Green Beret Bodyguard

by Carol Ericson

  Eddie slipped Jack a shy smile beneath lowered lashes. “No wrestling on today, Mr. Jack.”

  “Epic needs his rest to take on his next opponent.”

  Lola wagged her finger at Eddie. “Are you still watching wrestling?”

  “It’s good, Dr. Lola.”

  Jack echoed. “Yeah, Dr. Lola.”

  Eddie giggled and Lola changed the course of her wagging finger to wave it under Jack’s nose. “You are a bad influence.”

  Jack shuttered his eyelids halfway and said, “I know.”

  The look he sent her from those dark, unfathomable depths turned her insides to toasted marshmallow. She tapped Eddie on the knee with his chart. “You’re going to be getting out of here in a few days.”

  Eddie drew back against his pillow, his small face stiffening, and Lola’s stomach took a dive. She pasted on a bright smile and shoveled sunshine into her voice. “You’ll be fine, Eddie. There are a lot of loving foster families out there, and maybe your grandmother will take you.”

  Dade County had contacted Eddie’s grandmother when her daughter had been murdered, but she’d been less than enthusiastic over the idea of taking in her orphaned grandson. The thought of Eddie bouncing from foster home to foster home carved a hole in Lola’s belly, but she wouldn’t allow him to see her fear.

  She dragged air into her lungs but before she could find the words to reassure Eddie, Jack slipped past her, lowered the silver bed rail on Eddie’s bed and perched on the edge.

  “I lost both of my parents when I was a teenager, Eddie. I was lucky because I had a good friend, and his parents took me in to live with them until I finished high school. There are good people out there, and they’re going to find you and help you.”

  Eddie’s round eyes got rounder. “You were an orphan, too, Mr. Jack?”

  “I was.” Jack dipped his head once and offered his fist to Eddie. “We orphans gotta stick together, right?”

  Eddie bunched his small hand into a fist and touched his knuckles to Jack’s. “Yep.”

  Lola’s throat tightened. Not only was Jack Coburn not a traitor, he was a good man. She blinked her eyes to clear the tears. “And remember, whatever happens, you’re spending Christmas with me.”

  “I remember.” Eddie bounced on the bed and jabbed Jack in the chest with his finger. “Is Mr. Jack going to be there, too?”

  “I’m not sure, Eddie.” Lola swallowed, avoiding Jack’s gaze. Heck, she didn’t know if Jack would be around tomorrow, or if he’d be spending Christmas with his long-lost family.

  “I’ll try to be there, but I can’t make any promises. Is that good enough for now?”

  Eddie bobbed his head, but Lola screamed inside, It’s not good enough for me.

  They chatted with Eddie for several more minutes until the nurse shooed them out.

  On the way back to the house, Lola said, “You made that little boy’s day. That was nice of you to take the time to tell him your own story when I know you’re dying to get back to the house and find Colonel Scripps.”

  Jack shrugged those broad shoulders that had been carrying so much weight the past few weeks. “I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about foster care. Is it going to be bad for him?”

  She matched his shrug. “Who knows? Sometimes it works out great, and sometimes they get shuffled around, which is bad news for any kid.”

  “And the grandmother?”

  “I’m not sure it would be such a good idea if she stepped up to the plate, anyway. If she didn’t jump at the chance to take him in after her daughter’s murder, she’s not much of a grandma.”

  “My grandparents were already dead by the time my parents died in that car accident. They never had a chance. I had a few aunts who weren’t interested.”

  “I—I was thinking of adopting Eddie myself, or at least becoming a foster parent at first.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. But why did it matter? It’s not like Jack was going to be in her life for much longer.

  “You’re an amazing woman, Lola Famosa.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering at her cheek.

  His touch caused a slow burn just beneath the surface of her skin, or maybe his approval had caused it. “Eddie’s an amazing kid, and I want to protect him.”

  “You want to protect everyone, don’t you?”

  “I guess I’m in the right line of work, then.” Her lips stretched into a smile. She’d wanted to be a doctor ever since her father had been shot and the doctors fixed him. It had appealed to the girl who couldn’t fix or change anything in her own life.

  “But until we turn over that formula to the CIA, you’re the one in need of protection…and I’m going to provide it.”

  And once they turned over the formula? She left the question unasked as her gaze tracked over Jack’s body, lean, muscled and perpetually coiled for action.

  Oh, yeah. He could provide her with just about everything she needed.

  MEMORIES OF COLONEL SCRIPPS had been seeping back into his brain ever since his session with Lesley. The man had chosen him for Prospero, chosen him to be Prospero’s leader. But they hadn’t always seen eye to eye, and they’d gone toe to toe on more than a few issues.

  Would he help him now? Believe him?

  Lola leaned one hip against the kitchen table, which had become their unofficial command center. “How are you going to reach Colonel Scripps? I’m assuming he doesn’t have a Facebook page.”

  “You’re going to make a call to the CIA in Langley. He’s still military, but he works with the CIA and has an office there.”

  “Really?” She hoisted herself onto the table and swung her legs. “Just like that, I’m going to ask for Colonel Scripps? He’s not going to speak to a nobody, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your name bandied about by receptionists and flunkies until you settle a few things with the Colonel. Am I right?”

  “Exactly right. But I have a plan, a code.”

  She rubbed her hands together. “This is getting good.”

  Shoving the tips of his fingers in his pocket, Jack studied her. For a woman who’d grown up under a cloud of danger, a walk on the wild side sure lit her fuse. “Are you ready?”

  She hopped from the table and retrieved her purse. “Should I use my cell phone or the prepaid one we bought?”

  “Use the prepaid one.” He dragged a chair from under the table, dropped into it and brought up the CIA’s website. “Let’s start with the general phone number and work our way inside.”

  By the time Lola had been transferred to the fifth operator, they started to make progress.

  “I’m trying to leave an important message for Colonel Frank Scripps.”

  “Who is calling, please?” The woman’s voice sounded bored. The spy business must be slow this week.

  Lola’s jaw dropped and she paused. Jack twirled his finger in the air, and she cleared her throat.

  “My name isn’t important.”

  “And what is your message for Colonel Scripps?”

  Lola met his eyes and he nodded once, giving her the okay to repeat the phrase.

  She licked her lips. “Please tell Colonel Scripps that Caliban says there’s a storm coming.”

  This time the woman on the other end of the phone paused. “Is this a joke?”

  “This is not a joke. Caliban says there’s a storm coming. Please relay that message to Colonel Scripps. He’ll know what it means.”

  The woman sighed. “Anything else?”

  “Just the phone number.” Lola reeled off the number of the throwaway phone. “Please have Colonel Scripps call that number.”

  When she ended the call, Lola bounded from her chair. “Oh, my God, that was awesome! Just like James Bond or something.”

  “Uh, that was a phone call—no poison dart pens, ejecting out of an Aston Martin or having sex with drop-dead gorgeous Russian spies, or maybe that should be drop-dead gorgeous Cuban spies.”

  Lola punched him in the arm. “Let m
e have my fun.”

  “This fun has almost resulted in your abduction, my sweet thrill seeker.”

  She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know, Jack, but we’re almost there. I can feel it, can’t you?”

  The only thing he felt was Lola’s soft breasts pushing against his chest and a surge of desire so strong he had to clench his teeth to keep from nipping at her full bottom lip. He contented himself with skimming her back with his knuckles.

  “Once you come back into the fold, you can get treated for your memory loss and we’ll find Gabe. I know it.”

  “You’re an optimist.”

  “You’re close to remembering everything, aren’t you?” She dropped her lashes in what she hoped was a look of unconcern.

  It didn’t work.

  Jack lifted one eyebrow and shoved his hair back from his forehead. “You’re wondering if I remembered a wife.”

  When did she become so easy to read? No sense in denying her selfish preoccupation when Jack had her pinned with those dark eyes. “Or a girlfriend or a fiancée. I want to know if we were cheating when we made love.”

  The side of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile, and then her awareness of everything else evaporated as he sealed his lips across hers. His heart pounded beneath the hand she pressed against his chest, and her blood answered his rhythm as it thrummed through her veins.

  He danced her across the floor, never breaking the connection between them. When he lowered her to the couch, she realized he planned to take her right here, right now.

  She maneuvered her lips away from his hot kiss. “The door. Rosa. Dinner.”

  “It’s locked. So what? Who cares?” He created a little space between their feverish bodies and managed to get them both out of their shirts.

  When his bare flesh met her naked breasts, she almost heard the sizzle. Her befuddled brain formed one last coherent thought, and she struggled against the tide of passion to form the words. “Does this mean you’re free?”

  As he stripped off his jeans, he growled. “I’m not free, Lola. You’ve enslaved me.”

  But when he possessed her, body and soul, and created a deep need within her core for more of everything he had to offer, she had to wonder…who had enslaved whom?

  LOLA NESTLED IN THE CROOK of Jack’s arm as the flickering images from the TV cast lights and shadows over his body. They’d made love on the couch, consumed large quantities of Rosa’s leftovers for dinner, watched some TV and then consumed large quantities of each other.

  Sort of like an old married couple…an old married couple under a death threat.

  She turned her head and nibbled on Jack’s salty shoulder, still damp with sweat. “Are you watching the TV or sleeping?”

  He turned from the news story about the leader of a new African nation restored to power, and traced the curve of her hip. “I’m still awake.”

  “It’s not that late.” She craned her head over her shoulder to peer at the illuminated numbers on the alarm clock. “Feels like we packed a lot into one night.”

  “Storing up for the future?”

  “What does that mean?” She shifted her position to get a clear view of Jack’s face.

  He lifted a lock of her hair with the tip of his finger and pressed it against his lips. “We don’t know what the future holds for us, do we?”

  “Who does?” She snatched her hair from his grasp, her heart lurching painfully in her chest. “Do you regret this? Us?”

  “The physical act of having sex?” He snorted. “How could I? You’re…we’re…unbelievable.”

  “Then what?” She tugged at the covers, suddenly feeling exposed.

  “There’s something more going on here than the gymnastics in bed.”

  “Yeah, the gymnastics on the couch.”

  “Stop.” He pressed two fingers against her lips. “You give too much of yourself.”

  She brushed his hand away in irritation. “Do you think I made love with you for your benefit alone? I guess you didn’t hear the noises coming out of my mouth.”

  He grinned. “Not only did I hear you, but I think the neighbors a mile down the road heard you, too.”

  “So what’s the problem? Believe me, I got as much out of our…uh…encounter as you did.”

  “I gathered that.” He tapped her chest. “But you’re thinking with your heart, and I’m thinking with another important part of my anatomy, and neither of us is looking at the future with any clarity.”

  “And I think you talk too much.” She didn’t want to examine the future with Jack. It stretched on the other side of this adventure and Gabe’s ultimate rescue like a deep abyss.

  She’d figured once they’d determined Jack didn’t have a wife or girlfriend, they’d be home free. But the reality of his situation kept throwing darts at their enjoyment of each other.

  Her phone lit up and buzzed on the nightstand. She swept it off, happy to avoid the conversation with Jack, and checked the display. Restricted.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this the number for Jack Coburn?” The clipped voice made her want to snap to attention.

  “It is.”

  “This is Colonel Frank Scripps. Some woman left me a rather cryptic message this afternoon.”

  She swung around toward Jack, gesturing wildly at the phone and hit the button for speaker. “Yes, I did, Colonel Scripps.”

  “Would you like to tell me what you meant?”

  She raised her brows and Jack nodded. “I’ll let someone else explain.”

  Jack’s head pounded. He recognized the Colonel’s voice. How could he have ever forgotten it? How could he have ever forgotten him?

  He took the phone and held it between him and Lola. “Colonel? It’s Jack.”

  The Colonel choked and then cursed. “Jack! You’re alive.”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “God, it’s good to hear your voice. What happened to you? Why no contact? Did your mission go south?”

  “You could say that.” He grabbed a pillow and crushed it against his chest. “I took a tumble down a mountainside and lost my memory.”

  The Colonel let loose with a stream of obscenities. “That’s one of the craziest damned stories I ever heard out of any of you. And I’ve heard plenty.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I just remembered you this morning and remembered the code phrase. Why am I a wanted man, Colonel? How’d that story get out that I’d betrayed my country and stolen the formula for myself?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t believe it for a minute.” The Colonel let out an audible breath. “Have you, have you contacted anyone else since regaining your memory?”

  “It’s not all there for me yet. Still have some black holes. You’re the first and only person I’ve contacted.”

  “Good. Keep it that way for now. Where are you? Who is the woman who called me?”

  “I’m in Miami…for now.” Habit kept Jack’s lips sealed about the details of Lola’s involvement. He remembered very clearly not revealing everything to the Colonel during the Prospero years.

  “Don’t move, Jack. I’m getting on the first flight down there from D.C.” He paused. “Do you have the formula?”

  Again, Jack’s caution kicked into high gear. When had the Colonel learned about the formula? If he knew the story about Jack being a traitor, he knew about the formula. He let out his pent-up breath. “We can talk about that when you get here.”

  “And where’s here? Where should I meet you?”

  Without thinking, Jack answered, “Call this number when you get here. I’ll tell you then.”

  He ended the call and collapsed against the headboard, stuffing the pillow behind his neck.

  Lola pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “You’re very…suspicious. It wasn’t the joyous reunion I expected.”

  “Really?” He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. If he had another headache coming on, he s
hould sit back and ride it out.

  “Really. After all that ‘the Colonel was my mentor stuff’, you didn’t seem to trust the guy much.”

  “I think he expected that. I just remembered his existence this morning. I still have gaps.”

  “You’re getting a headache.”

  “If it comes, it comes. I’m not going to do anything to stop it.”

  She balanced her chin on her knees. “You look…concerned, and I know you’re not worried about the headache, since you see it as another opportunity to remember. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Jack massaged the back of his neck. “The Colonel didn’t mention anything about the guys, the other Prospero members.”

  “Did you expect him to? I thought you said they’d all retired.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to come across as a two-year old having a tantrum, but if one of his Prospero buddies had been in trouble he would’ve been there. Retirement or no retirement.

  “That’s right.” He slid beneath the covers, pulling Lola down with him. “They have their own lives now.”

  She stretched away from him and punched the switch for the overhead light. Then she snuggled her back against his front, pulling his arm around her waist, obviously forgetting about their previous conversation. Lola had no intention of backing off or slowing down to consider the consequences of their fast and furious attraction.

  And that was okay. Lola was his present…and right now, the present was all he had.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lola plunked a bowl of cereal in front of Jack. “So you didn’t get a headache last night.”

  “No.”

  “You sound disappointed.” She splashed some milk into her bowl and slid her spoon into the flakes. She couldn’t fall asleep last night until she’d heard Jack’s breathing, deep and steady.

  “The headaches give me an opportunity to remember.”

  “And you still need to dig up more memories.”

  “It’s like a painting.” He framed his large hands into a square. “Like an Impressionist painting. The dots and smudges are there, even the colors are vibrant, but the scene is missing the details, the solid lines connecting it all together.”