“We want the same thing, and I’ll be there for the trial,” she informed him. “You can reach me on this phone. It’s untraceable, by the way, so you can stop trying to trace it. I know what I’m doing, but you need to back off.”
The phone suddenly disconnected, leaving him disgusted. Holden replaced his phone to his jacket pocket, closed his eyes, and groaned softly as his head fell into his hand.
“Tough day at the office, dear?” the officer sitting before the monitors teased.
He lifted his head and groaned softly. “She’s like a tiger. Very beautiful, very playful, and fun to watch in action,” he replied. “But if you get too close, she’ll tear you apart.”
The officer snickered, looked back at the monitor, and hid his grin. “I heard she handcuffed you to a bed,” he remarked without looking at him. “What was that like?”
Holden closely watched the monitor over the officer’s shoulder and showed little reaction to the question. “Very erotic.”
The police officer suddenly became interested and looked back at him with surprise. “Erotic?”
“Close enough to foreplay for me to count it,” Holden muttered without looking away from the monitor.
The officer and guard stared at him with their mouths hanging open. Holden continued to watch the screen then snapped his fingers, spotting something.
“There!”
The vehicle was seen on the security footage pulling into the parking lot. A well-disguised man got out. He turned in such a manner that his face remained cleverly hidden.
“She’s not very attractive,” the security guard remarked while grinning.
“That’s not her,” Holden snarled and shook his head with disgust. He appeared to sink into thought only a moment. “She’s not here. He’s a decoy.” He shook his head and remained deep in thought. “Where is she finding all these street-smart people who keep helping her?” He gave the police officer a firm nod. “See if you can identify the man.”
“He gets into a cab three minutes after he parks,” the security guard replied. “You never see his face. He knew where the cameras were and completely avoided them.”
“Call the cab company about that fare,” Holden announced. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Holden removed his cell phone, pressed a single button, and awaited a response from the other end.
“Agent Fields,” came the reply.
“Fields, she slipped away again.”
“What do you need?” Fields asked.
“I need a list of people Jackie Remus knows in the Florida area. Someone’s helping her--someone smart.” He suddenly hesitated then reconsidered his comment. “Scratch that,” he announced with added enthusiasm. “Get me a list of men from her father’s old platoon. Find any connections between them and Florida.”
“We investigated them already,” Fields insisted. “There was nothing to indicate she’d been in contact with any of them since her father’s funeral.”
“So it would appear,” Holden remarked. “But nothing about this girl is what is seems. She’s likeable, you said so yourself. So why doesn’t she seem to have any friends? It’s too convenient.” Holden paced the security office with his cell phone firmly to his ear. “Tell me everything we know about Lieutenant Commander Jackson Remus. I want to know everyone he knew.”
Chapter Eighteen
The small motel near the ocean was well-maintained and very busy for the week after Labor Day. The two-story motel had fewer than fifty rooms with guestrooms opening directly to the outside walkway. It was a little after seven that evening and several guests were returning from their lengthy day on the beach. Jackie, in her cap and sunglasses, entered the office with her duffle bag. Agent Falcone’s surprise visit at Shannon’s beach house had disrupted her entire schedule. She was forced to spend most of the day traipsing around Florida while Monroe worked his magic finding another contact to dispose of the rental car. She again missed the last ferry to her island destination, but she was lucky to have avoided police as it was. Holden was better prepared with local police, and they were actively scouring the airport and nearby marina.
Monroe had missed his connecting flight as well and remained inconveniently out of the country for another night. Monroe missing his connecting flight was actually a mixed blessing. If he had made it back to the states, he’d insist on coming for her himself. She couldn’t risk him coming to her. Holden undoubtedly had half of Florida’s state troopers casing all major airports and rinky-dink airfields as well. They’d easily trace any chopper or plane rental Monroe could secure on short notice and red flags would fly in every direction. Monroe didn’t need any additional suspicions swirling around him. He got into enough trouble on his own. Attempting to catch the ferry tomorrow remained her best option to reach Monroe on the island. She’d have to be very cautious, and they’d both have to be patient.
Jackie approached the old desk in the outdated lobby that had seen better days. The tacky nautical décor reminded her of some cheap seafood restaurant. As she approached the desk, she was greeted by the clerk in his early twenties. Truman looked like a cross between a surfer dude and an escaped mental patient. He was excessively tan with nearly white, shoulder length hair. His green, beady looking eyes were set close together. He immediately smiled while greeting her with a polite nod.
“I have a reservation,” she announced pleasantly. “Lana Watson.”
Truman checked the computer for her reservations then looked at her and grinned in response. “Yes, Miss Lana Watson. I have you down for two nights in our ocean view standard room,” he announced cheerfully, as if they had anything other than standard rooms at the motel. “Compliments of Maxim Magazine. Writer or model?”
She immediately fidgeted to the desk clerk’s cheap grin. Monroe was responsible for making her motel arrangements while stranded in parts unknown. She had to admit, her friend had a warped sense of humor.
“Photographer’s assistant, actually,” she replied and gently cleared her throat, secretly cursing Monroe. “I’m checking out possible locations for our next issue. I’m told you have some very private beaches here.”
“Plenty of seclusion for your magazine’s content.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention I was here,” she remarked and tilted her head. “You understand.”
“Oh, definitely,” Truman announced a little too eagerly. “Your company sent a package by special courier.”
He handed her the card key and a box marked ‘fragile’. She accepted the package. Special courier was probably code for one of Monroe’s acquaintances.
“Thanks.”
“Call if you need anything.”
Jackie offered a polite smile, replaced her sunglasses, and left with her package. She headed up the closest stairs for her room on the second floor facing the ocean. She entered the room and was pleasantly surprised by its modern updates and cleanliness. She locked the door behind her and immediately closed the curtains. Jackie removed her cell phone while flopping on the slightly creaky bed and pressed a button. Monroe answered before it had a chance to finish ringing the first time.
“Jackie? You checked in?”
“Yeah, thanks for the reservations, though I’m not sure about the flashy cover story,” she remarked then grimaced although he couldn’t see it. “Maxim Magazine?”
“Hey, hide in plain sight, remember,” he announced with humor in his voice. “I heard they found the fed’s car at the airport.”
“Did your friend get caught?”
“Flash? Get caught? Are you kidding?” Monroe said from the other end and chuckled. “He knows every security camera in the city. All they’ll ever see is his cap and shoes.” There was a long pause. “They’re watching the ferry, so that’s out.”
She groaned softly. “I sort of suspected as much.”
“I needed to get a little creative, so I’m sending a friend for you at eight tomorrow morning. He’ll be at the marina. Slip twenty.” There w
as an awkward silence. “I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily, Jackie, but don’t turn your back on this guy. He’s slightly unbalanced.”
“I can handle unbalanced,” she replied. “Thanks for the heads up though.”
“Did you get the package?”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Just a token of my affection,” he teased. His tone turned serious. “I’m no longer comfortable with you going straight to my house from the marina. You have more admirers than I’d anticipated. Some of my contacts are already aware of your situation from some of their less ethical acquaintances. Your friend, the governor, has the underground buzzing. The FBI isn’t the only interested party who knows you’re in Florida.”
Jackie’s expression dropped as she sank on the bed. “The governor knows I’m in Florida?”
“I’m afraid so,” Monroe replied gently from the other end. “It’s okay. As long as you meet that prick boat captain at the marina tomorrow morning, he’ll get you safely to the island. I’ll meet with you tomorrow evening at the island’s annual fair. It’ll be extremely crowded. Crowds work in our favor. Eight o’clock by the Ferris wheel.”
Her fears were overwhelming, and his concern wasn’t helping ease her tensions. “Why so late?”
“Security is a little tight here,” he replied. “You know how these third world shitholes operate.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked with concern for her friend. Now she had a pretty good idea where he was, and it didn’t make her feel any better for his safety.
“Oh, yeah, fine,” he replied. “A few cows breached security on the runway. Happens all the time.”
Jackie was unusually quiet a moment. “Should I ask?” she questioned while grimacing.
“Eh, probably not,” he replied. “Let’s just stick with the cow story.”
Compared with Monroe’s problems, Jackie’s problems were just a minor nuisance. He enjoyed getting into trouble and actually thrived on it.
She held back her nervous laugh then smiled gently. “Thanks, Monroe. I owe you one--”
“You owe me too damned many. One day, I may even decide to collect,” he informed her and added a soft chuckle. “Now that’s a lovely image.” He turned serious. “In forty-eight hours, no one will find you until you want to be found.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
“And I’ve taken out a few additional insurance policies for good measures,” he informed her.
Jackie hesitated and stared blankly at the tacky framed print on the wall. “You mean--?”
“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot has gone dark.”
She immediately sat up straight on the bed. “All of them?” Jackie gasped with astonishment.
“Oh, yeah,” he gloated.
Jackie could barely contain the tears of joy welling in her eyes. She wiped her tears and smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Monroe.”
“For you, anything, darling,” he replied gently. “Good night, Jackie.”
“Night, Monroe.”
Jackie disconnected the call, set her phone aside, and opened the box. In contained a semiautomatic in a leather shoulder holster with two extra clips and a revolver in a belt clip. She removed them from the box and placed them in her duffle bag. She didn’t know how Monroe managed the things he did especially being off in some Godforsaken country with little more than his laptop and a cell phone, but she was glad he was resourceful.
It was nearly an hour later. Jackie flipped through the television channels and felt excessively bored. She was starving, but she didn’t want to risk leaving the safety of her room. She’d live with the hunger until she was on her way to the island. Fair food sounded appealing. With extra time on her hands, she considered Monroe’s comment about the boat captain she was to meet at the dock. If Monroe felt the need to warn her, there had to be something not right with the guy and it was concerning. Unbalanced could mean just about anything. There was a knock on the door, startling her. Jackie jumped from the bed and collected herself before approaching the door. They couldn’t possibly know where she was, but she wasn’t taking any chance. Resisting the urge to grab one of the guns from her bag, she nervously looked through the peek hole first. It was the front desk clerk, Truman! She groaned while rolling her eyes, decided it was best to see what he wanted, and opened the door. His expression revealed very little.
“Yes?” she questioned the young man, attempting to sound patient but missed the mark.
“The FBI was here looking for you,” he informed her with a serious look on his face. “We need to talk.”
Jackie stared at him a moment and, despite her panic, she showed little reaction. She stood aside and allowed him to enter. She shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and appeared casual.
“Is he waiting for me?”
“I told him I didn’t see you,” Truman remarked. “I think he bought it.”
She fidgeted slightly as a thousand thoughts exploded in her mind. She straightened while attempting to remain casual. “Thanks, I appreciate that, but it’s not how it looks.”
“Oh? And how is it?”
“We lived together,” she announced without hesitation. “He’s extremely possessive and didn’t take my moving out very well. Now he’s using his position with the Bureau to get me back.” She added a soft groan for added effect and rubbed her temple. “He won’t leave me alone.”
“Well, he checked in,” he informed her and gave a nod. “He’s just a few doors down.”
“And I’ll be checking out.” Jackie took a step toward her bag on the bed.
Truman stepped into her path and offered a cheap smile. “He has a warrant for your arrest.”
“Yeah, for striking a federal officer--namely him,” she snapped then glared at him and wondered what the young man was up to, although, she already had a pretty good idea. “I thought you were defending me?”
“Only if you make it worth my while.”
She showed no reaction, but she was disgusted with his fumbling attempt at blackmail. It was best just to pay the little bastard and avoid confrontation.
“How much?”
Truman smiled lustfully and gave her a quick once over. “I’ll take it in trade.”
She almost felt sorry for the poor, clueless bastard. His raging hormones were about to get his ass kicked, and he didn’t even know it yet. She glared at him with impatience in her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.
“I’d rather take him back and tell him you hit on me,” she remarked then raised a cocky brow. “I’m sure that’ll go over real well.”
Jackie attempted to push past him. Truman suddenly backhanded her across the face, tossing her into the table. She was startled by his aggressive outburst. He took two quick steps to the door and locked it. Truman turned to face her as she held her cheek and glared at him with a wildly unpredictable look. At least she no longer felt sorry for him.
“If you could afford to scream, you would have,” he remarked while smirking deviously. “You can’t report me, so that makes you fair game.”
Jackie casually leaned against the table, rubbed her red cheek, and smirked. His barbaric philosophy was just adding to her desire to knock him senseless.
“It’s not nice to hit a lady,” she hissed.
“I doubt you’re much of a lady.”
She slowly straightened and grinned at the comment. “Yeah, you’ve got that right,” she retorted without taking her eyes off him. “I hope you like it rough.”
Truman smiled and reached for her. Jackie caught him by the wrist, twisted his arm, and dropped him to his knees. He cried out in agony. She could easily snap his arm, but she was proving a point not aiming to maim. She glared down at him and tilted her head as he remained paralyzed with pain.
“How’s that working for you?”
Truman punched her in her injured thigh with his free fist. Jackie released him and clutched her injured leg. He had successfully nailed her in the one
spot that could possibly disable her. Truman stood, flexed his sore arm, and then lunged for her. Despite the pain in her leg, Jackie jumped across the bed. Truman hit the nightstand, knocking the lamp to the floor with a crash. Jackie sprang to her feet on the other side of the bed, facing him. Truman leaped across the bed for her. Jackie swept his legs out from under him with her arm. He fell to the bed with a bounce, rolled off it, and hit the floor with a thump. He’d hit the floor hard and was momentarily dazed. Jackie snatched her bag and casually limped across the room toward the door.
As much as she wanted to dispense some punishment on the little bastard, the crashing lamp had caused enough noise. It was time to make her escape before someone came checking. She was nearly to the door when Truman tackled her into the dresser. She was momentarily stunned by the collision with the flimsy dresser. Truman grabbed her by the throat, attempting to suffocate her into submission, while reaching for her pants. She was already contemplating her next move when the door suddenly burst open to reveal Holden with his gun aimed.
“FBI!”
Jackie rammed her knee into Truman’s ribs then spun into a roundhouse kick and struck him in the face. She was through playing games with this punk and held little back. Truman was thrown across the room and forcibly into the bedside stand, vibrating the wall. Jackie spun into a return kick for Holden and knocked the gun from his hand. Holden jumped with surprise and held his hands up defensively.
“Jackie, just calm--”
Jackie kicked him in the side and knocked him into the television. While she was preoccupied with Holden, Truman attempted to bolt past her. Jackie grabbed his arm, jolting him to a halt, and forced him to meet her gaze. She looked into his eyes and sneered her hostility.
“I think you forgot something--”
She kicked him in the groin, nearly lifting him off his feet. Truman barely had time to clutch himself as he dropped to the floor. Holden approached her with his hands up.
“Enough,” Holden boldly announced.
Witness Protection Page 11
