Could she trust Jack?
Maybe. So far—from rushing to save her from the intruding pool guy to smuggling her off the island—Jack had done nothing but try to protect her.
But her marriage to Carlos had been such a disaster, and he’d filled her mind with such paranoid poison, she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore. How could she?
Maybe Carlos was wrong. Maybe everyone didn’t have an angle. Maybe Jack was an exception.
As Claudia studied his chiseled face, the tension in her belly relaxed slightly. He appeared totally absorbed in controlling the SUV. One thing was for sure, this man was definitely easy to look at. Even better, as Marsali would probably say, he wasn’t purely decorative. He possessed skills. Skills that she wanted to learn. Needed to learn.
She couldn’t depend on her gladiator for the rest of her life. She needed to learn how to take care of herself.
“Marsali said you’re a martial arts expert,” Claudia said.
“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert.”
“She said you’re a black belt. That’s pretty good.”
He tossed her an interested glance. “So?”
“So I want you to teach me how to defend myself.”
“You plan on doing hand-to-hand combat with the Warriors?”
Claudia felt her face grow warm and realized her idea sounded ridiculous to him. “Only if I have to. Knowing a few moves would make me feel better.”
He nodded, refocused on the road. “I get that, but at this point they won’t allow you to get close enough. These guys are cowards at their core. If they locate you, it’s more likely a sniper will take you out. Or a bomb.”
“Thanks for that cheery thought.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“Of course you are.”
He shot her a quick pointed glare. “Like I need you to stay honest with me.”
“You know everything about me.”
“I hope so.”
“But I’m so tired of feeling like a victim,” she said.
“I’ll give you lessons in self-defense if you want, but expect a few bruises. The only way to learn is by doing. You’ll be tossed around a lot—until you can toss me.”
Toss Jack? She returned her gaze to his impressive physique and doubted that could ever happen. “Sounds like a good time.”
He nodded. “I’ll rig a mat so it won’t hurt so much. However, in my opinion your time would be better spent becoming proficient with that Glock.”
She liked that idea.
“You brought it, right?” Jack asked. “Is it loaded?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Can you teach me how to hit what I’m shooting at?”
“All it takes is practice, and we should have plenty of time for that. I’m not planning on leaving the property once we lay in groceries.”
“What about ammunition?”
“I brought plenty.”
“Won’t we need to go to a gun range?”
“No. As you’ll see when we arrive.”
What the hell did that mean? Claudia realized she didn’t know much about where they were going. He’d said a city in north Florida she’d never heard of, but she had been too agitated to ask for any details.
“Tell me about this cabin.”
Jack rubbed his neck. “Well, it’s no Collins Island mansion. One bedroom, one bath, small kitchen in the middle of fifty acres of forest.”
One bedroom? So she’d be sleeping with Jack every night. That thought created a pleasant tingle in her belly. Disgusted with her reaction, she closed her eyes. Had she learned nothing from the past? Was she nothing but a giant mass of hormones?
Now was definitely not the time to become involved with any man. Especially Jack. Surely there was a sofa for her to use.
“Sounds great,” she said.
“No TV reception,” he warned.
“What?” Claudia squeaked.
“No one has lived there for over three years, and we don’t want to alert anyone to our presence if we can help it. I have a DVD player and some old movies, plus I can set up a hot spot for internet access.”
Like she could go online. “What about phone?”
“No landline, but I have my cell phone.”
“So we’ll be totally isolated.”
“Isn’t that what you want, what you tried to arrange at Villa Alma?”
“Not exactly.”
Couldn’t he see how different this situation would be? She’d be stuck all alone without a car in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew. A man she wanted to trust but hadn’t quite gotten there yet, probably never would. A man who could break her in half without breaking a sweat. Oh, and she’d actually invited him to practice his skills on her. He’d even warned her about the possibility of bruises.
Maybe worst of all, she was so turned on by this stranger, this way-too-sexy gladiator, she’d been thrilled to learn there was only one bedroom.
Jack laughed softly. “It’s only for three weeks, Claudia. Think of all the studying you can get done.”
* * *
CLAUDIA JERKED AWAKE when Jack turned onto a gravel road. Listening to rocks crunch beneath the vehicle’s huge tires, she struggled to awareness, escaping a nightmare where she’d remarried Carlos Romero.
The SUV’s wipers swept back and forth across the windshield. Rain pounded on the roof. Headlights illuminated a narrow road full of potholes, but darkness pressed in on all sides. Huge trees loomed overhead, ghostly branches illuminated by lightning, thrashing in a stiff wind.
“Where are we?” she asked, noting they ascended a gentle hill.
“Casa de Jack,” he said.
So they’d arrived. The right front tire dipped into a huge hole, and she struggled to sit up in her seat. “Are you sure we’re not in the Sea of Tranquility?” she muttered.
“Where?”
“You know, the craters of the moon? Never mind. What time is it?”
“Just after eight.”
“Wow. I guess I fell asleep.”
“I guess,” Jack said.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
He shrugged. “You needed the rest. You were getting a lot of exercise worrying about the lack of TV.”
“Very funny. You’re the one who didn’t get much sleep last night. I should have helped drive.”
“I’m good.”
Claudia sighed as she stared at the narrow path ahead. She needed to start doing her share of the work on this journey. “When did it start raining?”
“As soon as we left I-95. Another cold front is sweeping through the state.”
“I thought we were going to stop for groceries.”
“I decided to wait out the storm. Or the better plan might be for me to go alone tomorrow. We’ve still got sandwiches if we get hungry tonight.”
Or maybe he was too exhausted to go into a grocery store now. Jack probably longed for a bed.
When the SUV headlights swept across the facade of a small one-story structure, Jack cursed and slammed on the brakes, rocking her forward against her seat belt even though they’d barely crept along the gravel road. He shut down the headlights.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded.
“There’s a light on inside the cabin.”
Jack stared at his property, evaluating its appearance and the logistics of his approach. To the left, a large plastic garbage can stood upright, overflowing with trash. He’d left that garbage container inside a storage shed so it wouldn’t blow away. Someone had been living here a good while.
Every time windshield wipers cleared rain from the glass, he focused on the light through the closed curtain waiting for movement. There. A shadowy figure crossed the opening.<
br />
Someone was inside.
The question was who and how many.
“I thought you said no one lived here,” Claudia said in a hoarse, frightened whisper.
“No one is supposed to be here.”
“It’s Carlos’s people, isn’t it? Let’s get out of here.”
He swung his gaze to her when he caught the panic in her tone. She’d placed her right hand inside her purse, probably clutching the Glock. Of course she would assume the intruders were the Warriors, but he’d considered and immediately dismissed that idea. Even if the terrorists had tracked them and managed to arrive first—an impossibility considering the speed he’d driven—they wouldn’t wait inside the structure. And they definitely wouldn’t leave a light on to alert him.
No. The Warriors would have taken them out on the long driveway through the woods. That’s what he’d have done.
“Relax,” he told her. “The intruder is likely a squatter who thought the cabin had been deserted.”
“How do you know?”
“For one thing, our headlights reflected off the taillight of a vehicle parked behind the cabin. It was too quick to determine the make, but your Warriors wouldn’t be that careless.”
“They’re not mine,” she muttered. “So what are you going to do?”
Good question. He might not believe the terrorists had found them, but another sort of danger could still be waiting inside. Maybe this was a squatter; maybe an old enemy. He grew up in this little burg, and most inhabitants knew he’d moved away. Plus, he’d been a deputy sheriff for four years. Could any of the perps he’d stuck behind bars think it would be sweet revenge to inhabit his home once released? A motivated felon could find the address easy enough. They might even vandalize the place just for fun. God knew what he’d find inside.
He needed to proceed with caution. And that meant with his weapon drawn.
“Wait here,” he told Claudia. He glanced to her lap. Her hand still rested inside her purse. “It’s okay to be ready for trouble, but please don’t have another panic attack and shoot me.”
Their gazes locked. Claudia gave a quick nod.
“Be careful,” she said.
“Always,” he replied, and stepped outside the vehicle into a stiff, chilly wind.
Moving fast and quiet, Jack circled to the back of the structure. He wanted to check out the vehicle first to gather possible information. Cold rain saturated his hair, and he noted a neatly stacked pile of firewood a few feet away from the back door. The shrubbery had been recently trimmed. His old Airstream trailer remained where he’d left it next to the shed.
The car parked on the concrete slab close to the back door was a two-year-old Chevrolet he didn’t recognize. He memorized the license tag. Stooping low so he couldn’t be seen, Jack tried the car’s back door. Locked.
Still hunched over, he moved to the driver’s door and edged it open without a sound. The overhead light came on and illuminated a half-full coffee cup with a lipstick smudge in the console facing the driver’s seat. A pink sweater and a small collapsible umbrella lay in the passenger seat. A pine-tree-shaped car freshener dangled from the rearview mirror, but didn’t mask the unmistakable stink of cigarette smoke.
Behind that lingering tobacco residue, he thought he caught a familiar fragrance. He tried to place the smell, but couldn’t. He carefully shut the car door to cut the light, then stood and stared at the cabin’s back door a mere five feet away.
After grocery shopping, he always pulled his vehicle back here onto the concrete slab because the small kitchen was just inside that sliding glass door. Maybe the intruder was hiding his—or more likely her—vehicle, or maybe she was taking advantage of that convenience.
One of his reclining lawn chairs—with a new cushion—sat on the slab next to a wrought-iron table. The table contained an ashtray full of rainwater and cigarette butts with lipstick on the filters. The interloper had rolled his gas grill out of the shed, too, as well as his outdoor fireplace. Anger churned deep in Jack’s gut. The intruder had certainly made herself right at home in his fricking home.
He reached inside his drenched jacket and removed his gun from the shoulder holster. As he approached the sliders, his soaked running shoes squeaked. The rain had eased, but the wind remained strong. A curtain covered the sliding doors, shielding the interior. During the day, his view outside to the wooded backyard was one he’d always enjoyed.
He’d rejected the idea of an old lover moving in knowing he was in Miami. He’d never given anyone a key. Besides, all the women in his old life hated this rustic cabin.
He decided to go in the front door hard and fast—take the trespasser by surprise. If the invader was an ex-prisoner out for revenge, she’d definitely have a weapon.
Jack halted midstep when the curtains moved.
The porch light came on. The door slid open.
He raised his Sig Sauer in a two-handed grip.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“DOES POOKIE NEED to go pee-pee?” a female voice sang out, as if speaking to a demented child. “I don’t think the nasty ole rain is going to stop.”
Jack tensed when a small white fluffy dog rushed outside. But the animal stopped, hopped in the air and backed away from him, barking furiously.
A plump female figure materialized behind the dog. “What’s wrong with little sweetums?”
Jack recognized that voice.
When the intruder spotted him, she let out a scream that could be heard back in Miami.
“Mother.” Jack lowered his weapon.
“Jack!” She raised a hand to her heart. “You scared me halfway to hell and back.”
“What are you doing here, Mother?”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “I thought you were going to shoot me.”
“I almost did. How did you get a key?”
His mother bent over and scooped up the still yapping dog. “Hush, Pookie. It’s okay. This is your brother, Jack.” She lifted her gaze to his. “You scared her. She’s usually very friendly.”
“A dog? Really? You brought a dog into my home?”
“Let’s go inside out of the rain. I’ll get you a towel.”
“Is there anyone else here?” Jack demanded.
She shook her head. The porch light glinted off her hair, and Jack realized she’d bleached it platinum. “I’m alone. I’ve been living here three months.”
A hundred questions tripped on the edge of Jack’s tongue, but he held them. The danger was over, but Claudia would have heard his mother’s zombielike scream and been terrified.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Wait here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Jack shot her a look. The hell you’re not.
He returned to his mother’s Chevrolet and grabbed the umbrella. Hoping he didn’t get shot for his trouble, he hurried back to the SUV to reassure Claudia.
She remained as he’d left her, wide-eyed with her right hand clutching the Glock.
“Jack,” she breathed when he approached her door. “Thank God. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just royally pissed off.”
“Who is here?”
“My mother.”
She blinked. “Your mother?”
“You heard me.”
“Your mother?” Claudia repeated, as if she couldn’t quite believe he actually had a mother. Yeah, well, Irene wasn’t exactly a candidate for parent of the year.
Jack popped the small umbrella and held it up so Claudia could duck under its shelter. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I need to find out what’s going on.”
* * *
HURRYING TOWARD THE cabin now that the scare was over, Claudia realized the temperature had to be forty degrees colder her
e than in Miami. All she wanted was a bathroom. It’d been a long ride from south Florida with only one quick stop to pee.
She expected to find some sort of übermasculine cave when she entered Jack’s cabin in the woods. She’d had in mind a hunting lodge, with the heads of shaggy beasts mounted on the walls, or at least some stuffed fish proudly displayed. Instead she found cheery prints of floral bouquets and glorious sunsets. A sofa and reclining chair were covered by patchwork quilts that appeared hand-stitched. A round wooden table covered with plastic bags of groceries sat outside the kitchen.
Jack glared at the furnishings as if he’d never seen them before. At least it was blessedly warm inside.
A fiftyish woman with bleached hair, wearing tight black jeans and a formfitting red sweater, stood at the back door smoking a cigarette. She turned her head to exhale the toxic smoke out a crack in the door, then leveled her focus on Claudia.
“Who’s this?” the woman asked, tossing her cigarette outside. Claudia watched the glow of the still lit butt arc into the night.
“Mom. Please don’t do that,” Jack said. “You could start a fire, and we’re in the middle of a forest.”
“Oh, please. It’s too wet out there for anything to ignite.” Jack’s mom closed the slider and stepped forward. She held out her hand. “Don’t mind my rude son,” she told Claudia. “I’m Irene Richards, the fire marshal’s mother.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Claudia said, grasping Irene’s warm, strong hand. “I’m Claudia.”
“Jack, did you get married and not invite your momma to the wedding?” Irene asked, a hurt tone in her voice.
“What are you doing here, Mother?” Jack demanded, ignoring her question. “And how did you get in?”
“Would you like something to drink, Claudia?” Irene asked.
Claudia decided ignoring questions must be a genetic trait.
“I have some white wine. Or bourbon. Or I could make a pot of coffee.”
“Talk to me, Mother,” Jack said.
Irene grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the wooden table, shook one out, and picked up her lighter.
“Don’t light that in here,” Jack warned.
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