Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  "I do wish you would quit making pronouncements about my assumed lack of sexual experience." Lyle lifted the paper napkin from his lap, tossed it on the table and stood, glow­ering angrily at Roz during the entire melodramatic process. Then, as if a light bulb came on in his mind, he gasped and turned his attention to Caroline. "Is she saying what I think she's saying?"

  "Oh, get real." Roz threw up her hands in a sign of ex­asperation. "Lyle Jennings, don't you dare act shocked."

  "Please, Lyle, sit back down," Caroline said. "All Roz meant was that Wolfe and I. . .we're attracted to each other."

  Lyle glared at Wolfe. "Is that ethical in your line of work, to become romantically involved with a client."

  "Technically, no," Wolfe admitted. "But Caroline is dif­ferent."

  "I agree. She's not the type of woman. . .well. . .she isn't. . .she wouldn't. . ." Lyle stammered, seemingly unable to find the right words to express his high opinion of his cousin's morals.

  "For heaven's sake, Rev, every woman's the type," Roz said. "It's just that for some women it takes the right man. If you had a little more experience, you'd understand—"

  "What would a woman like you—who apparently finds every man she meets the right man—know about someone with Caroline's moral standards?" Lyle's cheeks flushed scarlet. He balled his meaty hands into tight fists. "I may be a thirty-year-old virgin, but you're nothing but a slut!"

  Roz jumped up from her chair, then slapped Lyle. Caroline gasped. The moment Roz's hand fell away from Lyle's cheek, he turned and all but ran from the courtyard. Caroline rose to her feet, but before she took one step, Wolfe clasped her wrist.

  "I think Roz is the one who should go after him," Wolfe said.

  Roz snapped her head around and stared at Wolfe, a blank look on her face. "What?"

  "Lyle's got to be feeling pretty bad right about now," Wolfe told her. "He's probably really sorry for what he said to you. Maybe you should go after him and give him a chance to apologize."

  "Oh" was Roz's only response, but she whirled around and raced after Lyle.

  "Do you think that was wise?" Caroline asked. "They might wind up killing each other."

  "Yeah," Wolfe said. "Either that or kiss and make up."

  Caroline's eyes widened in surprise, then a slow, soft smile spread across her face.

  Roz caught up with Lyle in the hallway that bisected stu­dios one and two. "Lyle, please, wait a minute."

  Ignoring her, he kept walking. She reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. He jerked free, then spun around to face her.

  "Go away and leave me alone," Lyle said. "Can't you see that you bring out the absolute worst in me? Every time I'm around you, I want to. . .to. . ."

  "To what?" she asked. "Strangle me? Tar and feather me? Have me run out of town on a rail?"

  "No, dammit!" Lyle glared straight at her. "I keep telling myself that you're bad, a bad woman, with the morals of an alley cat, and that I'm an idiot for thinking you would change, that all you need is a man who truly loves you." He took a tentative step toward her.

  She stared at him, her eyes round, her mouth agape, totally stunned by what he'd said. "You're right, you know. For a man who truly loved me the way I loved him, I could be good. Oh, so good. And faithful to my dying day."

  "Roz, I'm sorry," Lyle said. "I had no right to say such awful things to you. It was just my way of protecting my­self."

  "Protecting yourself from what?''

  "From you," he admitted, his voice a mere whisper.

  Before she had a chance to do more than suck in her breath, Lyle grabbed her by the back of the neck, hauled her up against him and kissed her passionately. Roz's knees buckled. Her head started spinning. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She melted against him and returned the kiss, slipped her tongue inside his mouth and placed her hands on his chest. The kiss went on and on until they finally had to come up for air.

  Lyle released her. "Stay away from me, Roz. Please, stay away from me."

  He turned and ran down the hall, leaving Roz breathless, aroused and deliriously happy. A silly, wicked little smile curved the corners of her lips. The rev had the hots for her. Hot damn!

  Chapter 16

  As she sat beside Wolfe in the leased Mercedes, Caroline felt giddy with excitement. And if she were totally honest with herself she would have to admit that there was a certain amount of apprehension and nervousness intermingled with the anticipation bubbling inside her. They were on their way to a cabin co-owned by Oliver Harper, located in Garrett County, outside of McHenry. Since the 1920s and the for­mation of Deep Creek Lake, the isolated county had been gradually turning into the year-round resort area it was today. When she and David had gotten the key and directions from Oliver, who had driven to Fletch's home in Baltimore to save them from making the trip to Alexandria, he had invited them to stay a few nights at the cabin on the lake. And he'd even suggested that they take advantage of the great fishing.

  "It would do Caroline a world of good," Oliver had said. "The fishing is at its best this time of year. You can pick up a couple of fishing licenses at any tackle shop. And even if you don't find what Preston's key unlocks hidden away up at the cabin, you wouldn't have completely wasted your time."

  She and Wolfe had left straight from Fletch's home this morning and taken 1-70 out of Baltimore, then hit I-68 to Keyser's Ridge and were now heading south on Route 219. Located in the heart of the Allegheny Mountains, Garrett County was a paradise for adventurous sportsmen. Hiking, biking, rafting, skiing, backpacking and camping vied with boating and fishing to lure outdoorsmen from across the country.

  Caroline glanced down at the map and written directions that lay in her lap. They should be at the cabin within the next few minutes. Just two more turns and they should be on the road that would take them directly to the cabin. She had used the past three hours on the hundred-and-ninety-mile drive from Baltimore to try to calm down, to prepare herself for the possibility that this trip might very well turn out to be a burnt-run, a totally wasted trip. After all, what were the odds that Preston had hidden away some sort of trunk or box or case at a cabin that had belonged to friends and was used by a variety of people? But Oliver had recalled that Preston made a weekend trip to the cabin less than a month before his death, making it possible that he had stored something there.

  "You're awfully quiet," Wolfe said. "Just thinking," she replied.

  When he stole a quick glance at her, Caroline's stomach did silly flip-flops. Would she ever get used to the way he made her feel? All hot and bothered. Arousing her sexually with something as innocent as a glance, a touch or a smile. Then she remembered that she wouldn't have the chance to become accustomed to this all-consuming passion. Wolfe wasn't going to be a part of her life for very long. She couldn't bear the thought of their affair ending so quickly, when it had just begun. But he had made it perfectly clear that he was a temporary man, unwilling to make a commit­ment. Wasn't his way for the best? she asked herself. Al­though her body yearned for his and she was more than half­way in love with him, she really didn't know David Wolfe. He was little more than a stranger to her. Common sense told her that there were hidden depths to him, things she might never know.

  "This turnoff?" he asked.

  "Huh?" She checked the map quickly. "Yes, this is the one."

  "Try not to be disappointed if we don't find anything," he said. "You know the odds aren't in our favor."

  "That's just what I was thinking. And I want to thank you for understanding why I had to make this trip, to try this one more possibility. If we don't find anything then—"

  "Then we'll spend the night and head back to St. Michaels tomorrow."

  "You believe we're wasting our time, don't you?"

  "Hmm-mmm. Probably. But I promised you another week to search, didn't I?"

  She reached over and laid her hand on his shoulder. He tensed, then relaxed, never taking his eyes off the road. "I can sense that you're concerned. You are ant
icipating some sort of trouble, aren't you?"

  "Always," he said. "Trouble comes with the territory. And it's my job to stay one step ahead of the game."

  "In what way specifically?"

  "Several ways," he told her. "This Mercedes is equipped with bulletproof glass for one thing."

  Why wasn't she surprised? "Then you didn't lease it from just an ordinary car rental place, did you?"

  "No."

  "What else?"

  "Someone has already been to the cabin and checked it out for me." "What?"

  "A necessary precaution."

  "How did they get in without a key?" she asked. "And how did they know where the cabin was located?"

  "Let's just say I have friends and the Dundee agency has friends with all sorts of talents."

  "You realize that it frightens me when you talk this way," she told him. "It reminds me of what you do for a living, of the government agency you worked for in the past and how violent your life has probably always been."

  "Don't think about it," he said. "Who I am or who I was won't affect your life in the future."

  Did he really believe what he'd said? she wondered. Did he truly think that once they went their separate ways, she would be able to forget him, stop wanting him, no longer love him? And would she be that easy for him to erase from his life, as if she had been nothing more than just another brief affair. He might think so, but he was kidding himself. There was no doubt in her mind that she would leave an indelible mark on his heart, as he would on hers. Perhaps they were unsuited for each other and fate had simply brought them together by accident, but one irrefutable fact remained—they were soul mates. Mismatched soul mates. A contradiction in terms, but nevertheless true. On some basic, instinctive level, she had recognized him the moment they met and he had recognized her, too.

  "Check the map," he said. "I think the next turnoff should be coming up soon."

  She glanced at the map. "The second road on the left. Probably a quarter of a mile."

  That one-quarter of a mile zipped by hurriedly. Wolfe pulled the Mercedes up alongside a two-story log-and-rock structure with a big front porch. Through a thin crop of pines, they had a perfect view of the lake. When Wolfe killed the engine, he threw his arm out to prevent Caroline from re­leasing her seat belt.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing. Just stay here in the car for a couple of minutes, until I make a phone call." He removed his cellular phone from the inside pocket of his sport coat, flipped it open and hit a preprogramed number. "We're here," he said, then lis­tened intently. "Good. Thanks."

  "All clear?" She placed her hand over his and pressed it to her stomach. A shiver of longing raced up her spine.

  He undid her seat belt, then curled his hand over her hip. "All clear for the moment, but that doesn't mean you can have free rein around this place. You'll stay with me at all times. No strolling on the porch. No gazing out the win­dows."

  "Just like at home."

  He grinned. "Yeah, sweetheart, just like at home."

  "They took the bait. Hook, line and sinker," he said. "Of course, I'm sure Wolfe is being very cautious."

  "He'll be one against three," the man said. "Even a hot­shot like David Wolfe can't overcome three-to-one odds."

  "Only a fool would underestimate him. Mark my word, there's more to him than meets the eye. He's not just an ordinary bodyguard."

  "You know he's former CIA, so that makes him very dan­gerous."

  "There's something else," he said. "We'll just have to dig deeper until we find out what."

  "If this plan comes off without a hitch, it won't matter, will it?"

  He shook his head. "Make sure there are no foul-ups this time."

  "There won't be. Just tell me when you want our men to move in," the man said.

  "Early in the morning. Say around three-thirty. Even if Wolfe is awake, he should be less alert at that time. He is only human."

  "Your plan is a good one. It'll be a lot easier for our men to make a clean getaway from that isolated cabin than it would if we made the hit at Caroline's home or studio. We can go in, strike and get out quickly, with practically no chance of any witnesses. And this way you were able to maneuver things so that you won't be suspected of any wrongdoing."

  "When Caroline and Mr. Wolfe are killed, I shall be shocked and appalled and even blame myself a little that I couldn't have done something to have prevented then-deaths."

  "There isn't anything at the cabin they might find while they're searching the place, is there?" the man asked.

  He chuckled. "Don't be stupid. Our people went over the cabin with a fine-tooth comb the day after Preston was killed. The only thing Caroline and Wolfe will find up there are fishing tackle, old clothes and some books and magazines."

  "When do you want me to contact you again?"

  "Not for a few days," he said. "I'm sure I'll get a call as soon as the county sheriff discovers the identity of the two victims."

  "Nothing," Caroline said as she tossed the stack of old magazines back into the closet. "We've gone through every closet, every dresser and chest, every cabinet and cupboard. There isn't anything in this entire cabin that opens with a key, other than the front and back doors."

  David pushed up his glasses, which had made their way down his nose about an inch, then fastened his hand atop Caroline's shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't find anything.''

  She sighed, then inclined her head to the side, bringing her cheek down on his hand. "But it's what you expected, isn't it? You didn't think we'd find anything."

  Yeah, sure, it was what he'd expected. His instincts had warned him from the minute Fletcher Shaw telephoned him and told him about the old hunting lodge over in Garrett County that the whole thing was a setup. Not that he sus­pected Fletcher, no more so than anyone else. It would have been easy enough for someone to have used Caroline's step­brother to put a devious plan into action. All it would have taken was a phone call to Fletcher's mother, Pamela. But trying to retrace things by that route might prove impossible since the first Mrs. Shaw's circle of friends included most of the suspects on Wolfe's list and a few that hadn't been there before, but were now. Fletcher, of course. All three Harp­ers—Oliver, Eileen and Brooke. Gavin Robbins, whom Fletch's mother actually dated a few years back, despite the difference in their ages. Barry Vanderpool, whose mother had been the bridesmaid at Pamela's wedding to Preston. And Ellison Penn, who had been her lover for a few months, shortly after her divorce from Preston nearly twenty years ago. The only two people who weren't connected to Pamela Shaw Larson were Lyle and Roz, and he'd pretty much elim­inated those two from his suspects list.

  Wolfe had never intended for Caroline to find out anything about this place, had in fact planned to send a couple of Dundee agents—hopefully Jack and Matt would have still been free—to check the place out and report back to him. But Brooke Harper had opened her big mouth and mentioned it to Caroline, who had immediately gotten excited. Brooke's slip of the tongue might have been no more than that, but then again, she could have had an ulterior motive for passing along the information.

  "You're awfully somber,'' Caroline said as she lifted her head from his hand, turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Something you want to tell me?"

  He forced a smile. "Nothing for you to worry about right now."

  Maybe he should tell her now instead of later, but if he did, she would only worry until it happened and possibly work herself up into being a nervous wreck. If it came from out of the blue, she would more than likely act out of survival instinct instead of fear, at least at first. If he explained that someone—someone she trusted—had sent them up here to be killed, she wouldn't want to believe him. But she would. And then she'd fret over who and drive herself crazy about when. No, he would wait as long as possible before telling her just what he thought was going to come down here at this cabin. Either tonight or in the morning. He would lay odds that it would be tonight. These people had been
playing the waiting game for a while now. They had to be anxious to get Caroline out of the way, and him along with her.

  He could have told her everything before they left Balti­more and allowed her to decide whether or not she wanted to put herself in the line of fire. Reason told him that she was in no more danger here at the cabin than she would have been at home, so he had made the decision for her. Sooner or later, her stepfather's former comrades would have to come after her again. He suspected that if and when she turned the key over to him, they would still want her elimi­nated, thinking that without her to urge him on, he would eventually give up the search. He hated admitting that she wouldn't be safe—not ever again—until these people were identified, arrested and stopped once and for all.

  "I think we should make use of the hot tub before we go to bed," Caroline said, lifting her arms to twine around his neck. "A good long soak would relax us and make us sleep like babies."

  He didn't dare sleep like a baby. A few catnaps, maybe. Just enough rest to be able to function at top capacity when the time came. David planted his hands on her buttocks and lifted her up and into his arousal. "I know a better way to relax."

  A throaty giggle bubbled from her throat. "Why not both? Sex in a hot tub is deliciously sensuous."

  He rubbed himself against her. "And just how would you know? You've never had sex in a hot tub."

  She kissed him playfully. "I want to find out if what I've heard is true."

  "Can't do it. Not here. Not now."

  "Why not? We're here. The hot tub is inside the house, all safe and cosy. And you've already got a. . .er . . .you're. . ."

  "I've got a hard-on," he said. "Don't you know that I walk around with one just about all the time when you are around? All I have to do is look at you and I want you."

  "The feeling is mutual."

  He gripped the back of her head, his fingers forking through her hair. She stared at him, her eyes wide. Their gazes locked and held.