by Debra Webb
The idea that bullets had been flying around them as they’d fled that warehouse suddenly bobbed to the surface of all the questions and emotions churning in his confused brain.
He cut his attention to the building’s front entrance. Three of the five who’d followed them from the dock pushed their way into the theater’s lobby. “Three just went inside.”
“One or more will be sticking with my car.” She kept her gaze carefully locked on his. “You don’t see number five?”
“Wait.” His gaze clocked the movements of an older man, one who definitely didn’t fit in with the teenage crowd all around them. “He’s moving in the opposite direction.”
“Excellent.”
She grabbed his hand and started cutting through the crowd. He shouldered between the bodies, staying close behind her.
He had questions for her. So damned many questions. Those would have to wait until they were out of immediate danger.
Could she be telling the truth?
Why would these guys be after him?
He’d worked a couple of Colby Agency assignments with two of the other investigators but nothing on his own yet. He’d made no enemies in that short time or on either of those assignments. His former career in insurance had been as a claims investigator. He’d certainly made no enemies there. His work had been straightforward—review the closed files and ensure that the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed.
J.T. shook off the situation analysis. Tried to think clearly about the moment.
No matter how he weighed it, he shouldn’t be here with Eve. What was he doing following her? Whatever she was into had nothing to do with him. Obviously she’d drugged him. The knock on the head wouldn’t have dulled his reactions to this degree.
When he would have stalled to demand more answers, she took a left, headed for a couple of teenagers loading into a minivan.
“Hey.”
The kid climbing behind the wheel looked back.
“Can you give us a ride?” J.T. started to advise Eve not to waste her time. The driver looked ready to bolt. As he well should. Giving rides to strangers was a bad idea.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks,” Eve tacked on.
The driver exchanged a look with his passenger, who’d already climbed into the van.
Eve pulled a couple of bills from her shoulder bag. “Two if you hurry.”
The driver stared at the cash and licked his lips. “You have to pay me now.”
“Are you crazy?” the passenger muttered to his friend.
Eve handed the driver a hundred. “One now.” She reached for the van’s sliding door. “One when we get to our destination.” She opened the door and climbed in before he’d had time to answer.
This was insane, but J.T. climbed in behind her all the same.
“What the hell you doing?” the passenger asked the driver. He was clearly a lot more rational than his friend.
“Just shut up,” the driver advised as he backed out of the space.
For J.T.’s eyes only, Eve pointed to the car she’d parked a couple of lanes away. Sure enough, a man loitered next to it.
J.T. couldn’t deny the threat had been real. But he was certain this wasn’t about him, despite what she had said.
“Where to?”
Eve turned her attention to the driver.
Before she could answer, J.T. gave the kid the address of the closest police precinct. “I’ll give you twice what she offered if we go there first.”
“You got it, mister.”
Eve glared at J.T. “You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?”
He cut her a sideways glance. “I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t care. But, for me, it’s over.”
That she winced on the final word shouldn’t have reached out and put a chokehold on his throat. But it did.
They were out of the parking lot and a full two blocks down the street before Eve reacted.
She scooted forward. “Don’t pay any attention to my friend,” she said to the driver. “We’re going to the Pier. You’ll drop us off there, and I’ll give you the other hundred, as agreed.”
“No way,” the driver argued. “He said he’d give me twice as much.”
Eve reached into the bag she kept close to her side and withdrew the Glock. “But I’m the one with the gun,” she countered.
The kid’s head whipped to the right.
“Watch it, man!” his friend shouted.
Horns blared.
The driver turned the car back over the line he’d crossed.
“The Pier.” Eve reminded him. “Straight there.” She instructed him on the most direct route. “Make it fast, but stay close to the speed limit.”
Eve leaned back in her seat and divided her attention between the driver and J.T., but she kept the Glock aimed directly at him.
She was not happy.
Tough.
Neither was he.
She’d better brace herself. Once they were at their new destination, this reunion was over.
J.T. decided then and there that he no longer cared about the why. He’d spent two weeks tearing himself apart, desperately seeking the truth.
That was the moment the situation crystallized: in a stranger’s minivan with the business end of a Glock directed at him.
It didn’t matter why. She had dumped him. Disappeared. It was over.
Who she was or what she was into had nothing to do with him, no matter what she said.
He hadn’t recognized the five men who’d shot at them, then gave chase. He damned sure didn’t recognize the woman sitting a scarce eighteen inches away.
Long, silent minutes later the driver took the final turn to the Pier.
“Drive to the end of the block,” Eve instructed, breaking the long stretch of intense quiet. “We’ll get out at the intersection.”
“Whatever you say, lady.” J.T. steeled for making his break.
His cell phone and wallet were missing. But he wasn’t concerned. He would find someone, even at this hour, around the Pier. All he needed was one minute on a cell phone, and help from the Colby Agency would be dispatched.
The van braked to a stop.
Eve shoved the second hundred at the driver. “Thanks, kid.” She reached for the sliding door on her side. “And remember, this never happened.”
The kid stared at the money in his hand. “That part could be extra.” His greedy gaze lit up with hope.
“That’s all you get, kid,” Eve warned. “Don’t push your luck.”
“But he said—” the kid started to argue.
“He,” Eve interrupted, “doesn’t have a weapon.”
The kid backed off. “Whatever you say, lady.” J.T. got out on his side of the vehicle. He started in the direction of the Pier. Didn’t look back.
The van rolled away from the curb, passing him as it barreled forward.
“You’re making a mistake,” Eve shouted at his back.
He kept walking, refusing to spare even a backward glance.
She hustled up next to him. “You’re going with me, J.T.”
He didn’t slow his stride. “Not a chance.”
She stopped.
He kept walking.
The sound of a car door closing told him she’d gotten into one of the vehicles lining the curb.
Apparently she’d had a plan B. He hadn’t recognized the vehicle they’d left at the movie theater. Probably a rental. Who knew? He didn’t know her at all. Didn’t know what she liked…what she drove…that she had a fetish for guns.
Nothing.
He’d been a fool.
A few seconds later a car slowed on the street next to him. The passenger-side window powered down. “Get in the car, J.T.”
He ignored her order.
She braked hard, got out. “We’re wasting time,” she shouted over the top of the car. “Get in now!”
He hesitated, turned to stare at her. “Or what? You’ll shoot.” He sent a po
inted look at the weapon in her hand.
She didn’t immediately answer.
“So shoot.” He turned away and started forward again.
“Give me two hours,” she called after him. “I’ll explain everything.”
Something had changed in her voice. There was a desperation there…a fear…almost.
He shook his head, wasn’t going to be fooled by her again. Whatever she said, this couldn’t have anything to do with him.
And he was out of here.
“J.T., please. I need your help.”
His step faltered. He told himself to keep walking, but his feet failed him.
“Just hear me out,” she pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Fury pulsed in his jaw. He wanted to pretend the past couple of months had never happened. That he hadn’t met and fallen in love with her.
The men who’d shot at them…the chase…zoomed into vivid focus in his mind.
She was in trouble. Obviously. Whatever it was about, she needed help. He couldn’t deny that singular fact.
Nor could he deny another glaring fact.
He couldn’t just walk away and pretend he no longer cared.
He did care.
Damn him.
Mentally kicking himself for being a fool, he changed directions and strode up to the car waiting in the street. The sparse traffic glided around her, the other cars’ occupants likely assuming the two were in the midst of a lovers’ spat.
He stopped at the passenger door and stared at her across the car’s roof. “Two hours,” he confirmed. “You have two hours to explain yourself, and then I’m gone.”
She nodded, her blue eyes wide with worry. Her blond hair was still damp and clung to her face like tendrils of silk.
He said nothing more. Got into the car.
She settled behind the wheel and put the vehicle in Drive.
“Where are we going?”
She glanced at him before rolling forward. “Where we should have gone two weeks ago.”
He frowned. Two weeks ago they would have gone on…
Their honeymoon?
Chapter Five
Crystal Lake, 2:00 a.m.
Eve parked beneath the canopy of trees near the rented cabin. The lack of moonlight left them in darkness, which was just as well, since she was relatively sure she wouldn’t like what she saw in J.T.’s brown eyes.
He hadn’t said a word since they’d left Chicago. Almost an hour later, her nerves were completely frayed. So many times she’d wanted to kick off the conversation. Just get it over with. But she couldn’t take the risk. She’d needed him away from the city, and the danger, before she reopened communication.
This far out he wasn’t likely to walk away.
She’d taken his cell phone and wallet. Until she had him convinced of her theory, she needed him basically at her mercy.
Shooting him wasn’t an option.
She got out of the car, reached into the backseat and grabbed her bag and stalked to the cabin. The honeymoon arrangements had been her idea. Convincing J.T. to stay close to home after the wedding, owing to her work commitments, had been easy enough. She’d rented the cabin for a month, rather than the weekend she’d told him about. Having a backup plan was her motto. She never left home without one.
Digging the key from her soggy bag, she breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in weeks. Two to be exact.
But this was far from over.
“If this is a joke, I’m not amused.”
It wasn’t a joke and she wasn’t amused, either. This was about survival.
“We can talk inside.”
She pushed through the door and left it open. If she was lucky, he would follow without any additional persuasion.
But then—she flipped on a light and turned to wait for his entrance—she’d never been one to wait on luck. Her fingers itched to reach into her bag and grab the Glock, make this easy.
Easy wouldn’t work with J.T. He had to come around on his own terms. She’d learned that, if nothing else, in the couple of months they’d spent together.
Tall and gorgeous as ever, he loomed in the doorway, his T-shirt still damp and clinging to his chest. The bloody stain on his left sleeve a reminder that he’d been injured. She didn’t know all the details related to last night’s attack, but she was certain the incident had nothing to do with their situation. He’d mentioned the head of the Colby Agency’s grandchild. Maybe the injury had something to do with that.
Before she could stop herself, her gaze had traveled down the length of him. From his dark hair and eyes to the still-soggy trousers molded to his muscled thighs. Her pulse skipped in spite of her determination not to react to him physically. Apparently that wasn’t a facet of this situation she had under control just yet.
That was something else she’d learned recently. She wasn’t completely immune to certain…things.
And he was one of them.
Just when she thought maybe she might need her Glock after all, he stepped into the room and closed the door. Would wonders never cease?
He’d promised her two hours. The clock was ticking.
Eve tossed her bag onto the sofa and plowed her fingers through her hair. It was almost dry now, but it smelled like nasty harbor water. “There’s a change of clothes in the bedroom.” She nodded toward his arm. “You should probably shower and clean up that wound. I’ll make some coffee.”
He looked around the room. It was the perfect getaway. That was why she’d chosen it. The small but upscale kitchen with an intimate dining spot included a magnificent view of the trees and mountains surrounding them. A cozy living room with a fire-place—not that they would need it in July—comfy leather furniture, no distractions. No television, no VCR, no radio. Just a CD player with a collection of let’s-make-love music. And wine. She had made sure there was wine and food, along with a couple of changes of clothes. She knew his size…by heart.
“Then,” he said, that dark gaze colliding with hers, “I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to answer them. All of them.”
He gave her his back and headed for the only other room in the cabin: the bedroom suite. Jacuzzi tub, a shower large enough to dance in. And a massive king-size bed surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.
Not exactly your regular, everyday cabin.
This one was designed and furnished for making memories.
The forever kind.
Eve hadn’t made a forever kind of memory in her entire life.
Starting now would be a mistake.
J.T. PEELED THE BANDAGE from his biceps. Winced. A little bleeding from the physical exertion in the water, but he’d live.
He tossed the soiled bandage into the trash and stared at his reflection in the mirror. What the hell had Eve gotten herself into?
The better question was, what the hell was he doing in the middle of it?
He braced his hands on the counter and closed his eyes against the light. The water was running in the shower but it would have to wait. He badly needed to pull himself together here. She’d drugged him. He didn’t have to confirm his suspicion. The grogginess and slowed reactions were confirmation enough.
He’d lost an entire day of his life. That much he’d figured out. Ian had dropped him off at his place last night, technically night before last, since it was past midnight. Someone had attacked him in his own house. He remembered absolutely nothing after that until he woke up in the warehouse.
J.T. opened his eyes and grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head. If she had planned to drug him, why whack him on the head?
Just another question he intended to ask.
He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his clothes. His arm ached with the effort. Stepping into the shower, he embraced the hot water, which felt good pounding his flesh. He stood there and let it pour over him for a while. Until his tense muscles relaxed a bit.
Those moments when her lips had sealed across his kept replaying in his
mind. He’d missed her so much, even when he’d learned she wasn’t who he thought she was. The need to touch her again, to see her, still thrived in his veins—however hard he’d attempted to squelch the lingering need. Those long blond tresses…her toned body…and those blue eyes.
He shook his head, hating the fact that she could still make him want her so badly.
He didn’t even know who she was…where she’d come from…nothing.
She’d fooled him, used him for purposes still unknown to him.
This woman had stolen his firm grip on reality.
He needed answers.
Making fast work of washing his hair and his body, he quickly mentally prioritized the numerous questions he intended to ask.
As soon as he had his answers, he was out of here.
Whatever her game or her troubles, he would not be a part of any of it.
She could find some other guy to play the part of fool.
When he’d dried his skin, he checked out the clothes she’d supplied. Underwear. Socks. She’d planned this whole thing down to the last detail. The idea made him mad as hell all over again.
She’d said this was about him, but unless it involved the Colby Agency, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him.
He needed to contact the agency as soon as possible and bring them up to speed as to his whereabouts. He’d missed the all-hands briefing. Victoria would be wondering what had happened to him. The abduction attempt had been particularly hard on her.
If he discovered that this had anything to do with Victoria or her granddaughter, Eve would seriously regret the day she’d gotten involved with whoever was behind the Colby Agency’s troubles.
J.T. pulled on the boxers and jeans, then the T-shirt. He checked his biceps. No more bleeding. Another bandage would be nice, but—
A tap on the door jerked his attention in that direction. He plowed his fingers through his hair, took a breath, then opened the door.
She still wore the damp cami and jeans. Her hair was mostly dry. It hung around her shoulders as if she’d just awakened from a long night of…
Stop. Don’t go there.
“I thought you might need this.” She held out a first aid kit. “It’s a habit of mine.” She shrugged. “I always keep one in my vehicle.”