Break Point (6 page)

Tossing a five dollar bill at Summer, he squeezed her shoulder on his way by. “Honey, why don’t you play something on the juke box while these two visit.”

“I think the entertainment is fine right here.” she said, shocking herself that anything other than “yes, Daddy” had come from her mouth. “I mean, I’ll be there in a minute.” she corrected herself. “Thank you.”

When he was a good distance away, Summer turned back to Leslie and Jake. They were now holding hands across the table and Lesli
e’s thumb caressed his fingers.

“You doing okay?” she asked him. “You look tired.”

“I’m okay,” he said simply, making no move to pull his hand from her.

“How are the headaches?”

He shrugged. “Still there. No big deal.”

Summer studied the two of them, sure they were the oddest couple she could ever picture. Opposites had no business attracting. It occurred to her that people probably thought exactly t
he same about her and Geoffrey.

Leslie took a sip of her drink before turning toward Summer. “So your father hasn’t really said much about you. What are you going to do now? I mean now you don’t have tennis any more.” Leslie cocked her head as if humoring a disgruntled child. “Thi
s must be a hard time for you.”

“She’s playing tennis again.” Jake corrected. “She’ll be back on tour in no time, right?”

“Really? That’s surprising.” Leslie laughed. “Not that I read the sports page or anything, but I heard your arm was too damaged for you to compete.”

Summer likened Leslie’s taunting to a well-placed drop shot in the middle of high-paced tennis match. Her words hung there, begging to be slammed back in her face. Fortunately Summer was known for her incredible timing and strategy, and she liked to believe she was just as adept in a verbal show down as any on the tennis court. The key was outsmarting the opponent.

Jake patted Summer on the shoulder as he looked over at Leslie. “You should really see her play. I don’t know much about tennis but I know enough to recognize an amazing athlete when I see one.”

“Well at least you’re good at something.” Leslie shook her head in disgust. “I feel sorry for you, Summer.
Very tragic.”

And there it was, the ball looming in front of her waiting for a wallop. Squaring her shoulders, she tossed her long ponytail behind her. “I don’t know Leslie. I don’t think it’s any more tragic than your moustache.”

Winner.

Jake snagged the five dollar bill from the table and held it up in front of her. “Summer, what happened to the music? I thought you were in charge of that.”

Summer pushed herself up from the chair and snagged the money from his hand. “I’ll be at the juke box, if anyone needs me,” she informed. “And if I don’t see you again, Leslie. Have a safe broom ride home.” She tucked the bill into her cleavage because she thought it was a cool thing to do.

A fist pu
mp would have been too obvious.

***

“Well, isn’t she a little tart.” Leslie declared. “You like her, don’t you?”

Jake and every other man in the room watched as Summer squeezed her way through the crowd. “She’s nice enough. Was it necessary to be so mean?”

She shrugged. “Probably not, but I think Al’s worried about the two of you.”

He turned back to Leslie, lowering his voice as he leaned across the table. “Why would he be worried? He’s the bad guy. I’m supposed to worry about him.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she replied, a devious smile on her face. “There is a lot of down time in twenty-four hours, and everyone knows how you like to stay occupied.”

Leslie loved to tease him about his sex drive, a subject she knew a fair amount about. He didn’t mind. It was nice to joke and let his guard down a moment with the one person he knew he could trust. “I’m worried about you, Leslie. He doesn’t suspect anything does he?”

“I probably wouldn’t be sitting here if he did.” She touched the rim of her glass with her finger. “I actually think him knowing I’m with the FBI works in our favor. I’ve got him thinking I’m the queen of insider trading. He trusts me for now. And as far as I can tell, he trusts you too.”

“Only took three years.” Jake replied. “By the way, I see Diggs and Barker at the bar. Two hours from the
Tampa field office seems a long way to come for a beer.”

“You know how they love to get out from behind their desks.”

“They’re checking in on me.”

“They’re backing you up.” she corrected. “Who knows what could happen on a night out with Al.”

She was right. He could use all the help he could get.

“You’ve done a great job so far,” she said. “You made a heartless cretin feel sorry for you. I think he actually feels bad he ended your career.”

“Not as bad as I feel.” He finished the rest of his beer in one gulp. There was something about talking of his former life that begged him to pickle himself in alcohol. But his misery was the exact reason why he was inspired to follow his other dream. He finished school, earning a PhD in five years and became one of the most respected consultants in organized crime in the country. Some orders had come from the White House itself. Now his sights were square on Big Al. “Thank you for going out on a limb for me. Shel.”

“You think she
knows more than she’s saying?”

Jake followed Leslie’s gaze across the bar to where Summer stood next to her father. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I can’t see why she would want to hurt herself.”

“Maybe if she was pushed pretty hard.” Leslie suggested. ”If anyone would understand that, I would think it would be you.”

“True. But why would she defend him?”

“Well, he is her father, or maybe she’s afraid not to.”

He watched a man walk by Summer at the juke box, obviously distracted by her plunging neckline. He tripped over himself, dropping
a pitcher of beer to her feet.

“She certainly has
a way with men.” Leslie teased.

“She’s smarter than you think she is,” he corrected. “She’s tough and she’s hard to get close to, but I think I’ve got a pretty good read on her.”

“Should I be surprised?” Under the table, she ran her foot down his leg. “If Summer is in cahoots with her father somehow, you’d be the one to charm it out of her.”

He appreciated the compliment. It was moments like this that made him think maybe their sexual encounters were based on a little more than convenience. Leaning across the table, he again took Leslie’s hand. “Thanks, for everything. You’re a real friend.”

“Well I might be your best friend when I show you this.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket and it slid to him under the table. “When you told me to look into Geoffrey Martin, we took it upon ourselves to look into his correspondence. There were a series of emails sent back and forth between him and a Jason Lutz at Sports Illustrated. Turns out that S.I. wanted Summer for a shoot in Bermuda and Geoffrey was the one who convinced them to use another girl, Nila Norcova.”

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you efficient.”

“You aren’t the only one who is good at their job.” She teased, lifting her wine glass to her mouth. “Could that be important?”

“A definite maybe.” He looked over his shoulder before folding the envelope and jamming it in his pocket. “Listen, I stopped off at the P.O. Box this morning and put everything you need in there. You and Diggs can see what you can get from it.”

“Okay, so what if we meet up Sunday night? My place.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her finger. “I figure by then you could use a little R and R, if you know what I mean.”

Drawing a breath he looked into dark eyes. “Leslie, don’t take this the wrong way. But I go
t to keep my focus on this one.

Jake saw disappointment register on her face. Tell me, are you willing to make an exception for certain blondes?”

Jake took a long gulp from his mug then licked the remnants from his lips. “You know that’s different,” he told her. “If sleeping with her somehow furthers the case, I’ll do it.”

“You mean to gain her trust.”

“Sometimes that’s the only way.”

“Fine. Drop it. I’m sorry I even brought it up” She pulled her hand from his grip before finishing what was left in her glass. “Stay safe and remember I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thank you. And you give me the yellow flag if you see him coming after me.”

“That’s not going to happen. But for now we operate under the assumption Al is responsible, and everyone is in on it including your little charge. Got it?”

“Excuse me? Are you Jake Harrison?”

Jake was startled by a tall, blond woman with a Pennzoil t-shirt and an incredible, if not fake, pair of breasts. “That’s me,” he said to her cleavage.

“I knew I was right,” she squealed, jumping up and down almost knocking Jake across the room. “I’m a huge fan. Will you sign me?” Handing him a red Sharpie, she leaned over in front of him and exposed her left breast.

In a lame attempt to advert his eyes, he stared over the woman’s shoulder. A group of men were filing out the front door. The last one out had his sleeve rolled up and a tattoo on his bicep caught Jake’s eye. The color scheme was slightly lighter but the design was unmistakably the same. It was the blonde angel and crossbones. The same picture he had found on the envelopes sent to Summer.

He jumped over his chair toward the door, spilling beers and knocking elbows on his way. Summer wasn’t in sight, but he couldn’t let the guy get away.. When he got to the door, he bolted out to the lot, just in time to lose the taillights of a brown sedan over the horizon. “Hey, what the hell is going on?” Summer yelled as she jogged up behind him. “Why did you bolt out of there so quickly?”

“The guy who has been sending you the mail with the scary pictures was here
...”

“Excuse me, can we help you?” Jake looked up at the familiar voice.

“Who are you?” Jake asked, playing his cover.

“I’m Earl Diggs with the Bonita Springs PD. I overheard your discussion. I’m familiar with your case, Miss. Riley. I’m off-duty but I can call my guys.”

“That’s okay. I got this handled.” Jake extended his hand. “Jake Harrison by the way. Good to meet you.”

“How do you know it was the same guy?” Summer asked, pulling on Jake’s sleeve.

“His tattoo matches. I saw it.” Jake pointed to his left arm. “I don’t know if he’s following you or what, but he’s out there.” He heard the shock in his voice. Maybe there was more to the mail than he bargained for.

“Did anyone talk to you or approach you in there?” Diggs asked. “See any one suspicious?”

“No, but I wasn’t really paying attention.” Her gaze turned back to Jake. “I thought I was supposed to be relaxing.” She looked down the street, then back toward the bar. “I think I’d like to go home.”

Jake felt his heart sink when he saw fear cloud her emerald eyes. “Hey, relax. Remember you can trust me.”

“Trust you?” She shook her head, still staring out at the empty road. “Yeah, right. I don’t even know who you are.”

Chapter Six

Summer closed Jake’s bedroom door behind her and slung her gigantic duffle bag on the bed. After tonight’s events at the bar, Jake insisted, for safety’s sake, she stay at his house indefinitely. She hadn’t spoken to him the whole ride here but she could tell by the way he rubbed his temples that a headache was coming on. It served him right, she figured. He deserved it for lying to her. Or at least omitting the truth. How did she know he hadn’t set her up? And if she wasn’t allowed to know his true identity, wh
at else was he hiding from her?

She pawed through the rumpled pile of clothes bulging through the bag’s open zipper. Jake told her she’d be there at least a few days, but she didn’t feel the need to unpack. That would imply she was staying, something she wasn’t sure she wanted him to assume.
Finding a t-shirt in one of the drawers, she slipped it over her head. The musky scent that was signature Jake filled her nostrils. The jerk. She climbed in bed, puling the comforter over her face.

After a moment she rolled to her side and looked out at the lonely ocean. In the moonlight she could make out the outline of Jake at the top of the stairs, the orange glow of a cigarette dangling at his side. A disgusting habit for sure, but it intrigued her that it never surfaced other than late night when he thought she was long asleep. Maybe he did respect her after all. At least enough not to do it in her presence.

She rolled back over, her hair snagging on her earring. Carefully she removed them both and too lazy to stash them anywhere else, she opened the nightstand drawer beside her. When she looked inside there was a thick grey book that looked a lot like a photo album. Jake’s initials written in calligraphy were prominent in the middle, but faded under a thick layer of dust.

She looked down at it a moment and then shut the drawer. Curiosity forced her to reopen it. Pulling it out, she thumbed through the pages until a picture on the inside cover caught her eye. A black and white shot of a shirtless Jake in tight jeans standing next to a race car. Under his arm he sported a helmet with the number thirty-seven emblazoned across it. She smiled,, impressed by his six-pack and the way the front of his jeans he
ld him in all the right places.

She flipped to the middle. A smiling Jake with random others, rarely the same face twice. A decade old Sports Illustrated cover caught her eye. Him sitting on the hood of a race car in a tight, white tank-top with two blond women in string bikinis sitting on his lap. The headline read “Winning Streak: NASCAR’S Favorite Playboy.” She giggled as she studied his face. His smile could melt icebergs. It was no wonder everyone loved him.

The next page made her gasp, the pictures too vivid and gruesome to take in.. It was the mangled carcass of a race car that had been ravaged by impact and fire. The headline read “The Streak Up In Flames. Survival Not Expected.” A separate picture showed Jake bloodied and unconscious, being carried by a herd of medics to an ambulance. She drew back and covered her mouth. The faded pictures were disturbing. She could only imagine the real thing.

Countless accounts of his conditions and his treatments followed, too longwinded to read. Some stories even went as far to eulogize him, as if he were already dead. But the final pages of the album told the story of his survival and why he was ren
dered “NASCAR’s Living Legend.”

She looked back out at Jake, still perched on the railing with a cigarette in his hand. If it was the difficulty of discussing the accident that was keeping him distant, she knew exactly how he felt. Her instincts told her there was another reason he was holding back. Something bigger. Something she had to find out.

***

Jake took a long drag of his cigarette as he gazed out at the water. The moon was high, casting grey shadows on the whitecaps. Many nights he would stand at the top of the steps watching the waves roll themselves. The scene always calmed him, excep
t tonight it left him agitated.

He glanced at his watch. One a.m. If he wasn’t on a mission, who knows where he would be right now. Out carousing, probably. Half in the bag. Hell, maybe all the way in the bag, and later with a soft, warm body underneath him. It was a lifestyle adopted during his NASCAR days and he was smart enough to know it was a coping mechanism now.

The accident seemed like a lifetime ago. At times it was hard to even reconcile the man he was today with the twenty-one year old boy of twelve years earlier. Young, rich and ready to party. By his assessment, invincible, which probably was what drew Big Al to him in the first place.

He regretted the arrangement as soon as he made it. Al assured him throwing the Daytona
would guarantee him more spoils than he could imagine. But when he awoke three weeks later, his broken body wrapped like a mummy, he realized he made a deal with the devil. Recovery was worse than death itself and there were many times when he wished he’d never pulled through. But as wrong as it sounded, his dream of revenge gave him a will to live and a goal to set his sights on.

Payback Big Al Riley.

So here he was. An FBI big-shot on the verge of completing a mission eleven years in the making. He should be thrilled. Exhilarated. But all he kept thinking about was the woman asleep alone in his bed. “What are you doing out here?”

Jake jumped, turning toward her voice.

“I’m sorry.” Summer held up her hand. ”I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I know how you hate that.”

She stepped into the moonlight and he smiled in spite of himself. She wore his t-shirt which hid nothing and her hair was lose around her. He stared, transfixed at how it billowed in the sea breeze. “What’s up?” he asked. “Did you come out here to yell at me
some more?”

She shrugged, then nodded toward his cigarette. “You’re smoking.”

He lifted up the beer can next to the ashtray. “I’m drinking, too, if that interests you at all.” He settled himself in a patio table chair and motioned for her to take the other. “Don’t tell me the smoke bothered you from the bedroom.”

“Of course not. I was just wondering why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you smoke.” He sensed the impatience in her voice. Like the question was only a means to get to another.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I used to be a lot worse before.”

“You mean before the accident?”

He snapped his head around, confused by her insinuation. “What are you talking about?”

He watched her come toward him with something tucked under her arm. Taking a seat beside him she gently placed it in his lap. “I hope you don’t think I was snooping because I wasn’t.”

He blinked once from shock and again to focus on his initials under the blanket of dust. Taking one last drag, he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table beside him.

“Come on, humor me. How did you get the name Streak?”

“I don’t know. After I won a few races a magazine printed it. Another one got a hold of it, and you know how it is.”

“Why did you crash?”

The million-dollar question. He picked his beer up from the table and stared out at the water. “I don’t know what happened.” That was true. The best he could figure the accelerator got stuck but this type of malfunction wasn’t something that happened unless someone had planned it that way.

“The articles say you were burned over sixty percent of your body.”

He looked at her and smiled. “You’ve done your research, haven’t you?”

“You look pretty good to me for a burn victim.”

“The miracles of medicine,” he declared, holding his arms out wide. “And amazingly enough, it wasn’t the burns that had lasting effects. My head went through the windshield. At the speeds these cars run, you can imagine what that can do. I still have shards of metal all over my body.”

“Wow.” Summer said, making a face. “It’s amazing you’re still alive.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well you seem better now. Why not go back?”

“I had a pretty bad concussion,” he told her. “My manager and sponsors were convinced it put a damper on my killer instinct, so they dropped me.”

“That’s why the headaches, huh.”

He nodded, feeling one still lingering in his temples. “I’ve kept them a pretty good secret. Other than Leslie, I can’t think of anyone who knows about them. They’re getting better too. They used to be so bad I couldn’t even open my eyes or stand up, the pain was that sharp.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap. “So now you h
ave a PhD in criminology, huh?”

“Yeah.” He stood up from the chair and stretched. “It just seemed like something to do. My life was pretty empty then. Thought an education might fill it u
p.”

“How did you meet my father?”

He took his time to consider his answer, measuring the crack in her voice when she asked the question. “I don’t know.” he replied. “I guess it was a while ago, back at the Beaver. Leslie introduced me.” He brought the beer can to his mouth and let it linger there.

“You’re good friends, huh?”

“Sure,” he said simply. “What about you? You like him?”

“I suppose I have to. I’m his daughter right?
I don’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s a sad way to put it.”

“Maybe.” She tucked her knees to her chest and pulled her t-shirt over them. “I guess I just resigned myself long ago to the fact the only love in my life would be tennis, and maybe if I was really lucky I would have a husband and the six kids I’ve always wanted.”

“Six?” He laughed. “That’s a houseful, Summer.”

“The more the merrier.”

“I guess.
You must really miss Geoffrey when he’s on the road, huh?”

The smile faded. She brushed her hair from her face and gazed at him. “What about you, Jake? You ever want to get married? Or are you happy just being the NASCAR Gigolo?”

Slowly his vision blurred, little dots dancing around him. A sharp pain spread from the base of his skull around the sides of his head. He dropped his face in his hands, and pressed hard on the temples with his fingers.

“Jake, are you okay?”

He couldn’t answer, the pain sucking the breath from his chest. Gasping, he pushed harder, his fingers cramping from the pressure. He switched to his thumbs and squeezed his eyes shut, praying like hell the throbbing would stop.

He jerked when he felt Summer touch him. Her cool fingertips covered his, coaxing them into soothing circles. She ran them down his cheeks then back to the hair line, pressing exactly where he needed her too. “How’s that feel?” she asked, her voice as gentle as the ocean breeze.

He couldn’t answer, too enthralled by her closeness. He could smell her, her candy-sweet scent mixing with sharp salty air. Every sense within him sharpened, like she carried an electric charge. Pressing his head against her, he slid his hands up her long sleek legs. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, the words muffled as he kissed her stomach through her shirt.

“Can I get you your pills?” she asked, her
hands still woven in his hair.

“No, just you.” He stroked the back of her thighs. She was as soft as he imagined, like the pedals of a budding flower. But there was a danger behind her eyes.
So tempting, yet so lethal. A mixture as potent as any powder keg he could imagine.

He couldn’t help himself.

Closing his mouth on hers, he tasted her luscious lips. Sweet and soft, just like he’d remembered. He searched her with his tongue, his desire driven by the soft moan escaping from somewhere deep within her.

“You taste incredible,” he whispered, sliding his hands under her shirt. His fingers found the line of her panties, gently teasing her skin along it. He was confused by how swept up he was, so completely floored by this woman who he should hate more than anything. But instead he was mad with desire. It was like driving at speeds too fast to maneuver. Com
pletely on the edge of control.

In a sudden fluid motion, he lifted her shirt over her head, bringing his mouth to a swollen pink nipple. He suckled hard, crazed by the way her body responded, his hands barely able to hold her as she writhed and squirmed against him. Grabbing her buttocks he pressed his erection against her. She gasped when she felt him, a reaction that urged and excited him. He swept her up in his arms, carrying her the few feet to the stairs and with urgent care he laid her down on the sand. He was ready. As ready as he’d ever been for any woman. By the way she looked up at him, he was sure she wanted it too.

Suddenly, a noise from inside the house jolted him. Jake pulled away and reached for the gun under his shirt.

“W
hat’s wrong?” she panted.

“Quiet.” He scooped up her shirt and threw it at her. “G
et dressed and stay behind me.”

Again he heard the sound of footsteps. Pulling Summer behind him he inched his way to the doors, his ac
hing eyes wide in the darkness.

“Jake, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I want you to go lie down behind the couch. Got it?”

He waited until he was out of her sight to pull the gun from his holster. Carefully he made his way through the house, stopping when he saw movement swimming in the shadows near the foyer closet.