Accidental Bodyguard (22 page)

Her fingers tingled, so she shook her hands. “Run. Scream.”

“What if you couldn't get away? What if no one came to your rescue?”

“I guess I'd—” Before she could finish her thought, Jack grabbed her, positioning his forearm around her throat. She hadn't seen it coming, had no idea how it happened, but knew if he applied any pressure, she'd pass out. Or he'd break her neck.

“That's how fast it can happen,” he said, his breath hot on her nape.

With her heart beating a rapid tattoo inside her chest, she took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave.

He released her, giving her a slight shove away as if he didn't want to be close to her.

“Do you remember how you were standing when I made my move?” he demanded.

She shook her head, still rattled by the suddenness of his attack.

“You should have been ready for me. You're right-handed, so stand with your left foot forward, your right leg back.”

He demonstrated, and raised hands curled into fists.

“Bend your knees slightly with your weight evenly distributed,” he said. “Try it.”

Claudia assumed a stance similar to his.

“Keep your hands up so that if you stick out your thumbs, they'd touch your cheeks. Keep your hands relaxed. If you punch, make a tight fist. Keep your wrist straight or you might break it.”

Claudia copied everything Jack did, staying light on her feet, her hands fisted close to her chin. They bounced around each other for a few minutes, checking each other out. She got how it wouldn't be so easy for an attacker to take control.

“Now you don't look like such a victim,” Jack said. “For the techniques I'm going to teach you, the object is to turn yourself from the victim into the predator.”

“I'd have to see someone coming,” Claudia said.

“Yeah, you would. That's why you need to stay alert at all times. If you feel you are physically in danger, there are no rules.”

Jack stepped toward her again. She raised her right forearm to ward off the assault, but he easily maneuvered himself behind her and placed his arm around her neck.

“The danger in this position, a rear headlock, is you could be choked out quickly. You want to take pressure off your throat.”

She swallowed hard as Jack's words rumbled close to her ear, his body hard and unyielding pressed into hers.

“Hook my arm with both of your hands and pull down,” he said, “then dig your chin in behind.”

Claudia did as instructed, but suspected she was able to slightly move his arm because Jack allowed it to happen. Hopefully any attacker wouldn't be quite as strong.

“That will buy you some time. Maintain your hold on my arm, but widen your legs, lower your hips and drop down slightly.”

Realizing what he wanted, she said, “There's no way I can pick you up.”

“You're not going to. You're going to throw me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Pay attention. If you lean forward, my body will curve, forcing me up on my toes.”

Claudia did as he requested.

“Now twist your body away from my elbow around your neck. Maintain your grip on my arm.”

Before she could execute his instructions, a shrill alarm sounded. Jack dropped his arm and stepped away.

“What the hell is that?” Irene yelled from the deck.

“The security perimeter has been breached,” Jack said. “Someone's coming.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“G
ET
IN
THE
CABIN
,” Jack ordered Claudia. “Help my mother.”

“Can you tell where the breach occurred?” Claudia asked, looking around wildly.

“Get inside. Lock the front door and wait for me in the bedroom.”

Jack rushed to the Airstream to retrieve his weapons and laptop. By the time he got back to the cabin, the women sat next to each other on the bed. Claudia had her Glock beside her. Irene looked angry.

“What is going on, Jack?” his mother demanded.

“I don't know yet,” he said.

“Is there any way to tell what direction they're coming from?” Claudia asked again.

“It's not that sophisticated a system. Just an alert.”

“For what?” Irene shook her head. “It's probably someone coming to visit.”

“Who?” Jack asked. “No one knows we're here but Sheriff Wheeler.”

“Well, we know it's not him,” Irene said. She dug her cigarettes from a pocket.

Jack snatched them from her hand.

“We're trapped,” Claudia said. Her voice remained calm, but blood had drained from her face. “What are we going to do?”

Jack jerked a throw rug back from the hardwood floor. Claudia gasped when he pulled on a recessed strap and opened a trap door. Wooden stairs led down into a dark space.

“This is my storm cellar,” he said.

“For hurricanes?” Claudia asked.

“Not usually. Tornadoes.”

“Yeah, this area is a tornado magnet,” Irene said.

Claudia peered into the cellar. “There's not enough room for all three of us.”

“Just you and Mom.”

Claudia shook her head. “No. I'm not going to hide down there and leave you out here to die. Besides, they'll find us and I'd rather—”

“This is just an escape valve,” Jack interrupted. “No one is going to die.”

“Escape?” Claudia narrowed her eyes at him. “Is there a tunnel?”

Jack whirled at the sound of an engine straining on the incline to the cabin.

“Wait here,” he ordered, surprised the Warriors would be so open. Maybe the breach wasn't as sinister as he'd thought. But maybe it was.

He ratcheted a bullet into the chamber of his Sig Sauer. Aiming its barrel at the floor, he moved into the front room.

Dust swirled into the air signaling the approach of a large vehicle that couldn't yet be seen. Still doubting that Romero's people would stage a frontal assault, Jack positioned himself beside the front window so he couldn't be seen and waited.

In less than a minute, Chuck Wheeler's fancy truck rolled into view. Well, damn. He needed to install a gate on the driveway to keep this guy out.

Jack holstered his weapon and called out, “Relax. It's Chuck.”

“Chuck?” Irene squeaked.

Claudia appeared at the edge of the hall and peeked out. “Is he alone?”

“Yes. Wait here.”

Claudia complied, leaning against the wall. But his mother pushed past her. No longer needing crutches, she limped out into the front room, favoring her injured foot. The hopeful expression on her face made Jack swear under his breath.

“Let me see what he wants, Mom.”

The truck door slammed, and they both turned to look out the window. Chuck jumped out of the truck, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

“He's here for me,” Irene said.

“We don't know that,” Jack said.

“I do, but I'll stay inside. I just wanted to get a look at him.”

Jack went out to meet Chuck. The sheriff looked as if he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks.

Jack nodded. “Sheriff,” he said, reaching out an arm.

“Jack.” They shook hands. Chuck looked over Jack's shoulder toward the house. “We've got a situation.”

“Situation?”

“Is there anyone else here besides Irene?”

Jack hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“Because some rough-looking strangers have been asking around town about a woman, showing this photograph.” Chuck handed Jack a black-and-white image printed off a computer.

Jack stared at the photograph. Grainy, but definitely Claudia.

“And this one.”

Jack accepted another photo. One of him at the ferry landing on Collins Island.

“Shit,” he muttered. So the Warriors had traced them to Dunnellon. How had that happened? Claudia insisted the US Attorney's Office had a leak. Had they traced her call to the prosecutor? Had Marsali somehow located them?

“These dudes aren't making any friends with their belligerence,” Chuck continued. “Most folks won't tell them squat, but this morning at breakfast one of my deputies overheard a conversation with Cindy down at the Dinner Bell. She said she didn't know the woman, but told the guy asking that the photo looked like you.”

Jack nodded. They had to relocate. Fast.

“Won't be hard to find out where you live. Likely they'll show up here before long.”

“Likely,” Jack agreed. He needed a plan.

The sheriff folded his arms. “You in some kind of trouble, son?”

Thinking hard, Jack stared at Chuck Wheeler. Wheeler met his gaze with steady gray eyes. Circumstances dictated he had to trust the sheriff. He had no choice.

“Do you know this woman?” Wheeler asked.

Jack released a heavy sigh. “Have you ever heard of a group out of south Florida that call themselves the Warriors for Self Rule?”

Wheeler nodded, eyes narrowed. “Bad bunch. Blew up a post office in Broward County as I recollect.”

“I suspect the men asking about me belong to that group.”

“What do they want with you?”

“This woman,” Jack said, holding up Claudia's photo, “is the primary witness in a trial against their leader that starts Monday.”

“Carlos Romero. Nasty one.”

“The group made threats, and I'm protecting her until her testimony.”

Again Wheeler glanced toward the house. “And you're telling me you've got her stashed here?”

Jack took a wary look around his property. Could the Warriors be close, waiting to pounce? “I don't like being out in the open. Come on inside.”

* * *

W
HEN
J
ACK
ENTERED
the cabin with Chuck Wheeler, Claudia knew by the tight way he held his jaw that something was very wrong.

His eyes intent on her, Jack handed her two photos.

“Men have been showing these photos around town.”

Claudia glanced at the photos of her and Jack. Unable to respond, she collapsed in the recliner where Irene sat to sew.

Carlos had found her again.

She looked at Jack, who stared back, his face still grim. Now what? Would the sheriff betray them?

Nausea churned in her stomach as she tried to decide what to do next. What she had feared most had happened. She was helpless. A stranger in a small town. No car. No friends. She'd alienated her only ally, the man she loved.

Would her gladiator continue to protect her?

As Jack explained her situation, Claudia watched Sheriff Chuck Wheeler's reactions closely, trying to determine if he was friend or foe. Wheeler's face remained impassive.

Irene, sitting beside the sheriff on the sofa, bounced her knee up and down, kept shooting wide-eyed glances at Claudia and generally looked like she would burst.

Claudia hugged herself. Jack was telling Wheeler everything except the very minor detail that Carlos Romero was her ex-husband. While she appreciated that, she couldn't help but wonder why he did it.

“Dear Lord,” Irene exploded when Jack had concluded the sorry tale. “So these Warrior people are trying to find our Miss Claudia to kill her?”

“I can prove Romero blew up the post office that killed two people.”

“It was a damn good plan, Jack,” Sheriff Wheeler said, “but something went wrong somewhere.”

“There's a leak in the US Attorney's Office,” Claudia said. “No one believes me, but I've been saying that from the beginning.”

“You called Beauchamps on his cell phone,” Jack countered. “While he was at home.”

“Maybe Romero's people found a way to bug his apartment,” Claudia said.

“Who is Beauchamps?” Irene asked.

“The US Attorney handling the case,” Claudia told her.

“Do you trust him?” Wheeler asked.

“I do,” Claudia said. “Or I did.”

“Doesn't matter,” Jack said, a sour look on his face. “We've got to relocate. Now.”

“Why can't you protect them, Chuck?” Irene asked.

“Well, for one thing, I doubt if Ms. Goodwin would allow it seeing as how she rejected protection from the federal government.”

“You're right about that,” Claudia said.

“And I don't have the resources to commit to that sort of a mission,” the sheriff continued.

“Claudia, go throw the bare minimum in your duffel,” Jack said. “We're out of here.”

Claudia met Jack's gaze, relief making her dizzy. She shouldn't have doubted him. He was still willing to help her. When would she learn?

“You can't remain here either, Irene,” the sheriff said. “It's not safe.”

“Agreed,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?” Irene looked from her son to the sheriff. “No Warriors are trying to kill me.”

“Whoever is in town looking for Claudia will eventually find their way to this cabin,” Jack said. “We'll be gone, but you'd be collateral damage.”

“Collateral damage.” Irene swallowed hard, looking nervously out the front window. Agitated by the tense voices, Pookie jumped into her master's lap, and Irene patted the dog absently.

Wheeler stood. “You two need to get on the road pronto. We don't know how close these scumbags are to finding you.”

“Move, Claudia,” Jack said.

Claudia rose.

“I'll get my men to provide a roadblock both ways on Highway 40 until you're gone,” the sheriff said.

Jack nodded. “Thanks.”

Wheeler looked at Irene who remained seated on the sofa. “You're coming with me, Irene.”

Irene folded her arms around Pookie. “The hell I am.”

“This is not up for discussion.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, guess what? You can't order me around anymore.”

“Irene—”

“What about Janie Sue?”

“I moved out two days ago.”

Any other time, Claudia would linger to eavesdrop on what was sure to be a fascinating conversation between Irene and the sheriff. But not today.

She hurried into the bedroom, surprised at the sight of the open trap door in the center of the room, and stuffed underwear, jeans, T-shirts and her cosmetic case into her duffel on top of the journal. She grabbed her Glock and purse and reentered the living room.

The sheriff, Irene and Pookie were gone, but Jack waited for her, wearing a black baseball cap.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Let's go.”

“What's with the hat?” she asked as Jack locked the door.

“Disguise.” He shoved wraparound sunglasses onto his nose.

“Where are we going?” she asked once inside the SUV. “Do you have a plan?”

Jack started the engine. “I'll worry about a plan when we get out of town.”

She frowned at his answer. “Do you think we'll have trouble?”

He hesitated. “I don't know.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

“Thanks for sticking with me,” she said softly.

He turned to glare at her, but she couldn't see his eyes behind the dark lenses.

“Damn, Claudia. Did you really think I wouldn't?”

Before she could answer, he shoved the transmission into Reverse and backed away from the cabin, tires spinning in the gravel. Dust whirled into the air as he straightened his vehicle and punched the gas.

Too nervous to think, Claudia remained silent on the long, bumpy drive through his property to Highway 40, where Jack braked to a stop.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“We wait until we hear from Wheeler.”

Claudia nodded as Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The sheriff had said something about a roadblock on Highway 40, but what good would that do? Yeah, it would allow them time to escape from Jack's property in case the Warriors were already on their way. But would the police block every side street? And once they got past that barrier—

Jack's phone buzzed.

“Richards,” he barked. “Yeah, we're in position. Good. Thanks, Chuck. I owe you.”

Jack disconnected and faced Claudia. “Are you ready?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“As a precaution, Chuck will escort us as far as I-75. I want you to slide down beneath the dash so you're not an easy target.”

She hesitated, hating the idea of again not being able to see what was happening.

The sheriff's vehicle appeared on the highway, driving toward them. Claudia watched his approach with dread mushrooming in her gut, her brain scrambling for another way out of this trap.

But there wasn't any other choice. They had to relocate, yet this mad dash for freedom seemed crazy.

“They're out there somewhere. Close. And my truck isn't bulletproof,” Jack said.

“What about you?”

“One of us has to drive.”

“How did they find us, Jack? Was it Marsali?”

He shook his head. “That's not important right now.”

Chuck was almost at Jack's driveway. Only one head was visible, so the sheriff had stashed Irene and Pookie somewhere away from the action. At least Jack's mom was safe.

“What if they know this Navigator?” Claudia wondered out loud.

He pointed to his hat. “Remember my disguise.”

“You know that's no disguise if they recognize your vehicle. I don't know about this.”