by Shelly Bell
“How can they do that?” she asked.
“Insulated wire,” Joe said, throwing a couple of guns and boxes of bullets into the bags. “You attach it at two different points in the gate and you can cut the middle. The electric fence keeps most people out, but with the FBI, it only buys us some time to escape.”
Logan tugged her away from the monitor and down the hall, following the cursing Joe. As they came to the staircase, Joe pressed on the side of it, opening a secret panel. He stepped inside, ushering them in with a wave of his hand.
A bark came from behind her, and she whipped her head toward its owner. Walter hurtled himself at the front door, barking and snarling as if defending them from intruders. As Joe moved farther into the hidden passageway, Logan pulled on her arm, urging her forward.
She stopped in her tracks, looking back at the dog. She couldn’t leave him here. Who knew what they’d do to him. He belonged to her now, and that meant he was hers to protect.
“I have to get Walter,” she said, pulling out of Logan’s grasp and running back toward the front door.
Logan growled but didn’t stop her. “Hurry. We’re running out of time.”
Walter continued his assault at the door until she scooped him up in her arms. From behind the curtains at the side of the door, she could see at least two dark sedans driving up the road from the gate. If it had taken the FBI only minutes to penetrate the fortress Joe had spent years building, how the hell would she and Logan ever be able to escape from here?
“Come on,” Logan shouted, hurrying her back under the stairs.
Once she and Walter entered, Logan reached around her and shut the door. The dog was still barking, his heavy little body shaking with fury. She quietly shushed him, petting him gently as she followed Logan and Joe down a narrow tunnel lit only by the flashlight in Joe’s hand. “Where does this lead?”
“Goes under the stream in the backyard,” Joe responded breathlessly. “About a quarter mile down, there’s a shed hidden by the Everglades with a car in it. Let’s just hope the battery isn’t dead. I haven’t had the need to start it lately.”
“I’m really sorry about this, Uncle Joe,” Logan said. “I promise to make it up to you.”
“Nonsense, boy,” Joe said. “I wouldn’t have given you the coordinates if I didn’t want you to use them. But you might want to figure out how they followed you here, so you don’t make the same mistake again.”
Logan looked back at her, accusation in his eyes. “Did you use my phone or anything else since we’ve gotten here? Call into work to coordinate our nightmare as your big story?”
Seems trust went only one way with him.
And here she’d thought things had changed between them after yesterday’s conversation and last night’s nonconversation.
Clenching her jaw to keep from giving him a piece of her mind and holding Walter tighter to keep her fists from flailing, she took a deep breath and exhaled before responding. “No. I’ve done nothing since I’ve gotten here but submit to you, sleep, and come downstairs to find you. If one of those things was the cause of alerting the FBI to our whereabouts, then I apologize.” Nope, she couldn’t do it. She added, “And I’ll make sure never to do it again.”
His eyes softened. “I didn’t mean—”
“Mind having your lovers’ quarrel a little later? I don’t think this is any of my business,” Joe said gruffly.
She didn’t embarrass easily, but her cheeks heated at her oversharing. Still, she didn’t regret defending herself. It was one thing to submit in bed, but hell if she’d ever submit outside it. She fought for herself as hard as she fought to right wrongs through her investigative reporting, and she wouldn’t change for anyone, including Soldier Boy.
They continued down the tunnel until it ended at a ladder. Joe climbed up and threw open a hatch.
Logan started his ascent, and held out his arms out as he neared the top. “Give me Walter.” She handed him the dog so that she could use both hands to climb, and he passed Walter to Joe.
She followed Logan up the rungs of the ladder, blinking away the spots in her vision caused by the brightness of the sun. In front of them was a brown wooden pole barn, which, from the looks of it, had been slowly decaying for the past thirty years. But she had to hand it to Joe. If she’d stumbled upon it without the knowledge of what lay inside, she would walk past it, never thinking twice about inspecting the contents. Although it seemed odd to find a structure like this in the middle of a swamp.
A splash from the stream behind startled her. She whipped her head around, seeing nothing but a circular ripple spreading out from the center, and turned back to Joe, questioning him with a raise of her brow.
Joe wiped the sweat from his forehead then worked the combination on the lock of the barn. “You might want to keep the dog in your arms for now, Logan. We grow the gators big down here.”
She didn’t know what was worse at this point, gators or FBI agents. “What’s the plan here? We’re just gonna drive away and hope they don’t follow us?”
Joe removed the lock and swung open the doors of the barn to reveal a Jeep inside. She and Logan were about to follow when Joe held up his hand to halt them. “You’re not coming with me.”
Chapter Twelve
“WHAT?” SHE ASKED. “You’re going to leave us here for the FBI?” With a wave of her arm, she motioned to the estuary. “And the gators?”
“No.” He pointed to a cluster of bushes. “Right behind the red mangroves over there, you’ll find a fan boat. Head west and keep going until you see a bunch of small buildings. That’ll be the town. Dock the boat over there and find the purple house in town. Ask for Morrie. Tell him I sent you and you need the truck. While you’re doing all that, I’ll be taking the FBI on a wild-goose chase. By the time they catch up with me, you’ll be long gone.”
Logan shook his head vehemently at Joe’s attempt to hand him one of the bags he’d taken from the house. “No. I can’t ask you to do that for us. There’s got to be another way.”
Joe grabbed Logan by the shoulders. “You just figure out who’s behind this setup and don’t worry about me. I’m sure I can keep them up to their eyeballs in paperwork while they try to figure out how a dead man has aided and abetted two criminals.”
As soon as the words dead man left his mouth, she realized how the FBI had found them. She bit her lip, hating she was about to burst the man’s bubble. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they already know you’re alive.”
Joe released Logan and narrowed his gaze on her. “Why would you think that?”
Her ability to string together facts to come to the right conclusion was one of her strongest attributes. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Once they got the tip from Walter’s previous owner about our location, the FBI probably checked to see if Logan had any contacts in Florida.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Joe. Apparently, the FBI already knew where to find you before we got here.”
The men froze. She transferred her weight from foot to foot, watching Joe’s puzzled expression as he processed her theory.
Laughing, he pounded Logan’s back. “You’ve got yourself a smart one, Logan. Don’t fuck it up.” He jutted his chin toward Walter. “Morrie just lost his dog. Might want to consider giving him Walter. The man could use a companion.” On a salute, he climbed into his truck and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life and he drove off, waving his hand out the window as he headed back toward the direction of the house.
She and Logan started for the boat that was allegedly hidden behind the bushes. What if they couldn’t get it working? They’d be stuck here in the middle of a swamp.
“Know how to drive a fan boat?” she asked, trying to get her mind off the danger hiding all around them.
“No, but I have a feeling I’m about to learn unless you’ve got some experience with them.”
She puffed out a breath. “Closest experience I’ve got is a canoe in summ
er camp. You’re military. They must have trained you for things like this.”
“Sorry. There weren’t many opportunities to go boating where I was stationed. But unlike you, I’ve driven a boat with a motor before. Fan boats can’t be too different from a pontoon, right?” he said teasingly.
Rounding the other side of the bush, she got her first sight of what Joe had left them to use as their getaway vehicle and stopped in her tracks. The boat looked like a tin can sliced in half with a huge fan stuck on the back. There were only two rows, each wide enough to accommodate one person.
The boat tipped as Logan stepped onto it with Walter tucked under his arm like a football. In her mind, she saw herself falling into the open mouth of a waiting alligator.
No way was she riding that thing.
Logan set Walter down and held out his hand to her. “Hop on.”
“No, I think I’m going to find another way to get out of here.”
“Rachel, there’s no other way.” His voice softened. “Trust me.”
She must be out of her mind to trust him after he’d practically accused her of inviting the FBI to find them, but when he used that voice on her, she couldn’t resist. She did trust him to keep her physically safe.
Emotionally was a whole other matter and one she didn’t have time to explore at the moment.
“Fine,” she said, taking a deep breath as he helped her onto the boat. She sat in the front, taking Walter from Logan and putting the dog on her lap.
Logan unknotted the rope anchoring the boat and dropped it in the back before getting behind the wheel. “This should be easy. It’s just like a car.” He handed her a pair of headphones. “I think we’re supposed to wear these.” After they placed them over their ears, he turned the key and put the boat into drive.
They started out slowly, gliding on the water with little noise. The boat rocked slightly from side to side, making it clear to Rachel it was a good thing she hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning. The sun was high in the sky, the heat and mugginess increasing as they ventured farther into the swamp. She couldn’t identify any of the foliage, but the beauty and splendor of it all was breathtaking. Some trees grew out of the water, the branches winding together to create platforms with wild grass growing out of them, while other trees shaded them with their hanging limbs.
Similar to the ones she heard last night on the drive to Joe’s, all sorts of noises, from chirps and whistles to splashes and knocking, came from deep inside the swamp. But these were amplified by the fact they were now in the swamp rather than driving beside it in the safety of their car. Her heart had barely slowed from their dramatic exit down the tunnel and now it was racing again from all the unknowns hiding within the wetlands.
As they cleared the constricted passageway, they came to a body of water resembling a small lake. Before she could relax, Logan hit the gas and the boat began to speed away, the wind smacking her cheeks and blowing her hair in all directions.
Walter sat up, bliss on his scrunched face and his jowls flapping. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the past thirty-six hours and the fact they were currently speeding away from the FBI. She tipped her head back and laughed, enjoying the sensation of flying above the water and the slight bumps as they landed. The fan was loud, blocking out the earlier swamp noises. Pelicans flew overhead, their wings spanned out as they dived through the blue sky and into the sparkling water before flying off again with fish in their beaks.
If they’d been down here on vacation, she might be able to fully immerse herself in the experience, ask him to explore the various wildlife and plant life in the Everglades. But who was she kidding? She didn’t take vacations, and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t be on vacation with Logan.
After confiding in him about her parents, she’d stupidly thought they had made some kind of connection, and because of it, she’d trusted him with her submission. For the first time in her life, she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable with a man, and at the first opportunity he’d proved to her that nothing that happened between them in the past twenty-four hours meant anything at all.
As she’d overheard him say to Joe, they were just making the best out of a bad situation.
Even though she was angry with him, she still trusted him to protect her. Logan was one of the good guys. That much was clear. He’d defend her with his life. And she would count on him to help her get out of this mess. But he couldn’t hold her to the agreement to submit to him, and after the way he’d so casually disregarded her feelings, she wouldn’t be so quick to do it again. She wasn’t a doormat, and she wouldn’t allow him to treat her as one.
A realization struck as they zipped across the lake toward the buildings Joe had referred to. Earlier she’d been looking at Rinaldi’s murder from the wrong angle. The dead mobster wasn’t the story. She and Logan were. The press was already creating a buzz, but she had something they didn’t. Inside information of what it was like to be framed for murder and chased by the FBI. It was the kind of story every two-bit reporter would give his or her firstborn child to have an exclusive to. When this was all over, she wouldn’t sit down with the highest bidder. She’d be the one reporting the story. Not only would she and Logan find a way to prove their innocence in the murder, but she’d also report on what it was like to run for their lives without having the protection of those who had sworn an oath to protect.
This was who she was. An independent career-driven woman who’d do anything for a story. At least that’s what Logan and everyone believed. New York was waiting for her, and what better opportunity would she find than the one that had metaphorically fallen in her lap? This story had the possibility of Emmy Awards and Pulitzers.
Nearing the row of buildings, Logan slowed the boat, the whirring of the fan quieting. Now that it was no longer windy, Walter flopped back down onto her lap and rested his head on her knees. They slowly floated to a dock where Logan jumped out and secured the boat to a piling. She dropped Walter onto the wooden planks of the dock and took Logan’s hand for help out of the boat.
Running her fingers through her windblown hair, she avoided Logan’s eyes and scanned the area, looking for any sign of the FBI or police. Fishing poles in hand, a couple of men sat on the other end of the dock, a six-pack of beer beside them. Beyond that, a line of people stood waiting to get onto a fan boat. A quick glance at the sign on the building told her it was a fan-boat ride business. On the other side was a tackle and bait shop. None of the structures were anything close to purple.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked Logan as he lifted Walter into his arms.
Logan unzipped his bag and dug through it, retrieving Walter’s leash. “No, but I didn’t see any other towns, so we’ll just have to hope this is it.” He clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar and handed it off to her, striding away from the water and hopefully toward the town.
Clearing the buildings, she was surprised to find a vibrant small town with a myriad of stores, houses, and churches. Sweat dripped down between her breasts and her shirt stuck to her back. It had to be at least ninety degrees out. Her mouth watered at the thought of stopping for a bottle of cold water and a breakfast burrito. Was it too early for ice cream? She started walking in the direction of the convenience store, only to be yanked back by Logan.
He pointed in the complete opposite direction. “There’s the purple house. Let’s go.”
She put her hunger and thirst on the back burner as they crossed the street toward the house. It stuck out from the others, not only because of its color, but also because of the signs warning of the forthcoming apocalypse should anyone trespass onto the property. Hopefully that meant the guy had a sense of humor and wasn’t a loon. If he was one of Joe’s friends, it could go either way.
They climbed the porch and opened the screen door to knock. She heard some banging inside and then the sound of turning locks. The door creaked open a bit with two chain locks still attached, and a man with curly gray hai
r and thick glasses peeked out.
“Who are you? Didn’t you see the sign?” he asked gruffly.
“Are you Morrie?” she asked softly, trying not to scare the man into shutting the door. He definitely seemed a bit off his rocker.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”
“Joe sent us,” said Logan. “There’s been a situation, and we need a car.”
The man slammed the door. A few seconds later, he removed the chains and opened it fully. “Did they follow you here?”
“No, sir,” Logan answered. “Joe’s leading them away from us in his car.”
“Good. Good.” Nodding vehemently, he kept his gaze on his bare feet. “Meet me ’round back,” he whispered before slamming the door in their faces again.
Grinning, Logan turned to her. “Well, he seemed nice.”
She snorted and started down the steps of the porch. “Let’s hope he’s not leading us to his secret laboratory where he’ll take us captive and do experiments on us.”
Logan laughed. “I think we’re safe, at least from him.” Meeting her down at the foot of the porch, he pressed his hand on her lower back and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Did I forget to mention you look incredibly sexy wearing my shirt?”
Even though she was boiling from the morning’s extreme temperature, the warmth of his hand permeated through the shirt to her overheated skin. Damn him for his sexy talk. She’d already forgotten why she was angry with him.
They walked around the back and found Morrie waiting for them, a rusted old pickup truck beside him. She couldn’t imagine that thing would start much less serve as their getaway car.
He slapped the hood a couple of times then held out a set of keys. “Been waiting to get this atrocity out of my backyard ever since Joe left it here ten years ago. ’Course, he comes by to start it up every few days and brings me my groceries. I sure do appreciate his company. He’s not dead, is he?”
She stepped closer to him, taking the keys from his hand. “No. He’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be by your house to see you real soon.”