"Just One look"
Lauren liked him. He wore his male persona with casual proficiency. Nothing flashy, just plenty of smoldering seduction. She liked his looks and the fact he didn’t bother hiding his gaze that lingered on her like a deep kiss, touching her almost intimately.She hadn’t expected to see someone like ‘Mister Sexy’ her first night back in New York. But there he stood, looking at her from across the room. His warm gaze torched libido. Funny how a gorgeous man could make her forget jet lag, cigar smoke and having been dragged there by her sister.
Raini insisted she attend the weekly cocktail party without giving Lauren a chance to recover from her coast-to-coast flight. Get her back in the swim, Raini said. Some swim. I’m on the edge of a tidal wave thanks to Mister Sexy.
He looked familiar, but no. A woman wouldn’t forget him. All other males were relegated to the title of ‘poor seconds’ after seeing him. He stood head and shoulders taller than the collection of men gathered near him. Her curiosity piqued.
He made direct eye contact with her and making it clear she interested him with a lift of his head. Maybe she shouldn’t encourage him. She smothered a sarcastic laugh, admitting to herself she was intrigued with him. But, no need to let him know you’re swallowing your tongue. If she didn’t get herself under control soon, she was going to do something tacky--like drooling.
Caught up in flirting with him, she hadn’t been aware of her ex-fiancé’ Justin’s absence at the gathering. It must have been a hard choice for the host to make. This crowd loved her ex-fiancé. Justin was a rising star in the medical profession, a top flight surgeon. She remembered him as a low down cheat.
Until the moment he’d suggested they see other people, she thought she loved him. Right up until he’d left two days after her father’s funeral. One year ago exactly.
Already past the post phases of being dumped: hurt anger, sorrow, her only current feeling toward her ex-fiancé was intense disgust. The fine looking guy across the room looked capable of soothing any pain she felt.
Did he know she was out-and-out ogling him? He’d have to be completely blind not to know.
There was no way to be sure, but from across the room, his eyes appeared to be stormy-blue. Perfect. Her gaze touched his dark hair that he wore a bit longer than that of his companions. The difference suited him, emphasizing his masculinity.
Mister Sexy flashed her a warm smile. Her staring had been officially recognized and he was probably trying to figure out just how far his newest admirer would go. That’s all he did, smile at her, and then resume his conversation with his friends. She wanted more, to hear his voice and touch that muscular frame. Take your time. You’ll scare him off.
“I’ve been without a man too long,” she mumbled to herself. Her snide inner voice had been taunting her a lot on that very subject.
She openly accessed the collective group of attorneys, writers and doctors. Which was he? Alpha wolf out hunting alone? Whatever his occupation, the man was the Chief of the clan. She was deeply curious about him. Damn, you’re beginning to think like someone with a fatal attraction. You’re just window-shopping remember.
Lauren made a face of distaste after taking a sip of her warm martini and then looked for a place to discard the drink. At the front of the room she caught sight of her sister and brother-in-law, Adam. They were waving, a signal for her to join the crowd around the piano and listen to one of Broadway’s darlings belt out his latest song. She touched her temple to indicate she had a headache, a ruse she used occasionally to get out of something she considered unpleasant. Her sister hurried through the crowd to offer first aid.
Raini’s smile of sympathy hit Lauren with a twinge of guilt for her deceit.
The look of motherly concern vanished from Raini’s face. She had apparently figured out the recipient of her sister’s undivided attention. “I see why you didn’t budge from this corner.” She looked across the room. “You’ve noticed Victor Raven.”
Lauren’s mouth opened slightly in genuine surprise. “That’s Victor Raven?” Her sister’s expression said she had been caught doing something tasteless.
“Yes it is.” Raini gave Lauren an arch look. “You met him at father’s funeral.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Lauren tried to place a time she would have met this man. “That can’t be the same Victor Raven you and your girl friends used to giggle about.”
“We were comparing notes.” Raini looked at her watch as if she were anxious to change the subject. “Actually, there’s no reason for you to remember him. He was in college when you were in high school.”
“Your age, huh?” Lauren teased. “You didn’t have an affair with him, did you?” Her gaze sped back to him and a hint of a smile tilted her lips. “He looks just about the perfect age to me.”
“Lauren. He’s a lot older than you in a lot of ways.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Lauren handed her drink to a passing waiter. “Why hasn’t some woman got him on a leash?”
“If you mean, is he married, no. Involved, probably.” Raini lowered her voice and glanced at Victor. “His marriage ended in a bitter divorce and now he’s sharing custody of his little girl with his ex-wife.”
“That doesn’t make him untouchable.” Lauren grinned at her serious minded sister. “Victor and I have something in common. We’ve both been dumped. Maybe we can help each other over the rough spots.”
“I didn’t say he was unhappy, Lauren.” Glancing over at the man in question, Raini sighed. “Women haven’t been too kind to him. He just doesn’t get deeply involved in a relationship.”
“Is this some kind of warning?” Lauren wanted to know everything about Victor. “I suppose the divorce made a pauper of him.” Her eyes widened in mock horror. “Please don’t tell me he’s a doctor.”
“He’s hardly a pauper, Lauren. He’s made the millions he inherited look like pocket change with his business savvy.” Raini smiled at her curious sister. “And no, he’s not a doctor. And I wasn’t issuing a warning.”
“Sounded like it.” Lauren tilted her head from side to side, looking at Victor from every angle. She liked him more with every passing second. “Well, since he’s not a doctor, I think I’ll go introduce myself.”
“Lauren.” There was no playfulness in Raini’s voice. “Victor has his own set of rules. Be warned he is a charmer and a nice guy, but he is immunized against the long term relationship you enjoy.”
The urge to remind Raini to stop lecturing her battered against her teeth. But Lauren kept the remark to herself. She didn’t remember her mother and Raini had stepped in to keep her in line since their father had given them free reign to explore. Grudgingly, she admitted that if not for her socially conscious sister, she might be living in a commune in the mountains. On the other hand, she was twenty-six and it was time Raini realized it.
“I suppose you know that statement made him absolutely irresistible.” Lauren squeezed Raini’s hand. “You worry too much, sis. Anyway, aren’t you the one who said I needed to find a new love interest?”
Draping her arm about Lauren’s shoulder, Raini seemed to be in a quandary. After a moment, she lifted her hands in a small show of defeat. “I did say that, didn’t I?” She started to walk away, pausing to add a last comment. “But does it have to be Victor? I’m not meddling, Lauren. It’s just that you seem vulnerable now.”
“I might have been a year ago, but I’ve learned never to believe a man, no matter how great looking he is.” Lauren turned her head to search the group of men for Victor, but he was no longer there. She shrugged then winked at Raini. “See. Nothing to worry yourself about. Seems he’s already lost interest too.”
“Your eyes tell me your plotting something, Lauren.” Sighing, Raini looked at the noisy group that had begun singing again. “After you’ve found out what you have to know, come join Adam and me at the piano.”
“Promise.”
Lauren was disappointed that Victor had left. She had enjoyed their brief game of silent flirting--a first for her. Justin hadn’t liked flirting. Too childish, he’d said. Childish was scarcely what she’d call the art of flirting in relation to Victor; it was more like a prelude to spontaneous combustion. That would be a first for her too.
Taking a minute to scan the crowd on the chance of catching another glimpse of Victor, she laughed at her sudden infatuation with a stranger. Coming back down to earth, she checked her appearance in bank of mirrors lining the wall, smoothing the short skirt of her slip dress and brushing a stray wisp of hair from her cheek. All preening stopped when a smooth baritone voice wrapped itself around her.
“Everything looks perfect from here.”
Lauren couldn’t help the little smile of delight that lifted the corners of her mouth. Like some quiet hunter, Victor Raven had found her. His rich voice stoked her earlobes, exciting her. She didn’t turn to face him, but observed him in the mirror. She liked the way he had let her know he was behind her.
"The Man In Her Life"
“Lord have mercy.”
Nick Gualdoni muttered the words, hoping for some defense against sure defeat. He couldn’t see anything but Shelby Rand after she walked through the restaurant door. She was mad as hell, showing it with the lovely lift of her chin and the lush rose tone dusted over her cheeks like an Arizona sunset.
Seeing her as a disagreeable stranger was impossible. His soul wouldn’t let him. He knew her intimately, every curve and hollow of her slender body. Shelby Rand, his ex-fiancé. The tightening in his groin wasn’t unexpected. It happened every time he thought of her. Every time he looked at her coral pink lips or into her Sea of Cortez blue eyes.
He had known from the moment he met her, Shelby was no ordinary woman, a tiger in a fight and a kitten in a clinch. Her pretty pink nails became claws if she was crossed. It was a damned good bet she was wearing little under her short black coatdress, except the string of South Seas pearls nestled in the deep slash of her neckline.
He shifted in his chair and relaxed his legs to allow the hot blood to move out of his crotch. His teeth were clenched against the pain of a massive hard-on that would last for days if he couldn’t have her. And he couldn’t.
As usual, she carried no handbag or briefcase, only a fancy key ring that made soft jangling music, as she got closer to him. Nick wondered how she could sashay through a man’s life with no idea of the havoc her presence created, not caring about anything but winning. Even with a killer instinct, she was a classy woman with a lot of power and she used her attributes splendidly. Shelby was a sleek woman with a mop of pale blonde hair and long, strong legs. Her outward beauty hid the intensity that lay just beneath the surface of her well-toned skin. Five foot six inches of well-educated, self-assured dynamo, weighing in at one hundred twenty pounds.
The woman was cold steel and hot sensuality and he couldn’t forget the feel of her under his pumping body. Don’t get too distracted by the woman who can do battle all day long with competitors and make love all night.
Nick crushed the urge to meet her halfway like he normally would have. He stayed in his chair, casually watching Shelby turn heads in her wake. He understood other men’s interest in her. The scent of wild plum blossoms accompanied her, as unforgettable as the woman wearing it. It was her scent exclusively. He inhaled deeply, automatically moving to stand up, but she waved her hand to stop him.
“Don’t bother, Nick.” She sat down and raked a cool glance over the crowd before turning her attention back to him. “Do you really want to discuss this in a public place?”
He signaled to the waiter, holding up two fingers to double his drink order and then looked back at Shelby. “I don’t give a damn where we talk. I just thought you might prefer to hold this little party in a place with witnesses.” He loved the slight show of annoyance in her eyes.
She looked at her wristwatch. “We could have finished this discussion over the phone and saved us both time and money.”
“Just hold on. You’re not leaving until I show you a few things and tell you what’s on my mind.” He allowed himself the agony of checking out the curve of her beautiful throat. She was exquisite. She cooled his hot blood with her icy blue gaze.
“Say whatever it is you have to say. I have a full schedule today.”
The waiter came back with two double scotches, and Nick swallowed half of his before the guy walked away. Hell, he should have ordered another one. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter-sized envelope. “This won’t take long if you tell me the truth.”
Her chin went up several notches. That little show of indignation let him know she didn’t like his attitude, but he was in no mood to be nice to her. He withheld the envelope for a few seconds and let her stew about it.
“There’s more to this than your telling me to take a hike? Is that a list of things you want back, like some high school jock?” The tremble of her lips was brief. “You didn’t give me a reason for wanting out of our engagement. Just saying that we were finished didn’t give me much to go on. Care to tell me the reason now, or do I go through life wondering what I did?”
Nick hated the icy wall between them. It hadn’t been that long ago they had turned the world upside down with their intense lovemaking. It could have been that morning and he would still have been hard for her. Shelby was in his blood and her larceny didn’t erase his love for her. Passionate and fulfilling love that he desperately wanted to shake. He shrugged his shoulders to ward off the memory.
He took several photographs from the envelope and tossed them across the table. “I owe you squat.” He raised his glass and drained the last drop from it before getting the waiter’s attention again. “You, on the other hand, owe me your ass.”
THE SECRET
By
P.J. Womack
© copyright February 2005, P.J. Womack
Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright February 2005
ISBN 1-58608-323-6
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Bella Cantatore caught the scent of John's cologne wafting to her like a seductive whisper as she walked by his side. She hated John Breten Lawless. Hated the clothes he wore. Right down to the Italian suit that draped his broad shoulders and hinted at the promise of strength in his long, muscular legs.
God, he was a big man.
Her lips softened into a playful smile as she checked out the razor sharp creases in his trousers, and their perfect length, the hem falling in one fold across the instep of his spit-polished British Walkers. Against her last bit of will, her gaze moved to the area of his tight rear. Sure, it was hidden under his suit coat now, but how many times had she eyeballed his nice derriere while he leaned over her chair to hand something to her grandfather or stood with his hands in his pockets?
Well, she didn’t exactly hate him. Her feelings for him were so deep and strong it was sinful. Their lives had touched for the first time four years earlier. And her heart and soul had committed to the foolish desire to have him for her own. Crazy girl.
She remembered the way his deep turquoise gaze had taken in every detail of her body before lifting to her face that day. He had experienced the same jolt of discovery that she had, but that all vanished when her grandfather blurted out they were celebrating her birthday. Her seventeenth birthday. John had looked as if he had been goosed in the crotch with a cattle prod.
Thinking about the grief they had caused one another made her pulse race. She desperately needed a drink of water. She let him get a step ahead of her as they walked in icy silence down the long hallway to her attorney’s office. John stopped walking and turned back to gaze down at her with a silent snarl in his eyes. Her lips twitched with a poorly hidden grin, caused by the self-deprecating idea that being this close to her made him nervous. He had a razor nick on his chin. He stared at her for a moment longer before speaking.
"I hope you lose that surly attitude before we see Max." He eyed her as if she were a misbehaving kid.
The secretive smile on her lips was that of a woman having pleasure at a man’s expense. He probably knew she had been giving him the hot once-over, but didn't flinch a well-toned muscle under her perusal. Still the tough Navy pilot, sworn to treat her like a non-com. But, oh yes. He'd felt it, felt the stroke of her desire touching his hard body.
"Why, John. I haven't been surly for several years." She skillfully tucked her elbow to her side when he tried to cup his hand around it. "They call it adult independence now days. I'll see myself in."
"Sorry to mess up your show of independence, Flower, but for some strange reason, I was asked to be here for the reading of the will." His gaze was speculative. "You wouldn't know anything about this would you?"
His use of her middle name in what she considered a vulgar fashion irked her. "It’s Fleur. Of course a man with few social skills wouldn’t know that. And you’re probably lying about being asked to be here."
Anger flared in the depths of his green eyes and his white teeth showed in a hard grimace. "Listen, you spoiled hardhead. I don’t give a damn about you or what you do after today." He flicked at the fragile netting on her navy snap-brim hat and smiled sardonically. "This is the last tour of duty I pull with you, Flower."
He had called her Flower, his way of telling her he was ticked off. He must be boiling now. She did what he hated most. She laughed at his anger, fueling his temper. "I know you want me. And you know it will never happen."
His chiseled lips set in a hard line and his eyes took on the color of a storm tossed sea--deep, dark and dangerous green. He caught her arm and leaned against her, whispering in her ear. "Only in your most erotic dream, Flower."
Electricity crackled between them, arcing from his hand to her trembling body. He had unwittingly hit upon a taboo subject, the thing she hated most about him. Those incessant erotic dreams she'd been having since her eighteenth birthday, and where he was the recipient of her favors. Four years of rolling around in bed, only to wake up clinging to her pillow, expecting to find him beside her.
Why was she still warring with this man? She was twenty-one, had a wonderful job as an antiquities expert and had a great place to live. Plus, she was not without male company. Damn him for making her do inventory on her crazy life as if she had to please him. She snatched her wayward emotions back in time to avoid another sparring match with John.
With his hand gripping her elbow, she walked inside the office that had been a playground for her as a child. Maxwell Fortis had been her grandfather’s closest friend and attorney. Between her grandfather and Maxwell, she had gotten everything she wanted. Except one thing.
She started towards Max's private office, but John held her back and gave their names to the receptionist.
"Bella Cantatore and John Lawless to see Mr. Fortis."
Wearying of his parental like control, Bella shrugged away from him. "You can leave now. Go back to your little brokerage office, flirt with your saucy secretary."
"You're enough sauce for anyone to stand in a lifetime."
He dropped Bella’s arm and they chose to sit at opposite ends of the tastefully furnished room, rich with walnut bookcases and gleaming oak floors. The room catered to both male and female with a variety of soft leather armchairs and cut velvet couches.
Bella thumbed through a magazine and observed him from beneath her lashes, wanting to throw the magazine at his dark head. She huffed softly. He did look good, no use denying that. Eyeing his deep tan, a sliver of jealousy pierced her heart. It was obvious he’d spent a lot of time at the pool this summer. Picking up women. The bastard would chase anything in a skirt. She grimaced, realizing her thoughts were based purely on envy. Bella had seen him with several different women, but to her disappointment, none of them looked like tramps. She was curious about the women he dated. Mad dog jealous was more like it.
Disgust streaked through her when she thought about the amount of time and care she had gone to, getting perfumed, oiled and polished for this face to face with the man she hated. Six months had passed since her grandfather had died and their meetings had been accidental and pointedly brief.
It struck her like a cold wind, the fact she might never see John after today. There would be no reason for them to be in the same place. He had his 'elderly' friends as she called them and her crowd was all too carefree to hang with old John. Her soft snort of derision made John look up from his magazine. Oh, yeah. You would notice that.
"Bella?"
"John?"
"You were staring at me. Do you want to say something?"
"I couldn’t possibly say it in mixed company." Damn. He was so good at catching her whenever she slipped into that fog-like trance of staring at him. She averted her gaze from temptation and his sexy smile.
She knew her state of denial was bordering on psychotic. The past six months of near separation had done nothing to alter the fact he was the one. She'd known it the first moment his green eyes had met and held her bold stare. Well, it had become a deep, unshakable and completely unrequited devotion on her part. Over the past four years, it had become a quest to hurt him. It hadn't worked. He only found her more resistible at every turn.
He exhaled as if he were bored. Well, hell, you don’t have to be bored, Johnny. It’s more fun over here. Her breath caught in her throat. Their glances clashed in a duel of wills. She refused to give ground this time. The battle ended when the receptionist intervened.
"Mister Fortis will see you both now." She started to lead the way.
John stood and waited for Bella to get up. "We’ll find it. Thank you."
Bella gave him a hard glare and brushed at her skirt. "Does he have to go in with me? I’d prefer he didn’t."
The primly dressed receptionist darted a beleaguered glance from Bella to John. "I’m sorry. I’ll see if Mister Fortis will see you separately."
"She’s joking." John gripped Bella’s wrist and squeezed. "We’ll just go in now."
He steered Bella in the direction the nervous receptionist had gestured. Before he could get her through the door to Max’s private office, she pulled back.
"Do you mind? You've had your hands all over me."
"Bella," he murmured, "we can trade insults later. Now isn't the right time for it."
"We’ll do nothing later."
"Promise?"
After he ushered her into the office, he shook hands with Max. The two men immediately fell into a conversation about the price of sweet crude, seeming to forget she was alive. Damn.
It was common knowledge John didn’t like her, but he was being downright rude. The next second, he reached back and pulled her forward to stand beside him.
"Sorry, Bella."
Even that belated apology was far out of the norm for him. She leaned over to accept a kiss on the cheek from Max. He patted her shoulder and hugged her.
"You look lovely as always, honey. Have a seat and I'll get you a coffee."
John spoke up, apparently trying to hurry things along. "So, Max." He took a cigar that the attorney offered. "Bella and I are both in kind of a rush to get back to our lives. Can we get started?"
Bella laid her handbag on the desk and took a seat. John sat beside her, lit his cigar and looked bored. Catching her frown of annoyance, he took a deep drag on his cigar and blew a huge smoke ring over her head.
"Want one, Flower?"
She rolled her eyes and pointed to her handbag. "Thanks, but I have my own." She didn’t mind the aroma of cigars. Max hadn’t caved to public opinion. The office was still a smoker's place. He and John belonged to the same club where they went to enjoy their exorbitantly expensive tobacco and cognac.
Max placed a cup of coffee in front of Bella and straightened the stacks of papers on his desk before sitting down to read the will of her grandfather, Roman Marcus Cantatore.
The folder was thick with pages of legal documents, and her mind wandered during the lengthy process. It was all mumbo jumbo to her, Max’s voice had become a drone and she paid scant attention to what was being said.
Not until she heard the words that made her sit forward in her chair.
"What?" She blinked several times. "I’m sorry. I think I misunderstood the last part of what you said." Glancing at John confirmed her suspicion as to what she had heard. He was staring a fiery hole through her and clenching that cigar between his teeth. "I have to marry to inherit. And it has to be to John Lawless?"
Max looked at her over the hefty folder. "That’s what Roman wanted, Bella."
Her laughter flowed soft as snowfall. This was a typical joke pulled by her grandfather. "Roman must have been liquored to the gills or insane when he drew this up."
"Oh, no. I assure you he was in perfect control of his faculties. I’ll just go over the fine print for you again." Max cleared his throat and began reading aloud again. "Bella. Bella Fleur Cantatore will inherit forty-two and a half million dollars, the family home in Farmer’s Branch, and the old homestead ranch outside Dallas. Provided my granddaughter, Bella marries John Breten Lawless."
A deep silence permeated the room until Max continued reading.
"This marriage will be treated as a loving union for a period of six months. The couple will live together in the same home. If after this period, they do not wish to remain together, the marriage can be dissolved or annulled. If all these conditions are met to the best of their ability, Bella Fleur Cantatore will become the sole heir of the estate of Roman Marcus Cantatore."
Bella wondered if her face was scarlet, mortified by the contents of the will. "This is one of my grandfather’s tricks. Isn’t it?"
Max held his hand up to gain her attention. "There's an additional requirement. I quote his words here, "Bella, will sit on the board of directors of the Cantatore Brokerage firm during this time, acting as the tie-breaking vote on the board. She will relinquish that seat at the end of six months."
Out of patience and out of temper, Bella stood up to stare at Max as if he had grown two heads and a tail. "That’s absurd. I'm an antiquities archeologist." Grabbing her handbag, she gave her final thoughts on the subject. "The whole thing is disgusting. I won’t be paired with a pasture bull like some prize heifer."
~~~***HOT ZONE**~~~~
They had beaten the crap out of him, loosening his jaw teeth and breaking his nose. Still, Jake was alert and making notes about the fancy room he’d been dumped in. Tied to a chair, he could see what took place on the veranda through some double doors.Damn boring except the cute maid with a great ass eyeing him every time she walked by. Plus, various thugs walked around and stopped in occasionally to hit him someplace new or threaten his life.
She was never far from his thoughts. Fontana. He believed he’d done the right thing, dumping her from the car. He felt sick, imagining the treatment she’d get in the hands of these savages. Women meant very little to them.
The shield she wore guaranteed torture and assault, and he felt responsible. If they lived through this little adventure, he’d most certainly loose his job, and never work in any thing related to trust and reliability again.
Leaving her behind! She’d be helpless out there. He pulled against the thick ropes binding his legs and hands to a straight backed chair. His wrists were raw from trying to work free of the ropes. Aw shit, now the cut above his eye was bleeding again and his vision was dim at best. There were vague images in his mind if being held down while a huge hairy ape stuck a hypodermic needle in his arm.
Turning his head to wipe the stream of blood on his collar, a skittering figure flitting past a doorway in the next room. Probably a vision since he was so near passing out.
But, damn. It had Fontana’s face. His chin dropped to his chest.
Don’t go to sleep, man. Get out of this mess and find her.
“Pssssst!”
What the hell? He roused and scanned the room slowly, trying to see clearly with one swollen eye. There was something going on. Sure, he was probably dead, just having a rigor mortis dream. He laughed, the deduction too stupid to translate.
“Pssssst!” A tapping sound came from the doorway. “Over here.”
He finally focused on the privacy screen against a wall where the sounds came from. Nothing. He was losing it fast.
Then he saw it, an eyeball staring at him through a hole in the fancy wood. It blinked. Trying to not get angry, he pretended ignorance.
“I didn’t see that.”
“Yes you did.” Movement behind the screen alerted him to trouble. His battered nerves prepared him for a fight. They were getting ready to torture him some more.
Something in white floated toward him. It smelled like April…apple blossoms. Momentary grief tore his heart out and he sobbed. “Fontana.”
“I’m here, honey.”
Soft hands touched his head and sweet lips pressed to his. He sat forward, trying to stand. “Where are you?”
“Here.” She placed him back in the chair. “I brought goodies.”
He cocked his head. What the hell was she talking about? “I’m dead, right?”
“Not as long as I’m in charge.” She kissed his hand before going to work on the ropes. “Be still for a minute. Your wrists have swollen.”
“Fontana?” Doubting his sensibilities, he had to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. “I’m happy as hell to see you. Uh, what’s that?”
She touched his cheek. “My purse.”
“Damn ugly purse.”
She laughed softly, just before he felt a rush of blood shoot through his arms. The ropes were gone. He wanted to stand up, but she pushed him back down. “Stay put. We have company.”
The guard that loved to hit most stood in the doorway and stared menacingly at him. Jake pretended to be blacked out, holding his arms behind him.
“What you doin’? No sleeping for you, cock sucker.”
The lard-ass lumbered toward him and threatened him with the butt of his rifle. Strange, but the guy lowered his weapon, and then fell to the floor. Hey, he was the one bleeding now, all from a nice neat hole in his forehead.
Was that Fontana? He tried to warn her not to do it, but his vision in dirty clothes floated from hiding to kick the guard, checking to make sure he’d bought the farm.
“Come on, Claypool. Time to set our perimeters.”
“Whatever you say, Major.”
“Close, but I only made Lieutenant.”
“Fontana. How’d you find me?” He stood, and then leaned against her, trying to steady himself. “Look, I’m sorry about leaving you. I really like you…a lot.”
She was quiet, holding him up and leading him down a hallway to a door. “Say, Lieutenant.” Oh Christ! More pain than he could remember streaked through his head. “You have a plan?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” He wanted to chuckle at her soft grunt when they started down some steps. “Claypool, stand here. I have to get the all clear.”
“Happy too, Ma’am.” His head swam and blood dripped into his ear and into his mouth. “Fontana.”
He couldn’t see her and his hand went to his holster, shaking him to his boot soles. It was gone! He calmed down in the sweet wrap of her perfume.
“We have about sixty seconds to get to the stable.”
“What’s there?”
“Everything we need to take these goons out. Hang on to me.”
“Hell no. I can walk.”
“Okay. How about you picking up the pace a little?”
He grimaced, but took off as if he felt aces. “Just how much further is that place?”
She caught his hand and pulled him along behind her. “Only a few more feet. Come on.”
He wiped his face and eyes with his sleeve. Blurry but, doable. The way she pushed back could only mean trouble. “Jess, where’s my iron?”
“Empty. I’ll give it to you when we’re in the clear.”
“Fine, but I’ll probably minus a leg by then.”
“Shut up and run!”
He did as told, and raced in his mind, after her slender form. She pulled up short and he stumbled into her. “Sorry, honey.”
She turned and yanked him toward her. “Honey wants you to go faster.”
“I’m trying.” Damn it. He sounded like a kid. “You say it’s not far?”
“Here, Jake, right here.” He was being unceremoniously pushed into a dark place that smelled like Texas.
“How’d you get me home?” He chuckled and hugged her tight. “I knew you were a honey.”
They stood in that embrace for several seconds before she got serious again. “I think they may have given you a shit load of heroin from the glaze in your eyes. Or, what I can see of them.”
Heroine? He didn’t do drugs. “Hey, honey, I don’t think so. I hit my head on that tree. Member?”
She kissed his cheek, and her sigh sounded weary. “Yeah, I remember. Please don’t make any noise. Not yet.”
“Okay.” He was used to waiting for things to happen. “Where you going?”
“I’m just looking out the window.” He watched her cross the floor. “I know you want to sit, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“I’ll lean against this couch.”
Jessica lifted the canvas cover. “Yeah, a designer number.”
He grinned. “Yeah? What kind? I have a Sears couch.”
“Product of Iran and Company.”
She wasn’t having fun now. The tone of her voice had none of its playful lifts and falls. Just deep, smooth calm.
His jumbled thoughts rolled together and a single word blazed in his mind. Ambassador!
“Fontana. We have a problem.”
“I know.”
“We have to locate our mission target.”
Why was he telling her this stuff? She’d been at the meetings. He froze when she flattened to the wall, her eyes narrowed. She gestured at the square thing he had sat on.
“What?”
“Get off that. I’ll need it in a minute.”
He raised his rear off the metal object. “You set your purse down here?”
“Yeah. It weighs thirty pounds.”
His brain clicked some information through is head. Sitting on something made of PVC with M260 in faded print on the side. “Hey, Fontana. This dude’s kinda old. Has four openings in the side like a…rocket launcher.”
Her head whipped around and she stared at him. “You’re being choosy?”
“No, just curious.” He tried to pick it up.
“Put that down!” She bee lined to him and grabbed the launcher. “I have to know exactly where this is. I’m going out to search for the Ambassador.”
“I’ll load up.”
“Stay.”
“Okay.”
He felt the crush of abandonment after Honey shut the door and left him alone. No, not honey, Jessie. The pretty one.
Chapter Seventeen
Jessica hated leaving Jake alone, even if for only a couple minutes. In his drugged condition, he could easily give away their presence.
So be it. She had to pinpoint everyone’s position. For a few seconds, she pressed her ear to the door. He must be asleep or spaced out completely. That was another thing. She had to figure out what they’d pumped in him.
Maybe he had only hours to live, depending on what the drug had been. No, she had to get her priorities straight. The mission stated she was to focus her every thought and effort on the rescue the ambassador above all else. Jake was now secondary, no longer an emotional issue.
She would cross that bridge when she had to, but at the moment, she knew that plan was not going to fly. Leaving Jake was not an option, no matter what.
The word priority loomed in her brain like a neon light. Find the man you’re supposed to be helping. Fear rose up bitter in her mouth, and a huge dose of self-loathing. If the ambassador was still alive, he most likely was in the house too, but first, she’d have a look in all the outbuildings.
The nearest one was deceptively pretty, pale pink brick and a lovely small porch complete with glider. Probably a place for the hoods to sleep.
She scraped the building with her hip as she moved, trying to be invisible. She reached the porch, limping across the smooth flagstone tiles to lean against the door.
Pushing it open, she waited for the firing to begin. Nothing. Within seconds, her heart pumped again, and she went inside the small house.
No lights were on, and in the darkness she stumbled over something in the floor. The odor rising from whatever had tripped her sickened Jessica. Blood. Old blood. Damn it!
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming from one uncovered window. A man with silver hair, lay on the floor, his body seeming to be strangely contorted. He appeared to be dead.
Don’t rush to judgment here, Jess. Make sure.
She slid her hand into his back pocket, hoping to find his wallet. No wallet, probably taken by whoever killed him. His coat pocket might have something to confirm her suspicions.
The sight was gruesome, but Jessica had seen it all before, except this time there was a new twist. The horrendous gunshot wound to his head was all too familiar. Gripping his shoulder, she rolled him onto his back.
His head stayed put, still facing downward even though he lay on his back. She stared at the headless torso while trying to restart her heart. Almost to the point of jumping out of her skin, she hurriedly made mental notes, identifying the person as male, dressed well, hair trimmed neatly. She checked his hands noting they were clean and manicured, wearing a heavy gold signet ring. She slipped it from his finger.
Now what? His jacket pockets had been picked clean. Figuring she’d have to simply guess on his identity, she looked around the place. Something on the floor a few feet away caught her eye. She crawled across the room and picked up a snakeskin wallet, checking out the contents near the window.
The man had not been robbed, just brutally murdered. Almost a thousand dollars in cash and several credit cards bearing the name of Miguel Yaqueros, US Ambassador to Nicaragua. The photo left no doubt in her mind. This was their man and he was dead. She felt sick with self-reproach. There were no excuses for acting less than professionally.
Jake!
Her mind raced with fear and icy anticipation of the hell they might have to go through. If he’d left the small building, she’d go nuts. She wasn’t going to lose him.
Being less cautious now, Jessica peeked out the door and slid through the opening she’d allowed herself. Without looking back, she stuffed the ambassador’s personal effects in one of her pockets and shivered. She caught herself falling into one of her many bad habits. Not breathing until she was near passing out. Breathe, damn it!
Praying for Divine help, she went in the building to find Jake still sitting on the launcher, eyes closed and head bleeding.
“Jake.”
He instantly opened his eyes, wiping an arm over his face. “Man, I’m glad you’re here. I’m needing a pain pill. Got any morphine?”
“You’ve had enough.”
Oh, crap. Why did she snap at him? He probably was hurting. “Jake, let’s go. I have a ride waiting for us if we can make it.”
“Sure.” His eyes rolled back and Jessica wanted to cuss. He recovered when she touched his lips. “You’re still here? I really like you.”
“Bloody hell.” She picked up the grenades, looping the belt over her head. After stuffing extra rounds of ammo for their Glocks in her pockets, she loaded a full clip in the rifle. “That’s about all I can carry, Claypool. Hug my neck, Cowboy.”
This was a far cry from the man she’d made love to only hours ago. Willing to comply with her every command, he was wasted and that scared her.
He made no noise and didn’t question her when she picked up the box he’d been sitting on. Just kissed her cheek and trudged along beside her.
Lugging that launcher took every ounce of strength she had left. If she didn’t hurry, Azizi would be on his way to his tent on the Riviera. She didn’t intend to let that happen.
“Jake.” She leaned him against the wall. “I’m going shopping. You stay right here.”
“Give me a weapon.”
Could he possibly be coming out of whatever they gave him? Maybe. “I’ll only be gone a short time.” She grunted under the weight of the launcher on her shoulder. “Then we’re going home.”
“Okay. Strap me, honey.”
There he went with that honey thing again. What the hell? He’d automatically know how to fire the damned Glock, but she wouldn’t take the risk. “Here’s your weapon, Jake. I’ll load it when I get back.”
“Thanks.” He cocked the deadly weapon and held it across his chest, looking as if he’d never been out of his mind, like she knew he still was. “When those bad boys get here, I’ll give them a reason to howl.” He grinned. “Hey, honey. Hurry back.”
Out of time, she touched his hand. “I’m gone, Claypool. Stay alert. Watch for me, okay?”
He saluted, touching his thumb to his nose. “Check.”
Outside, the tension had thickened. Azizi’s men had discovered Jake’s absence, and were beating the brush for him, running in a pack like hyenas.
Watching from her hiding place, she figured they would kill her for laughs.
No time to figure out an escape without a fight. Made no difference. There was no leaving until the mission was complete. She focused on Azizi, and the coming end to the horrible saga he’d been living.
She took several steps, hoisting the launcher up on her shoulder. A sound behind her, forced Jessica to quickly look back.
“Jake!”
His smile threw her for a loop. Mischievous and pure Jake. He carried the assault rifle she’d found. He rested his hand on the butt of the Glock stuffed into the waist of his torn up jeans.
“At your service.”
What timing. He’d never looked more heart rippingly, sexy before. She grit her teeth against the absurdity.
“How’s your head? Are you straight?”
He winked at her, misunderstanding her meaning, obviously. “You know I am.” He winced and rubbed his nose. “Okay, just point me to the pigs.”
Fury and desperation shot through her. “Why didn’t you stay put? You’ll get us both killed. These guys aren’t fooling around, damn it! Just ask the ambassador.”
Shame made her ache for him when Jake hung his head. He nodded and pointed ahead. “I’ll wait for your orders, honey.”
She let it go with a quick pat to his shoulder. “I’m going in the house and find that snake.” He perked up, eyes on her face. “We use enough fire power to confuse the idiots and take out Azizi and as many of them as we can.”
“I’ll cover your back.”
Okay. He’d do that. She felt a sniggle of worry about his staying close and not trying to converse with the animals trying to kill him?
“Jake, listen to me.” The damned launcher was cutting into her shoulder. “The second we finish Azizi, we run for the truck parked down the road. Drop that rifle when it’s empty. I don’t have any more ammo for it. I have another clip for our Glocks. That’s it. Okay?”
“Hell yeah.” He grinned, checking the clip in the rifle. “I’m right behind you.”
“Stick like glue, partner. I’m not going to lose you after what we’ve been through.”
He moved up to thump her shoulder. “Affirmative, Lieutenant.”
She glanced at him, the mix of humor and fear twisting up to cut deep in her heart. “We’ll discuss rank after we clear out of here.” Grimacing hard, she nodded. “Let’s go.”
She moved quickly, putting the weight of the cumbersome weapon out of her thoughts. Ahead lay the hot zone, flames and bullets all meant for her and Jake.
Regret over the fallen ambassador skittered down her spine, stiffening her resolve. She tensed her arms, holding the launcher steady while stepping inside the spacious kitchen.
A rack of lamb and loads of fresh vegetables were spread out on the table and counters. With any luck, this was one meal they would have to miss.
A wall-sized wine rack and stainless steel appliances for these thugs seemed ludicrous to Jessica.
Fear made her spin quickly to check on Jake. Her breath hesitated until he looked her in the eye and nodded. He was still with her, and able to hold his own a little letter.
She moved ahead, edging along the wall, swallowing down her fear and trying to see everything at once.
“Fontana, I’ll take point.”
Okay, she had to trust him. “Go ahead. I’m right behind you, partner.”
He led the way out a side door, hesitating a second before striding toward the shady patio.
Increasing her grip on the rifle, she raised it to her chest, trigger finger curled against the smooth metal.
“Fontana.” He nodded to partially open French doors, and shouldered his way inside the house. He looked back at her.
Fresh blood on his collar meant the wound above his eye had reopened.
“Are you able to see?”
“Good enough. Let’s get this freak.” His comment hummed in her ear as they entered the fancy reception area. The place was ominously quiet.
Jessica took a quick look around, amazed at the lavish décor. Not something you link to the murderer of hundreds. Most notable was the Chippendale secretary with Christmas cards scattered over the writing surface. The scene was surreal perhaps from a grade B movie.
Stop looking at that, Jess. Move on.
She couldn’t control the little shiver of some unknown fear jabbing her heart. Had Jake made plans for Christmas? She thought maybe she had at one time, but Peter ripped those to shreds. Funny, she didn’t care and probably would send him a thank you card if she got out of this with her heart still beating.
“Fontana?” He touched her arm. “Stay alert. Where the hell are they?”
“They’re here.”
“Sure as hell are!” He dragged her from the doorway, jamming his Glock in the waist of his jeans. “Straight ahead, Fontana.”
She waited until the guard was in full view and leveled her weapon on his heart, pulling the trigger twice. He fell to the floor.
“Time to take out the big dog now.” Jake stepped over the dead man and went into the room he’d come from.
Jessica kept a watch on the rear and flowed him through the empty rooms of the house. He stopped.
“What’s wrong, Jake. They’ll be running if we mess this up.”
“They won’t run.” He straightened the launcher on his shoulder. He stepped back, then ran at the door, kicking it open and stormed inside, yelling at the men to surrender to the FBI.
They didn’t and he fired the launcher into the center of the group of men. Ten of the shooters crumpled under the explosion. The back wall blew out in a shower of bricks and glass.
“You’re under arrest, Azizi!” She’d seen him sliding along the wall, looking for an escape hatch. She ran after him, shouting out the legal terms of arrest. “You’re under arrest for crimes against the United States, murder of American citizens and trading in weapons of mass destruction.” She sucked in a breath and went on. “Surrender now!”
He ignored her, and she wasn’t surprised. Funny, in person he was even smaller than he’d looked in the briefing photos.
Her head jerked around at the repeated roar coming from the house. Jake! He was fighting alone. Go back or let the devil go?
She turned and ran for the house, sliding in the blood on the floor where the first dead guard sprawled. She hugged the wall like she’d seen rats do, leaning over and sliding along the fancy fabric wallpaper.
More gunfire. Jake’s handgun. He had to be running low on ammo and needed her.
Glancing around the doorway where the fancy entry hall had been, Jessica zeroed in on Jake’s position among the clutter of wrecked furniture and walls.
The thrust and power of a blast from the launcher exploded in the gutted room, evening the score of six to one. He fell down to gasp for breath in the chewed-up debris.
She hunkered down, scrunching her shoulders in a useless but automatic attempt to escape the lead if it hit. At last, she saw him leaning against a splintered library table, bleeding hard from a wound she couldn’t see.
Her frantic hand signals finally caught his attention and he waved off her advance. “Stay where you are, Fontana. There’s one sniping me from the library door.”
“I hear you.” She glimpsed the muzzle of a forty-five as the gangster fired on Jake again.
Backing out of the room like a crawdad, she stayed flat until making it to the library entrance. Unable to breathe all she needed, her lungs were near bursting by the time she’d gotten to her feet and looked inside the battered room.
Gotcha.
The shooter heard her moving around, and turned to level his weapon at her head. Desperation gave her the edge and she squeezed the cool trigger, relief swamping her as the guy with the look of shock on his face dropped dead in the clutter.
From where she stood, Jessica located the hoods holding Jake down. Two stood on the staircase taking pot shots at him from above. The other crouched behind an overturned couch.
She yelled at them, dropping to the floor before firing at the two on the fancy stairway. They toppled down the steps, winding up in a heap at the foot of the stairs.
Jake waved at her, still working on the launcher.
He stood, positioning the heavy weapon on his shoulder and fired across the room. In the after roar and thick smoke and dust, he was no longer visible.
She heard him before she could clearly see him in the haze.
“Where’s Azizi?”
“Escaping.”
He did little more than blink at her comment.
He knew the exact moment he’d blown away the son-of-a-bitch who’d shot him up with dope. It had been little enough pay back for the beating he’d taken.
Now, the head prick was on the run, along with his dogs. They were probably tickled shitless to get away from him. All this meant a search on foot and he could barely walk a straight line. Keeping his inability from Fontana wouldn’t be easy.
She was fired up, moving ahead, beating the brush for Azizi. Maybe he’d been stupid, going against the rules to push her out of the car. Naw, it’d probably saved her life. He wondered if she’d put that in her final report of the mission.
Hell with the report. If this were to be his last, he’d go out in a blaze of glory. Setting his jaw in a line of granite resolve, he hurried ahead to look for his partner.
He found her, kicking over empty crates and boxes in a derelict looking greenhouse. He admired her hard-as-nails way of training her weapon on anything suspect, keeping the Glock close to her chest while she scouted the area.
Their eyes met and he realized everything wasn’t in a pinwheel spin. No, her eyes were still in place and they were blue. He read something in her gaze, the charge of it bouncing around in his belly before he realized how great it felt.
Maybe he’d imagined it. Whatever, it had been like the first time for everything good that had happened to him. She motioned for him to move up beside her. His voice may have been a little off when he spoke to her.
“Honey, did you want to tell me something?” No way in hell could he control the oddball grin on his mouth, or the amateurish way he checked his rifle for ammo. “I saw you looking at me.”
The scowl on her pretty face amazed and frightened him. The frost in her voice amused him. “Of course I looked at you, Claypool.” She leaned back against the wall to rub her hip. “I do want to say something, Jake. If you’re not able to keep up, tell me so right now. I think you’re still too far under the drug influence to keep yourself alive, much less both of us.”
He focused on her face and understood the severity of their predicament. “You don’t have to worry about me holding up my end of the log.” Damn, she thought he was weak. He had to prove he was worth taking along. “Tell me what’s really eating you.”
She told him what she’d found in the storage shed. “We’re too late to help Yaquero. He’s dead of course.”
He knew in blood chilling detail of the way and time the brave ambassador had died. Jake had been forced to watch while the fat ape hacked the man’s head from his shoulders. Maybe it was a good thing he’d been drugged. The bloody details of the gruesome scene would haunt him forever.
“We did the best we could at the time. And with everything that’s happened, we’re lucky to be alive. Don’t let it get personal.”
She looked around the doorway before speaking. “I’ve never screwed up a mission before, Claypool. We’ll probably be busted down to entry level or drummed out of the agency.”
“Never happen, Honey.” He wasn’t as confident as he sounded. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, waiting for what, he didn’t know.
In his mind, or what he was sure was left of it, he made a vow with the only thing he had left and was sure of. His manhood. He was not letting that skinny, sex-starved rat get away this time.
They heard it at the same time, a muffled, powerful motor gunned in a fast-moving get away, tires spitting gravel against the building they were in.
He couldn’t believe how fast she moved. Fontana was out the door and running down the road, apparently chasing Azizi.
“Fontana! Hold up.”
His legs were on the mend and he sprinted after her. At least he thought power ripped through his muscles.
The silver Rolls and his partner disappeared around a curve in the road.
