Undercover Pursuit

by Susan May Warren

  So he marched over to the sofa, grabbed the sheet and a sofa pillow, tucked them under his arm and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Scarlett didn’t exactly stand in front of the door, but she didn’t move, either.

  “Outside. I need fresh air. Lock the door behind me.”

  She moved aside. He didn’t dare look at the hurt on her face.

  NINE

  “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  Bridgett glanced over at Scarlett as she stepped out onto the balcony off her sister’s villa.

  Oh, sure she had. In fact, Bridgett appeared downright wrung out with concern, wrapped in a fluffy cotton bathrobe, lounging on a chaise under an oversize umbrella on the deck outside her villa, her hair wrapped in a turban, zinc oxide slathered on her nose and lips. Someone, please, get a doctor.

  “You don’t have to get snippy about it. I really was worried.”

  Oops, had Scarlett said that out loud? She sank down into the opposite chaise and drew in a breath of the ocean, crashing and frothing on the coral and rocks below. The sky appeared nearly cloudless, save for the rim of darkness on the far horizon. “I’m sorry, I just meant—”

  “I mean, one minute you’re getting a body wrap, the next some strange man practically carries you off. Did I mention that he told me he’d have you back by dinner?”

  He did? So perhaps that accounted for Luke’s quietness this morning, the way he stood at the rail, watching the boat skim the waves toward shore. He’d seemed friendly enough on the surface, but anyone who really knew him could tell that something ate at him.

  Except she didn’t really know him, did she? Scarlett thought she’d had a glimpse, for a second, last night. The man behind the façade, the man awakened by his own failures.

  I couldn’t believe she betrayed me…or that I’d betrayed myself.

  She saw it all as he’d explained it—the horror on his face as he realized that his girlfriend had duped him, that he’d aided and abetted her cheating on her husband.

  Never mind that he’d slept with a woman he wasn’t married to. But he’d explained that part, too, and she saw his desire to be a new Luke, a man who worked hard to keep his promises.

  Not everyone is like that woman who lied to you.

  She hadn’t quite meant to put so much vulnerability into her voice when she said that, but it slipped out anyway, and for a second, when he’d looked up at her, all the pretend vanished.

  At least for her it had.

  For a long—too long—moment, she wished herself into his arms, kissing him without the performance and instead with what had started to stir in her heart.

  No, for her, it had ceased to be pretend. So she’d had to…well, pretend.

  She’d had to act as if it hadn’t nearly turned her inside out to see him crying out in his sleep, to see the torment in his eyes at his own guilt, his own shame. She had to act as if she didn’t want to take him into her arms and soothe away the demons.

  Today, when she’d left him on the boat, she had wanted with everything inside to hole up in her cabin and refuse to leave. She’d even managed to let him kiss her goodbye—a peck really, one that had the warmth of the Minnesota she’d left behind—without clinging to him.

  Because, for Luke, it was all still pretend.

  And not only that, but now she knew why. He’d never let himself love someone he couldn’t trust. Someone he thought might betray him.

  Not everyone is like that woman who lied to you.

  And the life he’d chosen certainly didn’t give him any chances to change that, did it? Good grief, he not only expected her to betray him, he’d practically demanded it.

  Bridgett was still rattling on about her disappearance and how she’d missed the barbecue and—

  “And of course, I don’t mind so much if you want to explore the island, but you have a perfectly good date, you know. Dylan waited for you at the party, but you didn’t show up. He’s a nice guy, and you’d like him.”

  “I don’t need help finding men.”

  And as soon as the words left her mouth, Scarlett wanted to grab them back.

  “Oh, really? Because who is that guy, Scarlett? He looks like trouble to me. You know, I’ve been around the world quite a bit, and met all sorts of men, and he has a definite rogue aura about him. I’ll bet he’s a player.”

  “Like a gambler?” Because, yes, Luke definitely played a dangerous game.

  “No. A playboy. A man who uses women.” Bridgett pointed at her, her green eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. “Take it from me, you need to stay away from those types.”

  She put so much vehemence into her voice, Scarlett believed her. She had no doubt her sister had met exactly that kind of man before she wound up in Rochester, Minnesota.

  Why she’d ended up in Rochester, Minnesota, Scarlett never really knew. Bridgett did an effective job of dodging that question with, “I needed a change.”

  Apparently that change meant invading Scarlett’s ordered life, turning it upside down.

  But she couldn’t begrudge her sister a happy-ever-after, even with Duncan.

  Duncan. Funny, she hadn’t thought about him in, oh, over twenty-four hours. That felt good.

  “Luke’s not a player.”

  “Then what’s he doing with you?”

  Ouch. “Why, thank you, Bridgett. Because what man would want to be with me if he wasn’t using me?” Then again…

  She blinked back a sudden burning in her eyes.

  Bridgett reached for a glass of sweating orange juice. “Now you’re just putting words in my mouth. You know what I mean.”

  No, she didn’t. But she probably didn’t want to, either.

  “He’s a friend, nothing more. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll be sure to lift his wallet and you and Duncan can run it for prints.”

  “You laugh, but this is how innocent, unsuspecting women get burned.”

  She wasn’t an—well, yes, innocent, but certainly not unsuspecting, was she? Oh, she could taste the words on her lips—I spent the day on a yacht, protecting a mole in the Sanchez family. But even as she rolled them around her mouth, they had the feel of the fantastical.

  She probably wouldn’t even believe herself if she said it out loud.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the barbecue, Bridge. I’ll be around from here on out.”

  And she would, because Luke had made a point of asking her if she felt better, and suggesting that perhaps she should spend the next twenty-four hours on land after she got done shopping.

  Clearly her vicious bout of seasickness had returned.

  Lucia was due to get married tomorrow evening anyway, and by that time, the notorious Augusto Sanchez should have arrived, just in time for the CIA or whoever to move in. With great relief, Scarlett had done the math and realized that Bridgett, getting married on the far side of the resort, would already be down the aisle and on her way to her reception, safely out on the dinner yacht when the fireworks started.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry you weren’t here, too, because you were supposed to approve the menu—”

  “I did approve the menu.” She had, hadn’t she? Or had she been too busy being swept up into Luke’s world of high-stakes suspense?

  “If you were, then how did I end up like this?” She opened her bathrobe. An angry rash layered her skin—a mesh of reddened bumps that started from her collarbone and disappeared down the V of her swimsuit.

  “What is it?” Scarlett reached out as if to touch it, then yanked her hand back.

  “An allergic reaction! And recoil is exactly what Duncan is going to do on our wedding night, I just know it.”

  Duncan had let Scarlett into the room earlier, barely acknowledging her as he’d brushed by her. Trouble in paradise?

  “How did it happen?”

  “Mushrooms! They used a mushroom bullion in the marinade for the shish kebabs. Twelve hours ago, I couldn’t even
feel my lips and my eyes swelled shut. It was a good thing one of my bridesmaids had some allergy tablets, or I’d be in the hospital. As it is, I have to keep taking oatmeal baths.” She lowered her dark glasses, and yes, she still appeared puffy around the eyes. She pressed on a couple of the hives. “I think they’re going down…” She glanced at Scarlett, with what looked like hope. “They’ll go down, right?”

  “By tomorrow morning?” Scarlett opened her mouth, searching for the right words.

  “No, we have to move the wedding to tomorrow night. I can’t walk down the aisle pimply and ugly.” Bridgett’s voice wavered, and if Scarlett didn’t know her better, she might have thought her sister would burst into tears. But Bridgett didn’t cry. She simply ordered.

  “You have to rearrange everything, Scarlett. Talk to the caterer, the yacht driver, the wedding guests. You have to fix this.”

  Scarlett stared at her. Fix this? Somewhere in the back of her mind something niggled, a sort of moan, or perhaps screaming, but she couldn’t grasp it. “I don’t know…”

  From across the ocean, probably from the port, a horn sounded.

  Then, with a whoosh, realization hit her hard. “No, no, you can’t change the wedding. That won’t work, not at all.” Because she had no doubt that Augusto Sanchez would not go quietly into the night, or into the custody of the authorities, which meant that innocent bystanders, like her sister, might get caught in the cross fire.

  Bridgett frowned at her. “What are you talking about? Of course I have to change the wedding! I can’t walk down the aisle looking like I have the measles.”

  Scarlett schooled her voice, forcing the panic away. “You’re beautiful, sis, I promise. Duncan won’t even notice on your wedding day. He’ll be focused on you.”

  “He won’t notice? What, do you think he’s blind?”

  Her mouth opened.

  “Oh, wait, of course you do. Because he didn’t see how much you loved him—how much you still love him. Of course you want me to walk down the aisle a mess. Because you’re trying to sabotage my happy day!”

  “Bridge—” Scarlett could hear warning sirens.

  “I’m not going to let you wreck my wedding.” Bridgett pulled off her towel and shook out her long blond hair. “I knew that’s why you really came. You didn’t want to help me—you wanted to try and persuade Duncan not to marry me.”

  “Why would I—”

  “You probably told the chef to put in the mushroom bouillon—”

  “Don’t talk crazy—”

  “And that’s why you weren’t there! I should have guessed it!” Bridgett stood over her now, shaking.

  Scarlett took a breath and backed away. “I didn’t do anything of the sort, Bridgett! Get ahold of yourself!”

  “Then why don’t you want me to have my wedding tomorrow night?” She slapped her hands on her hips, glaring at Scarlett.

  And Scarlett had nothing. Well, nothing but the truth, but that just might be worse than nothing.

  “Perfect. The one person I thought I could count on. I should have known better. You’ve been sabotaging me my entire life.”

  “What?” Hey, now, Scarlett wasn’t the one who dragged the family around the world, parted her sister from friends, forced her to retreat into a world of books. “You’re the one who sabotaged lives. You and your precious modeling career.”

  “My modeling career fed you and paid for your college education. You don’t seriously think that Aunt Gretchen had enough money to feed and clothe you, did you? I sent her checks every month. Which I would have never had to do if Mom and Dad hadn’t been killed trying to get back for one of your stupid theater performances.”

  Everything inside Scarlett stilled, her thoughts simply wiped clean, her body without feeling. Her voice came out wire-thin. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, don’t play stupid. Dad—it was always Dad—said they had to get back home because you were in some silly play.”

  A silly play. Twelfth Night. “I was Olivia.”

  “Whatever. I was doing a photo shoot for Vogue. Vogue. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it. And they left to go see your little high school play.”

  “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, perhaps simply because that’s what she’d said that night when the prep school director came into the theater, took her aside, told her the news.

  I’m sorry.

  “Whatever. Everything has to revolve around you, Scarlett. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s because you don’t feel important. But you always have to be the heroine and save the day. Oh, I’m an idiot—of course! You keep your silly temp jobs because you like being the savior! The one in the red cape. Well, you can put away your cape, honey, because I don’t need anyone to save me, or this wedding. In fact, I should have stuck to my gut instincts. You. Are. Fired. Get out of my villa. I’m getting married tomorrow night and you’d better be far, far away.”

  “Bridgett.”

  But she’d turned away, her hand snaking up her sleeve to scratch.

  “You did what?” Even ten thousand miles away, across two oceans and seven time zones, Luke had to hold the phone from his ear.

  “What do you mean you recruited a civilian? Unarmed, untrained, unprotected—”

  “I protected her, Chet.” Well, as well as a guy could while trying to sleep outside on the deck, his eyes glued to both Lucia’s and Scarlett’s stateroom doors the remainder of the night.

  Not that he’d gotten any shut-eye anyway. The minute he let himself doze off Scarlett and those gorgeous doe eyes came back into his brain and turned it to knots.

  Or he had nightmares of Claudio figuring out how he’d been played, grabbing Scarlett and making everyone pay.

  So, yeah, maybe he’d put the phone back to his ear and let Chet have at it. “I admit that it might have been a bad idea.”

  “Bad? Try catastrophic. What were you thinking?”

  Maybe he hadn’t been. Maybe Luke had simply panicked. But it seemed like the right thing at the time—all the way up to that kiss.

  In fact, she played the part so well, it felt as if he might actually have been kissing his real fiancé goodbye today, when he’d spun the story of her being seasick.

  One that she reacted to appropriately by holding her stomach and nearly racing off the yacht.

  He watched her go and felt a little sick himself.

  Now he got up, leaned against the open door of his villa and stared at the blue sky, trying not to think of Scarlett.

  “I was thinking that Lucia was scared to death, and that if I wasn’t on board, she might just ditch the entire shindig, not to mention there might really be someone out to hurt her. We found a speared shark outside her door yesterday morning.”

  “A shark?”

  “Yeah—as in, the Sanchezes have a way of making people shark bait.”

  “So who do you think it could be?”

  “I don’t know. I spent the day watching everyone on the boat—no one seemed overly interested in the bride. Except Benito, of course.”

  “Do you think it’s him?”

  “I hope not. This entire mission seems to be one snafu after another.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down. I was wondering what happened—I got a text from Stacey that her plane was delayed.”

  “She never showed, and Scarlett got in my cab instead. She seemed—well, I know she’s not an agent, Chet, but she’s fast on her feet. She duped Claudio not once but twice, and even made a gourmet Italian dinner for Benito and Lucia.”

  “Stop. Just…stop.”

  Luke heard a sigh on the other end of the line. “What?”

  “I just want you to be careful. I hear it in your voice—it’s more than admiration. You care about this woman.”

  “Of course I care about her. She’s been a real trooper—”

  “No, I mean care. Like you cared about Darcy.” Chet had just started recruiting him around then, and he and Chet had a number of long phone conversati
ons, during which Luke realized he could happily work for—and be friends with—ex-Delta Force captain Chet Stryker. Probably he’d let him too far into his personal life, however. But he’d had to give the man a reason why he’d wanted to get out of D.C. and start his new job, ASAP.

  “Scarlett is nothing like Darcy. Nothing.”

  Chet didn’t respond and Luke walked out to the villa porch, watching the surf froth in the coral baths below.

  “You have to get rid of her, Luke. I don’t care how. She’s not safe.”

  “She’s my fiancée.”

  “Try not to say that with so much conviction.”

  “I’m just pointing out that the Sanchezes might not buy the whole seasick thing for the wedding.” He was hoping so, but Benito had already asked about her, twice.

  “Then figure out how to break up.”

  Luke ran a hand down his face. “Tried that. I wanted her to betray me, maybe come on to Benito. She…she’s not great at betrayal. But if I break up with her, then I get booted from the party and she stays. Then Lucia has no one. I needed Lucia to feel betrayed and kick Scarlett off the boat, but she didn’t quite catch on. Now, they’re actually bonding and I think Lucia feels safer with her than she does with me.”

  Chet said nothing while the breakers roared below. Finally, “Just keep them both safe, and try not to get yourself killed in the process. I’ll see you in twenty-four.”

  “What? Wait, you’re coming here?”

  “I’m packing my sun block now. I’ll be in touch.” The line clicked off and Luke closed his phone. In his head, he’d hatched a loose plan last night to claim sickness. With luck, he’d get Lucia to “check in” on her friend right before the ceremony…and in time to whisk Lucia away before the fireworks. Of course, Scarlett, hopefully, would be long gone.

  Long. Gone.

  He tried not to let those words choke the air out of him.

  Lord, I’m so sorry I got Scarlett into this mess. Please help me keep her safe.

  “You. Are. Fired. Get out of my villa!”

  The voice carried over the top of the waves, and it sounded so familiar.

  There, below him, next door, a woman—yes, Scarlett’s sister—leaned against the rail, wrapped in a bathrobe.