Hot Pursuit (15 page)

“Good idea.” Sam gave his wife a kiss, then followed Jack to the door. “I'll come with you so these two can talk.” But his smile faded as soon as they were outside. “I owe you, Broussard. Whoever you are, whatever you are—I owe you,” he said harshly.

“Forget it. I just happened to be looking the right way at the right time.”

“Luck? Is that all it was?”

Jack shrugged. “She's going to be fine. That's what matters.”

The two men walked to the nursing station, oblivious to the stares of more than one woman around them. Sam borrowed a vase from one of the attendants, and then the two headed back down the hall.

“I saw the way you reacted, Broussard. Nice moves. But you'd better be as good as Izzy says.”

Jack kept walking.

Sam moved in front of him. “No answers?”

“Nope.”

Sam followed, scowling. “I may owe you for what you did, but if you screw up with Taylor, I'm going to kick your sorry butt from here to San Diego.”

“There's no need to shout,” Jack said quietly.

“Who's
shouting
?”

“You are. I'm pretty sure that would upset Annie.”

“I want answers, Broussard.” Sam moved closer, his face hard.

Hell.

Jack checked the hall, then lowered his voice. “If you've got questions, ask Izzy.”

“That's exactly what I'll do. Meanwhile, you'd better hope that nothing strange happens around here. Otherwise, I'll do a hell of a lot more than shouting.”

Jack resisted the instinct to salute as the SEAL strode off.

Chapter Fifteen

“You're
sure
you're okay?” Taylor asked anxiously. “You're not just saying that to placate me?”

“Healthy as a horse. And hungry, too.” Annie laid one hand gently on her stomach. “We're
both
fine. I can feel it. Now stop worrying and tell me about that gorgeous man who can't take his eyes off you.”

In a second, the interrogator became the interrogated. Taylor shrugged defensively. “You mean Jack? I told you, he's just a neighbor.”

“Good try, Taylor. Except I've seen how he looks at you—amused and amazed. The man is battling a serious case of lust.”

Taylor looked away, drumming her fingers on the rolling table beside Annie's bed. “What on earth are you talking about? Jack shows as much emotion as a fire hydrant. And if there's serious lust involved, I'm not seeing it.”

“Odd, it's not like you to miss anything concerning sex.”

“I should take offense at that comment. If you weren't my favorite sister—”

“Only sister.”

“Whatever,” Taylor snapped. “And I'm not getting into this now. There will be no poking, no prying, no infuriatingly personal questions, is that clear?”

Annie sniffed. “As I recall, your performance in the personal interrogation department could have received an Oscar. When I met Sam, no detail was too small, no question too irritating. You wanted dates and places. And we won't even
start
on the red lace.”

“You loved the red lace,” Taylor countered. “So did Sam.” She was suddenly aware that Annie looked tired. “What am I doing? You're in the hospital, under observation, and I'm arguing.” She smacked a hand to her forehead. “At least when I'm stupid, I'm world-class stupid.”

“And when you're wonderful, you're world-class wonderful. In my book, that's always.”

“None of that nice talk or you'll make my mascara run.”

“As if that mattered. You've probably got three tubes in your purse right now.”

Taylor sniffed. “Four actually. It pays to be prepared.”

“For what, a cosmetologists' convention?” But Annie was laughing as she patted the bed beside her. “Sit here for a moment. I have to ask you a question.”

Taylor had the sudden instinct that this was serious. Had Annie found out about the adoption? Did some detail reach her by mistake?

Taylor sat down, hiding her worry.

“There's no need to look so anxious. I'm not going to ask you to renounce dermabrasion or imported chocolate.”

“I'm glad we got
that
cleared up.” Taylor's voice fell. “I was worried—so worried. We all were.”

Annie just nodded. Her eyes were bright with moisture as she cleared her throat. “So here it is, the thing I need to ask you.” Her eyes locked on Taylor. “If anything . . . happens, I want you to take care of Sam. He's tough, we both know that. The things he has to do keep him tough. But he's got one weakness.” She smiled crookedly. “Me. If something should happen to me, it would be that much harder for him because he's never known how it feels to be weak. He'd hide it, deny it—and the denial would destroy him. That's why I need you to promise that you'd take care of him, make him face things and work through them.”

“Annie, Sam isn't—”

“Please, Taylor.”

“But I can't—”

“Promise.”

“Annie, this is
nuts
. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Taylor's voice was shrill.
“Nothing.”

“I happen to agree. But I still want your promise. You'll take care of Sam—and the baby, if it should come to that.”

“It
won't
,” Taylor said hoarsely. “And of course I'd help, in any way possible.” Her eyes narrowed. “You're not asking me to marry him, are you? One of those wife-dies-so-take-the-sister things? I mean, Sam's a hunk, but I just couldn't do it. Sorry, but it would be too
completely
weird.”

Annie was laughing now, which left Taylor somewhat relieved. “I wouldn't carry sisterly devotion that far.”

“Thank God. I mean, the man has a seriously cute butt, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Even for my favorite sister.”

“Only sister,” Annie murmured. “Now that that's settled, tell me about Jack. You can't go wrong with a man who has great hands.”

Taylor frowned. “How do you know that he—”

“When he caught me. One minute I was headed down, out of control, with the ground spinning, and the next minute he was just
there
, gentle even as he dove to catch me. I felt his hands go around my back and I knew he was trying to take the fall for me.” Her voice wavered. “A pretty special thing to do.” She looked at Taylor. “So are you two sleeping together yet?”

Heat filled Taylor's face. “
Yet?
Excuse me, I didn't know I was dealing with the Sisters' Psychic Network here.”

“Knows all, sees all. And don't you forget it.” Annie waited patiently. “So are you?”

“The answer, since you persist, is no. Not yet. Possibly not ever. I am a very busy woman and he is . . .” Taylor's voice trailed off.

“Wildly sexy?” Annie suggested. “Gloriously uninhibited. Please don't tell me he's married?”

“Of course he's not married. Not that the subject ever came up.”

“Does he have one of those Hemingwayesque war wounds that make him forever only half a man?”

“We never got around to discussing his war wounds,” Taylor said dryly.

“Excellent.” Annie sat back with a contented smile. “Then you will be sleeping with him—and soon. He can't keep his hands off you now. Nice haircut, by the way. Did Sunny do it?”

“Who else? She'd have her uncle take out a hit if anyone else touched my hair. And don't think you're changing the subject,” Taylor snapped. “Just because I enjoy being with Jack
doesn't
mean that we're going to tumble into—”

The door opened. Sam was carrying a vase, and Jack was a few steps behind him. Neither was smiling. In fact, the silence between them was loud enough to trigger an avalanche.

Uh-oh,
Taylor thought.

Annie looked from one man to the other. “Any problem getting a vase?”

“No problem.” Sam put down the vase with a snap. “Feeling okay?”

“Wonderful. But I'd feel better if I knew what you two were discussing out there.”

“Us?” Sam rubbed his neck. “Football. Wide receivers. That kind of stuff.”

Annie crossed her arms. “You two were arguing about something and it wasn't
tight ends
. Spill, Sam.”

“I think you're getting tired, Annie. When you get tired, you worry.”

There was a knock at the door. Everyone turned as a nurse peered in. “Time to hook you up for another hour of monitoring, Mrs. McKade.”

Annie sighed. “I'm ready.” She squeezed Taylor's hand. “You two get out of here. Go have a fabulous dinner somewhere. Drink champagne, then dance barefoot on the beach.” She pulled Taylor closer. “I'll want a complete report in the morning, of course.”

“She's right,” Sam said gruffly. “Go have some fun.”

Taylor frowned. “But—”

“I'll call you if anything comes up,” Sam said firmly. “That's a promise.”

Taylor could have sworn he shot a look at Jack when he mentioned the part about the promise.

 

The sun was a dying glimmer in the west when they parked at a hotel overlooking Monterey's wave-swept beach.

“We could get a suite.” Jack looked at her, holding out her keys. “With all the crazy things that are happening, it might be a good idea.”

“We could also eat worms and die,” Taylor said sweetly, pocketing her keys. “But let me make this very clear. We'll be getting two rooms. One for me, and one for you and your big ego.” She tugged her purse over her shoulder, glaring at him.

“The suggestion was for security, not for sex, Taylor.”

Taylor rubbed her forehead as if it hurt. “Look, let's drop the negotiations, shall we? It's been a long day and I—”

“I don't think you should be alone tonight. You've had one hell of a day, and if there are any complications, I'd like to be around.”

“What complications could there be? I'll go into my room, lock my door, and throw the bolt. End of scene, end of chapter.”

“Just in case. No groping. No questions. I promise.”

Staring into his eyes, Taylor could almost believe he was sincere. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

Jack sighed. He was trying damned hard to keep this strictly business, but Taylor made it impossible. She was too alive, too irritating, too honest—and she made Jack feel totally alive whenever he was around her. Through the open window he could smell the tang of pine trees and ocean winds; both told him how long it had been since he'd sat in the darkness with a woman. Arguing. Laughing.

Wanting.

“We should go in.” His voice was harder than he'd intended. “Forget what I said about the suite.” He'd just have to rig an alarm to go off if her door opened. It wouldn't take him long.

“You're giving up, just like that?”

Jack shrugged. “It was only a suggestion. If it complicates things, forget it.”

“Maybe things already are complicated.” Taylor looked down at her hands. “I was rude before, and I'm sorry. I thought you expected . . .”

Sex? Because he'd done her a few favors? What kind of men had there been in her life? “I'm expecting nothing beyond a good night's sleep, but I like your sister. If something comes up, I'd like to tag along.”

“Okay, fine. You win.” Taylor took a sharp breath. “We'll get a suite. It's probably more practical.” She watched him closely.

Warily, Jack realized. As if she expected him to make some kind of move on her.

He simply walked around and opened her door. “Okay.”

“No argument? No celebration. That's it?” Taylor sounded bemused.

“That's it.”

“Are you at least going to tell me what you and Sam were
really
discussing at the hospital?”

“Football.”

Her face was touched by the glow of the rising moon. “Football? Right. And that's why you were glaring at each other.”

“It's a guy thing. Something about those Y chromosomes. Medically speaking, it means you have thick skulls and take football very seriously.”

Taylor crossed her arms. “Medically speaking.” Her expression told him she knew she was being conned but she wasn't sure what to do about it. “I'll just get the details from Annie, after she works the truth out of Sam.”

Not this time she won't,
Jack thought grimly. “Can we check in now or do you want to waste more time looking for an argument?” He didn't like their position, a target for anyone who might be lurking in a dark corner of the parking lot—not that he was going to tell Taylor that.

She straightened her shoulders, shifted her purse. “Are you suggesting that I am a person who takes pleasure in arguing?”

“Honey, it's one of your major traits.”

Taylor snorted, walking toward the hotel, her body very stiff.

Jack followed, scanning the darkness around them for any sign of sudden movement. The woman had the temper of a pit bull and no mistake. The truly sick thing was that he was actually starting to enjoy it.

 

The hospital orderly had a friendly smile for everyone.

He made sure of that as he wheeled his gurney into the main basement service elevator. It was one of the busiest times at the hospital; when the evening shift changed, no one paid any attention to one more gurney or white uniform.

When the elevator doors opened at the fourth floor, the orderly wheeled his gurney off with quiet efficiency, not rushing, but not dallying either. Later, two people in the elevator would comment that he seemed like your normal, average Joe. Not too smart, but no basket case either.

Just a regular guy doing his job.

The orderly stopped at a storage room outside one of the hospital's subsidiary power stations. He fished a key from a big ring, unlocked the door, and wheeled his gurney inside, whistling a Frank Sinatra tune. Once inside, the smile dropped away.

He checked his watch. Twelve minutes until a call would summon Sam McKade to the business office for an important insurance matter. When he got there, he would find out the call was a mistake. After a few more questions, and several apologies, he'd head back upstairs to the obstetrics floor.

By that time, his wife would be gone. Annie McKade would be all he needed to reel in her sister.

Viktor Lemka checked the syringe under the pillow, straightened the sheet and blanket on the gurney, and then wheeled back into the hallway, just an average face going about an average job. He would have preferred targeting Taylor O'Toole, but when he found that she'd checked into a suite with the man named Broussard, Lemka scratched his plan to snatch her from the hotel. His instincts told him there were too many risks with Broussard so close.