Authors: Cait Jarrod
“Hmm?”
Leaning on one elbow, the sheet covering
one breast, she said, “Someone’s at the door.”
Jake jumped out of bed, his male anatomy
bouncing.
Propped up, Pamela got a visual of the
male anatomy as it bobbed out of bed.
“Is every man that hard first thing in
the morning?” she giggled. She knew the answer. They had gone through three
condoms since arriving.
He turned, flashed his white teeth, and
like Mister America, he posed. “It is my honeymoon.”
Pamela dropped back on the bed, and her
eyes fluttered closed.
That sounded
wonderful
.
After Jake pulled on his briefs, he eased
the door open.
“The alarm clock went off earlier. I
finally got up. I’m going for coffee, want some?” Steve’s voice drifted into
the room.
“No,” Pamela drawled from under the
covers.
“You didn’t hear me thundering around?
What kind of agent are you, Gibson?”
Jake
closed the door on Steve. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers over them.
“A content one,” he spoke softly next to Pamela’s ear.
She
snorted.
The
door squeaked open.
“You
didn’t lock it.”
“No,
damn it. I’m slipping.”
Grasping
his butt, Pamela guided his body to hers. “No, you’re not.”
“Betty,
turn down the alarm clock. It’s too loud,” Steve yelled from the doorway.
“Wait
a minute.” Pamela pushed the covers aside, and her head emerged. “I didn’t set
the alarm clock.”
“You
didn’t? I heard a high-pitched squeal.” Steve chuckled before withdrawing back
into the hallway.
“He
heard me,” Pamela grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Let’s
see if I can make you scream in pleasure again.”
Chapter
Eighteen
“Five o’clock. We need to take off.” Jake
slid out of bed and slipped on his jeans.
Pamela glanced outside as she grabbed her
shorts. “It’s dark outside. It can’t be five o’clock.”
“It’s morning. We should have left an
hour ago.” He’d been so content lying beside her that he’d fallen asleep again
after Steve had woken them an hour earlier. Why hadn’t he returned? A dreadful
feeling reared its ugly head. Jake dug his phone from his pocket and dialed the
number Steve had given him during the walk last night.
Pamela slid her tennis shoes on and
glanced up. “We’ve only had a couple hours of sleep. Why are we leaving so
early?”
“We have to get away before anyone finds
us.” Jake hung up his cell. “Steve didn’t answer.” He shoved the phone in his
pocket. “Damn it.”
Pamela straightened. “Jake, what’s going
on?” Her voice was eerily calm.
The shock of the explosion had worn off,
and he imagined the pieces of information she’d heard were starting to fall
into place. He’d have to tell her everything. His goal had been to protect
Pamela as much as possible. The possibility that somebody in the FBI office was
giving up their location because of his alias as
The Warrior
was unsettling
.
He
knew the fact wouldn’t sit well with Pamela.
He blinked. She stood in front of him,
her lips in a firm line. “Jake,
where
is Steve?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I
don’t know.” Which was true. “But I have a feeling th—”
“You have a feeling!”
Jake’s eyes widened as her hands began to
flail, her breast drawing his attention as they bounced under his shirt that
she wore. This was no time to mention how sexy she looked. “Yes.”
She inched closer and frowned. “What
feeling, Jake? The one that there’s a leak in the FBI department? The precise
department that’s supposed to be keeping me safe and finding who is responsible
for the threatening notes?”
He opened his mouth, but she held up her
hand, shushing him.
She paused. He could tell his assumption
was right—she was piecing the details together. “You didn’t stumble upon my
café when we first met, did you? You were there looking for someone, weren’t
you?” Her hands flew to her hips. “The whole time you were watching me was for
another reason, wasn’t it?”
That puzzle he didn’t think she’d notice.
He started to speak, and her fingers covered his lips. Tears welled. “Jake, I
need to know, why did you sleep with me? Did it have anything to with the case?
Were you trying to find out more information?” She slid her fingers away.
“No, dammit! I. I did because I wanted to
be close to you.” He reached behind her back and pulled her close.
She jerked away, folding her arms across
her chest as her back stiffened. This wasn’t going to be good. “I don’t believe
you. You’ve been lying to me. All along there was more to my case. Only it
didn’t have anything to do with me. It had to do with your dubious past. You
and whatever you’ve got going with this Sanjar guy.”
He searched her eyes. “How do you know?”
She chuckled. “For an agent, you sure are
dumb. Sounds travel in the quiet night air. A few waves hit the shore, but the
I heard you and Steve. Steve said you would never have peace unless Sanjar is
removed.”
It wasn’t exactly what Steve had said,
but he thought correcting her wouldn’t help his cause.
Jake grasped both of her arms.
“I know I need to explain things, but this
isn’t the time. We’ve got to find Steve.”
Pamela winced. “You’re right. We should
find him first.” She stood and closed the gap between them. Her finger jabbed
his chest. “Do not try to touch me.” She turned away, pulling her hair into a
ponytail.
“I can’t believe I slept with you,” she
whispered as she slammed the bathroom door.
He slid his hand down his face and
slumped onto the bed. Damn, he’d fucked up again. He could actually make a
career of it. Before he could regain his composure from the verbal beating Pamela
gave him, she emerged. The gleam in her eye had changed. No longer was she the
scared woman he had seen for the last few days; the look in her eyes sent
chills down his back. She crossed to the night table and stuck one of the guns
in the front of her waistband, then covered it with her shirt. “Now, I know why
I went to the range with Steve. After experiencing what I have during the last
several months, I realize that I should stand up for myself.”
Hell, what had he done? He was there to
help her. “Pamela, you can’t go all
Salt
.”
“Salt?”
“Angelina Jolie. She kicked butt in the
movie
Salt
.”
“I’m not. I’m taking care of myself.”
He didn’t like the sound of that, but now
wasn’t the time to argue with her. The Director had told him Pamela was a
strong-minded woman who could handle herself. He said she had lost sight of
that after Sam had attacked her. His hands fisted at the thought of her
ex-boyfriend.
He picked up the other gun and stuck it
in his waistband. “Let’s go.” Pamela followed, holding onto her gun, and closed
the door behind them.
“Ed.” Sylvia appeared at the bottom of
the staircase, her body shaking.
“What’s wrong?” They descended the steps
and met her on the landing.
She looked at Pamela. “Betty.” Her sweet
eyes glistened.
Pamela hugged her. “Sylvia, please tell
us what’s wrong.”
“My head hurts.” Sylvia gingerly touched
the back of her head.
Jake and Pamela helped to a chair in the
foyer, and Jake checked her. “You’ve got a sizeable lump. What happened?”
“Well,” she rubbed her hands together, “your
friend Todd.”
“What about him?” Pamela knelt beside
Sylvia and covered her hand.
“Some men took him.” Sylvia’s words
rushed out as her hand flew to her chest. “That’s how it looked like to me.
Wait a minute, let me start at the beginning. I couldn’t sleep—actually, Alfred
couldn’t sleep. He was tossing and turning, so I finally got up and came over
here to watch TV and make coffee. A few minutes later, I heard your friend
talking and laughing. I actually thought you two were up as well.” Sylvia touched
her head and grimaced. “Anyway, Steve came downstairs and talked to me for a
few minutes. I gave him a cup of coffee in the dining room, and then I went
into the kitchen to turn the light off. I was going to the main house to see if
Alfred was resting better when I heard voices.” She shuffled on her feet. “I
started to bring more coffee into the dining room, which I thought was for you
two, Betty and Ed.” A straggled breath released. “I stopped inside the kitchen
door when I saw two men with hideous spiders on their backs. Their hair—” her
hand gesture toward her head, “—was in these rolls of locks. I can’t remember
what they’re called.”
“Dreadlocks?”
“Yes. Anyway, when one of them moved,”
her eyes grew large, “I saw a gun.” She spoke as if she were whispering to a
child.
Not expecting an answer, Jake asked, “Do
you know where they went?”
Sylvia patted Pamela’s arm and looked at
Jake. “They said they were taking him to the ship. At first, I thought they
were taking him to the water, until I remembered that ships don’t come to the
marina here, only boats. That’s when I realized they took him to my house.” She
pointed out the window. “There, it’s on the third floor.” She blew out air. “I
hope Alfred is still asleep over there, and they haven’t hurt him.”
“How’d they know about the ship?” Jake
asked.
“Oh, it’s on the historical register. We
have flyers at all the convenience stores.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Pamela
asked.
Sylvia’s eyes shifted toward Pamela. “I
fell. After they left, I went to get Ed and tripped. I don’t know how long I
was there. I got to my feet when I heard you coming out of your room.” She
swallowed, and her weak eyes looked at them. “Betty and Ed, I know who owns the
house that blew up. The
States
Jake and Pamela glanced at each other,
then her.
“Please be careful.” Sylvia touched their
arms. “When you two take your real honeymoon, please have it here.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow, and Pamela’s
mouth dropped open.
Sylvia escorted them to the back of the
bed and breakfast and showed them the rear entrance. “If you take this path to
the house, no one will be able to see you.”
They headed through a thicket of trees,
the lighted sidewalk leading the way. Enormous pillars and sizeable windows
made up a massive Victorian house at the end of the path.
“The ship must be real.” Jake teased,
ducking under a branch, then making sure Pamela did the same.
“Yeah, it is. The house was built around
the ship. I saw a newspaper article framed in our room.”
They slinked to the back door, and Jake
eased it open. “Follow close behind me,” he whispered.
Pamela nodded.
They scaled the first flight of stairs
and turned the corner. No one was there.
“Why would these guys take Steve?” Pamela
asked in a low voice.
“To get to,” Jake motioned between them,
“one of us.”
Her mouth scrunched as she glared at him.
“You, you mean. They took Steve because of you.”
Jake looked at her. “This is not the time
or the place to talk about this.”
Pamela groaned. “Whatever.”
They finished climbing the stairs to the
third floor and hugged to the side of the wall when they reached the top.
Jake’s gun was at the ready as he peered into the large room. Pamela tiptoed
behind him so she could see, her gun at her side.
An octagon-shaped room held a ship’s
cabin mast, which expanded to the fourth floor. A man wearing a Black Scorpion
jacket sat nearby, dozing against the wall. Another walked the length of the
far wall. The ship blocked them from view.
“Stay here,” Jake whispered.
“No way,” Pamela snapped, sticking close
to his back.
He motioned for her to follow him. He
dodged behind the ship, getting a better view of the Scorpion. Pamela stumbled
on a rug, falling on her butt.
The thug pacing the floor turned and
appeared in front of her. The gun cocking reverberated through the large room.
“Hell, no.” Jake popped off a shot. A
loud thud followed.
The gangster who had been asleep bounded
upright. His eyes landed on Pamela. “You bitch!”
Jake saw the perp’s hand rise, and Pamela
raised her gun.
Ping,
Ping.
Jake dropped to the floor, covering
Pamela’s body. The goon, two feet away, was flat on his back with blood
spilling from his chest, right where he had aimed. He slid off Pamela. Every
nerve ending was on fire as he ran his hands over Pamela’s body on the floor.
She had no wounds, but she was spent. “Pamela.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Wake
up.”