“You don’t want me to leave, but you don’t want to—”
“That’s not it.” She looked to see if anyone else was coming by and turned to him. “Follow me back to my house. It’ll be more comfortable than the diner.”
His handsome face relaxed, but his eyes probed and questioned. She suspected his being here wasn’t a ‘just passing through the area’ visit but something more calculated. Jake had always been a balls-to-the-wall type of guy. Now that the initial shock of seeing him had abated slightly, she went into self-preservation mode. Next to the loss of her family, leaving Jake had been the lowest point in her life. Whatever his reasons for being here, she’d need to keep her shields up and her heart guarded.
Lately, years of running, of looking over her shoulder, the lonely days and nights and not having someone to share them with, had been catching up with her. Although it had been years since they’d been together, she could easily see herself falling into his strong arms. Picture them making love, imagine them going back to the way things used to be between them.
But they couldn’t. She’d run from him for a reason. Until the bastard who’d murdered her family and forced her into this self-imposed exile was rotting in Hell, she’d keep running. Otherwise, Jake would end up like everyone else she’d loved.
Dead.
*
Harrison Fairclough’s eyes burned and watered as he stared at the laptop screen. Thanks to the damned Russian’s chain smoking, a hazy fog hung in the small, shitty motel room and made the place smell like a dirty ashtray.
He rubbed his eyes and drew in a breath. Damn, even his mouth tasted like an ashtray and he didn’t smoke. “Vlad,” he said to the Russian. “Do you mind?”
Vlad leveled his ice blue eyes on him, his dark blond brows forming a V as he took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke rings. “Do I mind what?” he asked, his thick accent reminding Harrison of Boris Badenov from the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons.
The Russian could probably rearrange Harrison’s face and cause his internal organs to bleed with one blow of his meaty fists. Growing up in the one of Norfolk’s most undesirable areas, he’d spent his entire life surrounded by men like Vlad. Between his mom’s numerous, abusive live-in boyfriends, the notorious cutthroat neighborhood street gangs, and his short stints in juvie and then later in prison, he knew Vlad’s type. Brawn with no brain. While Harrison would prefer to keep his nose, jaw and internal organs intact, he refused to allow Vlad to intimidate and bully him. Besides, the way he saw it, Vlad and his counterpart, Santiago, needed him.
For now.
“Your smoking is hell on the laptop,” Harrison said, reaching across the table to snatch up Vlad’s vibrating cell phone.
“Harry, you hurt Vlad’s feelings so,” the Russian replied and took another drag. “Here I thought you tell me it bad for my lungs.” He shook his blond head. “No concern for Vlad, only your machine.”
“How insensitive of me,” Harrison said and read the text from the Columbian, Santiago. On way. Prepare to go live. He set the phone on the table and shoved it toward the Russian. “They should be back soon.”
Vlad snuffed his cigarette into the over flowing ashtray and grabbed his phone. After he viewed the message, he moved to the window. “Good.” He pushed the nicotine-stained curtain slightly and pocketed his phone. “Vlad hate it here. I hate all the places we go. Well, except Las Vegas. Vlad want to go back.” He let go of the curtain and turned. “Pretty women, booze, gambling,” he said, smiling. “Vlad loves tits and ass.”
Vlad loved to refer to himself in third person. “You guys are the ones with the plan, not me.” A plan he no longer wanted to be part of if his suspicions were correct. And they usually were. Still, he couldn’t help agreeing with Vlad. Leavenworth, Kansas, was definitely a far cry from the Vegas strip.
“True.” The Russian nodded. “Vlad wonders…does Harry love tits and ass?”
Harrison ignored Vlad and pretended to review the program file on the laptop screen. A file he wished he could find the chance to mess with and add his own firewalls and viruses to. But Vlad and his partner, Santiago, never left him alone. Not once during the past week had he been able to go into the laptop they’d given him to use for this job and infiltrate the system files. He needed to before they reached the East Coast. For what he suspected Vlad and Santiago were up to, if he didn’t, the two years he’d spent in prison would be more like a walk in the park compared to Death Row.
“No answer?” Vlad drew another cigarette from the pack and shrugged. “A man’s sexual preference is own business. Know this, Harry, Vlad no care if you like men. Vlad’s very…” The Russian snapped his fingers several times and looked to the ceiling. “Progressive. Right word, no?”
“Right word, wrong assumption,” Harrison said. While he enjoyed women, he didn’t enjoy paying for them. Vlad, Santiago and Mickey had hired prostitutes the night they were in Vegas. Not tempted to sink his body into a woman who had had countless dicks in her vagina, and not permitted to leave the room, Harrison had spent the night in the claustrophobic bathroom without his phone or computer. That night had been the longest and most boring night of his life. Even in prison he’d have found something to do to amuse himself. Instead, he had to listen to the three other men’s grunting and their women’s exaggerated moans.
“Ah, so Harry do like women,” Vlad said and lit his cigarette. “Good. Vlad will buy Harry a woman when job is kaput. Tell Vlad. Blonde, brunette or redhead?” The Russian laughed and slapped him on the back. “Maybe Harry want all three, eh?”
Vlad was either fucking with him or the man was clueless. When the job was kaput, Harrison worried he and his brother would be, too. Whoever Vlad and Santiago worked for wasn’t going to allow him and Mickey to go back to their neighborhood, to their crappy jobs at the restaurant, to their crappy lives. And he’d prefer crappy over dead.
“I couldn’t handle three women,” Harrison said, deciding to play along. He couldn’t let the Russian or Santiago know about his doubts and needed to maintain the charade. “But if I had to choose, a redhead would be nice.”
“Ah, Harry like them fiery.” Squinting as smoke drifted in his face, Vlad took a long drag on the cigarette. “Me? Vlad prefer your California girls. Blonde, tan, big titties,” he said and grabbed his own big pecs. “But we no talk about Vlad. Yes, Monday night Vlad give Harry fiery redhead to keep dick warm.”
“Monday night?” Harrison rubbed his itchy eyes. That gave him only three days to either disable the devices he’d been syncing to the laptop, or immobilize the laptop itself. He’d rather deactivate the devices, which, according to Santiago, were high tech security cameras. But he didn’t buy Santiago’s bullshit. Why in the hell would someone plant and sync security cameras across the country?
During their first two stops, other than worrying about being busted for violating probation, he hadn’t given the job they were on much thought. Actually, he’d been enjoying himself. The fancy private plane that had flown them from Norfolk to San Francisco, then later to Las Vegas where they’d spent the night at the Bellagio. Granted he’d spent the majority of that night confined to the bathroom, but prior to that, they’d eaten, drunk and gambled like high rollers. After being locked in a bathroom in Vegas, things became even stranger. The cities and towns they were delivering the cameras to appeared random. One morning they were in Pocatello, Idaho, and by that evening Ford, Wyoming. The next day Denver, the day after that, Amarillo, Texas. Where the supposed security equipment had been placed was also equally unsystematic. A bar, convention center, funeral home, shopping mall, airstrip, school…
His pulse quickened with anxiety. Yeah, something wasn’t adding up—at all. Because Vlad and Santiago showed no sign of knowing anything about computers, he could, given the chance, easily take care of those cameras. As for the computer, until they reached the East Coast, he’d rather not destroy the laptop.
“Is this the last city?” he asked, part of him hopeful while the o
ther part was concerned. He needed to create a virus, or at the very least leave a trail of breadcrumbs. Should the shit go down the way he suspected, Vlad and Santiago’s boss would need to be stopped.
“Nah.” Vlad shook his head and waved the cigarette. “And miss out on fun? We like Griswolds, no?” He pretended to drive a car. “We travel cross country in search of fun. And we have fun, no?”
No. He was not having fun. He was fucking freaking out. This was supposed to be an easy job. Sync security devices to the laptop he’d been given, make sure they could be activated remotely. Simple. Easy. Only it wasn’t that simple. If the devices Santiago and Mickey had been planting were for security reasons, then why wouldn’t Vlad and Santiago let him and Mickey out of their sight? The guns and concealed knives they carried, those he understood. The two men supposedly ran security detail for a powerful individual. Still. Something wasn’t ringing true.
Or maybe he was paranoid.
If only he could talk to Mickey alone. Find out exactly what he’d been syncing to the laptop. Mickey didn’t do tech stuff and probably wouldn’t know what he’d been dealing with, but if his brother could describe the devices Harrison might be able to either dismiss his paranoia or confirm it. And he wanted confirmation.
The motel door bounced open sending in a stream of sunlight. Mickey entered first, wearing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, bro. How’s it hanging?”
“Low and long,” he replied, studying his brother and catching the wariness in his eyes. “You?”
“Large and in charge.” Mickey glanced to Vlad and nodded. “What’s up?”
“Is this where Vlad say penis?” Vlad asked with a shake of his head. “You American men have strange obsession with your anatomy.”
Santiago entered the room. “Harry, you ready to go live?” he asked, his accent slight in comparison to Vlad’s. He checked his watch. “Mierda, I wanted to leave thirty minutes ago. We need to be in St. Louis by nine.”
“Sure,” Harrison said, and moved his fingers across the keyboard. While he typed, Santiago pulled Vlad aside and spoke to the Russian in hushed whispers. Vlad’s expression hardened and he shifted his ice blue gaze on Mickey. After nodding, he folded his arms across his chest, his focus remaining on Mickey.
Damn it, Mick, what did you do? He looked to his brother. Mickey’s hand shook as he raised his fingers to his temples. When Mickey met his eyes, and Harrison caught the panic, the horror, the depths of despair, his stomach rolled with nausea while fear tightened his throat.
Swallowing hard, he looked away from his brother and concentrated on the laptop screen. “We’re live,” he said to Santiago and Vlad.
Santiago nodded. “Bien. Pack up,” he ordered and headed into the bathroom.
Wearing a threatening scowl, Vlad walked over to the table and leaned next to Mickey. “What wrong, Mickey Mouse? You look like you see ghost.”
Mickey kept his gaze on Harrison’s. “Not a ghost,” his brother said, his voice low, shaky and dripping with terror. “More like The Angel of Death.”
Chapter 2
THE FRAGRANT, CITRUSY scent wafting from the blooming magnolia trees did little to calm Naomi’s nerves. With her stomach performing a continuous somersault, she led Jake along the walkway leading to her modest, ranch-style home’s wraparound front porch. Normally she’d relish the way the gorgeous, vibrant fuchsia azaleas, the purple, red and yellow tulips, the hearty boxwoods and hostas filled her flowerbeds. But with Jake by her side, she had a difficult time thinking about anything but him.
His familiar scent, his dark knowing eyes, how he hadn’t once smiled since showing up in the school parking lot. She’d missed his smile. The press of his body. His kisses. The way he made love to her.
But she’d missed more than the sex. The comfort, the security of his strong arms, knowing he understood her, accepted her, shared her dreams, wanted to create a future…
She drew in a quick breath and came to an abrupt halt.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes alert as he glanced at the front porch.
Everything. “Nothing,” she managed, when deep in her soul she wanted to shout the truth. She’d wanted that future with Jake. She always had, always would. Seeing him now was a cruel reminder of what she’d given up the day she’d left him. A lifetime of happiness filled with love and friendship.
“Look,” he said, and took her arm. When his big, warm hand touched her bare skin, memories surfaced. How many times had he touched her, caressed here, held her close late into the night or pulled her into his arms for a quick hug? When they’d been together, she’d taken those moments for granted. After being separated from him, after years of living with bittersweet memories, she realized she should have soaked up every second. Cherished those moments as they’d happened. Memories alone couldn’t fill her lonely days and nights.
He looked down to where he touched her arm and rubbed the pad of his thumb along her skin. “We never had an issue with talking,” he said and met her gaze. “No reason to start now. So let’s just get a few things out of the way.”
“Like?”
He reached for her left hand. “No ring. Boyfriend?”
She could lie and tell him there was someone and instantly create a safe barrier between them. The hope and longing in his dark eyes, and the way simply being near him tugged at her heart forced her to be honest. “No boyfriend. And you?”
His face softened as a playful smile tugged at his lips. “No boyfriend for me. I’m still straight.”
Grinning, she squeezed his hand. “You know exactly what I meant.”
“I know.” His smile fell as his gaze drifted to her lips. “And no, I’m not married, engaged or with someone.”
“So now what?” she asked, freeing her hand from his. Knowing there wasn’t anyone else in his life scared her. She could easily see herself falling back into his arms, falling back into their old routine, only to face the constant worry and fear of losing him. Permanently. And death, she knew too well, was permanent.
He let out a low chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, I don’t know. When I was driving here I tried to come up with what I’d say when I saw you and even then I didn’t know. I figured I’d wing it, but now that I’m standing on your front porch barely able to spit out a few words, I feel like a jackass. I’m sorry, Naomi, I didn’t come here to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not,” she lied. “Actually, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I invite you to my house, make you stand on the porch…made you uncomfortable. Come inside.” She unlocked the front door. “Hungry?”
“I’m good, but something cold to drink would work.”
She led him from the foyer down the hall and into her kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the opened windows, bringing with it the aroma of lilac and lavender. “Iced tea, beer, water, soda…?”
“Iced tea would be great, thanks.” He glanced from the updated kitchen into the small family room. “This is a great place.” He moved to the sliding patio door and looked out into the backyard. “That’s a lot of yard to maintain. How big’s the lot?”
Holding two glasses of tea, she stared at his rigid back. She didn’t want this reunion to be painfully awkward and from what he’d said on the front porch she knew he didn’t want that either. Yet neither one of them could relax or let their guard down long enough to move past inane small talk. Born and raised in Virginia by a mother who had strong roots in the South, she’d been schooled with proper Southern etiquette and had been taught to never let a guest feel uncomfortable. Then again, she’d never had a former fiancé in her home.
Deciding to embrace the short time she would have with him and anxious to hear how he’d been, she handed him the glass of tea. “Three quarters of an acre. But it’s not too bad. When I moved in I bought a riding mower.” She opened the patio door. “Let’s sit outside.”
He took the seat next to hers, probably because it offered the best shade from beneath
the umbrella. Still, the close proximity was more than she could handle. The last man who’d touched her, held her, loved her body, sat less than a foot away. Time and distance might have separated them, she might have separated them, but she still couldn’t help longing for his touch. She’d never loved any man the way she’d loved Jake.
When she’d met him, the attraction had been instantaneous. She’d been sitting at a beach café in Pensacola, Florida, chatting and sipping daiquiris with friends and watching a wedding taking place along the shore. Jake had been part of the wedding. Wearing his Marine-issued dress blue uniform, he’d looked badass and sexy. Even in that uniform she could tell he had a powerful body and although never one to throw herself at a man or become involved in a one-night stand the daiquiris had suggested otherwise. So had her meddling friends.
But the moment Jake turned those dark brown eyes on her she knew in her heart he wouldn’t be a one-night stand.
“You’re smiling,” he said, setting his iced tea on the table and sweeping her away from Pensacola and back to her patio. “Not to sound clichéd, but what are you thinking about?”
“The day we met.”
He grinned. “That was a great day. I’ll never forget the white sundress you wore. You outshined the bride.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Did not. She was beautiful.”
“So were you. I never told you this, but I almost beat the hell out of one of my buddies because he wanted to make a bet to see which one of us could sleep with you that night.”
She chuckled. “Nice.”
“You know I’d never take a bet like that.”
“Of course. Even if you had, you would have lost.”
“I didn’t, though.”
“If memory serves me.” She tapped a finger to her temple. “And I have a very good memory, you didn’t get to first base until our fourth date.”
He glanced at her mouth. “But you let me kiss you.”
When his firm lips had brushed along hers, coaxed and teased, he’d stolen her breath and her heart. The kiss had been electrifying and soul tugging. As if her body and heart knew Jake was the missing link, her other half, the man who would make her world right. Even then she knew she was taking a risk. The bastard who had been hunting her had already taken her parents from her, but her brother had given her a new identity, a new lease on life. In the end though, he’d given her false hope. She didn’t blame Thomas, he’d been trying to protect her. She blamed herself. For loving Jake, for assuming the past wouldn’t catch up to her.
Ultimate Kill (Book 1 Ultimate CORE Trilogy) (CORE Series) Page 3
