Connect the Dots

by Denise Robbins

  The next instant she stood there, gaping in stunned surprise as Jake walked through the door without an alarm going off.

  “You son of a—” She cut herself off. “How did you do that?”

  “I got worried,” he answered her with seeming nonchalance at the weapon she held still trained on his chest.

  “You can’t break a cipher lock! Especially one that I installed. How did you?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Don’t get all huffy,” Jake soothed. It did not work. “Put the gun down.” He waved her hands to lower the Sig-Sauer, but she refused to budge. The weapon remained pointed at his chest.

  Charley shook her head and narrowed fierce blue eyes on him. Ouch!

  “Not this time,” she answered with steel in her voice. “How did you get in here without setting off the alarm?” One of her eyebrows arched upward sharply. “Don’t lie because I’ll know.”

  “I was curious why someone living out in the sticks, and yes, that’s where we live, why someone would have such a ridiculous lock on a barn. Hell, even Old Mr. Green didn’t have those kinds of locks and he refurbished expensive antique cars.” He took a tentative step forward but she kept the pistol trained on him.

  “Being curious and suspicious, if you must know, I snooped.”

  Again, she shook her golden mane. “Snooping does not get you in the door.”

  “It does when you snoop in the right places.”

  Jake watched as realization drew into those topaz eyes. Without giving him a second thought, she reached into her bag, found her zipper compartment, undid it, and found it empty. Her distraction gave him the opportunity to move.

  About two inches before Charley whipped around, aimed her short 9-millimeter and pulled the trigger. His gaze widened in shock as he felt the bullet whizz by his head and struck a point over his shoulder.

  “Shit! Have you gone mad?”

  “You’re darn right I’m mad.” Charley’s cheeks pinked and her chest rose and fell in fury. “How could you?”

  He wanted to take a step, close the distance that hung between them, but she would not let him. She waved her pistol at him then leaned back against the desk and checked her watch. Did she have a date?

  “I could because it’s what I do,” he answered her last question.

  “Really?” She pinned him in her skeptical gaze. “What exactly do you do?”

  “I’m a bodyguard.” He quickly rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe too quickly, he thought, when he noticed her smirk.

  “Liar!”

  She turned from him, holstered the weapon and stuck it in her bag. Gathering her things in her arms, she headed straight for him, apparently looking to blast her way through him. Well, he towered a good eight inches over her, had broader shoulders with the strength to back them up. Charley would not get by him.

  “Get out of my way, Jake, if that is your name.”

  He blocked her. With both arms outstretched to his sides, he prevented her from getting out the door.

  “Don’t be childish.”

  “I’m childish?” He tilted his head back and let out a hoot of laughter. “You’re the one walking away. You’re the one who lied about what you do.”

  Her nostrils flared as her gaze narrowed into tiny slits. Then she checked her watch.

  “Have you got someplace else to be?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  Jake shook his head. “Not without me, sweetheart.”

  Charley scoffed.

  “Just let me get some clothes on and I’ll go with you. Wherever you want to go. I’m your bodyguard,” he reminded her then wished he could take the words back.

  “I’m a trained CIA agent. I do not need or want a bodyguard. I do not need or want you.”

  The jab struck home. Not an uppercut, or a right hook, but a straight jab to his heart. With his fingers, he rubbed at the bloodless wound then touched her, caressed her.

  “Don’t.” Charley beseeched him but he could not stop himself.

  Jake cupped one hand around her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her, full on the lips, hard, and with all the passion he felt for his spitfire of a woman. Easing back, he caught his breath and spoke.

  “My name is Jacob Frisbie. I am an agent with a secret government agency run by Michael Augustson. I found out who you are because my friend Ruby helped me identify your fingerprints. I put the rest together when she helped me figure out how to access your computers.”

  Charley gasped and visibly drew back from him. He tightened his hold.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you. I am not sorry about how I feel about you. I love you, Charley Tango Duston.”

  She blinked at him and her features relaxed. Did she forgive him?

  “You have five minutes to get changed before I leave without you.”

  It was his turn to blink. She had forgiven him. Yes!

  “Don’t budge. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Jake bolted out of the barn and ran for home.

  THIRTY-NINE

  As soon as Charley saw the light go on in the upstairs window, she ran for the SUV. An agent with a secret government agency? Who was he kidding? She asked herself as she hurried and shoved her things onto the passenger seat then crawled in behind the wheel.

  She switched the key in the ignition, started her up, shoved the gear into reverse, and backed up her gravel drive. Putting the vehicle into drive, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake running out of the house still barefoot and bare-chested. Loved her? Ha!

  Pedal to the metal, she punched the gas and sent dirt flying as she left him eating her dust. The lying sack of… Charley slammed her fist against the wheel. Why had she not gone with her instincts? She told herself to stay away from him, but did she listen? No!

  At the end of the road, she checked her rearview. No sign of her friend, her neighbor, her lover. Good! Inhaling deeply, Charley ordered herself to forget about Jake and concentrate on the upcoming debrief with Dickhead. She needed to outline her questioning strategy. The key to a successful interview session was preparation and to think before you opened your mouth. In this situation that was particularly true. Big Dick would know how to evade better than her average detainee who would make the minefield of questions that much more treacherous.

  Without a good strategy and flow that her target could follow, she would wind up chasing butterflies. The image of the ginormous Army man in a field of butterflies flashed in her mind and had a burst of laughter spilling out. She shook her head and cleared the picture.

  A good rule of thumb, if concerned on getting straight answers was to use a splatter pattern of questions to elicit the information. On a normal interrogate that might hold true. Charley gnawed her lower lip, not convinced that would work with Dick. She could be direct and demand answers. She thought about that a moment and nixed the idea. She had no cookies so the incentive approach was not an option. Besides, he always scoffed at her “little treats”. He always said she should offer the detainees her “real treats”.

  Then it hit her. As she pulled into the parking lot at Steeplegate Mall, her strategy popped into her head. Ego. The man had an ego the size of Russia. Use it. Abuse it. Inflate it. With that, she walked off to purchase some clothing and toiletries, everything she would need to meet Grayson, Dickhead, and get a head start on replacing her wardrobe that burned.

  She hurried through stores picking up what she needed, trying on what she wasn’t sure would fit and a short while later, Charley walked out of the mall dressed in a charcoal colored skirt, pink top, and black square-toed heels, her arms weighed down by bags. Coiffed and coiffured, she felt much better with her hair done and back in her clothes and not Jake’s hand-me-downs. Glancing at her watch, she realized she had plenty of time to spare.

  Since she was to meet her driver at Waldo’s, Charley decided to go there and grab a bite to eat while she waited. Parking the car in the lot behind the building, Charley exited the SUV taking her laptop case and purse
, and carrying them in with her through the back entrance where Waldo hung up the phone and greeted her.

  “Charley, Mia. What are you doing here?”

  “I have to meet my driver and thought I would get something to eat first.”

  Waldo took the bags that hung over her shoulders and led her to her favorite table. “Drink?”

  “Mountain Dew, please.”

  One of Waldo’s graying brows arched up inquisitively. Charley grinned and shrugged. “I’m a Midwest girl at heart. I like my caffeine.”

  Waldo laughed and walked away. A minute later, he returned with a large glass filled with ice and Mountain Dew. “I assumed your regular.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Why are you meeting a driver here?”

  Oh! Waldo didn’t know about the house fire. She cringed inwardly at telling him about his longtime friend’s house burning to the ground. She sighed then bit the bullet.

  “Um, Waldo, the house is gone.”

  “What?”

  “There was a gas explosion and the house went up in flames.”

  Waldo reached across the table and engulfed her hands in his. “Are you all right? What do you need? What can I do?”

  Charley nodded once in ascent. Leave it to Waldo to want to offer to help.

  “Jake? Was your friend Jake there?”

  At the mention of his name, she swallowed the bittersweet bile that rose in her throat. “Yes. Jake saved me and the barn.”

  “Where is your young man?”

  Charley eyed Waldo with suspicion. “My young man?”

  “Well, it was obvious he was quite smitten with you.” Smitten. She grinned at his use of such an antiquated word.

  “My young man is home where he belongs. I’m going out of town, remember?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” He patted her hands and rose.

  He returned with the pizza, two plates, and napkins.

  “Where are you going this time?” he asked as he served them both a slice then slid into the booth.

  After finishing her first bite, Charley answered. “DC.”

  Waldo blew out a breath. “That is good. No long-distance foreign assignment.”

  Charley shook her head. “Nope, not this time. I should be back by this evening.” The thought made her realize she had no place to stay. She certainly could not stay with Jake, especially after she left him chasing after her SUV. If it were not so damn depressing, it would be hysterical.

  “Will you excuse me, Charley?” Waldo wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I have to take care of something in the kitchen. I will be right back.”

  “Okay.” Glancing at her watch, she checked the time. Another thirty minutes. All of a sudden, her heart leapt in her chest. Anxiety. Suddenly nervous as hell, Charley rubbed at her chest between her breasts, willing the pressure and the acid that rose in it to subside. Appetite gone, she laid the second slice aside, and covered it with the paper napkin.

  It was not like her to panic. All because of Big Dick. She had to take her mind off him, remember that Dick was just a man, not someone she was forced to work with but to interrogate. She smirked at the thought of interrogating dickhead and turning the tables on him. Maybe she could threaten him with some torture technique like waterboarding, which seemed to be his favorite.

  Waldo sat across from her. “You’re smiling.”

  She was? Charley reached up and touched her cheeks then flushed and dropped her hands to the table. She had not been smiling, she had been grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “I guess I am just a tad edgy about this afternoon.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I …” Charley looked down at her watch. “My car is here. Early.” Placing the napkin from her lap on the table, she scooted across the booth and rose, straightening her skirt and blouse.

  “Perhaps your young driver is hungry?” Waldo inclined his head toward the plate glass window at the front of the store where her driver stepped from the car. “I’ll just wrap this up for you.”

  “I’ll go pay.”

  Waldo stopped his retreat and turned to face her. “You will do no such thing. I can afford one measly pizza and a soda for a hard working girl, especially one that is such a good friend. You wait right here and I will help you with your bags.”

  Not two minutes later, Waldo came back with a pizza box and two takeout cups. He handed her the cups and took her laptop bag. Always the gentleman, she thought.

  “Come on. Let’s see you safely on your way.”

  “Jimmy, this is Waldo, the owner…” She did not have to say another word as the young driver’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Did everyone but her know about Waldo Pepper? She shrugged. Must be a guy thing.

  “Waldo, this is Jimmy.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Waldo shook the awestruck man’s hand. “We brought you some pizza and a drink.” He handed them over to Jimmy and waited for Jimmy to put them in the car. Then he turned back to her.

  “You have a safe and speedy journey and hopefully a fruitful one.”

  Charley beamed at him and gave him a quick hug then spun toward the car door. Lifting the handle, she stepped off the curb and opened the door. Once seated, Waldo handed her the computer case.

  “Oh!”Craning her neck, she peered up at Waldo. “My SUV is in your back parking lot.”

  Waldo waved a beefy hand. “No worries. It will be taken care of.” He winked a chocolate-brown eye.

  Charley smiled at him. “Thank you. I’ll be back for it late tonight or at the latest tomorrow.” Then where would she stay?

  Waldo gave a nod and shut the door.

  FORTY

  Jake flew like a bat out of hell, careening around the dirt corner of his road toward Concord, toward Charley in a borrowed truck.

  “The little twit,” Jake swore slamming his fist against the wheel.

  It took thirty minutes for Al to get the truck delivered but by the time he had, Jake was spitting mad. When he got his hands on her, he would wring her skinny neck. Strike that. Better yet, he would turn her over his knee and wallop her butt. The thought gave him great satisfaction, not to mention made him hard. Damn!

  Stay pissed. That was the only way to stay. If Waldo had not called him, Jake would be chasing his own tail right now. How could she just take off without him? Was she that stupid? He shook his head. No. Charley was not stupid. She was stubborn and apparently unforgiving. He groaned aloud. She was perfect.

  “Get out of the way you idiot,” he yelled at some car that cut in front of him and made him tap the brakes. He didn’t have time to slow down. He had to get to Waldo’s before Charley left. He did not know why but every time he thought of Charley leaving his stomach cramped and he got chilled. His gut told him something was wrong. When his gut spoke, Jake paid attention.

  “Move!” he hollered at some old granny driving the speed limit then passed her.

  “Shit!” Jake raked fingers through his short hair. He looked over his shoulder at the reddish boat-sized sedan and hoped she didn’t have a heart attack. He would surely go to hell for yelling at some gray-haired lady who probably was out for a leisurely drive or on her way to visit the grandchildren when some nut practically ran her off the road. “Sorry.”

  Only a few more blocks. Then what? Then he would pick Charley up, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her ass home, where she belonged. Safe.

  His hands clenched on the steering wheel as he took the corner into Waldo’s back lot on two tires and screeched to a halt. He shoved open the door and hit the ground running, slamming into the rear entrance of Waldo’s.

  “You’re too late.”

  Jake whipped around to see Waldo coming from a back room. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

  “Gone.”

  He threw his hands up, his head back, and roared with fury. When he straightened, he pinned Waldo in his sights. “You were supposed to stall her.”

  The older man barked a laugh. “You forget I have known her longer
than you. She was on a mission. You do not stall that woman.”

  Jake paced back and forth across the rust-colored linoleum, a caged animal needing release. “Shit!”

  “Calm down, my boy.”

  Jake stopped pacing and glared. “Calm? You want me to be calm? Someone wants her dead.”

  “I am well aware of your belief. I am also aware of Charley’s talent. She is not as weak as you seem to think.”

  He jerked back as if slapped. He inhaled, held his breath to a count of five then exhaled. Weak? No. Innocent but worldly. Soft but firm. Fragile but strong.

  “I do not think Charley is weak. I think she is in danger.”

  “Good. We agree on that.”

  Jake blinked. “What? Spill it old man.”

  Waldo grinned, crooked a finger, and turned. Jake followed. They entered a small room at the back of the pizzeria then walked through another door to an even smaller more claustrophobic room. Wide-eyed, Jake stared at the desks covered with computer equipment and electronic gadgets.

  “What the hell is all this?”

  “Just because one stops being in the military, does not mean one stops living the military life.” Waldo stepped aside and pointed to a monitor where a green light flashed and moved across the screen.

  “What is that?”

  “Charley.”

  Jake’s heart jumped into overtime and a laugh burst from his lips similar to an explosive decompression. “You tagged her?”

  Waldo nodded. “You bet.” He smiled and Jake could have sworn he saw a hint of the red devil in the corner of the old man’s eye. Waldo loved this, being back in the game.

  Jake slapped him on the back. “My boss would love you. You’re as sneaky and underhanded as he is.”

  Waldo’s round face grew red.

  “Can you tell where she is? How far will it track? What happens when she gets on the plane?”

  “Breathe, boy.”

  He took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Yes, we can tell where she is by the GPS coordinates.”

  “What about when she is airborne?”