Getting Lucky

by Susan Andersen

  The risotto garnered compliments when it was dished up a short while later, but dinner itself turned out to be a strained affair. Zach attempted once again to convince Mrs. Beaumont to call in the FBI to handle the ransom, but she remained stubbornly resistant. Although his manner remained courteous, Lily could tell he was frustrated and angry, and the moment she finished cleaning up the kitchen she headed for his room.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as soon as he answered the door in response to her knock.

  “She makes me crazy, Lily.” He hauled her into the room, but once the door closed behind her he turned her loose and began to pace. “Not that we wouldn’t have had to think twice about contacting the FBI anyway, since Rocket discovered the closest special agent in charge is a known glory seeker, but—”

  “Then I don’t get it,” she interrupted, but found herself speaking to his back as he stalked toward the desk on the other side of the room. “If that’s the case, why do you still keep trying to convince Mrs. B. to call them?”

  He about-faced and strode back in her direction, his eyebrows lowered. “Because she doesn’t know that, and I wanted to see her reaction. Usually leaving the authorities out of the loop is a huge mistake, and for all she knows, refusing to contact them could seriously endanger Glynnie and David.” His stiff-set shoulders twitched restlessly. “I can’t figure out if she truly believes the kidnapper will harm them if the feds are called in—or if that’s exactly what she’s counting on.”

  Lily recalled lying in his arms the other night while he’d told her what his friend Rocket had dug up. The idea of having to suspect anyone, let alone that sweet, dithery woman…“Oh, man, I hate this.”

  “Tell me about it. And just to make our day really special, I got a call from Coop earlier. He and Rocket are over on the dock at Anacortes.”

  “That’s good news, right?”

  “Well, it would be, except one of the ferries is out of commission, and it’s Friday—which is a big travel day for the islands—so the schedule is backed up for hours. They’ll be lucky to make the last boat.” Agitated energy radiated off him in almost palpable waves as he paced back and forth, and the look he shot her was black. “Which means if the kidnapper follows the plan he laid out, that only leaves part of tomorrow to get together with Coop and John and plan the op. And that means I could lose whatever advantage having them in reserve will give me.”

  She walked over and grasped his hand, holding on with both of hers to halt his restless prowling. His skin felt hot beneath her fingers as she led him to the bed and pushed him down onto it. Climbing onto the mattress as well, she kneeled behind where he sat and began to rub his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m sure everything will be all right. You’ll feel better once your friends get here.”

  Zach felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, and he pushed back into her massaging hands. “Yeah, well. Not much I can do about it anyhow.” He didn’t know what it was about her, but she had a way of defusing the worst of his frustration. “Tell me about this dream restaurant of yours.”

  Her voice lulled him, and her enthusiasm made him smile. But the feel of her body heat shimmering between them soon distracted him, and he reached over his shoulder and snagged her hand. Pulling her around to his side, he flipped her onto his lap.

  She batted her eyes at him. “Why, Master Sergeant Taylor.”

  He lowered his head to kiss her, got lost in her flavor, and had to rip his mouth free. Lust and the disquieting fear of letting her mean too much mixed uneasily in his gut as he looked down at her. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I know.”

  But he kissed her again anyway—kissed her with everything he had—before pulling back once more. His breath had begun to hitch. “Chances are, no one’s gonna need me tonight. But if they do, I can’t afford to be distracted.”

  “Wouldn’t do to be found with your pants down around your ankles,” she agreed, and stroked her lush butt up and down the rigid, aching length of his erection.

  It responded by growing harder, a feat he would have sworn wasn’t possible. “Right. Uh, Lily?” He sucked in a breath as she once again rubbed against him.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are my eyes crossed?”

  She laughed that warm, wholehearted belly laugh that always made him want to grin back and then tuck her securely under his arm—well, either that or toss her flat on her back and kiss the laughter right out of her. “Beats the heck outta me,” she said. “My own view at the moment appears to be limited to the tip of my nose.”

  “Ah, man.” Helpless to resist, he kissed her again.

  He had her cobalt chenille tunic unbuttoned and was working on the front clasp of her chocolate-colored lace bra when the bedside telephone shrilled. For just an instant, his hand tightened on the fastener as he contemplated ignoring it. Then swearing, he dumped Lily onto the mattress and reached for the phone. “Taylor,” he snarled.

  “Zach, come quick,” Jessica said in a breathless voice that had him snapping to attention. “The kidnapper is on the other line. Or at least—”

  Zach tossed the receiver back on the hook and ran from the room.

  Thirty minutes later, he was headed out the door with a suitcase full of money and a jaw clenched tight against the desire to curse a blue streak.

  He’d had plans for when the kidnapper called, and not one of them had panned out. First, he’d been set to demand that the kidnapper let him talk to his sister if he ever wanted to see one red cent of the ransom. But instead of an actual person on the other end of the line, he’d gotten a recording. A fucking recording that set out the terms of the exchange in a whispered, androgynous voice that left no room for bargaining or demands. It merely repeated the same spiel over and over again until the tape came to an end. Then, as if that wasn’t headache-producing enough, for the life of him he couldn’t figure out if David’s mother was the most feather-headed woman on planet Earth…or wilier than a Wall Street shark.

  He’d intended to hit *69 the moment he disconnected. Obtaining pertinent information from it was a long shot, since anyone with two brain cells to rub together would have used a public phone. But given the probability of this being an inside job, it was still worth pursuing. He’d barely depressed the disconnect button, though, when Mrs. B. had reached past him, punched the button for Richard’s room, and then snatched the receiver from his hand, babbling hysterically into it the moment her nephew picked up. The next thing Zach knew, everyone except Cassidy, who’d gone out after dinner, was milling about the parlor all talking at once.

  His jaw tightened even more at the thought of what they wanted him to do. Climbing into the Jeep, he hunched grimly over the steering wheel as he reached for the ignition. This was not smart, and he’d argued against taking the ransom into a blind setup with no precautions in place—particularly without an assurance that Glynnis and David were still in good health and would be returned safely as soon as the money was dropped off. Money that just incidentally had been collected and put in the home-office safe that very afternoon.

  And now, as if things weren’t tense enough, he caught a whiff of Lily’s scent where it had no business being, and his teeth clenched with such force he was surprised they didn’t crack in two. “Christ,” he muttered. That was just what he needed. If he’d had half a second without the Beaumonts all yapping at him, he might have thought to wash the smell of her off his hands before setting off. The woman was messing with his mind way too much, and it was past time he quit procrastinating and did something about it. It wasn’t like him to let a female distract him the way he’d allowed this one to do.

  And yet…

  Where the hell had she disappeared to? He’d wanted to pull her aside and have her make note of who hung around the parlor while he was gone, and who disappeared for any significant length of time. When in the midst of all the hubbub he’d turned to look for her, however, she was nowhere to be seen.

  Which should gi
ve you a clue. That’s your entire life in a nutshell. Gunning the engine, he shot up the drive. Barring your unit, which you know will always be here to back you up if they’re able, you’ve got exactly one person you can depend on to be there when needed. That’s you, bud.

  And no one else.

  Miguel saw the master sergeant’s SUV shoot out of the driveway and fishtail as it hit the road, and he jerked upright in his car. Dios. He’d begun to think he would fossilize here before anyone finally made a move. It had been the longest six days of his life, and as he watched the vehicle straighten out and then roar off down the road, he reached for the ignition key.

  But his hand dropped back to his side before it connected, leaving the engine still turned off. He’d only seen one person behind the tinted glass of Taylor’s jeep when it had passed beneath the light at the top of the driveway. One.

  The master sergeant. All by himself. Which meant the man’s woman had been left behind.

  Ripe for the picking.

  In the past week, Miguel had made careful forays around the estate grounds, trying to figure out what was going on. He’d hadn’t been successful, but he had learned that there were seven people in residence.

  And the only one he had any cause to worry about had just driven off as if el diablo himself was on his trail.

  Miguel opened the car door and eased out, cursing under his breath when his legs, stiff from hours of sitting in one position, nearly buckled beneath his weight. But there was no need for profanity, he decided, as he bent down to scoop up the empty food wrappers that had wafted out in his wake and tossed them back on the seat with the others. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. And if he—how did the gringos say it?—played his cards correctly? Then his long wait was at an end.

  Zach had emptied his mind of everything but the chore at hand by the time he entered Moran State Park, driving slowly beneath its white signature arch. As he approached the Midway camp area moments later, he turned off the Jeep’s headlights, then coasted to a stop within the shadow of the shower house by the extra vehicle lot. He killed the engine and sat unmoving until his eyes adjusted to the night. Then he double-checked to make sure he was in the right place.

  SITES 31–36, the sign read. His directions were to drop off the suitcase at Site 32, which appeared to be up the hill.

  He reached up and flipped the overhead light switch to “Off.” Then, picking up the money satchel from the passenger seat, he eased out of the Jeep and closed the door quietly behind him, glad to see the wind had died down. Cascade Lake lapped gently at the shore across the main road as he made his silent way in the opposite direction.

  The spur road to the camp area climbed steeply for a short stretch before curving to the right around the hill, but he left it before reaching that point and cut up over the bank. The site he sought was likely to be second in line just around the bend, but marching up the road in search of it didn’t strike him as the shrewdest move he could make. Doing what he was trained to do seemed to him a better bet. He picked his way through the woods with care, traversing damp undergrowth and downed trees as he climbed the hill.

  Moments later he squatted in the deeper shadow of an immense evergreen on the knob of the hill and looked down on Site 32. Searching for signs of life, he gave the campground below a preliminary once-over.

  It could be worse. At least the fire pit where he was supposed to make the drop wasn’t accessible from all sides. The hill behind it was too overgrown to negotiate with any stealth, and he had possession of the rest of the knoll where it curved around to form the second side of the site. Woods separated the third border from the next camp, and he had a clear view of the approach in front. Crouching next to a tree, Zach widened his visual inspection to include the surrounding area.

  It appeared deserted, but when it came to the woods at night, there were always places to hide. Hell, the eroded bank alone a few feet to his left provided countless pockets of darkness that even his exceptional night vision couldn’t penetrate. There were simply too many shadows cast by the huge uprooted trees canting down the hill.

  But if the kidnapper lurked in one of them, he’d have to come out sooner or later to collect the money. Zach eased back through the woods and down the hill, then made a production out of approaching Site 32 from the road. When he’d made the drop and left, he clomped down the road. But once around the bend, he raced with swift silence back to his place on the crest of the hill, where he hunkered down to keep the bag under surveillance. He had a wealth of experience in patiently blending into the background and waiting, and that’s precisely what he intended to do now.

  All night long, if necessary.

  As it turned out, he didn’t have very long to wait. He’d only been there minutes before he heard someone making his way up the road…and not with any particular stealth. The kidnapper didn’t exactly march up the middle of the road like the redcoats coming to put down the rebellion, but he may as well have done. Soles scuffed occasionally against the blacktop, and toes came into obvious contact with pinecones, for three separate times Zach heard the distinct skitter of the latter as they rolled across the pavement. When whoever it was grew closer, Zach could even discern agitated breathing.

  And he was torn. This was one of those situations in which a one-man watch sucked. You never, but never took your eyes off the object of your surveillance. But neither did you bypass the opportunity to find out all the information you could about your opponent, because the more you knew, the better you could maintain the element of surprise—and sometimes that was the only advantage you had. Unfortunately the two directives were diametrically opposed since he’d have to break the first rule to accomplish the second.

  Shit. It really took two to affect an airtight stakeout in a case like this.

  Then Zach mentally shrugged. So, big deal; who was it likely to be but the kidnapper? And if it was someone else, going over to check it out wouldn’t put him so far from the ransom bag that he couldn’t intercept an approach from another direction. Crab-walking foot by careful foot, he eased over to the verge.

  The already undermined bank threatened to give beneath his foremost foot, and he edged back several inches. Pulling his nine millimeter from his waistband, he rested it against his knee and peered down to where the kidnapper would come into view any moment now, if the ruckus he made was any indication.

  When the person suddenly did round the bend and come into view, however, every muscle in Zach’s body went tight, and he had to bite his tongue against voicing the obscenities that rose up in his throat. But, shit fuck hell. He’d know that head of kiss-me-daddy hair anywhere. Not to mention that walk—simply changing from her usual four inch heels into a pair of strappy, flat-heeled sandals had done nothing to disguise it.

  Lily.

  When he’d smelled her in the Jeep earlier, apparently it hadn’t been merely the residual scent transferred from their rolling around on his bed. Zach ground his teeth. What in hell did she think she was doing putting herself in danger, and screwing up his op? Shifting his weight onto his forward foot, he glared down at her.

  A rock broke loose from the edge and rattled down the bank, and he moved back before he started an avalanche. Dammit, he had to get her out of here, but how was he supposed to do that and keep an eye on the ransom at the same time?

  He was so focused on her that he didn’t immediately heed the small hairs rising on the back of his neck. But they were an atavistic warning system that had stood him in good stead for eighteen years, and he didn’t have to hear the faint crack of a branch on the ground behind him to realize that Lily wasn’t the only one in the woods with him. Bringing his gun up, he was turning toward the sound when a light suddenly flashed on and caught him full in the face, blinding him. He aimed just to the left of the dazzling circle of light, but down on the road Lily screamed his name, and there was such fear in her voice that for one ill-advised moment he froze. Jesus. He couldn’t see a thing.

  He c
ould hear the footsteps rushing him, however, and his finger once again exerted pressure on the trigger. But before he could squeeze off a shot, the light flared in an arc, and the side of his head exploded in agony.

  Then everything went black.

  17

  AWASH IN A STEW OF FIGHT-OR-FLIGHT IMPULSES, Lily froze. Seeing Zach spotlighted above her, his profile fierce and a gun the size of a cannon to her unaccustomed eyes in his hand, adrenaline shot through her system with such force she thought her heart would burst. As if she needed another reason to be scared out of her wits! She was already completely freaked by how out of her element she was—to have him suddenly pop up on the hill like an illuminated commando frieze in some avant-garde West Hollywood production darn near made her wet her knickers.

  That was nothing, though, to the moment when the light shining on his face swirled sickeningly and he suddenly vanished. Her initial fear had been for herself. Now her terror was for him. It was swiftly superceded by a surge of red-hot fury at the thought of some faceless coward hurting him, and her paralysis shattered. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she charged up to the campsite.

  Keeping her eye on the knoll, she scrambled over the woodsy debris that littered the area. When a darker shadow in a night already way too dark suddenly detached itself and hesitated on the ridge just above her, she slid to a stop, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, her throat, her ears. Ohgawd, ohgawd. Whatever had possessed her to think she could be of any earthly use to Zach? What seemed like such a good idea in the well-lit Beaumont mansion had revealed itself for the brainless folly it was the moment she’d crawled out the back of his Jeep. But the thought of him going into this all alone had been unendurable.

  Now, more desperate to get to him than she was afraid of the kidnapper, she snatched up a rock to use as a weapon and forced herself to stalk toward the shadowy presence on the hill. It tossed its head like an enraged stallion, but then to her immense relief ran crashing through the woods in the opposite direction. The instant the kidnapper was gone, she stepped forward and hissed, “Zach!”