by Lakes, Lynde
In the blaze of the lamp her hair tumbled about her shoulders, dark and lustrous. Her bold
black eyes slanted beneath delicate arched brows. Exotic women were his downfall. Again, evidence of his arousal throbbed between his legs. What was he thinking? This woman had already suffered a hellish night. She didn’t need lust from him; she needed comfort, protection.
A glance at her trembling hands belied the upward tilt of her chin, her facade of bravery. Tender feelings, the pure, unselfish kind, shook him. Hell. He could control his lust, but not as easily when it was mixed with concern and caring. The last thing he needed was that kind of powerful, emotional mixture.
Rick cleared his throat. “Everyone – especially Dom – must believe you went over the cliff with your car.”
“That theory won’t hold without a body,” she said curtly.
“For a while it might. Conceivably, the cops could think you were ejected into the underbrush or into the sea. They’ll search to be certain. And that buys us time.”
“I’m not going to simply vanish. I can’t do that to my family … or to Geoffrey.”
She shook her head, her tresses catching the lamplight, tempting Rick to run his fingers through that thick hair. He hardened his heart against the soft desperation in her voice. Even if she hadn’t been engaged, he didn’t want the complication of a woman he could care about in his life. She’d been thrust into his path at the wrong time, the wrong place – and far too late.
“I want to leave,”
“We already covered that.” He crouched and shoved the silver suitcase under the bed. His neck grew warm, sensing her gaze on him as his leg-muscles flexed under jeans that felt tighter by the minute. “I told you, until I figure out what to do next, we’re joined at the hip.” He took a deep breath of determination. “You’re safe with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a comfort.”
He stood. “Just relax. Make yourself at home.” He glanced toward the suitcase stored under the bed. “I have other things on my mind – like how to stay alive.” He had to stay alive to keep a much more important person alive, and to that end, the money and documents were necessary.
Mele got up and paced the room. “Look, since you messed up my life, you owe me the truth. Who is this Dom character and what does he want?”
Rick sighed. How much should he tell her? Her directness and underlying vulnerability made him want to share everything. Which was odd as hell, because he was a loner who had always kept things to himself – a trait that had kept him alive all these years.
Maybe if he reached out and drew that slender body softened by curves to him and kissed those glossy, slightly parted lips he could make her forget the questions until he could think up safe answers. He clamped his arms at his sides and headed for the ice chest he’d filled earlier that day. “Say, I’ll bet you’re hungry. I know I am. Let me rustle up something, and then we’ll talk.”
“Quit stalling. Either tell me what Dom wants, or I’m outta here.”
Rick laughed without humor. “You wouldn’t get far.” He had to protect her, even from her own foolhardy behavior. He might as well give in; he was tired and sore from his fight with Dom and didn’t feel like chasing Mele through the dark misty night. She folded her arms and tapped her foot. Before he changed his mind, he blurted, “National secrets.”
“What?” She froze. Her eyes widened, and a pulse throbbed in the hollow of her neck.
Rick nodded, fascinated by the pulsating and the delicate line of her throat. “Dom stole documents from Naval Intelligence to give to an Iraqi group. Then I stole them from him to return to our government.”
Her face brightened, and her stance relaxed. “Then all you have to do is turn them over to the proper official, arrest Dom, and it’s all over. Right?”
“I can’t give them back.”
Surprise or anger flashed in her dark eyes. “Why not?”
Her dilated pupils told Rick he’d hit a raw nerve in a woman too decent and patriotic to understand his dilemma. He’d made a mistake – one that couldn’t be taken back. Now that he’d started, he had to tell her the whole thing. “They’re worth a lot of money to an Iraqi group called the ILAQ Fundraisers, lead by an American-educated guy named Abah.” Rick swallowed. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
She headed for the door. “I won’t stay here with a traitor!” The loathing in her voice slashed through him.
He ran after her, spun her around by the shoulder and grabbed her arms. The scent of jasmine perfume rose to his nostrils. “Listen, will you?” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “I thought I could go through with it, but I can’t.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “What kind of a man are you, even thinking you could?” She twisted in his arms, trying to escape. If she kept it up, she’d hurt herself. He had to tell her.
Rick closed his eyes briefly against the pain. “Abah has my daughter.” Desperation and panic ballooned inside his heart.
Mele’s breath caught. “Oh, God, no.” She quit struggling, apparently recognizing real anguish when she heard it.
Rick felt tension ripple through her, matching his own. He wanted to draw her closer, let her softness soothe him, let his strength calm her tremors. Instead he released Mele’s arms, but, not totally trusting her to stay, he paced in front of the door, effectively blocking it. “When the Iraqi group found out that Dom no longer had the documents, that in fact I had them, one of Abah’s men grabbed Bethy from my ex-wife’s home in San Francisco. Abah is holding her on a fishing vessel somewhere off the coast of Oahu.” Rick closed his eyes. Oh, God, I need to see my little girl, know that she’s all right.
****
Mele watched Rick’s shoulders slump, and one of her shields against him dropped away. She wanted to go to him, hug him, but remained rooted in place, her thoughts reeling. “Why not go to the FBI for help?”
“I’ve made mistakes,” Rick said with a strain in his voice and a flash of susceptibility in his eyes. “And it’s gotten…complicated. I have the documents and the up-front money the Iraqi group paid to Dom.” Rick rubbed his temples. “Now I have Dom, the FBI, and the ILAQ all after me.”
Her heart sank. This was big-time trouble. “You forgot Akua Lapu.”
“Don’t start that again. I have enough to worry about.”
“How old is Bethy?”
“Twelve, but she looks fifteen. Or older.” His voice hardened, and the muscle in his jaw twitched.
A pang of horror shot through Mele. With effort, she pushed away thoughts of the things that ruthless men could do to an innocent young girl. “So what’s your plan?”
Something unreadable glinted in Rick’s eyes. Then he shook his head, his black hair brushing the top of his collar. “If I exchange the documents for my daughter, I’ll be a traitor to my country. And even that won’t guarantee her safety. It’ll cut Dom out of the loop, and he’ll lose both the up-front money from the ILAQ and two million bucks upon delivery. For spite, he’ll go after Bethy. No place will be safe.”
Unable to stop herself, Mele reached out and laid a hand on Rick’s rigid forearm. She knew he couldn’t put his daughter in such grave danger – nor his country. Yet he had to make the impossible choice. Her heart pounded a little harder as she felt her soul link with his, bonding in a stronger connection than she’d ever experienced with anyone before.
The fateful meeting with Rick had plunged her headlong into a world of uncertainty, danger and confusion, but the love and desperation in his voice when he spoke of his daughter weren’t something she could turn her back on, even at the risk to her own heart.
“You need to know something,” Rick said. “I’ve served my country faithfully as an FBI agent for almost seventeen years. Nothing would ever make me steal national secrets, or in any way betray or jeopardize my government. But when those bastards kidnapped Bethy and I heard her crying at the other end of the telephone, ‘Daddy, please help me’—” Rick’s voice broke.
He swallowed hard then continued. “In that moment, my little girl was more important to me than my country or my oath of loyalty. More important than anything in the world.”
Deeply engrossed in his words, she allowed her hand to slip from his arm.
Rick’s suddenly darkened gaze shot to her face. Had he needed the warmth and comfort of her touch? She replaced her hand, stroking softly to convey the sympathy and understanding she felt so deeply. “How much time do we have?” she asked softly.
“We? You’re not shocked or disgusted?”
“When a child is involved, who knows what any of us would do? So, how much time do we have, partner?”
“Two days. If I fail…Bethy will be shark bait.”
Mele realized her troubles were small compared to his. She paced a few steps to release her tension. “Okay. Let’s figure this out. Tell me about Dom.”
****
Rick shook his head. He would have laughed at Mele’s problem-solving, charge-ahead lawyer’s approach if the danger weren’t to his own daughter. He remembered the first time he’d seen Bethy, pink and a little wrinkled. His first thought had been could this tiny creature really be his offspring? Then she’d grabbed his finger in her tiny little fist and laid permanent claim to his heart.
He pushed away the bittersweet memory. Mele couldn’t help get Bethy back, but talking things through might trigger an idea of his own. “Dominic Gabronski is of Russian extraction and for sale to the highest bidder. Dom has no loyalties, no conscience.”
Mele frowned, her eyes darkened. “Why would a man interested only in money kill a child?”
Rick knew she was thinking of the little boy who’d worn the Mickey Mouse watch. “Diplomat’s son. The guy didn’t cooperate, and his kid paid the price.” Rick’s throat constricted. He couldn’t let Bethy pay for his involvement in this mess.
Forcing dark images from his mind, he concentrated on Mele. Her question proved he didn’t have her full trust. He couldn’t blame her. But he needed – and desperately wanted – it for reasons he hadn’t yet sorted out. “What makes Dom so dangerous is his cunning and skill. He’s a master mountain climber, race car driver, explosives expert – you name it.”
“Master mountain climber?” Mele paled and shivered. “That means when he comes to and finds his car gone and no other bodies, he could—” She closed her eyes for a moment. “My address book and journal are in my car. They have practically my whole life in them.” She paced the small dwelling, rubbing her arms – something he noted that she did a lot. “All my friends’ numbers are programmed into my cell phone. Are they in danger?”
Rick hated to give her more to worry about, but she had a right to know what they were up against. “Anyone who comes in contact with Dom is in danger. But it’ll be worse if you call people. They won’t be able to hide the fact that they’ve heard from you. He’ll think they know more than they do and torture them for additional information. It’ll be far better if you don’t talk to anyone; then they won’t be caught lying. If he’s sure they’re telling the truth – and believe me, he’ll know – he won’t bother with them.”
“What if you’re wrong?” she asked in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t just do nothing. I have to warn everyone about him.” Eyes wide, she held out her hand. “Give me your cell phone.”
He felt like shaking her. “You’re not listening. Calling people at 2:00 A.M. won’t protect them. It’ll only alarm them. And they might call the cops. I can’t save Bethy if I’m behind bars.” He took Mele by the arm and guided her to the table. Firmly, he sat her in the chair. “While we eat something, we’ll plan a course of action with less risk.”
She tilted her head and, after a moment, sighed and said, “You’re right. How long do you think he’ll be unconscious?”
“Hard to say. If by chance another car should come along and he flags it down, God
save the poor soul who only stopped to help, because he’ll kill the Good Samaritan and take his car.”
“And then he’d have wheels…able to go anywhere. Does he know about this place? Are we safe here?”
He touched her shoulders to comfort her. “Yes, Mele, we’re safe here. That’s why I brought you here. Dom knows nothing about this place, or my friend who owns it. Now let’s get something to eat, and maybe we’ll be able to think more clearly.”
Rick went to the cupboard and grabbed a jar of instant coffee and filled a kettle with water from an old-fashioned pump. He hoped Keoni had remembered to get a new tank of bottled gas, so they wouldn’t run out of cooking fuel mid-meal…or mid-shower.
Like a ricocheted bullet, Mele shot back to her feet. Thinking she intended to run out the door, he swiftly crossed the room and blocked it. With a glint of amusement in her eyes, she merely stepped into the kitchen area and said, “I don’t need to be waited on like a child. I’ll help.” While he stood there with his mouth open, she pulled down a loaf of rye bread from the cupboard shelf. “Got any butter?”
“Butter. Yes ma’am. Coming right up.” Shaking his head, he walked back to the kitchen and got everything they would need out of the ice chest. While she spread butter on the bread, he sliced the hefty brick of cheddar cheese. She took the slices and arranged them on the bread. Coating each sandwich with another swipe of butter, she said, “Wish this place had electricity and a toaster oven.”
He laughed. “While you’re wishing, wish for a microwave and a hot tub.”
“Interesting priorities,” she said in a light tone that touched his heart.
Grinning, he grabbed a cast iron frying pan. “We can brown the sandwiches in this.”
“That’ll work.”
“I like your attitude.” Mele was holding up well. He’d seen the trembling hands, heard the waver in her voice, but through it all, as problems and doubts arose, she handled them with poise and guts. He wondered if she made love with the same intensity and fearlessness. “Your fiancé is a lucky man.”
She lowered her gaze. “I doubt he’ll think so after tomorrow.”
“Hey, I can understand why he might object to your spending the night with a total stranger. If I were in his shoes….” Rick left the rest unsaid, because the sudden mental images that sprang to his mind were more enticing than he cared to admit.
A mischievous gleam lit Mele’s eyes. Was she imagining, as he was, the two of them in the honeymoon bed with their legs tangled about each other? Rick shook his head at his arrogance.
“What?” she asked, blushing.
Rick put the mugs of hot coffee on the table next to the pan-browned melted cheese sandwiches. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” He fought to control the huskiness in his tone…and the desire in his loins.
****
Dominic Gabronski opened one swollen eye, then the other. At first, he didn’t know where he was. Then it all came rushing back. The woman suspended upside-down in her car and the fight.
Why had Rick Laro let him live?
He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, aware of every sore muscle. How long had he been out? Dom looked over to where he’d left his car. He wasn’t terribly surprised to find that it was gone, but he bellowed out a string of Russian curses nonetheless. If someone didn’t come along he’d be stuck here.
He staggered to his feet and looked over the side of the cliff. The headlights of the woman’s car glowed like beacons through the murk; so it couldn’t have been too long ago, or the battery would have run down by now. The car hung suspended almost to the bottom, wedged between a boulder and a tree.
Was she still in the vehicle? Or had Rick managed to get her out before it went over the edge? Only one way to find out. He’d have to go down and check it out for himself.
If she wasn’t still in the vehicle, then that meant she was probably with Rick Laro right now. I have to get down there and find out who she is. Find her, and Rick’ll be close by. The SOB should have killed me. Given the chance, I’d have killed him.
Surveying the cliff, Dom l
ooked for the best way down. Although not easy, getting to the car wouldn’t be impossible.
Headlights caught him in their high beams. He turned and waved his arms wildly, hoping his torn clothes and battered face would arouse sympathy rather than fear. He counted on the aloha spirit of the island residents – although he never understood their blind willingness to help complete strangers.
As the car slowed, Dom felt for his knife and remembered losing it in the fight. His pocketknife would have to do. He pulled it from his pocket, opened the blade and held the weapon behind his back. The car stopped, and a tall Japanese-American man got out, wearing a T-shirt with the word “Firefighter” on it. He told Dom that he was an off-duty fireman and offered his assistance.
Dom smiled. No doubt the man had something useful in his trunk. “My car slid off the road. I need to get down there.”
The man grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight from his car and looked down where Dom pointed. “Forget it,” the man said, shaking his head. “It’s too risky. I’ll get help.”
When the man flipped open his cell phone, Dom swung his arm upward and buried the knife in the man’s gut. Cops would ruin everything.
He took the Good Samaritan’s keys and wallet, then gave the bleeding, gasping man another jab with the knife and rolled him off the cliff. Dom opened the trunk and smiled at the rescue stockpile of ropes, pulleys, spikes and hooks.
Fate seemed to be smiling on him. He would have no trouble getting to the woman’s car now.
****
Rick shoved aside his empty mug. “The best thing we can do until morning is get some rest. You take the bed.” An image of her curled up on it sent a flash of heat scorching through him.
Her eyes widened as though she’d read his thoughts. “Where will you sleep? Is there a cot or a sleeping bag?”
“Thanks for your concern, but the floor will work for me.” He instinctively reached out and took her hand in his. When he touched her, a fresh wave of desire flared through him. Her body would feel so soft against his. He sought her gaze and brushed her knuckles with his lips. Her eyes darkened. Her lips parted, all dewy and inviting.
