something happen in the morgue?”

  “No, no, probably just my overactive imagination.”

  “I guess a morgue could do that to you.” He zipped up his jacket, feeling the weight and comfort of his gun in the pocket.

  “Can I give you a ride back to your motel?”

  Good thing she hadn’t invited him to spend the night. He would’ve found that offer harder to refuse.

  “That’s okay. I know my way back and you shouldn’t be driving.” He held out his hand. “Sorry about my clumsy methods, but thanks for your help tonight.”

  She placed her hand in his, her smooth, cool skin like a drink of fresh water. “I hope…well, I hope you get better. I wrote my cell number on Emilio’s card, if you remember anything else or if you want to talk to my friend, or…”

  Jack squeezed her hand, studying her eyes, waiting for the shifting colors to give him some kind of signal. She blinked her dark lashes over the steady hazel, and Jack smirked at his foolish game.

  A desperate man took desperate measures.

  He allowed her to have her hand back and turned toward the door. “I’ll call if I remember anything about your brother.”

  “And what if I need to get in touch with you?”

  Was that the sign he’d been waiting for? The invitation to stay? He clenched his teeth. This isn’t a date, Jack.

  “I have your number. Maybe I’ll pick up one of those prepaid cell phones.”

  A rosy pink stole across her cheeks, but she plastered a quick smile on her face. “Good luck, then.”

  Jack slipped out the door and snapped it behind him. Bending forward, he flattened his palm against the door and heard the dead bolt click into place. Without moving an inch, he closed his eyes.

  The heat and vitality of Lola’s home buzzed through the door. Lola’s company had poured warmth into his soul. Her breath, her voice, her touch, had all animated him. Made him feel alive. Made him feel like more than a husk of a person. But she hadn’t asked for that role.

  He turned and headed for the elevator.

  He jabbed at the button, planning to exit through the garage. He’d been intent on getting to Lola’s place and hadn’t been as concerned as he should’ve been about someone following them. Maybe the would-be car thief wanted another shot at the silver-blue Mercedes.

  The elevator rumbled up the shaft, taking its sweet time, and Jack shifted sideways in case anyone came through the doors. The panel slid open on an empty car and Jack stepped forward.

  That was when he heard the scream.

  Chapter Four

  Lola stumbled backward. She banged her hip against the corner of the bathroom sink and yanked her towel from the rack. Her gaze
darted from the big, dirty footprint in her tub to the window over the shower that someone—not her—had left open a tiny crack.

  Jack. Was he still here? She screamed and flew from the bathroom. She tugged at the front door, clutching the towel around her body with one hand.

  Tripping into the hallway, Lola almost sank to her knees in relief when she saw Jack lunging toward her door. She threw out a hand to steady herself, clutching the doorjamb, and choked out his name. “Jack.”

  His arms wrapped around her, his voice hoarse in her ear. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Someone broke into my place.” She pointed a shaky finger back inside her condo.

  He tightened his hold on her. Her fist, still gripping the towel, smashed against her chest, but she felt safe in Jack’s arms.

  Still embracing her, Jack moved toward the gaping door. “He’s not still in there, is he?”

  She shivered. “Thank God, no, but I saw how he broke in.”

  A door opened down the hallway and a man poked his head out. “What’s going on? Are you okay, Lola?”

  Warmth touched Lola’s cheek when she realized she had only a towel clutched around her naked body. “I’m fine, Aaron, but I think someone broke into my place. You didn’t notice anything, did you?”

  “No, but my wife’s car was burglarized a few months ago. This neighborhood is going downhill. Let us know how he got in and if anything’s missing. We’ll discuss it at the next association meeting.”

  When Aaron retreated into his condo, Lola broke away from Jack. “I’d better check to see if anything’s missing.”

  He followed her inside and closed and locked the door behind them. “Tell me what happened. What did you see?”

  “I was getting ready to take a shower.” Tightening the towel around her body, she glanced back at him. “Thank God you were still here. For once I’m glad that elevator was so slow.”

  “Not that there’s much I can do now.”

  “No, but…” She wasn’t going to admit to him that his very presence in her condo soothed her. That his dark intensity and his honed muscles convinced her he could protect her from just about anything.

  She grabbed his solid forearm and dragged him down the hall to the bathroom. She pointed at the footprint marring the pristine porcelain of the tub. “He came in through the window and must’ve left that way. The footprint is pointing toward the window, so maybe he jumped over the tub when he came in and then stepped in a little water in the tub that muddied the bottom of his shoe when he left.”

  “Did you leave that window open?”

  “No. He must’ve done that on his way out.”

  “What’s on the other side? You’re on the third floor.”

  “There’s a balcony that runs along the outside. That’s why I always keep this window closed and locked.” Folding her arms across the towel, she dug her fingers into her flesh. “I always thought this window was too big for a bathroom.”

  Jack stood on the edge of the tub and examined the window without touching it. “Looks like the lock could’ve been forced. Call the police and report this. Maybe they can pick up some fingerprints.”

  Before her knees started shaking again, Lola flipped down the toilet seat and dropped on top of it. “I didn’t notice anything out of place in any of the rooms.”

  “So he was careful. It doesn’t mean he didn’t steal something. Have a look around.”

  “I’m going to get dressed first.”

  Jack’s brown eyes shifted to the edge of her towel and darkened to an impossible ebony. “I’ll check the rest of your windows and the sliding doors.”

  She pushed off the toilet seat and stopped at the bathroom door. “This has something to do with Gabe, doesn’t it? My car…all of it.”

  He came up behind her so close, his warm breath caressed the back of her neck. “Or me. Someone knows I’m back in the States. They must’ve figured I’d contact you.”

  Goose bumps rushed up her arms, and she tripped into her bedroom. Damn Gabe. How had he gotten into such a mess? And why did he have to drag her into it? And damn Jack, too. When her father died, she thought that shadow of danger always hovering in the background would disappear.

  She dropped the towel on the floor and scooped up the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn during the day. Perching on the edge of her bed, she grabbed the phone and called the police. This didn’t warrant a call to 911, but they assured her they’d send a patrol car to check it out.

  As she sat with the phone between her knees, Jack tapped on her bedroom door. “Yeah, come on in.”

  He nodded toward the phone. “You call the cops?”

  “I did. Should you take off before they arrive?” She held her breath. If she didn’t want him to leave before, she really didn’t want him to leave now.

  “Nah, they won’t be too interested in me, but I’ll give them a fake name just in case.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “All the other doors and windows seem secure. I went out to the balcony, and it looks like another partial footprint out there but nothing else, and neither one of those prints is clear.”

  “I haven’t even checked my stuff.” She bounded from the bed and ducked into her walk-in closet, where she kept a safe. Everything was intact. She dug out a jewelry box where she’d stashed several expensive pieces her mother had worn. Nothing was touched.

  “How about your office, your computer?”

  Lola went into the second bedroom, which she used as an office, and sifted through her drawers and files, leaving behind a bigger mess than the thieves.

  After verifying her tidy burglar hadn’t taken one item, Lola shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders. “I don’t get it. Nothing’s missing. I can tell someone has gone through my belongings, even though that someone has been extremely careful not to leave anything out of place. If he hadn’t left that footprint, I never would’ve known he was here.”

  “He was looking for something.” Jack drew his dark brows over his nose. “But he didn’t find it.”

  “There’s nothing to find.” Lola spread her arms wide. “If he’d wanted money, he could’ve taken some from my safe. Jewelry? Not interested.”

  “Maybe he was looking for some correspondence with me. Some indication we’d been in touch. Some evidence of my location.”

  Lola twisted her fingers together as if she could wring out the anxiety. “I don’t know, Jack. None of it makes sense. Do you think he was looking for something in my car, too?”

  “It’s possible.”

  The knock on the door made Lola jump, and she flashed Jack a wobbly smile. “Probably the cops.”

  The bored patrol officers measured the footprint, told her the sole was too smudged to identify the shoe type and dusted her window for prints. There were none.

  Her concern about Jack coming in contact with the police was groundless, since they seemed about as interested in him as they did the victimless crime.

  They hovered at her door, ready to leave. The taller officer gripped the door handle and turned. “Maybe someone was here when you came home, and you scared him off before he could take anything.”

  The other one chimed in. “Maybe it was a friend who needed to get in for some reason.”

  Lola blinked her eyes and raised her brows at the unlikely scenarios, but then these guys didn’t know the turmoil of her life. And she wasn’t going to fill them in.

  As she ushered them into the hallway, thanking them, the shorter cop, the Cuban, turned slightly. “Aren’t you Eduardo Famosa’s daughter?”

  Or maybe they did know the turmoil. Lola’s jaw tightened and she clenched her teeth as she nodded.

  The cop’s eyes rounded. “You don’t think this break-in…”

  He broke off as Lola narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin. “My father’s been dead for over three years.”

  “Of course, of course.” He waved his hands and practically dragged his partner toward the elevator.

  Avoi
ding Jack’s penetrating stare, Lola picked up a cushion in the shape of a daisy and plumped it in the corner of the sofa. “Should’ve figured the guy wore gloves. I suppose a smeared footprint isn’t going to be much use.”

  “Who’s your father?”

  “My father’s dead.”

  “I gathered that, but who was he when he was alive?”

  Lola hugged the daisy to her chest and perched on the edge of the coffee table. “My father was an influential businessman in the Cuban community. He had a lot of friends, and he had just as many enemies.”

  “Like the barkeep’s father?”

  “Mario’s dad was a friend. He just stepped out of line one too many times.”

  Jack’s eyes were unreadable slits of obsidian. “Are you saying your father had Mario’s father killed?”

  “I have my suspicions, but nobody could prove that.” She rubbed her upper arms. “Nobody could prove anything about my father.”

  “That officer’s question has me wondering the same thing. Could any of this—” he waved his arms around the room “—have anything to do with your father’s business?”

  She squeezed the pillow tighter. “I don’t think so, Jack. Gabe and I sold off most of Dad’s holdings when he and my mother passed away.”

  “Passed away at the same time? How did they die?”

  Lola’s throat ached, but only for her mother, the dutiful wife who had deferred to her husband in everything…even death. “There was a radon gas leak in their home. They both died in their sleep.”

  Jack sucked in a breath. “Was it an accident?”

  “The investigators ruled it an accident…nothing could be proved otherwise.”

  “That’s tough. I’m sorry. And now your brother has been missing for over six months.”

  “And someone apparently thinks I know something.”

  Jack lifted a solid shoulder. “Or someone thinks you know me.”

  Okay, time to get a spine back. Lola tossed the pillow onto the sofa. “Thanks for hanging around and talking to the cops with me. Really, I’m completely sober now, and I can give you a ride back to your motel.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone tonight.” He widened his stance and dug his heels into her wood floor as if he expected some kind of resistance.