Grave Peril_Military Romantic Suspense

by Emily Jane Trent

  Capturing her was their goal. That was what Rip had to prevent. So he stayed close enough to thwart any kidnappers and divert threats. He maintained his bodyguard role, keeping a low profile while remaining alert.

  Lela pushed away from the bridge railing and went toward downtown. If she had a plan, she hadn’t shared it. So Rip didn’t know what she had in mind. It could be as simple as getting lost in the crowded city—not that bad of an idea.

  The autumn day was mild, and Lela looked lovely walking down the street, even in the fake blond hair. Her step had some spring to it, and she gazed around, clearly enjoying the walk. Under other circumstances, she could have spent the day in the city unmolested.

  But that wasn’t Lela’s fate. She was wanted by men whose ruthlessness made Rip cringe. He knew their brutality. There was no way in hell that he’d allow Lela to be taken. She wouldn’t make it back alive.

  It was of the utmost importance for Rip not to botch his bodyguard responsibilities. He stayed sharp, ready for action. There would be an attempt to take Lela; it was only a matter of when.

  Lela strolled down the sidewalk, taking her time. When she reached the edge of downtown, she momentarily slowed, then moved on. She picked up her step as though more certain of her destination.

  The downtown area provided better cover. Shops, alleyways, and buildings offered places to stay out of sight. The best way to watch Lela was to stay ahead of her, not behind. So once Rip observed her route, he jogged down a couple of alleys to take up an advance position.

  Franklin Avenue was a bustle of activity, but Lela’s blond hair stood out. She dodged around pedestrians, various business types on their way to the office. Then her expression changed.

  Rip was used to picking up any subtle changes in a subject’s demeanor. Something had her worried. He surveyed the scene.

  A driver of a black sedan with darkened windows had pulled up to the curb and left the engine running. Rip had a visual on the driver and front passenger—two thugs for sure. Both men had looks that could kill, and their flashy tattoos signaled their association with the cartel.

  Lela wasn’t far away, so Rip moved in to take a position a few doors up from her.

  Then a third gangster got out of the back seat. He was tall and beefy, the type that was all brawn and little brains. The cartel’s best men were at the top of the food chain. For a street job like this, any burly street thug would do—or so they’d probably assumed.

  The car was a block ahead of Lela. The gangster ambled back toward her, using the crowds on the sidewalk for cover. He passed Lela, got a good look at her face, then spun around to come up behind her.

  Rip was ready for action. He had the advantage that the cartel didn’t know about him. So he stepped onto the sidewalk in plain view and looked right at Lela. All she had to do was come to him, and Rip would make the thugs back off.

  Before Lela looked up, the gangster made a swift move. He momentarily lifted Lela off her feet, then kept his hands on her arms when he put her down.

  In a flash, Lela reacted. With her hiking shoe, she attacked with a stomp kick. To get the full force of her leg behind the kick, she brought her knee up, then drove her heel down swift and hard. The impact hit the shoelace part of the guy’s foot. The hard sole of her shoe might have broken some of the tiny bones in the guy’s foot. It was an effective way to keep him from running after her.

  The gangster flinched and doubled over, but he wasn’t down yet.

  There was no way Rip would let the guy take Lela, but she seemed able to defend herself. For good measure, she executed a maneuver guaranteed to incapacitate her attacker for several seconds. She grabbed his testicles in her fist, twisted, and pulled.

  Then Lela ran like hell.

  Rip stood at the opening to the alley. Lela spotted him and ran toward him. When she was close enough, Rip grabbed her and ducked around the corner.

  Another gang member headed their way, the one from the front passenger seat. It appeared he’d become aware of his buddy’s trouble and had come to help.

  Rip stood in front of Lela, blocking her from any attacker. The pursuing gangster rounded the corner at a dead run.

  Using the guy’s own momentum, Rip grabbed him and slammed the guy’s face against the brick building. The heavy blow to the head knocked him unconscious, and he slumped to the ground.

  Rip didn’t wait to see if the driver of the gangster mobile was wise to the action. He grabbed Lela’s hand and hurried down the alley. Earlier, he’d spotted a two-story building with a busy parking lot, which meant there were a lot of people.

  He raced to the entrance with Lela in tow, and the automatic doors opened. He weaved through the crowd and darted along corridors. It was some sort of gaming place, with shouting and loud clanging noises. All the racket and commotion was good, all the better to disappear into.

  Lela kept pace as he made his way through the building. Several turns later, Rip found the back door and plowed into the metal bar to open it. He ran out to the street, then took Lela’s hand. “You okay?”

  She nodded, so Rip took off running again. His destination wasn’t far, and it looked like he’d lost the gangsters. But they wouldn’t lag for long, and word would be out to watch for the runaways.

  A couple of blocks over, Rip entered a parking garage. On the top floor, he found a jet-black Harley-Davidson Nightster—their transportation. He fished beneath the chrome pipe and found the tiny magnetic box with the key, as promised.

  Lela’s eyes widened. She was still breathing hard. “You just happened to have a motorcycle handy?”

  “It’s a loaner from a friend. I’ll explain later. Hop on.”

  Lela yanked off the blond wig and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. She ran her fingers through her dark hair and readjusted the strap over her shoulder, so her bag rested against her chest. Then she got on.

  Rip took his place in front of her and stuffed his small duffel bag between his thighs. He grabbed the two helmets hanging from the handlebars and handed one back to Lela.

  “How did you know someone wouldn’t steal all this stuff before you got here?” Lela said.

  “Good thing they didn’t, because it would have put a crimp in my escape plan. And I agreed to pay for any damage or lost items, so that would have been inconvenient.”

  Rip revved up the engine, listening to it roar. Then he pulled out of the spot and headed down the ramp. With the headgear on, it was unlikely the gangsters would recognize them, even if they were around. But Rip wouldn’t relax until he was away from town and down the road.

  *****

  San Leon was a forty-minute trip. The tree-lined highway was windy, and the Harley glided around the curves. Rip enjoyed the drive, including having Lela’s arms around his waist.

  At Dickinson, he cut over to Bay Shore Drive and cruised down the road, until Galveston Bay was in sight. Then he pulled off into the parking lot of a small café.

  Lela got off first and removed her helmet. She shook out her hair and looked up at the bright blue sky, while Rip looked at her. “That was a thrill,” she said.

  Rip didn’t know if she meant the chase by the gangsters, or the motorcycle ride. “There’s a friend’s place in San Leon where we can stay. I thought we’d get some food before we head over.”

  The restaurant was homey. A few customers ate at the wooden tables. Rip snagged a booth at the back so he could keep an eye on the door. Lela sat across from him and gazed around at the interior. She fingered the checkered curtain on the window. “Cute place.”

  A waitress in a pale blue uniform took their orders for Cokes and roast beef sandwiches with chips. Rip took stock of the place and scanned the parking lot. The Harley was outside the window where he could keep an eye on it.

  When the drinks arrived, Lela took a sip. “So how did they find me?”

  “You made the mistake of going back to your home turf, where you lived and worked.”

  “But it’s a big city.”
/>   “True, but the cartel is as handy at surveillance as any government agency…maybe better. Their limitless funds buy a lot of eyeballs.”

  Lela frowned. “I was in disguise, though, wearing a blond wig. Even you said I looked different.”

  “I was watching when you were spotted. The dude got a good look at you, facial recognition. The price on your head makes a guy look closely,” Rip said. “I’m sure downtown is crawling with gang members anxious to hand you over and get the reward.”

  “I think he got lucky.”

  Rip smiled. “That too. He probably chanced it, since you are the right height, weight, and general build, per the photos they had.”

  “Yeah, well, I blew it. The guy walked up behind me and said my name, so I responded.”

  “That’s natural.”

  “But if I’d just walked on, he would have assumed I was someone else.” Lela leaned back, and the waitress slid the sandwiches on the table.

  “Anything else I can get you?”

  “No, we’re good,” Rip said. He picked up half of his sandwich and ate it in a few bites. The roast beef wasn’t bad.

  “That’s the last time I’m wearing a cheap wig. I’m sure it stood out like the Halloween prop that it was.” Lela crunched on a couple of potato chips, then stared at him. “So tell me, what were you doing there? Didn’t I make it clear that you shouldn’t get involved?”

  “I recall you saying something along those lines.” Rip smiled at her. “I’m a protector by nature. I followed you to make sure you were okay.”

  “I can tell that you’re stubborn.”

  Rip picked up the second half of his sandwich. “And I can tell that you know self-defense. What you did to that gangster was impressive. How did you learn to fight like that?”

  “Practice.”

  “And I assume that had something to do with how you escaped at the train station?”

  Lela grinned.

  “I suppose I’d better not get on your bad side,” Rip said, then nodded at her plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Some of us don’t have voracious appetites.”

  “Suit yourself, but I’m not in the habit of leaving food. If you can’t finish, shove your plate over here.”

  Lela picked up one half of her sandwich, then pushed her plate across the table. “Where are you taking me?” she said.

  “I have some buddies in San Leon. One guy has a cottage on the bay that he rents out, and it’s vacant right now. So he’ll let us use it for as long as we need to.”

  Lela sighed. “I feel safer this far away from the city. I kept looking back, but nobody followed us.”

  “Yep, putting distance between you and your enemies is a smart move.” Rip looked into her deep brown eyes, and was affected more than he cared to admit. She did something to him.

  “And I feel safer with you.” Lela looked vulnerable, making Rip want to wrap her in his arms and assure her that he’d take care of her. “So this is your last chance,” she said. “If you want to bail, leave me here and I’ll figure something out.”

  Rip tossed some cash on top of the bill for the food, then stood up. “I’m your bodyguard, so I’m not going anywhere.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go.”

  His friend’s place wasn’t far from the café. When Rip pulled into the driveway, he asked Lela to wait. “I just need to let him know we’re here and get the key. I’d introduce you, but it’s better if he doesn’t see you…for your safety, and his too.” He touched her cheek. “Pictures of your beautiful face are plastered all over the city. I don’t want him recognizing you. It would put him in a tight spot.”

  “He’d turn me in?”

  “Not a chance; he’s a good friend. But the less he knows, the better.”

  “Why does he think you’re here?”

  “I just told him I needed a safe place to hide a client for a while. He knows about my bodyguard gig.”

  “And the motorcycle?”

  “He had a friend leave it at the lot for me. I just have to return it in good condition.”

  Rip walked up the cracked sidewalk to the front porch of the clapboard house. It looked like any home along the bay, a two-story that had seen better days.

  The door opened, and his friend stepped onto the porch. Nicholas had short-cropped dark hair, with a receding hairline revealing his age. He wore faded jeans and a white t-shirt, straining against a bit of a belly. “Rip, my man. It’s been a few years.”

  “Nic…good to see you.” Rip gave his buddy’s shoulder a pat.

  “Any problem picking up the bike?”

  “Nope…it was right where you said.” Rip crossed his arms, then nodded toward the driveway. Lela was in front of the garage, out of sight. “I’d introduce you, but it’s better if I don’t.”

  “Understood.” Nic handed over the key. “Stay as long as you like. I had the place stocked with food, like you asked.”

  “Thanks, man.” Rip took the key and turned to walk away. “It really is good to see you.” He did miss hanging out.

  “When this job is over, stop by and we’ll chug a few beers.”

  Rip stabbed a finger in the air. “You’re on.”

  *****

  The cottage was just up the road. It was perched at the edge of the water with a view of the bay, a good vacation spot. The white walls looked as if they’d been recently painted, but the wooden floor had some wear in it. The furniture was designed for comfort, and at the back, French doors opened out onto a deck.

  Lela walked around checking things out. It was good to see her relaxed. Coming there had been a good idea. So far, no connection between Rip and Lela was known, so no one would have reason to question his buddies.

  “You can take the front bedroom,” Rip said. “It has the best view. I’ll settle in down the hall, still close enough to get to you fast.” He paused. “Although nobody is going to find us here.”

  Lela kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag on the floor. Then she sank into a padded armchair and leaned her head back. “This cottage is adorable. You say he rents this place?”

  “Yes, but he won’t kick us out. It’s ours for now.”

  “Do you have anything to drink?” Lela said.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Rip sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge like he was entertaining a guest. “Beer or wine?”

  Lela peered past his shoulder. “A cold beer sounds pretty good.”

  Rip got two bottles and popped the tops, then handed one to her.

  “I’m going to sit on the deck and look at the bay for a while…you coming?” Lela’s hips swayed as she walked barefoot across the hardwood floors.

  This was beginning to feel like a date.

  Lela took one of the wicker chairs and propped her feet up on the ottoman. “I shouldn’t have told you to go away,” she said. “I just… Well, it’s hard to believe I’m in this situation.”

  “We’ll get you out of it as soon as possible. For now, we need to stay put. My boss Travis is working on getting new ID for you. You’re going to need some.” Rip took a gulp of beer. “While he’s doing that, we can stay out of sight here.”

  “So I’ll have a different name?”

  Rip shifted in his seat. It was a good idea; he just didn’t know if she’d make more out of it.

  “What?” Lela said. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “It’s no big deal. I told Travis to make us a couple, that’s all.”

  Lela slid her feet back to the deck and sat up. “A couple?” She put her beer on the table. “That’s awkward.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Rip said. “In private, there’s no change. But no one’s looking for a married couple; they’re looking for a lone woman on the run. It’s good cover.”

  “So I’m Mrs. McConnell?”

  “Temporarily,” Rip said. “I won’t hold you to it once this is over.”

  Lela laughed. “And what if I fall for you?”

/>   Rip choked on his beer and coughed. Of course, she was kidding…but still. And he might be in this romantic little cottage with her for days.

  After a bit, Rip took the empty beer bottles to the kitchen and got two more. Lela accepted. It seemed that she could put down the beer as well as fight—his kind of woman. But he caught himself. It was best not to let this attraction get out of control.

  By the third beer, the conversation was pretty relaxed. Lela told him stuff about herself, things he hadn’t figured out from her background check. She was interesting: capable, smart, and could defend herself. That garnered his respect.

  But on top of all that, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rip had thought so before he’d had any alcohol. She had a timeless beauty, with her thick, wavy hair and huge brown eyes. And she wasn’t a stick figure. She had curves, making Rip wish he could run his hands over them.

  “Are you thinking about something?” Lela had her jacket off and her feet up on the chair. She hugged her knees, waiting for his reply.

  “Just about you.” That didn’t sound right. “I mean, you’re an impressive woman.” Rip was digging himself a hole.

  Lela took a sip of beer, and Rip watched as her lips wrapped around the bottle opening. How he wished he could feel her full, sensual lips against his. He needed to get a grip.

  “I don’t see a ring on your finger,” Lela said, glancing at his left hand. “A hunky guy like you—I’m guessing early forties—without a woman?”

  Rip froze.

  Lela looked up at him through her dark eyelashes. “Why is that?” When he didn’t answer, her voice got softer. “Did she leave you?”

  Rip downed the last of his beer. Then he looked into her eyes, agonizing over the answer to that question—even after all this time. “She died.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Lela put her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s okay,” Rip said. “It’s a fair question.”

  “What was her name…if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Isabel Fierro; she was my fiancée. She was only twenty-six when she died.”