Authors: Cait Jarrod
Kidnapped Hearts (16 page)
Jake shut the door behind him, then
snatched the phone out of her hand, and hung up. “What were you doing?”
Why was he angry? “Telling Paul I would
be out of town for a while.” She stood. “Did you already tell him?”
His shoulders hunched. “Pamela, going to
a safe house means no one knows where we will be or that we’re leaving.”
She closed the gap between them. Jutting
her chin upward, she looked him in the eye. “Excuse me, Jake. I don’t know the
proper etiquette for going underground. You have no right getting mad at me.”
He grasped her shoulders, holding her
close to him, and opened his mouth. If she moved an inch, their lips would
touch. Their gazes locked, neither of them moving or saying a word. It may have
only been for a second, but a moment longer than she could stand. The pull of
his eyes was strong. She backed up, causing his hands to glide down her arms
before they parted.
A few seconds elapsed, then he held up
her cell phone. “Put this in your office desk drawer.”
“I can’t take it with me?”
“Afraid not. It can be traced.”
“Who? Why?” She lowered her head,
realizing there was no wisdom in asking questions that had no answers. She took
her phone to her office as Jake requested. An overwhelming feeling of dread
fell upon her. She tossed the clipboard on top of the desk and pitched her
phone in the top, then pulled out a note pad. She didn’t know when or if she
would ever see anyone again. On the note pad, she scratched
I love you all
. Short and sweet, and too
corny. She ripped it from the sticky pad to toss it in the trash.
“Ready?”
Her hand flew to her throat. “Don’t sneak
up on me. You scared me.”
He grinned. “Sorry, you are a little bit
jumpy.”
At least he wasn’t frowning. “Yes, and
you should be, too.” She held up her hand. “Never mind, scratch that last comment.
Nothing penetrates that hard exterior.”
The muscles in his neck twitched, as he
remained silent.
Not having time to write something else,
and afraid Jake would make her throw it away, she stuck the note on the surface
of her desk as soon as Jake turned his back.
After stopping by her townhouse, then his
house, they exchanged the Chevelle for a Honda, then made their way east. When
they didn’t take the interstate toward the ocean, she wondered if they would be
heading toward an unpopulated area.
About two hours later, they pulled onto a
rural road with scarce development. “Our names are Betty and Ed.” He paused.
“Boop.”
“You’re kidding. Betty Boop.”
Jake chuckled, “Yeah, I am. Our last name
is Daley.”
She repeated the name in her head.
“Okay.”
“It’s not quite up to us to approve or
disapprove. We were given identification with our new names. The powers that be
picked the names for us. Your new license is in the glove compartment.”
She opened it and took out the first
thing her hand landed on, which was the car registration. Their fake names were
typed across it. Next, she picked up her license. The picture was the same as
her previous one, yet she possessed a new name and address. She now lived in
if we’re in the Witness Protection Program.”
“In a sense. Although, you will return
home.”
“What about you?”
He briefly looked out the passenger
window. “I never know. I’ve disappeared before.”
There was more; she could sense it in his
demeanor. One thing she’d learned about Jake, if he didn’t want you to know,
come hell or high water, he wouldn’t tell. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
With his elbow on the door, he leaned his
head forward and shoved his hair off his forehead. “It’s part of the job.”
“You’re retired.”
The signal on
the car clicked on, and Jake stopped talking. Conversation over. He turned into
the driveway of a tan two-story beach house along the
Bay
gardens that surrounded the house. “This land is beautiful.”
“It is.”
“How did this
become a safe house?”
“It doesn’t
look like a safe house, does it?”
She shook her
head.
“It’s the
perfect location for the Daleys to have their honeymoon.” Jake dragged their
two pieces of luggage out of the trunk.
“What?
Honeymoon?”
“Yep, I think
it’s Larry’s bizarre sense of humor. I have our marriage license in my wallet.”
“We could be
brother and sister.”
Jake ascended
the stairs to the screened-in porch, then unlocked the door. “As if that would
be believable.”
He had a point.
Even when they argued, their eyes devoured each other. “Wow,” Pamela said,
strolling inside the house.
“You can have
the upstairs bedroom. I’ll stay down here.”
Staying
upstairs alone wasn’t her preference, not with men threatening her. Pamela
climbed the stairs, bypassed by a bedroom with a twin size bed, then moved into
the master. A balcony extended the length of the room, and the
away. On the deck, she looked in one direction, then the other. There was no
one anywhere, only sand and bushes. Back inside, she closed the French door and
jumped. “Jake, you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.”
“Is the room
satisfactory?”
Pamela’s
eyebrow rose. “Would it make a difference?”
“No.”
She looked at
him leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He’d changed into shorts and a
t-shirt, all masculine and delicious. She tilted her head toward the water. “I
didn’t bring a suit.”
“Clothes aren’t
needed on a deserted stretch of beach.”
She swallowed.
A maddening man. First he was pissed, and now he flirted. “But, you’re here.”
He pushed off
from the door and headed toward the stairs. “Yep.”
She sank onto
the bed and stared at the water. The two of them would be together for who knew
how long. Good idea or bad, she wasn’t sure. They could chew each other’s heads
off within a few days, or they could end up in bed together for lack of
anything else to do. This last thought gave her pause. The strong attraction to
him hadn’t ceased, and she would love to pursue whatever was materializing
between them. On the other hand, she didn’t want him by default because they
were the only two people here.
She grabbed her
suitcase, which Jake had set inside the door, and tossed it on the bed.
In front of two
pillows were ceramic geckos, one on top of the other. No way. They looked to be
having sex.
Pictures
covered the walls. Figurines were placed in just the right spot. This house
could be either someone’s home or a museum. She unpacked her suitcase into two
drawers that were empty. The others had personal belongings. She came across a
swimsuit, a size two. She couldn’t shove her size six body into it.
Maybe, they
could take a drive to find a department store. She grimaced. On the way here,
she hadn’t seen any stores except for the Dollar General.
“Are you
hungry?” Jake yelled from downstairs. “I’ve grilled hamburgers.”
She was
famished. The night of the shooting had been the last night she ate well. She
changed into shorts and a tank top, grabbed her flip-flops, then padded
downstairs. The floor to ceiling windows lent a beautiful view of the water,
and Jake. He sat at a picnic table under an umbrella with a beer in his hand
and a plate of food in front of him.
“Where did all
this food come from? And can you drink while you’re on the job?” she asked,
pushing through the screen door. She filled her plate, then sat across from
him.
“The
refrigerator was stocked for us, and I’m on the job twenty-four-seven.” He took
a swig of the questionable beverage. “One beer won’t hurt anything.”
However, he
didn’t have just one. By the time their lunch ended, he had drunk three.
Looking at him, she’d never guess.
“I have no cell
reception here. So we’re gonna have to take a trip toward town until I get it.”
“I thought we
couldn’t have a cell.”
“I have a new
one; it’s untraceable.”
“Okay, I need
to buy a swimsuit.”
He nodded. “Did
you bring cash?”
She never
carried cash, and it didn’t occur to her to do so before they left. “I didn’t,
and I guess, using a credit card is out of the question.”
“We don’t want
a paper trail. Lucky for you, I brought plenty of cash.”
“I don’t want
you to buy me a swimsuit.”
Jake chuckled
and tossed his empty paper plate into the plastic trashcan at the end of the
porch. “We’ll leave in a few minutes after I take a shower. I leaned up against
a pine tree filled with sap while grilling.”
****
“Jake, have you
seen my purse? I thought I brought it in with us.”
Jake had
disappeared somewhere in the back of the house, and since she hadn’t had a tour
yet, she didn’t know what hid behind the walls. “It’s on the kitchen island. I
removed all of your identification from your purse.”
“You what?” She
lifted her purse, then tossed it down again. “Are you in the bedroom?” Pamela
looked down the hallway. In the back were two bedrooms, one connected to a
bath. All the doors were open. Jake strolled out of the bathroom into a bedroom
wearing a towel knotted low on his hips. All thoughts of yelling at him for
rummaging through her purse fled.
“Keep looking
at me that way, and you’ll be seeing what’s underneath the towel.”
He wasn’t even
looking at her. How did he know she watched him? She backtracked and stopped at
an end table. Above it, hung a painting of a naked woman brushed in blue
watercolors.
Jake came out
of the room, a pair of shorts hung low on his torso, the top button undone. He
stopped right behind her. “Interesting.” The muscles on his nude chest flexed
and bulged as he ran a towel through his wet hair. Pamela licked her lips, then
sucked them inward, her body overheating from the erotic picture he made.
“Check out my bedroom and bathroom. This couple knew how to get the juices
flowing.”
He did, too.
She walked into the bathroom. Three naked torsos with their arms wrapped around
each other graced a glass bathroom shelf. She wandered into his bedroom. The
venetian blinds were open, and she wondered who might have gotten a glimpse of
Jake as he changed. Then she remembered. They might be the only ones staying at
this beach.
“It’s over
there.”
Another picture
of a naked woman hung in the corner. “Where are the naked men pictures?”
“A female body
is more artistic.”
“Yeah, right, I
think that would depend on the beholder.”
He chuckled,
buttoned his shorts, and snatched a shirt off his bed. “Ready?”
She was primed
and ready, but he wasn’t referring to sex. She nodded.
Chapter
Twelve
“Is there a chance anyone could see us?”
Pamela asked, climbing out of the car. There was only one street running
through the small Northern Neck town, lined with old houses and a marina
situated at the end, reflecting the fishing community.
“There’s always a chance,” Jake said,
staring at his cell phone as they walked to the pier.
“Are any agents nearby? I don’t see a
prerequisite Suburban.”
Jake grinned. “They’re here. I told them
what you said, and they changed vehicles.”
She playfully hit his arm. “You did not.”
He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Hello,” a silver-haired woman walked
toward them. “Are you two the honeymooners staying at Kazenske’s Den?”
Jake brushed past Pamela and stretched
out his hand. “Yes. This is my wife Betty, and I’m Ed Daley.”
Hearing the odd name, Pamela frowned.
“Hello, I’m Sylvia Wadsmith. My husband,
Alfred, and I own a bed and breakfast a few buildings down. We’re in charge of
maintenance on the rental properties on your street. If you have any problems,
let us know.” Sylvia shook Pamela’s hand. “My, you’re a pretty girl.”
“Thank you.”
The woman measured her. “You know, if you
smile, you’ll be even prettier.”
Jake wrapped his arm around Pamela, tugging
her close, he said, “I just told her some news that threw her off guard.” He
bowed his head and kissed her lips. “She’s just in shock.”
Her fingers touched her lips.
“Oh, I see,” said Sylvia. Pamela could
tell the inquisitive woman wanted details. She hoped Sylvia wouldn’t ask too
many questions about their fake marriage. She’d never be able to lie to keep up
the charade.
