Breakaway (11 page)

He followed the sound of music, coming to a stop where he found the object of his unquenchable desire sitting on the window seat in the alcove off the kitchen. Recessed lighting bathed her in a soft flattering glow as she concentrated on wielding a pair of knitting needles. Gavin watched, transfixed as she pulled up a strand of pistachio-green yarn from a quilted bag, winding it around her forefinger.

It was obvious she’d showered because raven-black curls hung loosely around her face and neck. With her bare legs and feet, oversize tee and shorts, she looked as if she were barely out of her teens. She was singing along with a sensual ballad flowing from concealed speakers. Without warning, her head came up to find him watching her. A shy smile spread across her face.

“The prince awakens from his deep sleep.” Celia patted the cushioned seat. “Come sit. I called the animal hospital and we can come and get Terry anytime after ten on Monday.”

Concealing the firearm in his waist at the small of his back, Gavin approached her. “That’s good. How long have you been awake?”

Her hands stilled. “I just got up about half an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried, but you were snoring so loud I didn’t have the heart to disturb you.”

“I don’t snore,” Gavin said in protest.

“How do you know?”

“No one has ever complained that I do,” he countered.

Celia stared at the man who’d made the most exquisite love to her. She’d memorized every angle in his face so she would be able to pick him out in a darkened room with a hundred other men. Shuttering her gaze, she forced herself not to look below his neck or she would jump him where he stood. “It could be that I’m a very light sleeper.”

“Either that, or it comes with being a doctor.”

Her head came up. She nodded. “That, too.”

A slight frown settled between Gavin’s eyes. “Does this mean we’re not going to sleep together?”

Celia’s eyes narrowed. “Did I say I didn’t want us to sleep together?”

“It’s not that, Celia.”

“Then what is it, Gavin?”

It was his turn to squint at her. “Are you spoiling for a fight,
m’ija?
” He’d spat out the endearment.

Lowering her head rather than let him see her smirk, Celia pretended to concentrate on the blanket that would match the sweater, cap and booties set she’d completed. “Nope.”

“If not, then why the attitude, Celia?”

“I don’t have an attitude, Gavin Faulkner. I merely stated a fact. You snore. I know you believe you’re Mr. Perfect—”

“Stop it!”

The two words came out with the impact of the crack of a whip, causing Celia to sit up and stare at Gavin as if she’d never seen him before. “Don’t ever raise your voice to me again.”

“I don’t want or need your sarcasm,” Gavin shot back, refusing to back down. “If my snoring bothers
you, then say what you mean. I’ll ask you again, and I expect you to be honest with me. Would you prefer that we sleep in separate bedrooms?”

The seconds ticked as Celia pondered Gavin’s query. She’d fallen asleep with his arm thrown over her waist, but when she did wake up hours later it was to find him snoring loudly. She’d tried going back to sleep and couldn’t. Her attempt to move him enough to change positions had yielded little success, and she had left the bed rather than wake him.

She shook her head slowly. “No, Gavin. I don’t want us to sleep apart. Maybe after a couple of nights I’ll get used to you calling hogs.”

“I thought I was sawing logs,” he teased.

“Hogs or logs, they’re all the same.”

Gavin didn’t want to congratulate himself because he’d won a small victory. After making love with Celia, he didn’t want to think of not sharing a bed with her again. Making love and then getting up and leaving her was too impersonal. Even when he’d had a one-night stand, he usually stayed with the woman until the following morning.

“Who taught you to knit?”

Celia smiled, her former annoyance with Gavin forgotten. “My mother. She was into fashion and design before she gave it up to become a full-time mother.”

Gavin angled his head. “I’ve made love to you, yet I know very little about you other than you are a doctor, you have two brothers and you live in Miami.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you
need
to know about me if you let me take you out to dinner.”

“I’ll let you select the restaurant, but only if I pay.”

She held out her hand. “Deal.”

Ignoring her hand, Gavin leaned over and brushed his mouth over hers. “I’m going upstairs to shave and shower.”

When he got up to walk away, Celia saw the butt of the gun tucked into his waistband. “I don’t want to see it, Gavin.”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around, knowing she was referring to the handgun. “I won’t wear it in the house if you keep the alarm on at all times.”

“Okay,” she said quickly.

Celia watched him leave, and then realized how fast her heart was beating. She’d grown up around guns all of her life but a single incident had her rethinking her views about even more stringent laws when it came to gun ownership.

Gavin smiled at Celia across the space of a small table for two at a downtown Waynesville family-style restaurant. They’d stopped at a pet store to buy items the puppy would need once he was home. Their original plan to share Terry was null and void now that he and Celia were living together.

For a reason he couldn’t fathom, Gavin relished the notion of living with Celia. Not only would she fill in the empty hours that went along with undercover work, but she would also fill in as a social accoutrement. He’d discovered people were more willing to relate to a couple than a lone male.

The rain had stopped but the mercury had dropped more than twenty-two degrees, making it feel more like early fall than late spring. Celia wore an oatmeal cashmere turtleneck wrap sweater with chocolate wool gabardine slacks, while he’d chosen a black wool pullover with matching flannel slacks and imported slip-ons. She re
minded him of a high school co-ed with the Burberry plaid headband holding the curls off her forehead.

The restaurant was filled to capacity with teenagers, seniors and couples with children ranging in age from toddlers in booster seats to preteens. A number of muted televisions were positioned around the establishment, while a satellite radio station played music spanning the last five decades. Like the varied menu, there was something for everyone.

Celia had ordered baked chicken, a baked potato and spinach salad. His dinner choice was broiled salmon, wild rice and butternut squash. Their waitress had suggested a pitcher of mulled apple cider, which proved to be the perfect beverage complement for the damp weather.

Celia set down her mug of cider and touched the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. “What do you want to know about me?” she asked Gavin.

“Why do you hyphenate your last name?”

Her gaze lingered on the skin pulled taut over the ridge of his high cheekbones. “My grandmother claimed she was a feminist decades before the women’s liberation movement when she opted not to drop her maiden name. The news didn’t sit well with her fiancé, but after a lengthy discussion with his future father-in-law, he gave in. I’d heard rumors that Samuel Cole bought the house in Palm Beach as a wedding gift after Noah Thomas agreed to the hyphenated surname.”

Gavin smiled, his teeth dazzlingly white in his brown face. “Your great-grandfather sounds like quite a colorful character.”

Celia shook her head. “He was a rogue. He fought in World War I and when he returned to the States he went to Cuba, hoping to buy a sugarcane plantation.”

“Did he know anything about growing sugarcane?”

“Samuel Cole was a farmer, as was his father and brothers. They’d begun growing cotton, then switched to soybeans well before it’d become a practice in this country. He never got to buy the plantation because of anti-American sentiment, but got something better out of the deal. He married the daughter of a Cuban cigar manufacturer.

“Marguerite-Joséfina Isabel Diaz was cosseted, beautiful and quite the wild child. With her waist-length hair and dimpled smile she’d become the toast of Havana. She was attending the
Universidad
when the news that she’d posed for a noted artist wearing nothing more than a dressing gown reached her father. He ordered her home, and was in the process of finalizing an arranged marriage when Samuel offered to marry her.”

“Are you certain you’re talking about the twentieth century?”

Celia nodded. “You have to understand, I’m talking about pre-revolutionary Cuba where it was all about class. M.J.’s antics, as she insisted everyone call her, were an embarrassment to her upper class father, and he was afraid no self-respecting man would marry his daughter. Samuel married her and brought her back to Florida. She gave him four children, two sons and daughters, and he built her a twenty-four-room mansion in West Palm Beach. He expanded his agribusiness with a banana plantation in Costa Rica, and coffee plantations in Mexico, Puerto Rico and Jamaica. He’d managed to survive the Crash of 1929, and went on to become the first black billionaire in the United States. The total worth of ColeDiz International is a carefully guarded secret, because it is family-owned and privately held.”

“Is your great-grandfather still alive?”

“No, but my great-grandmother is. She will turn one hundred six at the end of the year. She’s somewhat frail and refuses to speak English. All she talks about is how she misses her Sammy and wants to see him.”

“Is she in a nursing home?” Gavin asked.

“Heaven forbid,” Celia sputtered. “She lives with her eldest son, who provides her with around-the-clock nursing care.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin gave Celia a steady look. “So, you’re a trust-fund baby.”

“Yes. However, that’s not something I advertise.”

“But you told me.”

Her left eyebrow lifted. “That’s because I know I can trust you not to tell my business. I checked you out.”

It was training and years of undercover work for Gavin not to react to Celia’s statement. “When and how?” His voice was low, even and his expression hadn’t changed.

“When you left to pick up your clothes, I went online and searched for listings of security companies in Charlotte, North Carolina. It took two calls to make contact with your cousins’ firm. They verified that you did work for them, but you were currently on vacation. Don’t look so put out, Gavin. After all, you did tell my brother he could have you checked out.”

He wanted to tell Celia that his cousins were programmed to say he was on vacation whenever he went undercover. Only his mother, cousins and brother knew that he was a special agent with the FBI.

Leaning forward, Gavin winked at her. “Do you trust me now?”

Celia returned his wink. “I’ll have to think about it,”
she teased, astonished at the sense of blissful carelessness that made her so reckless. Gavin Faulkner was good for her, and she knew by summer’s end, she would be more than ready to pick up the pieces of her life.

G
avin pulled on a pair of gray-and-white-striped pajama pants, tightening the drawstring waist. Celia had invited him to a sleepover. It was to take place in her bedroom. Over dinner, she’d revealed facts and details about her family that would’ve taken Bureau investigators months to compile.

Gavin felt a measure of guilt that Celia was able to speak freely about family secrets when he had to conceal his true identity. He’d told her what she needed to know about him. He was Gavin Tyrone Faulkner, born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina and thirty-seven years old. Everything else about him was classified. Picking up the charger to his cell phone, he plugged it into the device at the same time the phone rang.

He punched a button. “Faulkner.”

“Are you close to a TV?”

“What’s up, Mac?”

“Answer my question, Faulkner.”

“Yes, I am. Why?”

“Tune it to CNN.”

Still holding the phone to his ear, Gavin walked to the sitting area and flipped on the television, punching in the numbers for the channel. He went completely still when listening to the news journalist give an account of breaking news.

“What does this mean, Mac?” The prosecutor in the Miami hospital-E.R. shooting was missing, and the Bureau was treating it as a kidnapping because of a ransom demand.

“Right now, we’re going over all of his former and upcoming cases to see if anyone has threatened him with retaliation.”

Folding his long frame into a club chair, Gavin pressed a button on the remote, activating the closed-captioned feature. “What haven’t you told me, Mac? Do you think this has anything to do with Celia Cole-Thomas?”

“We can’t verify anything right now. But, if there is a connection, then she’ll be under the protection of the U.S. Marshals. What I can tell you is that the guns used in the hospital shooting were stolen by the same bunch Raymond Prentice ran with and those gang bangers are working for a Miami drug cartel with a network spanning the length of the east coast.”

“Are you saying the shooting is linked to OPERATION: Top Gun?”

“Yes.”

The seconds ticked when Gavin paused to collect
his thoughts. “I’d like approval to provide protection for Dr. Thomas.”

“You know…”

“Mac, don’t say it. I know witness protection falls under the jurisdiction of the Marshals Service, but remember this
is
a joint task force operation.”

“You have enough on your plate with Ray Prentice.”

“I’ll bring Ray in. I will also turn Dr. Thomas over to the marshals once the date is set for the trial.”

“What’s your stake in this, Faulkner?”

A scowl marred Gavin’s attractive features. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t get caught up in something from which you won’t be able to extricate yourself,” Bradley MacArthur warned. “Do not get involved with
your
witness.”

A smile replaced Gavin’s frown. He couldn’t tell his supervisor that it was too late. He was already involved with Celia. “So, she
is
my witness?”

“Don’t expect me to put that in writing.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

“I also want you to know that I’ve been working on you getting reassigned to a field office. Any place in particular?”

“I’d like to stay close to home.” He liked living in northern Virginia.

“I’ll see what I can do. Bring in Prentice and keep the lady safe so she can testify, and you can have your pick of any desk between D.C. and Miami.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

“Be careful.”

Gavin closed his eyes as a chill raced over his body. It was the first time in all the years he’d known Bradley MacArthur that he had warned him to be careful. Was
something going on that his supervisor hadn’t apprised him of? And why had Mac given in so easily when he’d asked to provide protection for Celia?

“I will.” That said, he ended the call and turned off the television.

Witness protection meant everywhere Celia went, he’d go. He also had to tell her about the prosecutor’s abduction—that is, if she didn’t already know. The thought had just entered his mind when the object of his musings walked into the bedroom. Her eyes appeared unusually large and haunted. The expression on her face said she
did
know.

Gavin forced a smile he didn’t feel. What he didn’t want to acknowledge was the thread of fear weaving its way into his consciousness. He wasn’t afraid for himself; he was afraid for Celia.

“I just turned off the television.”

Celia walked into the bedroom, closing the distance between her and the man who’d promised to protect her. While setting up the board for a game of Scrabble with Gavin, she’d turned on the television to an all-news station. When she’d heard the announcement that the Miami-Dade prosecutor had been kidnapped at gunpoint in the driveway to his home, she’d felt faint.

“Do you think this is a random abduction, Gavin?”

Gavin pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body through a cotton tee and shorts. “I don’t know, baby. Not only is Alton Fitch a high-profile prosecutor, but he also comes from a very wealthy family. It could be either a crime of revenge or greed.” Cradling her face in his hands, he kissed the end of her nose. “Whatever it is, I don’t want you to worry about anything. I’m go
ing to take care of you. And that means everywhere you go, I go.” Nodding, Celia closed her eyes. “Who knows you’re staying here?”

She opened her eyes. The hardened expression on Gavin’s face frightened her, and it was the first time she viewed him as a protection specialist. “I’ve only told my family.”

“Do you mean immediate family, or uncles, aunts and cousins?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “When I say family it means
everyone.
”

“Are most of your family in Florida?”

Celia shook her head. “They live all over.”

“Where is all over?” Gavin was firing questions at her like an interrogator.

“They live in Virginia, Massachusetts, New Mexico, Mississippi and Brazil. Why do you want to know?”

“If and when anyone contacts you—and that includes family members—do not tell them where you are if they don’t already know. How about friends? Do any of them know you have a place here?”

“I have a sorority sister who has visited me here a few times.”

“What’s her name?” Gavin asked, continuing his questioning.

“What does she have to do with anything, Gavin?”

“Just answer the question.”

Celia bit her lip until she felt it throbbing between her teeth. “Her name is Rania Norris. She’s married, but she never changed her name.”

“Where does she live?”

“Why?”

Gavin’s fingers tightened on her jaw. “Answer me,
Celia.” The three words were ground out between clenched teeth.

“She lives in a suburb outside Detroit.”

“When was the last time you saw or talked to her?”

“We haven’t seen each other for almost two years, but we talk every couple of months.”

“I don’t want you to call her, and if she calls I don’t want you to take her call.”

“What about my family?”

“The same goes for them.”

Celia stared at Gavin as if he’d lost his mind. “No. You can’t cut me off from my family.”

A slow smile eased the lines of tension ringing Gavin’s generous mouth. “I’m not going to cut you off from them. Give me the number to your brother’s farm. He will be your sole connection to the rest of your family until the trial.”

“Does this mean we’re not going to see him next week?”

Nicholas had reassured Gavin that his property was guarded around the clock. It was Celia who’d told him that her brother had invested millions to make his horse farm viable and profitable.

“We’re going as planned. You’re not going to alter your regular activities. What you’re going to do is limit your telephone contacts. There are computer experts that can hack a cell phone as easily as taking a drink of water. We don’t know if Fitch’s abduction is random, or if his abductors have a particular motive for snatching him.”

“Do you think I’m that motive?”

Gavin gave her a reassuring smile. “I doubt it. I just want to tie up some loose ends.”

The loose ends were people who knew Dr. Celia
Cole-Thomas was the state of Florida’s key witness in a capital murder trial. Vera had given him minute details of the hospital shootout. Although the names of the doctors killed in the rampage were printed in the newspapers, their photographs did not appear at the request of their respective families. Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas’s name was never mentioned, and Gavin knew it was because of her family’s clout in the state that kept that information out of the press.

“I need you to answer one more question for me.”

Celia rolled her eyes. “What is it?”

“This cookout we’re going to Saturday.”

“What about it, Gavin?”

“Do they know about your late fiancé?”

She nodded. “I told Hannah everything, except that I’m going to be the only witness at a murder trial. The other people in the waiting room were either too frightened or things happened so quickly they weren’t sure what they saw.”

“Did you tell her anything about me?”

“No, Gavin.” There was a hint of laughter in Celia’s voice. “What’s up?”

“I want you to introduce me as your husband.”

Celia chuckled as she replayed his suggestion in her head. “Have you gone and lost your mind?”

“No. And, it’s not funny.”

“I think it is, Gavin. In fact, I think it’s hilarious.”

Gavin dropped his hands. “Pretending we’re married will be the perfect cover for why I’m living with you. If I hadn’t given up my time-share, then I would’ve remained your boyfriend.”

“Can’t you get it back?”

“No. And I don’t want it back.”

Exhaling audibly, Celia tunneled her fingers through her hair. “I’ve lied more since I’ve met you than at any other time in my life.”

“Don’t lay that blame on me,
m’ija.
You were the one who told Nicholas that you’d hired me as your bodyguard.”

“That’s so he wouldn’t get in my face about you. He made my life a living hell when he found out I’d moved in with Yale. There are times when my brother forgets that not only am I older than he is, but that I’m quite capable of living my life without his interference.”

“Don’t knock it, Celia. There are brothers who could care less not only about their sister but also the woman who gave birth to them.”

She waved a hand. “Let’s get back to this marriage of convenience, Gavin. It is only for this weekend?”

“Let’s play it by ear.”

“Marriages of convenience only happen in romance novels.”

It was Gavin’s turn to roll his eyes upward. “Please don’t tell me you read
those.
”

“Reading
those
kept me sane while I was convalescing. I had my sister-in-law bring me dozens every week. I read them because I knew they were going to end with a happily ever after and at that time I needed as many ups as I could muster.”

Gavin felt as if he’d come down with a case of foot-in-mouth. How easy it was for him to forget how close Celia had come to dying.

He took a step and swept her up in his arms. “Will you forgive me for being so insensitive?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Celia kissed Gavin’s forehead. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long, wifey.”

“Call me that again and you’ll find yourself sleeping on the sofa.”

“I can’t fit on the sofa.”

“That’s the idea, hubby.” Celia’s gaze met and fused with Gavin’s. Her teasing fled quickly. “Do you think we can pull it off?”

“Of course we can, baby.”

“Are you willing to wear a wedding band?”

“Of course,” Gavin confirmed.

Celia, her mind in tumult, buried her face on Gavin’s solid shoulder. They were to pretend they were married while the prosecutor who depended upon her testimony to get a guilty plea had been abducted steps from his front door. She closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer for his quick and safe return.

“We’ll go shopping for rings tomorrow,” she whispered in his ear.

Gavin tightened his hold under her legs. “I remember seeing a nice jewelry store in Asheville.”

Her head popped up. “There’s no need to go all the way to Asheville for rings.”

“What if someone in Waynesville recognizes you? How will you explain buying rings when we’re supposed to be married?”

“You’re right, Gavin.”

“Spoken like an obedient, dutiful wife. No! Please stop!” Celia had caught his earlobe between her teeth. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She released his lobe. “
Obey
or any derivative of that offensive word will never ever be uttered in my wedding vows. The exception will be if my husband agrees to obey me.”

Gavin carried her to the bed, sitting and settling her on his lap. “I was the obedient, dutiful husband-in-training when you asked me to make love to you.”

Celia covered her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me of that. I’ve never been that brazen.”

Reaching for her hands, he eased her down to the mattress. “I’m not complaining, Celia. In fact, I was honored you asked me and not some other man.”

“I like making love with you, Gavin.”

He ran a finger down the length of her delicate nose, his mouth replacing his finger as he caressed her lips. “And I love making love to you.”

Gavin loved making love to Celia and he’d discovered that he liked her—a little too much for it to be a game. The charade of his being her bodyguard had escalated to a pretend marriage, and none of it had anything to do with why he’d come to the Great Smoky Mountains.

He was a special agent for the Bureau, yet, with his supervisor’s approval, was operating more like a
wet boy
doing whatever needed to be done to fulfill his mission. His request to provide witness protection for Celia wasn’t unreasonable because he was already living with her and she trusted him. Bradley MacArthur hadn’t confirmed or denied—or didn’t know—whether Fitch’s abduction was connected to the E.R. shootout. Gavin suspected OPERATION: Top Gun had many more layers than what he’d read in the classified file. While ATF, DEA and FBI agents were chasing drug traffickers and gun smugglers, his focus was to bring his brother in alive and protect a witness in a high-profile murder trial.