He took another step toward her, bringing them so close she could feel the delicious heat from his body. But her attraction to him was dwarfed by the formidable anger evident in every line in his body. He was as tense as a wound-up spring, ready to snap. And she was, unfortunately, the object of that anger.
If he were anyone else, she’d sweep his legs out from under him and go for her knife hidden in one of the many secret pockets in her skirt. But she realized two things at once. First, he didn’t seem like the kind of man to fall for the same trick twice. And second, if she didn’t hightail it out of here, right now, she might be in real trouble.
As if sensing she was about to flee, he grabbed for her. She ducked beneath his arms, taking advantage of their difference in height. She ran as if a whole nest of hungry gators was after her.
He shouted some impressively colorful phrases and took off in pursuit, his boots pounding against the hard ground, his long strides rapidly eating up the distance between them. But she figured she had the advantage. He might be spitting mad, but she firmly believed her very survival was at stake, which made her feet fairly fly.
There was only one place of refuge with him so close: his car. She skidded around the open driver’s door and jumped inside. She slammed it shut and punched the electric lock just as he reached her and yanked on the handle.
He leaned down, silently promising retribution as he glared at her through the window.
“Open. The. Door.” His deep voice vibrated with anger, pounding through her skin like a hammer against a nail.
She shook her head, her long hair flying around her face. “Not a good idea.”
“Now.”
Did he think making his voice sound as if he wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands would make her more inclined to remove the only barrier between them? That was the problem with a Sagittarius—too unwilling and impatient to slow down and look beneath the surface to all the subtleties of a situation before jumping into action. Then again, sex with a Sagittarius lover, especially with a Libra—like her—could be explosive and make that overbearing nature superhot.
Counting on the fated attraction between their astrological signs to help her out, she aimed her most seductive smile at him.
If anything, his glare got worse. Oh, dear.
“Open the door, Miss Star.”
“Not until you calm down.” She added a contrite smile this time. But since being contrite wasn’t in her nature, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.
He stared at her for a good long while, as if he was considering all the different ways he could torture her before he killed her. Then he shoved his right hand into his jeans pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he dangled something in the air for her to see.
Keys.
Shoot. She hadn’t even thought about starting the car or she’d have realized the keys weren’t in the ignition. She tightened her fingers on the steering wheel, desperately considering her options. Jake Young didn’t know her connection to Calvin or he’d have used her legal name instead of “Star.” Which meant, he probably wasn’t the man Calvin had called her about when he’d taken that disastrous, ill-fated trip down Alligator Alley on his way to Mystic Glades.
But if Jake wasn’t someone from her and Calvin’s past trying to find them, who was he working for? Had Calvin gotten into “new” trouble in Naples? Was that why someone was after him this time? It certainly was preferable to the alternative, and might mean that Jake wasn’t a threat to her. Well, except for the part where he wanted to find Calvin, and she wasn’t about to help him do that. And the part where she’d shot a gun around him several times now, and the stubborn man refused to understand she wasn’t shooting at him.
Sunlight flashed off the keys in Jake’s hand as he shook them out, making them jangle as if he were a prison guard about to take an inmate out for his last walk before his execution. Or hers. His lips curved in a feral smile. He pointed to the small black rectangle on his key chain—an electronic key fob.
Faye’s breath hitched in her chest.
Jake poised his thumb over the unlock button.
She poised her finger over the lock button on the inside of the door.
They faced off like two duelers at dawn, trigger fingers cocked and loaded, each waiting for the other to flinch.
Click. The door unlocked.
Click. Faye locked it again just as he grabbed the door handle.
Click.
Click.
Click, click, click, click.
His eyes narrowed.
She licked her lips, focusing on that damn thumb of his on the key fob.
Click, thump. He managed to unlock the door and lift the handle a split second before she pressed her button again.
Game over.
She scrambled over the middle console, cursing when her left knee slammed against the gearshift, sending a sharp jolt of pain down her leg. She fell on the slippery leather of the passenger seat, fumbling for the opposite door handle. She pulled it and shoved the door open.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he growled.
She felt, rather than saw, him lean inside to grab her from the driver’s side. She pulled herself toward the opening and dived like a world champion. There was a tug against her waist, a ripping sound, and then she was free! She rolled out of the way a split second before he landed on the ground where she’d just been.
She was already splashing through the marsh, sprinting for the cover of trees, when she heard his bellow of rage behind her. It wasn’t until she’d entered the much cooler air beneath the pines and knotty cypress, and felt the rush of air against her thighs, that she realized what her narrow escape had cost.
Her skirt.
* * *
JAKE STARED AT the surprisingly heavy handful of soft purple fabric in his hand. He supposed he should feel guilty. But once he’d recovered from his anger that Faye was getting away, he’d been too busy enjoying the view of her toned, gorgeous backside adorned in a lacy purple thong to do more than sag against his car and enjoy the show.
He shook his head in disgust. How had everything gotten so out of hand? He retrieved the rifle the half-naked pixie had pointed at him earlier, unloaded it and pitched the shells in the back floorboard of his car. Then he carried both the gun and the fluff of material to the tree line where she’d disappeared.
Taking devilish delight in knowing she’d have to spend hours cleaning it to make the gun usable again, he shoved the barrel of the rifle into the muck beside the road. With the butt of the gun standing up in the air, he was about to drape the skirt over the top when something heavy banged against the rifle. He felt along the fabric and found a hidden pocket, a deep pocket that contained the wicked-looking knife she’d threatened him with last night.
The evil-looking blade winked in the sunlight as if it were laughing at him. He carefully ran the rest of the fabric through his hands. But although he found more hidden pockets, they were empty. He draped the ruined skirt over the end of the rifle and added the knife to the rifle rounds in his floorboard.
He got back in his car and headed toward Mystic Glades again. He was just passing the alligator-shaped sign when he spotted something purple off to his left beside a tree. He braked and got out, drawing his pistol in case Faye had somehow managed to get past him to the other side of the road and had another gun hidden...somewhere.
When he reached the tree he discovered it wasn’t Faye hiding there. It was a purple backpack that so perfectly matched the color of her outfit it had to be hers. He crouched down and rummaged inside, cataloging the contents: bottles of water, power bars, a towel, a first aid kit. Not the kind of supplies someone generally carried for a “walk.” It was exactly the kind of supplies she might have if she were trying to find someone who’d gotten lost in the wilderness after a car wreck.
&n
bsp; * * *
FAYE HAD RUN a good long way before she’d reached firm, dry ground. After finding a relatively clean-looking log, she perched on it to wait. She didn’t know how long she sat there. But from watching the way the shadows moved, she figured it was at least an hour, long enough that Jake would have given up by now and gone back to Naples.
To be certain that he was gone, she’d have preferred to wait longer. But time was a luxury she didn’t have. She couldn’t afford to waste any daylight. Searching at night had proved far too dangerous, in more ways than one. So she wasn’t going to do that again. But how could she search for Calvin if Jake Young was hanging around?
The battery on Calvin’s phone had died yesterday while he was talking to her and he was hopelessly lost. He couldn’t even give her any landmarks to help her find him. After surviving that horrendous crash, he’d foolishly headed into the woods instead of to the highway. His excuse was that he was afraid he was being followed, and he didn’t want to risk being seen. But Faye wished he’d at least have waited until she got there. She could have found him that first night and she wouldn’t have backtracked last night to restart her search and run into Jake Young.
Her only comfort was that Calvin had packed supplies as she’d instructed—something she always encouraged anyone to do before venturing into the Everglades—and he had the basics he needed to survive. Well, assuming he didn’t step on an alligator, of course. Or get bitten by a snake. Hopefully he’d heard enough of her own ventures in the ’Glades to know what to look out for. But no amount of book smarts could trump experience.
The sun was high in the sky now, about midday. She couldn’t wait any longer, especially since she didn’t have any weapons to protect herself out here. She was breaking all her own rules by being in the marsh without survival gear.
After a careful look around for predators, she jogged back toward the road. When she finally reached the archway over the entrance to Mystic Glades, she was relieved that the black Charger was gone. But discovering her ruined skirt fluttering in the breeze on top of her upside-down rifle, its nose shoved deep in the bog, had her cursing long and hard. If Jake were here right now she’d lob her knife, end over end, to bury itself in the dirt at his feet just for the pleasure of making him jump.
Wait, her knife. It had been in the skirt. She grabbed the fabric and groaned. It was far too light, which meant Jake had found—and taken—her knife. That was one more sin she could add to her growing list of grievances against the man, Sagittarius or not.
She tied the ragged edges of her skirt around her waist. It was a disaster, but at least it covered her bottom. It took three tugs of the rifle before the mud released it with a big sucking sound, making Faye stumble backward and reigniting her anger.
A car rumbled up the road. Was Jake returning already? She rushed behind the nearest tree. The car came around the last curve and she relaxed. Not Jake. It was Freddie, probably with cases of moonshine in her trunk to stock up before Callahan’s Watering Hole opened for business later tonight. Four more cars passed to and from Mystic Glades. Practically a rush hour for the amount of traffic that normally went up and down this road.
Most of the locals relied on swamp buggies for transportation and headed through the saw grass marsh behind town to barter and trade goods with others who lived the nomadic lifestyle. But it was occasionally necessary to make the long drive down Alligator Alley to bring back more substantial supplies, to exchange mail or even to go to a traditional job. Some of the town’s inhabitants worked on the Gulf Coast in Naples. Others worked for the DOT, keeping the wildlife fencing and roads in good repair. Still others worked at the rest stops along I-75.
Faye did none of those things. She lived above the little shop she ran, The Moon and Star. Thankfully, with the orders she received from her catalog, she made enough money to pay Amy to help her part-time. Amy was at the shop right now. Faye didn’t want to open herself up to questions about her state of undress. But she didn’t have a choice.
She hadn’t had a reason to bring her keys with her this morning, which meant she couldn’t go in through the back door. She’d just have to keep to the trees so no one would see her until she reached the store. Then she could duck inside, make up some kind of story to placate Amy, and go upstairs to shower and change. After that, she could start another search. But first she needed to retrieve the backpack she’d hidden before Jake Young drove up.
After making sure no more cars were coming in or out of town, she raced to the other side of the road. She reached for her backpack. It wasn’t there. She frowned. This was where she’d tossed it, wasn’t it? She turned in a slow circle but didn’t see the flash of purple anywhere. Instead, she saw muddy boot prints. She hadn’t misplaced her backpack.
Jake Young took it.
Cold dread snaked up her spine. Did he understand the significance of what she’d had in that pack? He might be a greenhorn but he didn’t strike her as dumb. After finding her at the crash site last night, and seeing the supplies she had in her pack, he had to have connected the dots. He had to know she’d lied and that she was trying to find Calvin.
She pressed a shaky hand to her stomach. Okay, no reason to panic. Not yet. Think this through. All she knew for sure was that a private investigator was trying to find Calvin. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about finding her. If someone from Tuscaloosa had hired him, they’d have wanted both her and Calvin, wouldn’t they? But Jake hadn’t tried to grab her...or kill her. Which meant he didn’t know about her connection with Calvin, and he wasn’t sent by any of Genovese’s associates.
So far, so good. That had to mean that whoever had hired Jake was from Naples. The worst that could mean, unless Calvin had done something really bad he hadn’t admitted to since moving to this area, was that he’d skipped out on some debts. Maybe a finance company had hired Jake to deliver a summons to take him to court.
Okay, that would be bad, too. That would put Calvin in the public eye again, which would make it easy for their enemies to find him, and her. Shoot. No matter how she looked at this it was bad. There was only one thing left to do.
She looked at the archway over the entrance to Mystic Glades, sorrow heavy in her heart. This was her home, the only place that had ever felt like home. But from the moment she’d met Jake Young, this was no longer her sanctuary. It was no longer safe to stay, either for her or the people she loved. It was time to leave. Time to find a new place to hide.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jake balanced his ladder-back chair against the wall behind him in the office of The Moon and Star, listening to his slightly inebriated new friend, Freddie, regale him with stories about a certain little golden-haired pixie. Since his latest run-in with Faye, when she’d nearly shot him—again—Jake didn’t feel even a little guilty about the lies he’d told her friends. Both Freddie and Amy, the young girl taking care of customers out in the main part of the store, now believed Jake and Faye had dated in the past and that he was here to surprise her.
She’d be surprised all right, especially since his car was hidden behind the shop so she wouldn’t know he was here until it was too late for her to avoid him.
Freddie—which Jake assumed was short for Fredericka—licked a drop of whiskey off her shockingly red lips and held the bottle up to top off Jake’s already half-full shot glass.
He hurried to cover the glass with his hand. It was still too early for him to indulge in more than the few sips he’d taken to keep Freddie talking. And he needed to keep his wits about him for the inevitable confrontation coming up with Faye.
“Thanks, but I’ve had plenty.”
Freddie shook her gray-streaked, faded orange hair in bewilderment and topped off her glass with more of the amber liquid. “No such thing as plenty when it comes to quality refreshment.” She tossed the whiskey back in one swallow, her throat working and her eyes closing as s
he obviously enjoyed the burn. “Ain’t nothing like Hennessey, my friend,” she said when she opened her eyes. “I was saving that bottle for a special occasion. And this is definitely a special occasion, meetin’ Faye’s beau.”
That formerly nonexistent guilt started niggling at Jake’s conscience. He didn’t want to go overboard with his fabrications and disappoint Freddie once she found out the truth. Apparently, in the thirteen months that Faye had rented this store and upstairs apartment from Freddie, she’d never once dated. Which seemed to make Freddie all the more eager to bring the two of them “back together.”
“Now, Freddie,” Jake said, “I didn’t exactly say I was her beau. I just said we used to be special friends back in high school.”
For perhaps the dozenth time since she’d started tossing back shots, Freddie giggled. Jake didn’t think he could ever get used to hearing that particular sound coming from a husky, bear of a woman who looked as if she could arm-wrestle just about any man and win—including Jake.
“I know what ‘special friends’ means,” Freddie said, punctuating her statement with air quotes. “I had a few special friends back in my day. Why, when I wasn’t much younger than you must be now, I had a very special friend, Johnny Green.” She shook her head and finger-combed a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Her faded blue eyes took on a faraway look as she began to describe, in lurid detail, exactly what she and Johnny used to do that was so special.
After a decade as a cop and being in all kinds of crazy situations, there wasn’t much that could embarrass Jake. But he could feel his cheeks growing warm, listening to the graphic descriptions Freddie was using to describe things Jake really didn’t want to hear about. Especially from a woman old enough to be his grandmother. He was about to beg her to stop when the bell over the front door rang.
Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 1 of 2 Page 22
