“What did he do down there? How did you meet?”
“We met at a local cantina about two months ago. Like Isabel, he worked for Carlos, but neither of them talked about what they did for Caresco, Inc.”
“Clarify for me what you did exactly for Escobedo.”
“Carlos was so impressed with Isabel’s credentials he hired her immediately for a job in one of his legitimate enterprises. She started out as a documents translator, then worked briefly as a contracts negotiator, but was quickly promoted to one of his personal assistants.”
Now came the question he’d been dreading. “Did you sleep with him, too?”
Piper laughed out loud. “Hardly. Escobedo’s sexual preference leaned decidedly toward younger versions of himself.”
Carter couldn’t hide his shock. “The man is gay? I thought you said he had a wife.”
“He does, but you know as well as I do that one doesn’t necessary preclude the other, especially not in a machismo-dominated country like Colombia. I think that’s why he found Isabel so easy to work with—her boyish build allowed him to treat her no differently than any of the men who worked for him.”
“How did he treat you—precisely?”
“Like I told you before, amazingly well. He made it easy to forget how he made the bulk of his fortune, at least for a little while until I’d see or hear something that reminded me.”
“Miguel must have discussed his work with you on occasion. I can’t believe you didn’t see his position within Escobedo’s operation as another source of information. And please, for the sake of my swiftly deteriorating sanity, would you stop referring to Isabel as a third person.”
Piper was clearly irritated. “I already told you, we didn’t talk about Carlos or our work when we were together.”
“He never said anything, even inadvertently, about what he did?”
“Never.” Piper shook her head. “Why are you hounding me about this? You taught me to never trust secondhand information, and I never have. I’ve always done my own legwork and investigative research. I believe your exact words were, ‘Never trust information acquired through sexual favors because its validity will always be brought into question.’ Feel free to correct me if I’ve misquoted you on any part.”
Carter cleared his throat and chose to pursue a different line of questioning, one that didn’t involve Miguel Sanchez. “What about the information you did collect? How did you handle it?”
She looked at him with an expression he could only describe as confounded. “I followed standard protocol,” she stated. “Why are you asking me about this now?”
“According to Pritchard, what you sent was the same info Miguel sent, only his was always received first.”
“That’s...that’s not possible,” stammered Piper. “Every bit of data I transmitted was gathered by me. Miguel had nothing to do with it.”
“And none of which we can prove since your laptop was never recovered.”
“And it never will be.”
“Are you saying you know where it is?”
“Maybe.”
“Piper, we’ve got to get that computer.” He was almost giddy with relief. “It’s the only way we can prove your original transmissions ever existed.”
“We?” she repeated, sounding genuinely skeptical. “Is that we as in you and I need the computer to prove my innocence? Or we as in you and Pritchard who wants to nail my hide to the wall with evidence you’re asking me to supply?”
“I know I deserve that, but there can often be a very fine line between trust and suspicion. I’m afraid I’ve been teetering on it for the last twenty-four hours trying to figure this all out for both of us.”
Piper barked a genuine laugh. “You’ve been waffling on this trust issue for a lot longer than that, as I recall. You either trust me or you don’t, Riggs. There can’t be any in-between.” Piper straightened and looked at him with an expression devoid of any visible emotion. “I think it’s time to take me back to my cabin.”
“In a minute,” he said as he gave a quick jerk on the handcuff to guide her to stand with him at the aft railing. She went because she didn’t have a choice, but it was clear she wasn’t happy about the forced diversion. Side by side they rested their forearms on the pristine white railing and lowered their heads to stare into the churning wake.
“How strong of a swimmer are you?” he asked in an offhanded manner.
She shrugged. “I did a couple triathlons when I was in college. Never did care much for the swimming part, though. Why?”
“I need to know how far you think you can swim.”
“Pool or open water?”
“What do you think?”
Her eyes grew in direct proportion with the enormity of his suggestion. She struck a defiant pose, planting her free hand firmly on her hip. “I know you’re not proposing I try to make an escape by jumping ship and swimming for it. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the friggin’ Caribbean, Riggs!”
“I’m appalled that you would even think that I would suggest such a thing. That would be wrong and against regulations, and you of all people know what a stickler I am about following the rules. But how about telling me anyway, just to satisfy my curiosity, can you swim say, fifteen miles?”
She shook her head adamantly. “Not even half that.”
“Five then...how about five miles?”
“Two, ten, or twenty—it doesn’t matter. The minute I jump overboard Pritchard will have his men on me faster than a pack of hungry Texans on a barbequed longhorn. I can’t outswim a motorized launch. And if by some stroke of luck they didn’t get me, the sharks would. No. Forget it. I do much better on terra firma, thank you very much.”
His hazel gaze caressed each place on her face where he badly wanted to kiss her. The possibilities were endless and it took every ounce of willpower to keep from following his heart’s desire. “Yes, you do, don’t you?” he said, giving her a sly grin.
She cast a wary glance in his direction. “Now what are you thinking?”
“I was just hoping you’re not planning to escape when we reach port.”
Piper hesitated before giving her answer. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of trying something so foolhardy.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say that, because if you had been foolish enough to say yes, I would have been compelled to stop you. You do understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
Piper rolled her eyes and refrained from laughing in his face. “Of course I understand what you’re trying to tell me. That’s the easy part. The hard part is executing what you’re clearly telling me not to do.”
Riggs glanced over his shoulder and caught Pritchard watching them again. “We’d better get you back before Jackson reaches the conclusion we’re planning a mutiny.”
“Isn’t that sort of what we are doing?”
“Well, yes, but we don’t want him to figure it out.”
“You’ve known him a long time. Has he always been this unreasonable?” asked Piper as Carter guided her down the stairs and along the narrow gangway.
Carter breathed a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure about anything concerning Jackson Pritchard anymore. All I can say with absolute certainty is, he’s not the man I thought he was.”
After they passed the last sentry, Piper stopped and turned to face him. “Riggs,” she started slowly, her voice low and guarded. “I’ve always had this ability to detach myself from my assignments. That’s why it’s so important that you understand that it was Isabel, not Piper, who did the things she did in South America.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I need you to know that it was me, Piper, who spent those days with you on that island, no one else, and if you decide that she isn’t the woman you want or ne
ed, I’ll understand.” She breathed a fragile laugh. “I personally wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me if I were you.”
When they reached the little cubicle, he ushered her in and removed the cuffs. She worked her fingers back and forth where the unrelenting metal had chafed the tender flesh.
“Piper,” he said in an almost inaudible whisper. Before he realized what he was doing his hand was gripping the back of her neck and pulling her against his chest, his fingers fiercely threading through the thick sable locks he found irresistible. He lowered his head and took her mouth with a desperate moan and possessiveness he found frightening in its savageness. It was then he realized there was nothing polite or refined or well-mannered in the way he felt about Piper Jordan.
He wanted this woman with every fiber of his being, in every way imaginable. He’d wanted her from the first day he laid eyes on the fresh-faced, lanky, ambitious young woman with the fiery intelligence burning so brightly in those intense brown eyes. She’d been his protégé, his student, his employee, his friend, and now his lover. It was then he came to the conclusion that he would take her in any way, any shape, any form she would come to him and feel damn lucky for being given the opportunity. He would fight for her as long as he was able.
In spite of her solid muscle mass and significant length, she felt suddenly small and fragile in his arms, as if her bones had been removed and replaced with something much less structurally sound. And yet he found her amazingly strong as she struggled against his embrace.
Pushing against his dominating strength, she shoved him away and plunged her elbow into his gut. Before he could recover, she clenched her fists together and swung her arms out and up, catching him squarely across the jaw.
“You bastard!” she screamed. “You make a wager with your buddies out there? Or can you only get it up when you’ve got an audience?” She waved her hand in an angry gesture toward the camera cleverly camouflaged as a sprinkler head.
Good girl, he thought, flexing his jaw and rubbing it gingerly with the back of his hand. He found blood smeared across his knuckles and realized she’d split his lip. He couldn’t believe what a stupid, careless mistake he’d made. Fortunately, in spite of it all, she had kept her wits and had the foresight to inspect the cubicle for hidden surveillance.
“You nearly had me fooled,” she spat. “All that talk about wanting to help me was just a ploy to gain my trust so you could make your move.”
He took an aggressive step toward her and she assumed an equally defensive stance. He knew in a heartbeat she’d hit him again, and he vacillated between giving added credibility to her accusation or backing off like she wasn’t worth the effort. He chose a tack somewhere between the two choices.
Grabbing her wrist with a loose but convincing grip, he twisted it and she cried out, he hoped in mock pain, as she attempted to swing a straight-legged kick at him. He barely sidestepped her attempt and maneuvered her near enough to the cot before he gave her a firm shove.
She landed with a hard bounce. Digging her heels into the mattress, she scooted as far back against the wall as she could. His rubber-soled shoes moved silently on the vinyl-tiled floor as he came at her like a tiger stalking his quarry.
She glanced frantically around the room. Judging from the angle of the camera, she realized a carefully placed kick against the inside of his thigh could appear to be a better placed strike.
“Brace yourself,” she said under her breath. Her foot snaked out, caught him precisely where she intended and he went down, sinking to his knees against the mattress while gripping his groin with a gasping moan.
“Fucking bitch,” he groaned hoarsely, pushing himself up and away.
“Hit me,” she whispered as she scrambled to the other end of the bed. He glanced at her with refusal written in his eyes, and she looked back with even fiercer conviction.
“Hit me,” she mouthed with fierce determination flashing in her eyes.
Grabbing her by a fistful of hair, he yanked her to her feet, drew back his hand and brought it against the side of her neck in what sounded like a mighty openhanded smack. She stumbled backward, catching her back on the cot’s metal frame as she fell to the floor and landed with a hard thud. He hoped her wincing whimper was all a pretense.
He touched the place on his mouth where the blood coagulated and gruffly muttered, “If I wasn’t looking forward to seeing you hang for all of this, I’d put a bullet in your head myself and save the government the cost of a trial.”
The pained look that crossed her face seemed incredibly real and the shrill sob that accompanied it caused him genuine remorse. When she crawled onto the cot and curled into a fetal ball, he had to tell himself repeatedly that she was only pretending in order to drag himself out of there.
“Save it for someone who cares,” he said instead as he wrenched open the door and stormed out with an angry curse.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you ready?” Carter asked, standing in the doorway of Piper’s makeshift cell.
She nodded solemnly and rose from the bed, extending her arms so he could place the cuffs around her wrists. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said as she braced herself for the bite of the steel bracelets.
In order to get through this ordeal, she decided to concentrate on something more pleasant, like the man standing in front of her. Even casually dressed in khaki Dockers and a navy polo, he projected strength and virility. His hair was still damp from a recent shower and he smelled good, too. Piper inhaled deeply and hoped the scent of him would stay with her long after they parted.
He shifted unobtrusively from one foot to the other, placing himself between the surveillance camera and Piper. Then he slipped a folded scrap of yellow paper into the front pocket of her jeans as he thoroughly patted her down.
“Checking for weapons—” she questioned before lowering her tone to a breathy whisper to add, “—or underwear?”
“The former because it’s more likely than the latter,” he rejoined. Then in a normal, businesslike tone, he said, “You know it’s standard procedure before handing off a prisoner, and I sure wouldn’t want to give anyone reason to accuse me of showing you preferential treatment.” He jostled her exceptionally rough in his search for contraband, giving every appearance that he was still angry from their previous day’s confrontation. The last thing he did was slip a cuff key into her hand as he feigned one last adjustment of the cuffs.
“Just in case,” he whispered.
She promptly coughed and reactively covered her mouth. The key slipped between her lips and under her tongue with such easy fluidity, she could see that Riggs was hard-pressed to keep from smiling. Much to his credit, he managed to maintain a bland expression as he gripped her elbow and steered her toward the door.
She cast a longing glance at her lowly backpack.
“I’ll make sure to bring it with me when I leave.”
It was only after they left the cubicle and walked down the gangway out of hearing range of the guards that he explained what he’d slipped into her pocket. “The paper I gave you has the address of a woman here in Miami. If you should ever find yourself in town needing a place to stay, be sure to look her up.”
Her eyebrows arched inquisitively. “Once a navy man always a navy man... Still got one in every port, eh, Riggs?”
Considering there was a piece of irregularly shaped metal resting sharply under her tongue, she surprised even herself by speaking with only a slightly slurred impediment although nothing could disguise the mocking lilt in her voice.
“The only woman in this port goes by the name of Hannah Riggs Morley.”
“You hiding an ex-wife down here nobody knows about?”
“Why do you immediately assume the worst?” he asked. “This woman happens t
o be my mother.”
“Your mother?” she questioned, sounding genuinely shocked.
“Yes, Piper, hard as it might be for you to believe, I have a mother.”
“What’s even harder to imagine is you ever being a child.”
“Did you think I was created in a mad doctor’s laboratory with stolen body parts?”
“Well, no, I guess not,” she answered. “But I’d have to say you sure got a couple of great used parts if you had.”
He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on her elbow. “Try to behave,” he said. “Because it looks like your escorts have arrived.”
Piper looked up as two similarly built men boarded the yacht, then rolled her eyes at Riggs. “Are you serious?” They were dressed in dark trousers, Hawaiian print shirts and Men in Black sunglasses. “Has the marshal service lowered their entry standards?” she questioned.
“The dress code’s probably more relaxed down here,” Riggs offered, casting a sideward glance in her direction. “It is Miami, after all.”
“Riiiight,” she drawled. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, but we have to make them think we believe it, so wipe that look of disbelief off your face.”
“Pritchard needs to stop getting his muscle from the bargain bin at Thugs R Us.”
“They’re kind of big, P.J. You sure you can handle them both?”
“Piece of cake,” she quipped, sounding a lot more confident than she actually felt. She wasn’t in top physical shape—she knew that better than anyone—but she sincerely hoped these guys were in even worse condition. They didn’t look like they’d seen the inside of a gym in recent months, but she knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving.
“I’ll intervene if necessary,” Carter offered.
“It won’t be necessary,” she stated.
Riggs asked for their IDs, even though he never doubted they’d have all the proper credentials to go with their titles. Yep, everything appeared official. No surprises there. Pritchard might have gotten them wholesale, but he spared no expense in the accessories department.
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