Accidental Bodyguard (16 page)

A strange look passed over Irene's face, and she gazed out into the trees. “Not my finest hour,” she said with a sigh. “You know what. We need something to eat. Let's go scramble some eggs.”

* * *

W
HEN
J
ACK
REACHED
the clearing for his cabin an hour later, he found Claudia out on the deck scribbling so intently in a spiral-bound notebook that she didn't notice his return. Wearing a bulky sweatshirt, she sat cross-legged in a chair, her thick dark hair all but obscuring her face as she bent over her work.

Unexpectedly stirred by the sight, he watched her for a moment from the edge of the woods. For a woman who yesterday had been obsessively paranoid about leaving the confines of Villa Alma, Claudia seemed a little too comfortable out in the open. She'd make an easy target right now. A skilled sniper could take a bead on her from the camouflage of the trees and plant a bullet in her brain, but she sat oblivious to anything but whatever she was writing.

Did that careless behavior mean anything? If so, what?

He wanted her. More than he'd ever wanted another woman. If he was honest with himself, part of the reason he was angry with his mother was because her presence forced him to sleep in the same bed with Claudia. How was he supposed to resist her?

But with his mother in the small cabin, it would be all but impossible to explore Claudia's lush body. He was in for weeks of pure torture if he didn't move Irene.

Just who was this woman who had entered his life and forced him to deal with his mom again? Lola had confirmed Claudia's name on the Romero witness list, along with her journal, so she'd told him the truth about that. But she'd been lying to him from the moment he met her.

She could still be lying to him. Maybe she'd been a terrorist herself, although that didn't fit what he knew of her personality. That's why he needed to remain professional. He had to stay on top of his game and prepare for any eventuality.

Which meant no sex with Claudia, much as he might want it. Until he could make arrangements for his mom, he'd take the couch and let the women have the bed.

Someone had been busy while he'd been on his recon mission, as a couple of chairs had been relocated from the shed. Surprisingly, Pookie lay at Claudia's feet on the concrete. When Jack took a step into the clearing, the dog raised her head and issued a bark that sounded more like a hiccup.

Claudia looked up, spotted him and gifted him with one of her stunning smiles, which loosened the tension churning in his gut.

“I was getting worried about you,” she said as he approached. She clipped her pen to the page and shut the book.

She ought to be worried about her own safety.

“I needed to blow off some steam,” he said.

“Feel better now?”

“Not really.”

“Would food help? We ate, but made you some eggs and grits. I can warm them up and make fresh toast.”

“You don't have to do that,” Jack said.

“I don't mind.” Claudia put her notebook on the table. When she rose, he noted she'd tucked her Glock in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. At least she hadn't totally let down her guard.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks.” He pointed to the notebook. “What's that?”

“I've started a new journal,” she said as she slid the door open. Pookie darted inside. “I'm keeping track of everything that's going on.”

Jack nodded. His focus still on the book, he sat in a chair on the other side of the table. What exactly had she written? He wouldn't mind knowing her take on his mother. Not to mention her secret opinion of him. But he wouldn't read her journal. That would be an invasion of her privacy.

Not that either of them would have much privacy as long as his mother remained. Yeah, there it was, the million-dollar question. Jack stretched his arms high over his head, relishing the pull on his tight muscles.

What was he going to do about his mother?

He'd been debating exactly that for the last hour as he hiked his property looking for trespassers. Some jerk had abandoned a broken-down ATC near the southeast corner that he'd have to haul off, but other than that, all remained as it had been three years ago.

No sign of any intruders.

He gazed out into the trees, and despite the unsettled questions that trampled through his head, that old sense of peace washed over him. Even while wrestling with the unexpected complications created by his mother, he'd enjoyed surveying his property, revisiting favorite places like that sinkhole in the east. It'd contained at least three feet of water last time he saw it, but today only a small puddle from yesterday's rain. No one had disturbed his gun range. The hawks' nest remained, and it appeared larger, as though still in use by the pair. He'd forgotten how much he loved this land.

No, he hadn't forgotten. He just chose not to think about his losses. No good ever came from dwelling on the past.

Claudia poked her head out. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks.”

When Jack entered the cabin, he spotted his mother sitting in the recliner with eyeglasses perched on the end of her nose working on a patchwork quilt. She nodded at him, but didn't speak and returned to her needlework.

Claudia sat beside him at the table nursing a mug of coffee. The dog sat at his feet, its little nose in the air, twitching furiously trying to scent his food.

“We're out of eggs,” Claudia said. “And there's not much bread left.”

“I'll go to the grocery later.”

“I can do that for you,” his mother offered from the chair.

“No need.” He took a huge bite of scrambled eggs, and realized he was famished. “This is delicious,” he told Claudia. “Thanks.”

“Your mom helped,” Claudia said.

Jack flicked a glance to Irene, nodded and continued eating without further comment.

His mother rose, grabbed her cigarettes and exited the sliders. “Come on, Pookie,” she said, waiting for the dog to join her.

Pookie stretched back on her haunches, surely a delaying tactic, and followed without much enthusiasm. She sniffed the floor around the table as she passed, searching for a dropped morsel.

When his mother slid the door shut, Claudia said, “I think you hurt her feelings.”

“I doubt it.”

“Jack, come on. You two can't keep at each other like this.”

“Yeah?” He bit back the impulse to tell Claudia she didn't know the history, to mind her own business. But he didn't want to start up with Claudia, too. And, hell, she had a point. Truth was, he was sick of the tension in the cabin.

“All the bickering is not...healthy,” she said.

“Do you think it's good for
your
health to sit outside in the open?” he asked, keeping his voice low so his mother couldn't overhear.

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “I thought it would be okay if I had Pookie with me,” Claudia said. “She's like an early warning system. And I had my gun.”

“I stood at the tree line for almost five minutes and neither of you noticed me. If I'd had a scope, you'd be dead.”

She flinched as if he'd truly just shot her. Fear washed through her eyes.

Finished eating, Jack eyed Claudia's reaction. He hated to frighten her, but she'd been lulled into a false sense of security, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Not to either of them.

Or maybe she knew she wasn't in danger from anyone. Could her fear be a giant charade? But to what purpose?

He had some decisions to make.

“I've been cooped up for so long,” Claudia said, shooting a wary glance out the sliders. “And it's so beautiful here, magical, like the mysterious woods in fairy tales. When I sit out there for very long, I feel like nothing can possibly go wrong in the world.”

He sat back, surprised by her words. He frequently had that experience when he allowed the serenity of the natural world to seep into his bones. She'd had that feeling twenty minutes ago on the deck, and he'd had it in the forest. But Claudia was the first woman to voice a similar perception. Every other woman he'd brought out here developed hives at the thought of coming back.

“I wonder how can there be whacked-out terrorists looking for me in a place as peaceful as this.”

“I admit the odds of the Warriors finding you here are low.”

“But they could.”

“What bothered me more was how oblivious you were to your surroundings. Whatever you were writing must have been good.”

Her cheeks colored, and he again wondered about the journal.

“While outside, you need to remain alert for trouble, constantly vigilant.”

“I know you're right,” she said with a deep sigh. “Maybe I'll stay inside.”

“Just a few more weeks,” Jack said.

“So much for my hike in the woods.”

“Oh, I think we can still manage that.”

“But I thought you...”

“I'll be with you, and we'll be loaded for bear,” Jack said. “We're going to do a little target practice today.”

“Bear?” Claudia stared at him, blue eyes wide. “I thought you said there weren't any bears.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C
LAUDIA
TOOK
A
DEEP
, pine-scented breath as she followed Jack into the canopy of his forest. The light immediately dimmed. She looked up and saw only patches of blue sky between the towering trees overhead. The path was narrow, hardly wide enough for Jack's shoulders; the ground beneath her feet was flat and soft, full of pine needles.

All around her, the ever-present birds chirped, cawed or sang. The only other sound was Jack's boots crunching the trail ahead of her.

She could also hear Jack's voice in her head telling her to remain vigilant, but found herself seduced by the peaceful beauty surrounding her. Mother Nature in all her glory. Funny, she'd always considered Miami the most naturally gorgeous place on Earth, but hiking in this forest tempted her to change that opinion. For one thing, Miami didn't have near enough shade—especially in the summer.

The woods around her didn't appear threatening, but sheltering, as if they afforded protection to its inhabitants. Like those chattering squirrels scampering on the branches overhead, twitching their bushy tails.

She noticed something else, too. After only fifteen minutes her breathing became labored. Some big hiker she was.

Since she normally worked on her feet for twelve hours, she assumed she was in good physical shape. But she couldn't keep up with Jack, and the weight of her pack pulled on her shoulders. He'd found an old backpack for her in the shed, which he'd loaded with ammo, water and their lunch. Plus she wore her gun in a snug shoulder holster, and despite the cool air, the T-shirt beneath her sweatshirt had become damp from sweat.

She needed to peel off the sweatshirt. And she also needed hydration.

She stopped moving and shouldered off her pack, staring at Jack's pack ahead of her on the trail. His was larger and heavier and also contained various provisions, including more ammo. She knew the gun in his shoulder holster was loaded, as was the one in his boot.

But his guns were loaded for target practice. She took a nervous glance around her. At least she hoped they wouldn't meet a bear. Or a terrorist.

“Try to keep up,” Jack barked back at her.

“What's the hurry?” she yelled.

He halted and turned. “Sorry. I guess there isn't any big rush. This is just my normal pace.”

Claudia took a gulp from her water bottle. “I need a breather.”

He nodded, scanned the area for activity and joined her. “I forget your legs aren't as long as mine.”

She glanced at his powerful legs, which were, unfortunately, currently covered by faded denim. He did wear a long-sleeved T-shirt that fit snugly, outlining his gladiator muscles.

“Where exactly is this gun range, anyway?” she asked.

“In the center of my property so no stray bullets can injure anyone. It'll take us another fifteen minutes to get there. Correct that.” He grinned. “Better make that twenty-five minutes.”

She made a face at him. “Smart-ass.”

Claudia pulled the sweatshirt over her head and stuffed it in the pack. The cool air on her bare arms revived her. She stretched her arms high over her head, relishing the freedom of movement and the quiet beauty of the trail. When she reached for her pack, Jack grabbed it with one hand to take part of the weight.

After adjusting the load on her back, she set off down the trail, determined to do better. “Try to keep up,” she shouted back at him.

Claudia timed it, and in twenty-one minutes they arrived at a clearing maybe a hundred feet by a hundred feet. A small, obviously man-made hill bordered one end of the area. In front of the rise sat a series of wooden posts displaying battered metal targets with the bold outline of a human head and chest. Concentric circles spread out from the center of the silhouette. Multiple bullet holes indicated previous sessions on the range.

So much for the serenity of the forest. They'd come here so she could practice her aim in case she needed to shoot at a real, breathing human being. Before that human could shoot her.

Looking up, she gazed at an intense blue sky overhead. A soft breeze filtered through the trees, rubbing branches together and ruffling her ponytail. As she removed her pack, she noted a couple of fallen trees had been cleared to one side and that the rotting logs had been charred by fire.

“What happened here?” she asked Jack. She had to raise her voice since he had moved off to scout the area beyond the hill to make sure no one was down range.

“Lightning strike,” he said. “It's part of the natural cycle of the forest.”

She nodded and took a cool, refreshing swig from her water bottle. Lightning from a thunderstorm had felled a tree, which knocked down another one or two, and probably started a small fire. Rain likely put out the flames before they got too intense, but an opening in the canopy had been created, and from the looks of it later enlarged by Jack.

Jack joined her and took off his own pack. “See how the clearing allows the sun to reach the forest floor here? That encourages the growth of new vegetation, and then it's a race to stay taller than your neighbor so it can't block out the sun, which would mean a slow death.”

“Sounds like
Wild Kingdom
,” Claudia murmured and sat on a fallen log covered by some type of green spongy moss. She sighed, glad to sit down for a bit. Keeping up with Jack had been a challenge, but for some strange reason her pride wouldn't let her fall behind.

“Exactly,” Jack said. “Nothing is wasted in the forest. Small animals will set up housekeeping in that log. Lichens are feeding off the rotting wood. Birds, especially woodpeckers, will colonize a dead tree snag. Recycling at its best, all very efficient.”

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, allowing its warmth to push away the chill that had crept in after she quit moving. “Do you think this clearing will fill back in with trees?”

“Eventually, but it will likely take a hundred years, maybe two hundred. But that's only if the land isn't developed first.”

She shot him a look. “You're not thinking about selling, are you?”

He shrugged. “The thought crossed my mind. This is the first time I've visited in three years.”

“If I owned this land, I could never sell it.”

“But remember I don't live here anymore.”

Claudia nodded, ridiculously stung at her mental image of this idyllic setting paved over with slabs of concrete and supporting steel.

After a long drink from his water bottle, Jack said, “Tell me what you know about guns.”

“I know they can kill people.”

He nodded. “That's a good start. Have you had any instruction?”

“I took the course you need to get a carry permit in Florida. And I went to the range twice to practice.”

“Show me. Take your gun out of the holster.”

Claudia unsnapped the holster and withdrew the gun, finding the motion awkward since she usually carried the Glock in her purse. Remembering what the instructor had hammered into her, she kept her finger off the trigger and pointed the barrel down. Maybe more
The
Wild Wild West
than
Wild Kingdom
.

“You're holding your weapon as if it were an egg and might break,” Jack said. “You're afraid of it, aren't you?”

She met his gaze. “It's loaded.”

“A gun won't do you much good if it isn't. You don't like guns, do you?”

“Not really.”

“Break your weapon down for me.”

She demonstrated her ability to remove the magazine, racked the gun three times and visually checked that there wasn't a round in the chamber. She glanced at Jack, then fired into the ground to make certain. Next she took the gun apart as if she were going to clean it, and reassembled the mechanism.

He scrutinized every movement. Apparently satisfied she understood how the gun worked, he asked, “Are you ready for some target practice?”

“I guess.”

Jack grabbed his pack and moved them to about twenty-five yards from the targets. He produced ear and eye protection for them both.

“Aim for the center mass of the target on the left. I want to watch you.”

Telling herself she was here to learn, Claudia spread her feet and faced the target. She took a two-handed grip, making sure her fingers were clear of the slide, and raised the gun. Holding her arms steady, she aligned the front and rear sights, focused on the front one, positioning it in the center of the target's chest, allowing the rear sight to remain fuzzy as she'd been taught. She shot twice, the sound startlingly loud even under the ear protection.

She missed both times.

“Grip the gun tighter,” Jack said. “You don't have enough control.”

He moved behind her to assist, and she tensed, not at all certain such proximity to Jack's body would help with her control. Recent history had shown quite the opposite.

“Relax.” He said the word close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath. “I won't bite.”

She willed herself to ignore his warmth and how good he smelled as he extended his arms forward to realign her grip on the gun. Pulling his hands back, he touched her arms. “Straighten your elbows.”

Claudia tightened the muscles in her arms.
Concentrate on the target—not Jack.

“Good,” he said. “Try it again.”

She fired three more times, and hit the target once.

“Better,” he said. “Pull the trigger more evenly.”

Jack turned out to be a patient teacher. He helped her with her stance, explained how the muzzle would rise each time she fired and how to correct for that motion. Occasionally, he demonstrated lessons by taking shots himself, always hitting the target right where he wanted, but she sensed he was trying to help her, not showing off.

But of course Jack never felt the need to prove himself, wouldn't understand how she'd struggled to maintain his pace on the hike.

“Your grip, your stance and your trigger pull all affect your aim,” he told her. “Time the shot with your breath, pulling on the exhale. That's the steadiest part of the cycle.”

She looked back at him. “I won't have time to wait for an exhale if Carlos finds me.”

“But by then you'll have built muscle memory and you'll be more accurate on a regular basis.”

On the fourth magazine, she hit the target every time. Not the center, but each loud “pling” against the metal told her she'd made contact.

“Good job,” Jack said.

Rather pleased with herself, she lowered the Glock, which had become heavier as the morning progressed.

He high-fived her left hand, seeming genuinely pleased by her improvement, and removed his earpieces. “Your muscles are fatigued by now.”

She took off her own ear protection, let them dangle around her neck and rotated her shoulders. Definitely sore, but she didn't want to quit. Not when she was actually making progress. “Yeah, but I'm okay.”

“No. That's enough for today.”

She nodded, accepting he was right, and removed the clear goggles.

“Muscle memory is what'll make you a good shot,” he told her again.

She grinned, thinking of an old cliché. “Practice makes perfect?”

“You got it. Won't happen in one day. Come on. Let's eat before we go back to the house.” Jack snatched his pack from the ground and strode back to the log she'd rested on earlier.

So they were going to have a picnic. A week ago if someone had told her she'd dine alfresco out in the middle of piney woods with Jackson Richards, security director extraordinaire, she'd have choked.

She watched his easy, confident strides and shook her head at how much she enjoyed the sight. God, but Jack was easy on the eyes, all rugged and masculine. She might as well quit worrying about her reaction to him. The way he made her feel—well, it just
was
, and she couldn't do anything about it.

She'd be fine as long as she remembered to keep her hands off him.

After loading another clip so she'd be ready in case of attack, she placed the gun in her holster. She'd clean the Glock when they returned to the cabin.

For sure Jack's mood had improved since this morning. Was it the shooting? Firing round after round was oddly stress-relieving. Not to mention empowering. Or maybe he liked teaching. Some people were natural-born educators, although she wasn't one of them. Or was it being away from civilization out in the center of his forest?

Most likely his mood had everything to do with the fact that they'd left Irene in the cabin.

Claudia still needed to learn the reason why mother and son constantly sniped at each other.

She'd been surprised when Irene handed her four carefully wrapped sandwiches as they'd set out for the woods just before 11:00 a.m.

“Here,” she'd said. “If I know my son, he'll starve you to death.”

“What is it?” Jack had asked suspiciously.

“Peanut butter and strawberry jam on whole grain bread.”

Claudia had shot Jack a look and grabbed their lunch. “Sounds delicious. Thanks.”

Now she joined Jack on the log, removed the sandwiches from her pack and handed him one.

“You made good progress today,” he said, and took a huge bite.

“Because of you. Thanks for the lessons.”

He nodded and ate without speaking. Peace had returned to the clearing, and she could again hear the wind rustling through the trees overhead. When the shooting started, all birds had fled, but their cheerful chirps now gradually returned.

“Making us lunch was sweet of your mom, don't you think?” she prompted to get a conversation started.

Jack grunted and took a bite.

She wished she knew what he was thinking.

Chewing thick homemade bread generously slathered with creamy spread, she silently blessed whoever had come up with this combination. Peanut butter and jelly had to be the most delicious food ever. Or maybe she was just hungry. Since learning Carlos had tracked her to Collins Island, she could barely keep anything down. Her appetite had definitely returned.