Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (11 page)

“You have to chase those votes,” the older man
continued. “Mainers don’t care so much about the TV ads. The personal touch.
That’s the ticket.” He elbowed Jake and laughed. “The ticket. Get it?”

Jake nodded but couldn’t laugh even when Kevin did.

When J.T. strode off to meet his client, Kevin said, “Don’t
mind Dad. He’s raised so much money for me, he gets all worked up.”

Jake had nothing diplomatic to say to that but he
wondered which one this campaign was more important to, father or son. He
followed Kevin outside for a look at the new excavator in the one of the
outbuildings. Outside he zipped his windbreaker. Spider webs of mist hung in
the air, dampening his face and hair.

After the tour, Kevin accompanied him to the parking
lot.

“Something I need to know about Gail Cameron,” Jake
said.

Kevin’s mouth twisted as if he’d bitten into a sour
apple. “Heard you and Lani were asking around. Hope it doesn’t bring more
trouble.”

“Me too.” Jake didn’t intend this to be an
interrogation. He kept his expression mild, non-threatening. “You said the
other day Gail was the hot sister. What did you mean by that?”

Kevin barked a laugh that held no mirth. He waved at
the air. “Oh, man, you ought to know. You were going with her.”

Jake didn’t comment. Merely waited. People felt the
need to fill the silence.

Kevin heaved a sigh. Color crept up his cheeks again. “What’s
that saying? Don’t speak ill of the dead? But if you insist, here it is. Gail
got around that summer, if you get my meaning.”

Kevin’s revelation drove a battering ram square in
Jake’s solar plexus.
Got around?
Gail was having sex with other guys?
Not just one?

Beeps sounded at Kevin’s waist. He glanced down at the
number displayed on his cell phone. He let it go to voice mail. “I’m due at a
job site now. Thanks for coming.”

Jake swallowed the churning mix of emotions that
burned his chest and clamped a hand on Kevin’s arm before he could hurry off. “Sex
with other guys. You mean while we were going together that summer?”

Kevin’s gaze dropped but he nodded.

“I need to know who Gail was with. It’s important.”

“I’m not sure. Talk to some of the guys.” Kevin stared
pointedly at his arm. “I gotta go.”

Jake lifted his hand. “No offense meant.”

“No problemo.” Kevin swiped mist from his nose and
trotted away.

Muttering every expletive he knew, Jake stayed put by
the Cherokee’s open door. Was he the only one who didn’t know Gail was sleeping
around? Did Lani know? Man, it’d be a long time before he could see the whole
picture in this jigsaw of the past.

He watched Kevin drive away in a company SUV. Next
time he saw his old buddy, old pal, he had another question for him. Like why
when Kevin suggested asking “the guys” about Gail, he didn’t deny his own involvement
with her.

Chapter 11

Lani applied mascara and a light blush. The only
makeup she ever wore. Lipstick occasionally. Should she? Forget it. He’d get
the wrong idea.

She smoothed her hands down her grass-green V-neck tee
and, in true neurotic fashion, hoped her jeans didn’t make her butt look big.
Tough. That was as good as it got. Why was she bothering? Jake was coming over
tonight, yes, but only to replace her door locks and so they could share their
lists of people to interview. She’d make coffee, just to be hospitable.

No date. Just work. She looked at her watch. Seven. He’d
be here any minute. Her heart gave an extra hard thump against her sternum in
case she wasn’t paying attention.

She glared at herself in the mirror.
I’m a grown
woman, not some starry-eyed teenager.
She could control her hormones. Even
if he did heat up her daydreams.
Was it his sexy good looks or his
innate kindness or the way he didn’t back down from her smart mouth? All of the
above. She heaved a sigh of frustration.

When she heard a knock, she ran the brush through her
hair and dashed down the stairs.

“Hey,” Jake said when she opened the door.

The sight of him in a charcoal T-shirt that clung to
every muscle and soft, worn jeans that clung to his lean hips rippled warmth
from her neck downward regardless of the cool night. “Hey, yourself.”

He carried a zippered sports bag into the kitchen.

She planted her hands on her hips. “I hope you’re not
planning to spend the night.”

Flames ignited in his eyes. One side of his mouth
hiked up. The playful grin shot a jolt of longing into her chest—for the boy
who used to be. “I might. If I was invited. Fog’s pretty thick out there.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She never blushed, dammit. Maybe
he’d attribute the color to makeup. “In your dreams, Wescott. What’s with the
bag?”

He shook it. Metal clanked against metal. “Tools,
Cameron. You did buy those new locks we talked about?”

“I may be stubborn but I’m not stupid.” She stepped
aside and gestured at the plastic packages on the table.

Dropping the bag with a thunk on the table, he
snatched her hand and turned up the palm. The scabbed-over sores were dry and
healing. “Hey, looking good. No bandages. Pain?”

The feel of his big, rough hands on hers fizzed
electricity across her arms. With great effort, she shrugged. “Not enough to
mention.”

When she tried to tug her hand away, he captured the
other one and held her fast. The heat in his eyes nailed her feet to the floor.
“Jake.”

He grinned. “Lani. And you’d know pain, I expect.”

She knew, all right. Intimately. The stinging
aftermath of surgeries and skin transplants. The ache of treatments and
physical therapy on her shoulder. And the ever-present pain of losing her
sister.

She remembered his leg wound. “You know pain too.
Sometime you’ll have to tell me about that leg.”

“Sometime. But you’ll have new scars to add to your
collection.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a
collection. Only the one.”

“Two. This one.” He sleeked his big hand over the top
of her head and around to the scar surgery hadn’t eradicated. A murmur of
pleasure rumbled in his chest.

“Jake, don’t—”

“And the bigger scar inside.” He lowered his hand and
flattened it against her upper chest where her heart was tripping over itself.

Does he know about the other scar? No, he can’t
possibly.

She saw he intended to kiss her. She tore herself away
from his gaze and turned her back. Only then did she realize he’d released her
hands moments ago. “We agreed not to do this.”

She heard the rasp of a zipper and the rattle of tools
behind her. So he was getting to work. She sucked in a breath but wasn’t sure
if she felt relief or disappointment.

“
You
agreed. Said you needed to focus. I made
lame excuses. But we have this attraction. Don’t try to deny it.”

She rounded on him. “I’m not denying it, just
focusing
on what has to be done.”

“Big whoop. As a reasonably intelligent adult, I can
focus
on more than one thing at a time. And you can’t? I heard women were big on
multi-tasking.”

What?
He turned the tables without breaking a
sweat. Was having a smart mouth contagious?

“And...I bring blueberry pie.” He held up a square box
from Donna’s Garden Stand.

“Blueberry,” she whispered, in spite of herself. Her
favorite flavor. How did he know?

“Box’s a little dented from being in the bag.” His
little-boy grin made her breath catch. “When we were kids, Donna used to sell
pie by the slice, like pizza.”

Her mouth watered. “I remember.”

“Mom would send us boys on our bikes to buy
vegetables. She’d always give us enough money for a slice of pie—apple or
blueberry or chocolate. If we were lucky, the filling would still be warm. Hank
usually didn’t let me tag along but he made sure I went with him to Donna’s. I
could always talk her into adding a scoop of ice cream.”

In spite of herself, she smiled, picturing Jake as the
mischievous little brother who always worked being cute to his advantage. He’d
learned his flirting skills early.

He picked up the tool bag and the locks and ambled
into the hallway. A left took him toward the front door.

Just because he brought her food and just because he
dazzled her with a smile, she couldn’t allow anything to come of whatever was
zinging between them. His sensitivity and flashes of humor were cracking her
defenses. She wanted him but didn’t see any way but to protect herself behind
her usual defenses. And it wasn’t her he wanted anyway.

Men didn’t stay when the going got tough. Especially
with her.

*****

Jake squinted in the dim light over the back door
leading to the attached barn, now a garage. He pushed up from his crouching
position and dropped the screwdriver in his bag. Done. The last of the three
rusty antique locks replaced. He checked both—door handle and deadbolt. Keys
worked. He flipped the deadbolt. Secure. Window latches were better than he’d
thought. And at least on the first floor, some worker bee doing maintenance had
painted some of them shut. Damn secure.

Unless her slimeball attacker broke the glass. Or knew
how to pick locks. She was too isolated out here. He shook his head as he made
the trek down the long back hallway.

His thoughts detoured at the smell of coffee brewing. “Woman,
you read my mind,” he said as he entered the kitchen. “Caffeine to keep me
awake while we talk suspects.”

“And blueberry pie. Thank you for this.” Smiling, she
slid wedges onto two plates and set them on a wooden tray painted with pale
blue flowers.

He followed her to the living room. Always liked its
comfortable feel. Only outlines on the wall remained of an array of family
pictures. The wallpaper’s bright colors had faded but the welcome lingered.

When they were settled on opposite ends of the cushy
sofa, Lani poured the coffee.

He forked in a mouthful. Buttery crust and sweet, wild
Maine berries. Perfect. Just as he remembered. A look at Lani stopped him in
mid-chew.

Apparently she loved Donna’s pies as much as he did.
More. Eyes closed. Beatific curve of lips as she chewed. Fierce hums of delight
from her throat coursed heat through him. Blueberry goo dribbled from one
corner of her mouth. She lapped it up with her tongue and caught him staring.

Sparks shot from her eyes. “What? Pie on my face?”

He cleared his throat. “Nice to see a beautiful woman
enjoying her food. That’s all.”

Eyeing him with suspicion, she set down her now empty
plate. Did she think he was making fun of her? There was that uncertainty about
herself again. Or distrust of him. Whatever, he liked that high color in her
cheeks even if it was temper.

“Hey, no big deal. Just enjoying the pie, enjoying
your, um, pleasure, having fun. You have heard of fun?”

Her mouth compressed and her shoulders shook. Lines
fanned out from her eyes and a sputter like a broken faucet erupted into a
rolling gust of laughter.

Whew, he’d been worried she might toss the pie at him
or toss him out on his ass.

No dainty feminine titter, her hearty laugh was way
sexier. The mirth that lighted her hazel eyes let the real woman come out to
play. The only reason he didn’t pull her into his arms was the certainty it
would shatter the light mood.

When her mirth trailed off in raspy chuckle, she
collapsed against the sofa cushion. “Oh, Jake, you’re right. I needed a little
fun.”

So did he, he realized, chuckling with her. “Honey,
you need more than a little, but that laugh’ll do for starters. Good for the
soul. Like Donna’s pie.”

She laughed again as she pulled a spiral-bound
notebook from the table and opened it.

He scooted closer to her and waited for her to call
him on it. When she said nothing, he unzipped the folio pad he’d carried in the
gym bag. “Looks like we’re open for business.”

“I have only a few names on my list.”

“I’ll make a copy of the fire report for you. Got a
few names from that. I’ll take your names and get started right away.”

She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Excuse
me.
You’ll
get started? I’m not sitting on my butt eating bonbons while
you do your federal agent thing. We can divvy up the interviews, share
information.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. He knew she wouldn’t stay out of
trouble. He pressed an index finger to her lips. “I meant I need your list so I
can have my ATF contact start checking backgrounds. We agreed to do this
together. But I won’t let you go out alone.”

Because of the C-4’s probable connection to the
Mexican cartel, Holt Donovan would be doubly thorough and quick with whatever
he needed.

As if removing a dead insect, she lifted his finger
with her forefinger and thumb. Way to squash a guy’s ego. And his libido.

She narrowed her eyes. “I doubt my sister’s
girlfriends are dangerous. I’m having lunch with two of them tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t be with them every minute.”

“They won’t tell me
anything
if you’re with me.
Guaranteed.”

The set of her chin said he wouldn’t win that
argument. “Okay. But don’t go off on your own on any other interviews. You’re
not The Closer. Even Brenda takes detectives with her.”

She grinned at the analogy, then turned serious. “I
know damned well how dangerous what I’m doing is, Jake. I’ll be careful.”

He crossed mental fingers she meant it.

They spent the next few minutes dividing up who would
talk with whom. Jake took the guys they hung out with, including Kevin,
although he was keeping that to himself for now. One he wondered about was
Steve Quimby, who’d arrived at the poker game as the fire trucks had screamed
down the peninsula. To keep Lani out of too much trouble, he made sure she’d
see mostly Gail’s friends and Ava Warren. Gail had waited tables with Ava at
the Eastward Inn that summer.

“I talked to Mike Spear this morning.” She outlined
her encounter with the marina store manager. “I didn’t trust he’d actually ask
his wife, so I went to see Patti. Nothing, just as he said. Patti couldn’t
remember Gail ever talking about guys.”

He noted her suspicions. “You had good instincts
there. Doesn’t mean Spear isn’t keeping something from you.” He was afraid he
knew Spear’s secret about Gail but he’d wait for a check on the man before he
warned Lani off a second chat. Or he’d talk to Spear.

She glanced over her list. “Some other old friends don’t
live here anymore. Some were summer people. None of them can be the one
threatening me.” Her expression brightened, putting the gold glow back in her
eyes. “It can’t be a person no longer in Dragon Harbor.”

“Good point but he could’ve hired someone. There could
be more than one person.”

“Oh, great.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Ray O’Sunshine.
Two
killers.”

“This is serious shit. Don’t let down your guard. My
guy’ll do checks on absentees as well as locals.”

“On Kevin too?” She glared at his open zipper pad,
then stood and marched back to the kitchen with their plates.

He followed in her wake. “You don’t miss much. Kevin
too.”

She plunked the plates into the sink with a clatter of
china. “You didn’t mention him. Why’s his name on your list?”

He really didn’t want to tell her. Temporizing, he tucked
her hair behind one ear. “I can’t keep from wanting to touch you.”

She leaned into his caress for a split second before
her ire won out. Her brows drew together, crinkling the tender skin above her
nose. He enjoyed rattling her. “Jake.”

Shit, she wouldn’t be deterred. He lowered his hand
but only to her shoulder. “I don’t know where he was that night. Not with you
apparently.”

“You’re right. He had to accompany his father to the
hospital fundraiser. His mother had just had a chemotherapy treatment for her
breast cancer. She wasn’t in shape to go. John Junior stayed with her. Figures
Kevin would prefer to party. An opportunity to glad-hand, show how much they
cared about sick people.” She huffed out a breath.

Her snarky tone had him asking, “You doubt J.T. cared?”

“Politicians. Who knows?” Her jaw worked and her tone
turned thoughtful. “That was the last night we were happy.”

“Who’s
we
?”

“Take your pick.” Her jab was tempered by the hurt in
her eyes. “One look at me in the hospital with all the tubes and IVs and
bandages turned Kevin pale as snow. Then it was adios, adieu, and ciao, baby.
He added some bull about giving me space before he peeled out of the room like
his shoes were jet powered. I wonder how he treated his mom a year later when
she lay dying.”