Accidental Bodyguard (9 page)

“You're welcome.” Jack opened the door, his thoughts already on tonight's op. Would it be dangerous? Were the Warriors watching the ferry waiting for Claudia to run?

“Jack, wait.”

He looked back and found her staring at him with her fingers tightly clenched. “What?”

“I don't know why you're doing it, but thank you for helping me.”

He saluted. “You got it, babe.”

Jack relished the chill as he stepped into the dark night. He hoped the cooler temperatures and lower humidity hung around for a few days. The change kept him sharp, alert, and now he had good reason to stay on top of his game. He'd decided to leave Ike in charge again while he was off island ditching Claudia's car.

But he rejected the idea that the Warriors had anyone surveilling the ferry 24/7. They'd be too conspicuous, noticed and reported by Collins Island staff. And he also doubted that they'd immediately know their bug was on the move. Claudia had been rooted in one spot for a week. They likely figured she'd remain on the island, so wouldn't be monitoring the device around the clock.

But of course he couldn't rely on that assumption. Picard had volunteered Claudia's name tonight, which in Jack's mind was a mistake. A big one. Did that error alert the Warriors? Did they realize they'd given themselves away? If so, would they be looking for Claudia to relocate?

Jack hoped not, but he and Lola needed to be ready for anything.

It took four attempts, but Claudia's devil car finally roared to life. He gunned the motor to charge the battery, and remembered the worry shimmering in her eyes as he left.

She didn't trust him. Well, that was okay.

She was the one who'd married a terrorist. He didn't trust her, either.

* * *

C
LAUDIA
SLAMMED
THE
dead bolt into place behind Jack, and moved to security central to watch the monitor. When he drove her car out of the villa, she closed and locked the iron gate electronically, activated the alarm and waited until he drove off camera.

She remained by the monitor another minute, five minutes, maybe ten. Just staring. Waiting for something to happen? What? Another car to appear? For Jack to return?

She stepped away. It would take hours for him to drive out west to a deserted canal, sink her car and return.

She'd take this time to call her parents and reassure them she was okay. At least for now. Jack was right. Carlos's people already knew where she was. Making the phone call couldn't make anything worse, and she'd feel better after she heard her mom's voice.

So why was she putting it off?

Claudia moved to the couch and picked up the phone on the side table. After a deep breath, she punched in her parents' number. It was still early.
Please be home.

“Hello?”

A warm glow replaced her dread when Claudia heard her mom's customary cheery greeting.

“It's me, Mom.”

“Claudia?”

“Yes. I just called to—”

“Oh, thank God.”

Claudia felt tears form at the relief in her mom's voice.

“Where are you, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, but it's better if you don't know where I am.”

“You're hiding from that miserable ex-husband, aren't you?”

Claudia swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“At least you're alive. We've all been worried sick.”

“I know. I'm sorry, Mom.”

“Bill, it's Claudia,” her mom yelled away from the phone. To Claudia she said, “Your father has been in touch with the United States Attorney. He thought they had you under wraps somewhere.”

“No.”

“That's what they insisted, too. Please let them protect you, Claudia. You can't do this on your own. You're a nurse, for God's sake, not a secret agent.”

“I know you don't understand, Mom, but I have to do it this way.”

“Claudia?”

When her dad's deep voice roared into the phone, Claudia realized why she'd been hesitant to make this call. Many considered her father one of the best salesmen in Miami. The man could argue anyone into a purchase they didn't want or need, and she knew he'd employ every trick to persuade her to come home.

“You stop this nonsense right now, young lady.”

“Can't do it, Dad. I just called to let you guys know I'm okay.”

“Where are you?”

“It doesn't matter, and I'm relocating, anyway. By this time tomorrow, I'll be out of the state.” Of course, she didn't know if that was true, but if the Warriors were listening, it wouldn't hurt to let them think that.

“This isn't like you. Why are you behaving this way?”

“I don't want anyone else to get hurt.”

“I blame myself for this,” her father said in a defeated voice.
One of his best tricks. Guilt.

“Stop it, Dad.”

“Claudia, listen to me.”

“No, Dad. You listen to me.” She took a deep breath. When had she ever cut off her father? “Carlos's people might be watching the house, so please, please be careful. I only called to warn you and let you know I'm still alive.”

“We've got this number on caller ID.”

“No, you don't. It's blocked.”

“I'm sure I can get it with the US Attorney's help.”

She closed her eyes. “Maybe so, but I'll be gone by the time that happens.”

“I don't know about that. They seem pretty desperate to find you.”

“I have to go, Dad. I love you. I love Mom. I promise to be careful.”

She recradled the phone and released a sob. She held her breath, waiting for the phone to ring, praying it didn't. Mr. Santaluce promised her he'd blocked this number, but she'd learned the hard way you could never know for sure.

Claudia listened to her ragged breathing for long, long minutes, but the pool house remained silent. Her parents couldn't call her back. The government would probably work some magic with the phone company and find her location, but she'd be long gone by then either with or without Jackson Richards.

Okay. She'd talked to her parents. What was she supposed to do now?

Study? Like she could concentrate on medical procedures and terminology.

Television? She'd rather fling the remote through the screen.

Sleep? Never gonna happen until Jack returned. Besides, she had to stay awake to deactivate the alarm and let him in. They had plans to make.

What she needed was to organize her thoughts, calm herself and figure out her next move. Journaling had always worked in the past—even during the hectic days of nursing school—but isn't that what had gotten her into trouble?

No, keeping track of Carlos's activities hadn't gotten her into this horrible mess. Writing all the weird stuff down had kept her sane, finally made her accept that something very, very bad was going on with her husband.

She no longer had that old journal. She'd turned it over to Mr. Beauchamps, the United States Attorney prosecuting Carlos, for safekeeping. He'd told her it was in some sort of evidence vault.

And maybe
journal
was a bit of an overly dramatic misnomer. She'd purchased a three-hundred-page, college ruled, spiral-bound notebook to make notes about Carlos's strange comings and goings. She'd never let Carlos see the notebook. Until it appeared on the list of exhibits for trial, she was certain he hadn't known her record of his criminal activity existed.

She'd kept it hidden behind a five-pound bag of flour inside the rubber-banded packaging of a corn chip brand Carlos hated in a far corner of a kitchen cabinet, sealed inside two plastic Ziploc bags. She knew it was safe there. Even early in their marriage, the man seldom wandered into the kitchen except for coffee, which she, of course, brewed. She was the “little wife,” so she prepared all the meals. And shopped. And cleaned up. And worked more than forty hours a week. On her feet most of the time. Oh, sure, Carlos worked a lot of hours, too, at a manufacturing company in Hialeah that she'd soon wondered about. She never did learn what the hell they manufactured, why he always had so much cash or why she'd always had to leave a voice mail. No one ever answered the phone.

What a fool she'd been. So blinded by lust for a mysterious, intense man that she hadn't bothered to ask any questions until it was too late. She'd never make that mistake again.

So was she doing the exact same thing with Jack? Even if he was trying to help her, she needed to keep tons of emotional distance between her and Jackson Richards. There could be no more kissing.

While gathering supplies for her stay on this fancy-pants island, she'd seen an identical version of that first notebook and purchased it on a whim.

With a renewed sense of determination, she moved into the bedroom. Yeah, she was in a pickle, but she'd figure her way out. She'd write everything that had happened and would happen into a journal just as she'd done with Carlos. She'd include all her thoughts, as well as any theories or ideas on what to do.

She pulled her duffel from under the bed and fished out the still pristine notebook. Back in the living room, she grabbed a pen from security central and plopped onto the couch. Fanning the pages of the notebook, she speculated what would appear on these sheets of paper during the next three weeks.

She had to relocate, but where would she go? Would Jack take her to a new hiding place? And what would she write on these blank pages about him? She wished she could see into the future to know if she could trust him.

Writing hesitantly at first, she began with the night the bastards had killed her cat, describing the condition of her apartment when she'd come home that night. Words for her sense of complete violation were impossible to find.

As she wrote, gaining speed as the pages filled with black ink, she kept a silent prayer in the back of her mind that Jack didn't turn out to be as crazy and scary as her ex-husband.

Jack made her feel safe, but history had shown she was a lousy judge of character. Hadn't she felt safe with Carlos at first? Trusting Jack could be a bigger mistake than her marriage to Carlos.

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
ACK
SPOTTED
L
OLA
'
S
huge black Hummer when he exited the ferry on the Miami side. Because of dark tinting, he couldn't see her inside, but the vehicle followed him when he turned right out of the parking lot. Communicating by cell phone, they both scanned for a tail and agreed they got away from the dock clean. Even so, they drove a circuitous route, taking a lot of quick turns, each going a different direction to make certain.

They met up again at Big Corky's, a late-night bar in the Redlands, and waited to see if anyone joined them. No one did. Neither of them ordered an alcoholic beverage as they discussed where to submerge Claudia's vehicle. Lola agreed to a deep canal Jack knew in a deserted area of the far southwestern section of the county.

He didn't want any witnesses.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Jack drove to the water's edge and placed the transmission in Neutral. When he stepped out into the cool night, a trillion stars lit up the clear night sky. From the racket they made, at least that many crickets sounded in the brush around him.

Wearing a black leather jacket, black jeans and boots, Lola climbed down from her Hummer and approached.

Without speaking, they shoved Claudia's car down the embankment. It entered the water with a quiet splash and floated toward the center of the canal with water rushing inside through the open windows.

“How long do you think the bug will keep transmitting once wet?” Jack asked as he and Lola waited for the car to sink.

“Depends on the quality of the equipment,” Lola answered, hands in her jeans pockets. “Since my sources tell me this group has tech experts, it should stay active until the Warriors find this location.”

“Good,” Jack grunted.

In less than a minute, the front end of the vehicle tilted down and it disappeared into murky waters. A rusted rear bumper was the last thing to vanish beneath the dark surface. After a second or two, not even a ripple remained to mark the sinking.

Jack climbed into Lola's Hummer, and she drove back to the ferry.

“I suspect come morning the Warriors will discover their bug has moved,” Lola said. “They'll likely triangulate this location by noon.”

Jack grunted his agreement. He knew where this conversation was headed.

Lola threw him a look and said, “You know they'll be seriously pissed that they've lost their quarry. My gut tells me they'll keep trying to breach security. They'll want to look for clues as to where she disappeared.”

“Agreed.”

“I confirmed with my sources that she's on the witness list for the Romero trial.”

Jack nodded. He'd made a call himself while waiting to board the ferry.

“You need to get that woman off Collins Island,” Lola instructed. “The sooner the better.”

“I'm working on a plan.”

“The hell with a plan. She needs to go into protective custody.”

“She won't do it.”

“We could force her hand. Call the feds and give up her location. Allow her no choice.”

“And what if she's right?” Jack demanded. “What if the feds have a leak and she ends up dead?”

His question simmered in the Hummer between them. Lola remained silent until she reached the ferry landing and shifted the Hummer into Neutral.

“Why do you care what happens to this woman, Jack?”

“We're not lovers, if that's what you're asking.” He shifted in the seat.

“She's not your problem.”

“I think she's everybody's problem. She's put her life in jeopardy in order to keep a murdering terrorist from killing others.”

“You're such a Boy Scout sometimes.”

Jack laughed.
A Boy Scout?
“I guess that's the way my momma raised me.”

“You've got twenty-four hours to come up with a plan, Jackson,” Lola said in a tight voice. “If Claudia Goodwin hasn't relocated by then, I'm calling the US Attorney's Office and telling them where she is.” She motioned with her chin. “Our primary focus has to be the safety of the residents on that island.”

“Understood,” he said.

Jack boarded the 3:00 a.m. ferry. When the boat departed the Miami dock, he moved to the railing and let the cool ocean breeze rush against his face. He'd caught no shut-eye and should be exhausted, but a strange exhilaration energized him.

Was it because he was back in the field—even if for just a few hours—and tonight's op had gone as well as could be expected considering the lack of planning?

Or was it because he looked forward to seeing Claudia again and exploring the possibilities behind that mind-blowing kiss? He remembered how soft and willing she'd been in his arms, the eagerness in her smoky blue eyes, and felt himself harden.

Disgusted, he blew out a breath. The woman was addictive. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since she drove off the ferry a week ago.

And she was still off-limits. Getting emotionally or even just sexually involved with anyone under his protection was taboo. He'd seen matters go horribly wrong too many times when that rule was ignored.

He considered Lola's remark that Claudia wasn't his problem. Why did he somehow feel that she was? Why
did
he care about what happened to her?

He wasn't in love with her. He wanted her, sure. Had wanted her since he'd first laid eyes on her. Any man would. But desire, even desire bordering on obsession, wasn't love. His momma insisted he didn't understand love—and she was right—but he knew that much.

His life was all about his work, and he liked it that way.

A gentle bump brought Jack back to the present. The ferry had reached the other side. He stepped off the boat with Lola's ultimatum about relocating Claudia clanging around inside his head.
Yeah, right. A plan. I'm working on it.

He didn't like the only solution he'd come up with so far. In fact, he hated it.

He nodded at the two guards manning the security office.

“Need a ride, Mr. Richards?” one shouted.

“No. I'm good,” Jack yelled back.

Truth was he
needed
to walk. Even better would be a long, brutal workout to generate some heat and sweat and help him figure out what to do about Claudia Goodwin. He knew his boss wasn't just jerking his chain. She meant every word she said. Lola had no qualms about turning Claudia over to the feds.

No question Claudia's presence on Collins Island created a danger to the owners who paid ridiculous monthly fees for the peace of mind the tight security on this island gave them. And since a sizable chunk of that money went to the Protection Alliance and paid his salary, it was his job to enforce that promise of safety.

So Claudia had to go, and go now. But where? What would be the safest location to stash her for the three weeks until Romero's trial?

Certainly it had to be out of the immediate area. His thoughts churned as he broke into a jog, considering and rejecting possibilities. Broward County? Too close. Fort Myers or Naples on Florida's west coast? Too obvious, and he didn't have any contacts there. The Keys were a possibility. He'd bought a vacation home in Islamorada that he seldom took the time to visit, but that elevated structure would be difficult to defend and he always liked an escape route.

So where could he take her to ensure the Warriors would never find her?

By the time he arrived at Villa Alma, he knew where she had to go. If he were honest with himself, he'd known all along. Much as he hated the idea, it was the only way.

He rang the bell and waited for Claudia to admit him. She'd hate the idea even more than he did, but she had no choice. She either agreed to his plan or went under the protection of the federal government. Her decision.

* * *

T
HE
INSISTENT
RINGING
of the bell at the front gate awakened Claudia. Disoriented, she stared at the planked ceiling wondering why she was fully clothed and sleeping on a couch.

Then, with a sickening blow to her gut, she remembered. Carlos's people had found her, which threatened the people on this island. Jack had taken her car.

She leaped off the couch and hurried to security central to see who demanded her attention.

Jack stood by the gate glaring into the camera. With a relieved breath, she released the electronic lock, and he strode out of the camera's range.

“What happened?” she demanded when he marched into the pool house wearing a determined expression. Damn. He looked like he was about to do some sort of hand-to-hand combat.

He turned to face her, eyes narrowed. “Nothing scary. We drowned your car.”

“Did steam rise out of the water as it sank? Lightning bolts illuminate the deep?”

His mouth twitched. Maybe he was fighting a smile.

“No. It went down without any protest at all.”

“The demon probably escaped out a window,” Claudia said. “Maybe hitched a ride back with you and
that's
what took so long?”

“We took our time. Made sure we weren't followed.”

She nodded, and realized she was clasping her hands so tightly her knuckles had begun to ache. Jack was giving her nothing. Didn't he understand how anxious she was? She had no ride, nowhere to go. Why did she let him take her car? What was she thinking?

Dropping her hands to her sides, she said, “I tried to wait up for you, but fell asleep.”

“Good,” he said.

“I guess you didn't get any rest.”

“I'm fine,” Jack said.

“I called my parents. I told them I was relocating in case the Warriors were listening.”

He nodded, eyeing her speculatively, but didn't respond. What was going on inside his head? He was tense, distant. Why wouldn't he tell her anything?

“So what happens now?” she asked, unable to stand the suspense any longer.

“You can't stay here.”

“I know.”

“I think protective custody is your best option.”

“I know what you think.” She shook her head. “I told you I can't do that. I might as well stream a banner over South Beach announcing my location to Romero's people.”

Jack continued to stare at her across the small living room. Was this it? Was this man going to abandon her to terrorists? But why shouldn't he? She was nothing but a problem to him. Her mouth went dry, and Claudia licked her lips.
Where can I go? And how can I get there?

“Do you want my help?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to form words around a tongue that felt clogged with sand from the nearby beach.

“I'll take you somewhere safe, but you have to be honest with me.”

“I have been,” she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

“No more secrets or lies.”

“I promise,” she said.

“And do what I tell you.”

“Where?”

“Dunnellon.”

She must have looked confused, because he said, “A little town in north central Florida, near Ocala.”

“Why there?” she asked, although her relief was so immense she wouldn't have cared if he'd said an igloo in Alaska.

“I know the area. I grew up in Dunnellon and own a small cabin in the middle of fifty acres. If we handle this right, the Warriors will never track you.”

“When do I go?”

“Daybreak. I need a couple hours of sleep.”

That fast? She sucked in a deep breath, but decided it didn't matter. She needed to transition to the next stage of her exile sooner rather than later. All she needed was logistics.

“How will I get there? Are you going to loan me a car?”

“I'm going with you.”

She let that sink in before responding. The gladiator was going with her?

“What about your job here?”

Jack shrugged. “Believe me, my boss will understand.”

Claudia nodded. His boss had likely ordered him to get rid of her pronto.

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes to make sure you're secure.”

“How will I get back for the trial?”

“We'll worry about that in three weeks.”

The dread tightening her gut released a little knowing that she wouldn't be alone in a strange new city. But she didn't know this man. She'd met him—what—a week ago? He owed her nothing.

“I don't know why you're doing this, but thank you,” she said.

“You might not thank me when I tell you how you're getting off the island.”

“And that's how?”

“Inside the gun compartment of my truck. I hope you're not claustrophobic.”

She blinked. “A gun compartment?”

“It's snug, but you'll fit.”

Claudia imagined being locked in a dark confined space and shrank from the idea. “Couldn't I just lay down in the backseat with a blanket over me?”

“What if Romero's people are watching the landing? Do you want to take that chance?”

“No,” she said on a quick exhale. “Definitely not.”

Her legs suddenly weak, she sagged onto the couch, circled her knees with her arms and lowered her face.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

The cushion dipped beneath her when he sat. Claudia raised her head and found him watching her with a grim expression.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“This is just—just crazy.” She sucked in a breath. “I guess I'm a little overwhelmed. Either that or I'm numb.”

“I'm sorry.”

Jack smoothed a hand over her hair, a strangely intimate gesture.

“Don't apologize,” she said. “None of this is your fault.”

He dropped his hand to her shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. “Truthfully, I expected you to fight me on relocating north.”

Hyperaware of the weight and warmth of his hand, she said, “How could I? I'm out of options.”