Green Beret Bodyguard

by Carol Ericson

  His head slumped back to the pavement, and his hold on Jack’s hand slackened.

  Sirens wailed as emergency vehicles squealed to a stop on the edge of the crowd. Voices of authority directed people away from the body, and the police began rounding up witnesses.

  As the EMTs began working on Diaz, Lola remained crouched on the ground. Jack touched her shoulder. “You need to talk to the cops.”

  Lola struggled to her feet, and Jack put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to still her trembling. Her head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin on top of her hair, the stubble of his beard catching the dark strands.

  He took a few steps toward the officer collecting statements. “She saw the car also.”

  The cop looked up from his pad of paper, his eyes meeting Jack’s. “You, too?”

  “No, just Dr. Famosa.” Until Jack found out what Diaz meant by whispering Prospero, he planned to keep his low profile.

  Lola didn’t try to hide the fact that Emilio Diaz had been on his way to meet her for coffee. Diaz’s receptionist would give them that information, anyway, but the woman in the office didn’t know Jack’s name, unless Diaz had told her. And it didn’t seem as if Diaz wanted his receptionist to know anything about Jack Coburn.

  “Did anyone get a license plate on the car, officer?” Lola’s stiff fingers dug into Jack’s arm.

  “The car didn’t have a license plate—big coincidence if this was just an accident.” The cop tapped his pen against his chin. “Of course, a man like Emilio Diaz had a lot of enemies. I’m sure you know all about that, don’t you, Dr. Famosa?”

  Two spots of color dotted Lola’s cheeks.

  So much for keeping a low profile. Did the entire city of Miami know Lola’s father?

  Jack stepped in front of Lola, blocking her from the cop’s beady, inquiring eyes. “Dr. Famosa has told you all she knows. Can she leave now?”

  “Yes, and who…?”

  Jack spun on his heel and pushed Lola in front of him. He placed his hand on the small of her back and propelled her across the street toward the underground parking garage.

  Neither one of them said one word until they collapsed on the leather seats of Lola’s Mercedes and shut and locked the doors.

  Lola clutched the steering wheel, staring straight ahead into the cement wall of the garage. “What did Emilio say to you?”

  “Prospero.”

  “Prospero? Like, like…”

  “Like the character in Shakespeare’s The Tempest.” Where had that come from so quickly?

  Tilting her head, Lola released the steering wheel and flexed her fingers. “Were you an English major before you became a spy?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “You’re asking the wrong guy. Do you think it’s some kind of clue, or the name of a company?”

  “Given Emilio’s background, I doubt he’s familiar enough with Shakespeare to use Prospero as a clue. It must have some specific meaning. Could it be the company you work for?”

  “I thought you told me I was a freelancer.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. How could he have felt apprehension about getting information from Diaz? If the man died, he’d be back to square one.

  “What does it mean, Jack?” Lola dropped her hands to her lap and studied her palms as if looking for the answers in the delicate lines that crisscrossed her skin. “Why did someone go after Emilio? The car had dark-tinted windows, no license plates and didn’t stop after hitting a pedestrian. Like the cop said, this was no accident.”

  “The cop also said Diaz had a lot of enemies.”

  Lola snorted. “If you’re going to sugarcoat the situation, put a little more conviction in your voice. You don’t believe that any more than I do. Someone was watching Emilio or following us, and they tried to stop him from talking to us.”

  “But the hit wasn’t completely successful. He was still alive when the paramedics took him away.”

  “He’s out of our reach. Even if he recovers enough to talk, we won’t be allowed anywhere near his hospital bed.”

  “Because we’re not family?”

  “That and the fact Emilio’s wife hates me.”

  Jack quirked one brow. “Something you did?”

  “More like who I am. She couldn’t stomach her husband’s association with my father, even though that association kept her in designer clothes and luxury cars and her kids in private schools.”

  Slumping in his seat, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began gathering behind his eyes. “You’re not going back to your place, Lola.”

  “What?”

  The ends of Lola’s hair tickled his forearm as she leaned toward him. Her lush lips hovered so close to his, he almost took possession of them. Her nearness did crazy things to his addled mind.

  He closed his eyes and welcomed the pain spearing his temples. “It’s not safe. You mentioned your parents’ former home, where Gabe stayed when he was in Miami. Sounds a helluva lot safer than your condo. Can you stay there?”

  “Only if you stay with me.”

  Jack stifled a groan. He wanted to stay with Lola, wanted it more than anything in his stunted memory. But what if his desire for Lola meant cheating on someone else? Could he really be held accountable for his actions at this point?

  He wiped a hand across his mouth. A man was always accountable for his actions. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Lola.”

  “Look.” She plucked at his sleeve. “You want me to be safe, right? I’m telling you I feel safe when you’re around. You might not remember sh…squat, but you have a lethal aura about you, and I want that on my side.”

  Covering her hand with his, he said, “Okay, I’ll stay with you. Is there a computer at the house? If not, take your laptop with you.”

  “There’s a computer there, but I prefer to use my own. Why?”

  “I’m going to confiscate your computer and do some research on Prospero. It’s obviously an important part of my identity if it’s the one word Diaz could muster with his last breath.”

  Lola hunched her shoulders and shivered. “Let’s hope Emilio is going to recover and he’ll enjoy a lot more breaths…not that I think he’ll talk to us again, even if his dragon-lady wife allows it.”

  “Let’s swing by your place first and then my crappy motel so I can collect what few belongings I have.”

  “On to luxury and security.” Lola withdrew her hand from his and pulled out of the parking space.

  Jack stared out the window at the waving palm trees in the pale winter sunshine and hoped he wasn’t fooling himself. Did he want to protect Lola or just stay by her side for purely selfish reasons?

  In the end, did it matter?

  LOLA PUNCHED IN THE security code to her parents’ palatial estate and with a clenched jaw watched the gate slide open like the door to a prison cell. As much as she detested returning to the scene of her childhood, she trusted Jack’s instincts. If he believed she’d be safer here than in her condo, which someone had already compromised, she believed him.

  And she knew she could play on his protective nature to get him to stay with her.

  Not that she had the slightest interest in him beyond what he could do to keep her safe. Sure, he had that dangerous edge, which despite herself she found attractive, but right now it was all about protection.

  Jack whistled beside her as she swung the car around the circular driveway in front of the house, with its white columns and myriad windows staring out at them.

  “Impressive.”

  “The rewards of a life of crime.” She stomped on the parking brake and cut the engine.

  She reached for the door, and Jack put a steadying hand on her arm. His slightest touch sent a wave of longing coursing through her body. She’d better get a grip or she’d be spending some long nights alone in her bed with him in another room. Last night had been torture enough.

  “Is there any food in there?” He jerked his chin to
ward the house. “You didn’t have much of a breakfast.”

  “A couple stays in the guesthouse as caretakers. Gabe told me to move in when he took off this last time, but I figured since Rosa and Roberto were holding down the fort, I could stay put in my condo.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I could see why you wouldn’t want to stay in this dump.”

  “Let’s just say it has a bad vibe.”

  Lola slid from the car and popped the trunk. Jack hauled out a few bags while Lola slung her laptop over her shoulder. Jack dropped the suitcases on the porch, and Lola plucked a key from her key chain and inserted it in the dead bolt. She shoved it into the keyhole and twisted, hesitating on the threshold as a chill zigzagged up her spine.

  Jack tensed beside her. “Everything okay?”

  She shook her head. “Just got a little anxious wondering if our friends have been here.”

  The lines on Jack’s lean face deepened as he blocked her entrance to the house. “Would you notice if something were missing or out of order?”

  “Not really, but Rosa or Roberto would, and they’d let me know. I’m sure it’s fine. It’s probably my own personal demons lurking in this house that spooked me.”

  Feeding off her anxiety, Jack pulled his gun from the pocket of his jacket and slipped inside ahead of her. She felt guilty for putting him on edge. The man seriously needed to relax for one day.

  Lola peeked around Jack’s broad, comforting back. The large foyer looked about as unwelcoming as ever. She took a step down and peered into the great room with its high ceiling and long windows. “At least the flatscreen TV is still here.”

  “Everything look okay?” Jack stalked into the room, ready to do battle with Lola’s ghosts.

  “I’m sure everything’s fine, Jack.” She pointed to his weapon. “But if you want to keep that handy, I’m okay with it.”

  “Humor me.” He gestured with his gun. “Give me a quick tour.”

  A quick tour of the Famosa manse wasn’t possible, but Lola took Jack through all the rooms downstairs and upstairs. He studied the layout as if committing it to memory, which was kind of ironic.

  They returned downstairs, and Lola pointed to the sun-splashed kitchen. “I’m going to forage for lunch. I’ll set up my laptop so you can do your Prospero research.”

  Jack grabbed the laptop case where Lola had stashed it in the foyer. He hauled in the rest of the bags from the porch, including his black duffel, and strolled to a small table tucked into a bright alcove off the kitchen.

  He pulled out the laptop and plugged it in. “Do you have a password?”

  “No.” She held up a fairly soft loaf of bread. “Sandwich okay?”

  “Sure.” He tapped the keys of the laptop and sat back, watching the computer boot up. “Where are the caretakers?”

  “There’s a small house out back. If they’re on the property, they’re probably at the house. It doesn’t have a kitchen, though, so they keep a supply of food in here.” She squirted some mustard on the bread and held up her knife. “I hate to ask the obvious question, but have you looked yourself up on Google yet?”

  His long fingers drummed the table. “I used the library computer and did a search of Jack Coburn. The name’s not too uncommon, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a Realtor from Orlando, and no hostage negotiators popped up in association with the name.”

  She squinted at a piece of cheese, holding it up to the light before slapping it on a slice of bread. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that’s why I went to Emilio for help. It’s not a service you look up in the yellow pages…or the internet.”

  Jack cleared his throat and Lola glanced up to meet his dark eyes, shining with a light of amusement. “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re not going to poison me with that sandwich? Looks like you don’t trust what you’re putting on that bread.”

  She sliced one of the sandwiches and held up a half. “Do you want me to be like a royal taster or something?”

  “No, I trust you.”

  She knew he trusted her. Trusted her enough to seek her out to get information. And look where she’d led him. Right into a trap along with Emilio.

  Lola piled the sandwich halves onto a plate and carried it to the table. She set it down and reached for her purse, hanging on the back of a chair. “I’m going to call the hospital and see if I can get some information about Emilio.”

  “Would they take him to your hospital, Miami Hope? Maybe you can get in to see him, despite the dragon lady’s wishes.”

  “Yeah, they’d take him to Hope. Whether or not my status there would pave the way for a meeting with Emilio is another story.”

  Jack returned to the laptop, holding a sandwich in one hand, while Lola called the hospital. Even though she couldn’t claim family status, she got one of the nurses she knew who at least told her Emilio was alive but unconscious and in critical condition.

  “Doesn’t sound good.” Lola slumped in her chair, rounding her shoulders. “Do you think someone was watching us or watching Emilio?”

  Jack chewed, tilting his head to one side. When he swallowed, he lifted his shoulder. “If someone was watching us, he followed us from your place and I don’t think that happened. I made sure of that.”

  “So someone had a line on Emilio because…because they figured we’d go to him?”

  Jack planted his elbows on either side of the laptop and balanced his chin on clasped hands. “I don’t know, Lola. Do these people realize I have no memory of the events that occurred in Afghanistan? That I have no memory at all? If that’s the case, why bother with me?”

  “I can answer that.” Lola toyed with the stale crust of her bread. “They don’t want you to remember, Jack. And they don’t want anyone to jog your memory. They knew Emilio was on his way to tell you everything, or at least as much as he knew.”

  Jack laughed, a low rumbling sound, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s just great, isn’t it? I can’t remember a damned thing and someone’s going to kill me before I do.”

  A dagger of fear stabbed her heart, and she pressed a palm against her chest. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to solve the mystery of Jack Coburn first.” She flicked the back of the laptop. “Any luck?”

  He stretched his arms and folded his hands behind his neck. “Sure, I can probably recite Prospero’s soliloquy from the epilogue by heart. Other than that, I haven’t run across anything that remotely looks like a hostage negotiating service or even private investigations. I don’t have a clue what Diaz meant by whispering Prospero with what I hope won’t end up being his dying breath.”

  “What about some government agency—an embassy, the State Department or even the CIA? Have you tried contacting one of those?”

  Jack’s back stiffened and the line of his jaw hardened. “Instinct.”

  “What?”

  He stared at her through half-closed eyes. “Instinct kept me away from those government agencies. I never felt… I can’t explain it. I had a gut feeling I wouldn’t find any help there, or, even worse, they’d be none too happy to see my face…whichever one I chose to show them.”

  Something close to pity stirred in Lola’s breast as she studied Jack’s tired eyes and the black stubble sprinkled across his jaw. Could you pity a panther, a lethal, feral creature ready to strike? Yes, you could if that creature was wounded. And Jack was wounded.

  “You okay?” He scratched his chin and his dark eyes narrowed even more.

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. You’re eyeballing me like a patient who needs a shot or those jumper cable things.”

  Lola laughed. “I don’t think you need heart paddles, but it looks like you could use some rest. You have your stuff from the motel now. Why don’t you take a nap, shower, shave.”

  He rubbed his sexy stubble. “That bad, huh?”

  Very, very bad.

  Swallowing, Lola pushed away from the table. “I saw your motel, Jack. I don�
�t see how you could’ve gotten one good night’s sleep at that dump. Take advantage of the calm and security of Chez Famosa. I have some emails to check and a few phone calls to make.”

  He unfolded his tall frame from the chair and took a step closer to her so that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly trailing along her jaw. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

  “Do what?” Get weak in the knees every time he touched her?

  “Nurse me, or I should say doctor me. You don’t have to take care of me, Lola.”

  She held on to the edge of the table, digging her fingernails into the wood. “Sending you upstairs for a nap when you’re dead on your feet is the bare minimum I can do. I can’t have you dragging around if I want to find out what the hell happened to Gabe.”

  “Fair enough.” He stifled a yawn with his fist. “Maybe you’ll have better luck searching for Prospero, or maybe it’ll come to me in a dream.”

  “To sleep, perchance to dream?”

  “Wrong play. That’s Hamlet.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a college professor?”

  “Not that I remember.” One side of his mouth tilted up in a wry smile.

  Lola sucked in her lower lip. The mind was a curious contraption. “It’s strange how you remember certain things, like Shakespeare’s plays, and yet you can’t remember anything about your own life.”

  He called over his shoulder as he sauntered toward his suitcase by the front door. “General knowledge, I suppose.”

  “Handling weapons. Slipping through airports. Tracking people.” She wedged her hands on her hips. “I’d hardly call that general knowledge.”

  “It is for me.” He aimed a finger at the staircase. “Is there someplace specific I should bunk, or should I wander through the thirty rooms up there and pick one myself?”

  “Not quite thirty.” Lola edged past him, careful not to brush against his body. Her nerves couldn’t take any more close encounters with Jack. “But there should be a few rooms all made up and ready to go.”

  She jogged ahead of him up the curved staircase, her fingers skimming the polished banister. Pausing on the landing, she pointed down the hallway to her right. “First room on your left and first room on your right should be okay. The one on your right has a bathroom attached.”