Saving the Girl Next Door

by Susan Kearney

  “This is…good,” she muttered. “So…so…ohh.”

  And as if perfectly planned and accomplished, together they found joy in one another. She spasmed around him, increasing his own pleasure. When he could think again, he wrapped her in his arms, snuggled her head against his chest and held her with a contentment he’d rarely known.

  THEY MADE LOVE AGAIN in the morning, and she slept, then awakened refreshed and not the tiniest bit sore—thanks to Jack. He’d been incredibly tender. Making love to him had been beyond incredible, more than worth waiting for. In fact, if he hadn’t had such dark circles under his eyes, she might have tried to lure him back to bed.

  Jack was working. He stared bleary-eyed at the laptop’s screen, and guilt stabbed her. He’d stayed awake part of the night, working on her behalf while she’d slept alone. And she’d been so pleasantly exhausted she hadn’t noticed the light from his screen, his tapping on the keyboard or his making coffee.

  Beside his makeshift desk sat an empty coffee cup and a pad of notepaper with scribbles all over it. She slid out of bed, wrapped the top sheet around her and placed her hands on Jack’s knotted shoulders.

  He glanced up at her and grinned a sexy grin that made her heart turn a cartwheel. “Morning.”

  “Morning, yourself.” She dug her fingers deeper into his tendons, which were tensed from keyboarding fatigue. The way his muscles bunched, he could have been hanging plasterboard all night.

  He leaned his head back against her belly. “Mmm. I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”

  “Do we have an hour?” Maybe he wasn’t as tired as he appeared. “Because if we do, I know a better way to—”

  “Actually, we have to get out of here soon.” He looked inordinately pleased with himself. And while she preferred to believe that their lovemaking had made his face light up and his eyes glint, she suspected he’d finally figured out her problem.

  Excitement layered over her previous contentment. “You solved the case?”

  “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.” He tugged her into his lap.

  “Tell me and you’ll get more than a kiss.” She kissed his mouth and snuggled into him.

  “Well, Vince and Leroy were being blackmailed, all right. Their checks both ended up in the same account in the Cayman Islands. Actually, lots of people with nothing to do with your case were being blackmailed. Some paid weekly. Some monthly. I suspect the blackmailer used the Internet to find illicit behavior and then contacted the cheaters. Leroy was cheating on his wife. Vince was taking kickbacks from suppliers.”

  “So the blackmailer used that information against them to get to me?”

  “As far as I can tell, yes.”

  “Okay, whose account is it?”

  “The account belongs to a subsidiary of a Costa Rican corporation.”

  She appreciated his hard work, she really did. However, she wished he would just tell her already. “Who owns the corporation?”

  “Hodges Computer Systems. And Aaron was in the Costa Rican military, which explains how he learned about bugs and bombs.”

  She jumped off his lap. “Aaron Hodges is the guy? I don’t understand. Why would he set up such an elaborate scheme to get me fired?”

  “I’m getting to that. Would you like a cup of coffee? You’re a little cranky in the morning,” Jack teased.

  “Yes to the coffee. And I’m not cranky,” she denied. Still, she refrained from asking him another question until she’d swallowed two sips of lukewarm coffee. “You look quite pleased with yourself.”

  “Maybe that’s due to making love to you.” He was still teasing her, and she tried to be patient, but patience wasn’t one of her better qualities. However, the last time she’d been impatient and had acted precipitously, she’d ruined their first shot at lovemaking. The painful memory still made her wince, though Jack had replaced her mistake with much better memories.

  “What did you find?” she prodded.

  “Aaron Hodges is a busy man.”

  She frowned at him over the rim of her cup. “He runs his own computer company. Of course he’s busy.”

  “Hodges Computer Systems isn’t making any money. He’s in the red. In fact, he had to put a hundred grand of the money he earned from blackmailing into the company last year to keep it running.”

  Okay. She understood he was following the money trail, but she had no idea where he was going. “So how did I get in Aaron Hodges’s way?”

  “He hacked into the Department of Defense.”

  “Excuse me?” She rubbed her forehead in confusion. “What did you say?”

  “Ryker’s program put a trace on the hack. We’ve got Aaron Hodges nailed for hacking into the Defense Department.”

  “You’re saying Aaron was selling information from our government to—”

  “The highest bidder. Anyone who can hack into the DOD would consider getting into the police department’s mainframe the equivalent of kindergarten play.”

  “But why did he come after me?”

  “I’m guessing that your investigation into the fire at your parents’ home made him nervous. Maybe scared away customers. Criminals don’t like it when a cop’s interested in them.”

  “So I was just the small fry caught up in Aaron’s master plan?” She worked out the details and sighed. “I’ll bet he’s also responsible for the university virus and for torching my folks’ house.”

  “I can’t think of another reason he would have gone after you. But he’s got bigger things to worry about now than arson, bribery and blackmail charges. Like spending his life in jail for treason. You’ve helped uncover a spy.”

  “You did all the work.”

  “You helped. The important thing is that you’re going to get your job back.”

  She wanted to celebrate but held back, sensing he had more to tell her. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

  “There’s just one tiny problem,” he admitted.

  “What?”

  “Aaron Hodges has disappeared.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve brought in part of the Shey Group to help us. Web’s been watching his home. Travis is at the store. Aaron’s not there. Logan’s alerted law enforcement, both local and state police. The airports are being watched. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

  Piper wasn’t so sure. A man like Aaron Hodges who had the resources of the Internet at his command could disappear with a fake identity. He could crawl into a hole in South America or Africa and never be seen again. While the evidence Jack had found would probably clear her name and get back her job, her fears escalated.

  “Jack.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What kind of information did he steal from the Defense Department?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “You don’t know? Wouldn’t the computer trace—”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s classified. And suffice it to say that Logan Kincaid has already informed the FBI, the CIA and the president—”

  “The president?” She sank onto the bed, her knees weak. “The stolen information is that serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  AARON HODGES HAD an escape plan. But he hadn’t planned to leave so quickly. Hadn’t expected his opponents to mobilize their forces within hours.

  Still, he patted his laptop and the CD-ROM with the critical information on it that would soon make him rich. He’d be fine. All he needed to complete his transaction was a cell phone and a drop box.

  Damn Payne for bringing the Shey Group onto his trail. He should have killed her earlier—a slight miscalculation on his part that he could still rectify. That woman would not be allowed to chase him out of his home and business and then get away scot-free. Oh, no. Even his masterful escape plan had time for revenge.

  Payne would die. Perhaps too quickly. He would have preferred her to suffer longer, die painfully after all her interference. But he would have to satisfy himself with all the lovely money he was about to col
lect when he sold his information.

  Besides, the business had become a drag. His new life would be more exciting. And his new wealth would buy him everything he desired. Now all he had to do was set his trap. And keep going.

  “HOW ARE WE GOING TO FIND Aaron? And why do we want to? Shouldn’t the government take over now?” Piper asked Jack as they checked out of the hotel. She was amazed at the amount of information he’d uncovered in such a short time. But she knew from her work as a detective that investigations often were full of dead ends and seemingly useless bits of information—and then kapow. The pieces would coalesce into one cohesive whole, allowing her to see the big picture.

  It was just too bad Hodges always seemed one step ahead of them. She didn’t have a good feeling about today. Perhaps the grim sky and thunderclouds had something to do with her churning emotions.

  “Logan Kincaid has sent the new information to his contacts. The Shey Group is no longer working pro bono. We’ve been paid to catch Aaron Hodges and to keep the information quiet.”

  “But why can’t government authorities take over the job of catching him?”

  “Because the Shey Group can keep its operations out of the press. And we don’t have to report to government committees. If we can capture Aaron, it’s possible we can turn him and learn about his contacts.”

  “But we have no idea where he is.”

  “I have an idea.” Jack threw their baggage into the car trunk and slammed down the lid. “Do you remember the pictures of Aaron on the wall in his office?”

  “Yeah. He was hunting and golfing and…fishing.” Piper snapped her fingers. “He has a boat!”

  “Logan already has the Coast Guard searching, but the Gulf of Mexico and Tampa Bay have a lot of water and coves to cover. I thought we’d take up the helicopter and add our eyes to the search.”

  Take up the chopper? She looked out the window and imagined that the waves in Tampa Bay would be almost as choppy as in the Gulf. Forecasters might have issued small craft warnings. And the winds had to be gusting upward of fifteen knots. Not exactly good boating or good flying weather. But she’d already slept while Jack worked through part of the night—she wouldn’t let him fly alone. Even if her only job was to keep him awake in the pilot’s seat, she would go—just to do that.

  “You think you know where Aaron went?” she asked him.

  “In the picture there was a small island in the distance and a plane in the sky. I’m betting he was in the bay at the time, either in MacDill Air Force Base’s flight pattern or Tampa International’s.”

  “But why would he go to the same spot now? He’s either hiding or fleeing.”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s only a place to start. But people tend to stick to predictable patterns. On the water he’ll naturally follow his usual routes as much as possible.”

  “Makes sense.” She didn’t say more. Just watched Jack drive through the traffic and frowned at the darkening sky. She flipped on the radio and caught a weather report.

  Intermittent thunderstorms. Typical Floridian summer. She refused to think about the common water-spouts and tornadoes, which could fling a helicopter from the sky. The military had trained Jack to be a superb pilot and he wouldn’t take her up if he considered the situation dangerous.

  Still, she’d never flown in a helicopter. And the occasional lightning strikes zapping from sky to land and back weren’t comforting.

  When Jack drove into the small airport, he did what to her looked like a thorough preflight check. She sat in the copilot’s seat and tightened her seat belt. With only a thin sheet of Plexiglas between her and thin air, she didn’t look down.

  Jack handed her a headset, and she placed it over her ears and adjusted the microphone near her lips. The headphones cut the noise of the engines and rotors, so when Jack suddenly said, “All set?” she could hear him as easily as if they’d been in the car.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll head across the peninsula and east toward Tampa Bay.”

  Jack maneuvered the helicopter out of the protective shed, then rose straight up. Her stomach soared into her throat. She clutched the arms of her seat so tightly that her fingertips hurt.

  A gust of wind produced a little wobble. She let out a startled gasp.

  “Sorry about that.” Jack compensated, using both hands and feet to maneuver, a delighted grin on his face. “The bumps remind me of rides in the amusement park.”

  He was having fun.

  Clearly they were in no danger.

  She forced her fingertips to relax. Forced herself to breathe.

  She was a good flyer. Didn’t mind even commuter planes with props.

  She glanced down.

  Big mistake.

  The sensation wasn’t like flying in an airplane where one’s body was surrounded by metal with tiny windows to look out. There were clouds inches from her feet. And the helicopter seemed no more substantial to her than a bubble.

  Get over it.

  Last night Jack had taught her how to make love and she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself. She was glad she’d put herself into his capable hands. Those same hands were now piloting the chopper, and while she trusted his piloting abilities and his judgment, she still couldn’t quiet her nerves. However, with practice, she could learn to perch above the earth like a bird, learn to ignore the sickening lurch in her stomach, learn to ignore the fact that if one tiny piece of equipment malfunctioned then they would plummet to their deaths.

  In a few more minutes maybe she’d even stop shaking.

  All too soon they were no longer over land, but following the Howard Frankland Bridge from Clearwater to Tampa. She could see the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ stadium. The international airport. A cruise ship docked at the aquarium.

  “There’s Davis Island and MacDill.” Jack pointed, apparently oblivious to her case of nerves. “We’ll give their airspace a wide berth and head toward Sarasota and the Skyway Bridge.”

  While he banked into a smooth turn, she managed to breathe almost normally. Proud of herself, she risked another glance down and realized they were much lower. The crests of the waves below were bigger. She could make out several fishing boats—all heading back to port.

  She didn’t know if the Coast Guard had helicopters, but she could understand why Jack had wanted to search from the air. They could cover a lot of open water quickly. And with the bad weather, there were not that many small boats out. A few hardy sailors taking advantage of the wind. Oceangoing ships in the channel and sea-lanes. Tugs guiding barges into the port.

  And she could make out a school of dolphins frolicking in the waves below. Fascinated, she pointed. “Look.”

  “Cool, huh?” Jack dropped lower for a better look. “I’ve seen manatees and the occasional whale in the Gulf. And always lots of sharks.”

  Damn it. Why did he have to go and remind her of the sharks that frequented these waters? She preferred not to think about them ever. After seeing the movie Jaws as a kid, it had taken her two whole summers to swim at the beach.

  “There!” Jack pointed to a boat heading straight toward the Skyway Bridge and the Gulf of Mexico. “She sure looks like the boat in that picture.”

  “How can you tell from here?” she asked, then wished she’d just kept her mouth shut. To her there were ships and tugboats, powerboats and sailboats, and this particular boat looked like every other cabin cruiser in the bay.

  “The shape of the hull is different. So are the port-holes. If you’ll get my pack—” Jack jerked his thumb toward the seats two rows back “—there’s a pair of binoculars that should help us.”

  She had to remove her headset, since the wires kept her bound to the front seat. Squeezing between the seats, she reached for the pack he’d tossed behind them.

  And heard a loud ticking noise. Bending, she looked under the seat.

  A square device with a timer sat there. Ticking.

  A bomb.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Piper shouted o
ver the storm, the engines and the wind socking the chopper. “There’s a bomb under the back seat.”

  But Jack couldn’t hear her with his headset covering his ears. She scooted back to him, knocked off his headphones and yelled again. “There’s a bomb! We have two minutes before it explodes!”

  “Throw it out the door,” Jack instructed.

  She shook her head. “It’s wired to the seat’s frame.” Jack nodded, his face calm. “Get me my pack.”

  “Why?” she shouted, but he didn’t answer. Instead he put his headphones back on and spoke to someone over the radio, hopefully giving their location to someone in authority. She’d read somewhere that a chopper could actually set down on the water before it sank. That might be wrong, but it gave her hope, because she didn’t need a pilot’s license to know that they couldn’t reach land in less than two minutes.

  She grabbed his pack and checked the timer. One minute and thirty seconds. Hurrying forward, she thrust Jack’s pack next to his elbow. His face full of concentration, he didn’t take his gaze off his instruments.

  Outside, lightning zapped through a purple sky, the thunder echoing her fears. Gusts of wind bounced off the water and buffeted the aircraft.

  “Get my gun,” Jack yelled.

  She rifled through his pack and withdrew his weapon. Meanwhile, she could feel the chopper plunging. Her stomach swooped up her throat.

  “Shoot at that boat,” Jack ordered.

  “Huh?” She gazed out and down through the window at the boat bobbing in the waves below.

  “We’ve got to slow him down, or when we ditch, he’ll come for us.”

  “You want me to shoot a boat?”

  “Aim for the gas tank.”

  He acted as if the boat had a bull’s-eye on it.

  “Where’s the gas tank?”

  “The stern. Shoot through our windshield.” He angled the chopper over the boat low and fast. “Wait. I’ll get us closer.”

  As a police officer, she was a crack shot. Her targets were usually much smaller than a boat. But the wind-tossed chopper wasn’t steady and neither was the boat battling the heavy seas. The closer that Jack could fly in, the better her chances of actually hitting her target. But she couldn’t wait too long. Their chopper was about to explode.