Rick jerked away and shot an elbow hard into Mustache’s belly. Freed, Rick spun and snaked out a sideways kick that knocked his opponent flat.
Lumpy aimed the pistol.
Juliana brought the binoculars down on his head with so much force she nearly fell over. The plastic cracked like a champagne magnum on a ship’s bow.
Lumpy dropped like a lightning-struck tree. He didn’t move.
She stood dazed. Her breath came in great gulps. The busted binoculars slipped from her shaking hands to the ground.
Rick glared at her, eyes blazing black fire. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you—” He dragged in a breath and shook his head. Pistol in hand, he hoisted Mustache up and then marched him over to lie with his cohorts. He grabbed the other guns and checked them before tucking them in his waistband.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and gaped at him. Blood and dirt daubed his left cheek. A gouge disfigured his jaw and blood smeared his lower lip. His sleeve was torn. “You’re hurt.”
“Just a few scrapes.”
She clenched her jaw and banished the dizziness, willing her pulse to calm. They weren’t out of this yet. “Those two accosted me in Portland.”
Lumpy moaned and clutched his head. The other man opened his eyes. The wound was on his shoulder, but the blood had flowed downhill toward his head.
“They have a lot more than that to answer for.” His brows furrowed. “And I have nothing to tie their hands with.”
She was usually prepared for any emergency, but her experience had until recently consisted of computer glitches or car trouble or Jordan’s rent. Having three thugs bleeding at her feet didn’t fall into neat columns on a spreadsheet. Maybe she had something.
She retrieved her backpack from behind the bushes and dove into it. “Here, you can bind their hands with this.” She held out a roll of duct tape.
“Pink tape?” He hooted. “I’ll never again tease you about that pack.”
She helped him tear off lengths of the tape and wrap them around their captives’ wrists and ankles. With their attackers safely trussed, he slid his pistol into the holster.
“None of them is Olívas?” Juliana handed him his jacket.
He shook his head. “But it’s a good catch. I came up behind them with my weapon drawn but one of them fired.” He pointed to the first wounded man. “When this one went down, Gomez dropped his gun. Then I slipped on ice and he jumped me. That’s when you came to my rescue.”
He wrapped her in his arms. “Mi brava. My heroine. I should yell at you for not staying put. You could have been hurt.”
“I heard the fight. You could have been killed.” She clutched him. Oh God, he meant more to her than a means to an end. How much more she wasn’t ready to examine.
Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, her lips gentle on his injured lip. For an eternity of seconds, the cold, dangerous world disappeared. He smelled of the forest floor and sunshine and sweat, and the taste of his blood reminded her again of his human vulnerability. A hot stab of desire sliced through her, and she knew she was in trouble.
“The tape and the binocs were ingenious,” he said, “but now we have to march these guys down the mountain. I need back-up to bring them in. Since I left the cell phone in the Silverado, you get your chance to race ahead.”
“To call the police.” She extricated herself from his embrace.
Rick handed her the keys to the truck. He arched a brow at their rapt audience. “Hurry. I don’t want these sons of bitches getting too comfortable lying around on this soft mountain.”
The question that had been bouncing around in her brain since he’d first detected the intruders’ presence wouldn’t contain itself any longer. “Rick, how did they find us? Did they know about the cottage?”
“Querida, either one could be the million-dollar question.”
In short order, Juliana sprinted down the mountain. She had difficulty convincing the Bar Harbor Police that her tale wasn’t a prank, but finally the sergeant, a friend of her uncle’s, came on the line. After forty-five minutes, three police cruisers converged on the parking area.
Once in custody at the police station, the three Mexicans lawyered up, in police jargon, and wouldn’t say a word in any language. Rick arranged for federal marshals to transport the suspects to the Cumberland County Jail.
Juliana gave her story to one of the officers while Rick cleaned up in the restroom. When he returned, cleaner but still bruised, she couldn’t help listening in on his phone conversation with his office.
A dark scowl knitting his brows, he stabbed a hand into the air. “How the hell did they know where to go, Jake?” He listened for a minute, then grunted a response. “I have another lead, but I’ll tell you when I get back.” He replaced the receiver.
“What is it, Rick? Did the other agent tell you how they followed us?”
He tunneled fingers through his hair. His burnished skin stretched taut across his high cheekbones in a fierce, hawkish expression. “Only a suspicion.”
*****
Soon they left the police station and Rick drove south. He noted Juliana’s silent stare ahead into the darkness. The road stretched ahead nearly deserted and quiet, but at every turn of their search, more danger loomed for her. They were no closer to finding her brother.
If those bastards had grabbed her, her courage wouldn’t have made an ice cube’s difference in hell to those three. He gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt.
Once someone spilled their route to Olívas, he must have sent his men on their trail. They knew some but not all of their stops. Winter on Mount Desert Island traffic was sparse, and Rick would have spotted them. The scumbags couldn’t have known about the remote cottage, so they probably checked out all the parking spots along Route 3 and got lucky.
Olívas must be getting desperate to find Jordan. What did the kid have or what did he know that was so important?
She protected her brother with all the ferocity of a mama bear. Like Rudi had defended him against bullies bent on taking his baseball mitt. She was still sticking up for her little brother against the bullies. And that included the DEA as well as the drug gang. He’d have to find out why she distrusted law enforcement so much. But wielding only a pair of binoculars, she’d defended him. She was a hell of a woman.
After a dinner of crab enchiladas and stuffed zucchini at The Mex in Ellsworth, they drove south in silence. Halfway down the interstate, Juliana fell asleep. Maybe she felt more secure with him. He drove on, smiling.
Late that night, as they walked toward her apartment, Juliana said, “I hate that we have nothing in the plus column. You have those three guys in jail, and they will tell us zip.”
Rick mused that she hit the mark. “We’ll see who hired their shyster lawyer. Maybe that will lead somewhere.”
She grinned, green eyes flashing with merriment. “You can’t help seeing that silver lining, can you?”
“Being hopeful is just my nature.” He started to make a smart-ass comment about striking out with her, but stopped himself. “About most things.”
When Juliana stabbed her key into the door lock, Rick saw puzzlement on her brow and tension in her shoulders. “What?”
“I know I left the deadbolt on. It’s unlocked now.” Her hand wavered above the knob.
Chapter 9
Juliana wrapped her arms around her waist. She looked to Rick.
“Shit.” He moved her to one side of the door and then flicked loose the strap holding his SIG in the holster. “Maybe Venice left it off when she fed the cat.”
She whispered, “We talked about the deadbolt. Because of the break-in, you know. I even gave her a to-do list.”
“Of course you did. But it could be Olívas in there.” He turned the handle and flung the door wide, against the inside wall. His pistol in a two-handed grip, he stalked in low and swept the room.
Juliana remained frozen, glued against the wall. Adrenaline roared in her ea
rs.
Smiling, Rick stowed his gun and stepped inside. “You can come in. It’s all right.”
She slipped to his side, mincing ahead until she saw who stepped from the bedroom.
Venice Aaron wielded a sling-back high heel high over her head. In her other arm she carried the cat. Speedy opened one amber eye and yawned. She gaped in astonishment. “Detective, sugar, you sure do know how to make an entrance.”
She deposited the cat on the floor and picked up the other shoe, letting both dangle from one hand. She smoothed her short flowered skirt.
“Looking mighty fine, Ms. Aaron.” He grinned.
Juliana sagged against him. She dragged in a needed breath. Behind her, the door closed with a soft click. “Venice, I thought . . . we thought . . . it was the deadbolt—”
“Sorry I gave you a scare. I had me a late date. When I came home, I saw this place was dark, so I let myself in to make sure Speedy was all right. You slammin’ in, I thought it was those creeps after you.”
“We scared you too. I’m sorry.” Juliana crossed to her friend and they hugged as Speedy wound back and forth, rubbing against their legs.
Venice held her at arm’s length. “You find any trace of Jordan?”
How much could they could tell Venice? Juliana cast Rick a stricken look.
“We’ve had leads, but none has panned out.” He strode to the window and peered out.
“Uh, huh. Leads. That’s what you’ve been chasing.” Venice leaned against a kitchen stool as she stepped into her heels. “I see things are in good—” she paused, batting her lashes at Rick “—hands. I’ll leave you all alone.”
“Don’t go on my account.” Rick reached for the door handle. “I’m leaving. Reports to do before I hit the sack.”
Juliana hurried to see him out. She wanted him to go but she didn’t. In spite of her protests up on the mountain, she wanted him, this Zorro in his charcoal shirt and black jeans. She was as much a fool as her brother.
He turned a shuttered expression to her before his mask fell away. He surveyed her, his gaze full of concern and awareness.
Heat shimmered between them. She forced herself not to step into his arms.
“The agent I called for earlier just pulled up outside. You’ll be covered now. Safe.” He stepped closer and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Her skin tingled where his finger rasped its trail. His minted breath brushed her skin. He gave her a wistful smile.”
When Rick was gone, Venice scooted up onto the kitchen stool. “That man looked like he was gonna spend the night. Hope I didn’t scare him off.”
Juliana choked on her friend’s too-perceptive assumption. Speedy’s amber gaze reflected her confusion. Neither one knew what was going on. She lifted him from the floor and sat on the other stool with him purring in her lap. “You’re imagining things. There’s nothing between us.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Venice scratched the cat’s chin. “His sexy dark eyes never left you. And his heart was in them. You can’t look at emotions like numbers on a balance sheet. Tell me you don’t think for a minute he’s a user like your mother’s con men.”
“I know that, but I’m not sure he does.”
“I’m no rose-colored glasses kind of girl. My mama named her baby girl for a city that’s sinking into the sea. But I know it does no good to sit around fretting like a cat in the rain. If you want that man, grab him.”
“I have no time for romance . . . or a hook-up. Until Jordan’s safe, he’s my priority.”
“Girlfriend, there’s only so much you can do about this fix Jordan’s gotten himself into. Let the cops handle things. If you have a chance for some happiness, go for the gold.”
Juliana doubted there was any future past a few passionate nights. She shook her head, trying to shake some sense into her tired brain.
*****
During the next few days, Rick worked at a desk in the Portland DEA office. He fought the urge to drive to Portsmouth to see Juliana. To wrap himself in her scent, to feel her soft skin, to drown in her eyes. Damn.
Instead, he harassed the guys assigned to protect her, checked on them every other hour, generally provoking them to the brink of violence.
The next Monday, Juliana had her car back. An agent followed her to and from work at Vinson Seafood. If she was keeping something from him, she’d made no moves to indicate that. No moves one way or another. She was safe. That’s all he should care about. She was a woman he should avoid. And he wasn’t the man she needed.
He buried himself in the El Águila files. His percolating investigative instincts kept brewing up Wesley Vinson as the American connection, but so far he didn’t have enough for a search warrant. No evidence. No witnesses.
The draggers, 120-foot-long boats that netted bottom fish like haddock and flounder, seemed in the clear. They chugged into port after nine or ten days at sea, then steamed out to fish again. With crews of six or more, keeping drug smuggling under wraps would be as hard as maintaining a secret in his gossipy family.
Purse seiners, eighty-foot boats with smaller crews. More possibility. Motoring out every day in search of bait fish like herring, a captain could easily meet another boat at sea and add a package or two to the cargo. The Coast Guard couldn’t be everywhere at once. They would pay no special heed. Even if Rick had the schedules and cargo lists and checked them against the DEA’s list of intercepted shipments, he’d still have no evidence.
The jailbirds sullenly refused to open up. More scared of their Mexican boss than of cops or prison.
He had no leads on the possible leak in the Boston office either. The notion of betrayal roiled in his gut. Same tangled emotions Juliana probably felt about Jordan. Hell.
His only hope was in the Sea Worthy’s return to Portland in another week. Finnegan Farnham would have to answer a lot of questions. A fast run in a Coast Guard cutter might get some quick answers, but it would also send up warning signals to the smugglers so they could scurry back under their rocks.
Too much frustration for even a patient man.
On Tuesday, an Oxford County sheriff’s deputy found Sudsy Pettit’s truck abandoned in the woods. Rick spent the rest of the day at the scene and at the state medical examiner’s building in Augusta. On Wednesday, hoping to see Juliana before she left for work, he headed to her apartment.
As he left the interstate at the Portsmouth exit, his cell phone sang out.
It was the Portland-based agent in charge of Juliana’s guard duty. “Something odd going on here,” the agent said. “Ms. Paris just left in her foxy neighbor’s Honda SUV. License plate CANALBT. She’s wearing a long black wig.”
Shock vibrated like a wire along Rick’s arms. He fisted his hand on the steering wheel. He’d been right. Juliana was hiding something. Or someone—her brother. He forced his fingers to unclench as he pushed aside the emotions knocking around inside him.
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll take it from here.”
*****
Juliana fiddled with the defroster and headlights. Too bad Venice’s generosity with her SUV didn’t come with dashboard lessons. There, finally the fog lights came on. Amorphous knots of white hovered over the street and wound around the trash bins like ghostly curtains.
She usually hated New England’s murky weather but today the cottony fog and the fine drizzle that concealed her were perfect. Nothing could suppress the guilt riding her at sneaking away like this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.
Involving Venice and leaving her with the old Sentra weren’t her best decisions but what else could she do? Ransoming the car from Ray’s Recks took nearly every cent she made in the last week. The fact that she and Ray went to high school together didn’t soften his policy on paying the deductible up front.
She turned onto Woodbury Avenue and headed for I-95. The headlights flashed on a parked car facing her. A familiar tall figure emerged from the dark sedan. The collar of his jacket turned up, Ricardo Cruz strode to the middle o
f the street.
Busted, dammit. Her stomach bucked and rolled, but whether from panic or elation at seeing him again, she couldn’t tell. The damn man was just standing there, daring her to drive into him. She stomped on the brakes.
Rick stalked to the driver side window. A fine drizzle glistened on the leather jacket and dripped from his hair. From the expression on his face, she expected to see steam rising. He arched a brow and circled an index finger.
Resigned, she pushed the button to lower the window.
A car honked and sped around them. The driver shot them the bird.
“A little early for Halloween.” Rick tugged on a lock of hair that had escaped the wig’s tight net.
Her face went hot and a frisson hummed through her. She yanked off the wig and tossed it in the back. “I . . . need some time on my own. I’m tired of being followed and escorted everywhere.”
“Ah. Then I won’t follow you. Unlock the passenger door, Juliana.”
Little choice there. If she drove off, he’d just follow her or send another agent after her. She hit the unlock button with more force than necessary. “Be my guest.”
When he jumped inside, her greedy gaze devoured the sight of him—coal-black hair gleaming wet, face rugged and tight with anger. He smelled of rain and leather and she wanted to slide across the console and into his arms. She gritted her teeth.
He settled into the seat. “You know where Jordan is? Did he phone you?”
“You’d know if he had. You people monitor all my calls.”
A pickup came up behind her, so she accelerated.
Rick stretched out his long legs and placed his left hand on her seat back, casual, as if they were going on a date. Only a muscle flexing in his jaw betrayed his tension.
Maybe she’d drive around aimlessly and he’d get tired of his game. Except this was no game. If she could find Jordan, he could answer so many questions. If only she understood his involvement with the drug gang. If he knew what that truck was hauling or at least suspected. If he had an idea why the drug gang was so desperate to find him.
Never Surrender (Task Force Eagle) Page 7
