by Debra Webb
11:55 p.m.
“So.” Eve leaned back in the leather chair and surveyed the list of names she’d written on the cabin’s complimentary notepad. “We have Rebecca James, Damon Howe and Terrence Arenas. Arenas is dead. That leaves Howe and James. Would you lean more toward one of those names than the other?”
J.T. pushed off the sofa and started pacing. “Howe worked closest with Arenas. That puts him at the top of my list.”
Eve circled the man’s name. They’d gone over J.T.’s former colleagues and prioritized a list of who might be involved in this scam. He’d also organized a list of the big payout cases for the last two years he worked at Gold Coast Life. They’d narrowed down the addresses for each at the computer café. Only two names had multiple addresses. Tracking down the beneficiaries on that list wouldn’t be difficult or terribly time-consuming. The sooner they got started, the closer they would get to finding the truth.
The goal was to determine if any of those people had had experiences similar to Paula Jamison’s with collecting his or her death benefits. According to the insurance company’s records, the payouts to the beneficiaries had been for the face value of the policies. If the beneficiaries had received less than that amount, someone had pocketed the remainder.
“I could talk to Rebecca James,” J.T. said as he reclaimed his seat. “She and I were fairly close. Friends as well as colleagues. I still hear from her occasionally.”
“Really?” Eve dropped the list and the pen on the table next to her chair. Her gaze narrowed on him before she could censor the reaction. “Friends, you say? Does that mean the random lunch kind of friends? Or maybe you had the occasional drink after work?”
He picked up on her too keen interest. “Both.”
She tamped back the irrational reaction. “Good.” She cleared her throat. “That should make getting information easier.”
“Like—” he leaned forward, braced those muscular forearms on his knees and looked directly into her eyes “—an entry strategy.”
She emulated his posture. “Exactly.”
The stare down lasted several moments.
The anger he didn’t want her to see was written all over his handsome face just as the tinge of jealousy she’d allowed to peek through had been thick in her tone moments ago.
Why were they doing this to each other?
Why couldn’t she just walk away the way she’d always done before?
What the hell made this time—this man—different?
He schooled his expression. “I should check my voice mail. Since Victoria doesn’t have your other cell-phone number, she would not’ve been able to reach me if the agency learned anything new about the Cayman account allegedly set up in my name.”
Eve pulled her cell from her pocket and tossed it to him. “I need more caffeine.” Eve got up and stalked to the kitchen. What she really needed was a stiff drink. But that wouldn’t be smart. Considering her current inability to keep her thoughts and reactions conquered, the last thing she needed was her restraints loosened by alcohol.
Coffee would work for now.
When this was over, she was taking a couple of weeks some place far away and discreet to exorcise this guy from her head.
Then she would get back on track with a new assignment and a new outlook.
She set the coffeemaker to brew and turned back to where J.T. sat listening to his voice mails. She’d worked with good-looking men before, some every bit as handsome as J.T. How the hell had she let him get to her on any level?
As if the thought had telegraphed itself to him, he turned toward her. The wild look in his eyes, the absolute fear on his face, made her heart contract prematurely.
Something was wrong.
He closed the phone, his hands shaking. “My mother is in the hospital.”
Images of Ruth Baxley flashed in Eve’s mind. Proud, strong woman. “What happened?”
He crossed to the counter and shoved the phone at her. “Someone broke into the house, questioned her regarding my whereabouts then ransacked the place.”
A mixture of worry and anger exploded in her chest. “Is she okay? What’s the damage?” What bastard would go after an old woman like that?
“Concussion.” He snatched the keys to his SUV from where they’d landed near the sink. “A couple of cracked ribs.” He swore. “Damn it! This is my fault. I should have been protecting her. I should have seen this coming and put preventive measures in place.”
“Don’t be foolish, J.T. You had no idea they’d go after your mother.” He was going to the hospital. Not good. Not safe.
He headed for the door. “I’ll be back….”
“Wait.” Eve rounded the island that separated the kitchen from the living area. “This is what they want you to do. They’ll be watching the hospital. There’s no way to know what their next move is going to be. There are still too many unknowns to go in blindly. We have to act with caution.”
If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead on the spot. “I don’t give a damn about any of that. I’m all she’s got.” He glared at Eve. “She’s all I’ve got. A whole army couldn’t stop me from going.”
“I’m coming with you.” Eve dashed back to the coffeemaker and turned it off. She grabbed her bag and joined him at the door. “Someone needs to be watching your back.” She had learned the hard way that distraction could get a person killed faster than most anything else.
For a blip in time he stared at her…just stared. She wanted to say something like sorry or it’ll be okay. But the words couldn’t get past that lump in her throat. He was worried and scared and…confused.
Because of her.
She shouldn’t have cared.
Another mistake.
Mercy General, 1:00 a.m.
EVE BRACED FOR the elevator doors to open. She and J.T. had made it from the parking garage to the lobby without incident.
With tightened security measures she’d had no choice but to leave the Glock in the SUV. She felt defenseless, naked, without it.
The elevator bumped to a stop on the floor he’d selected. Eve held her breath as the doors glided open. She couldn’t readily identify any of the men who’d given chase, but one or more would be here.
No question. J.T. stepped out of the elevator, looked left first, then right, and then moved forward. Eve followed.
The long white corridor was quiet.
Hospitals and funeral homes were her least favorite places. The death of her parents had been intensely traumatizing to a seven-year-old child.
The door to Room 601 was protected by a man Eve recognized as one of J.T.’s Colby Agency associates. She couldn’t recall his name—Peter or Patrick, something like that.
“O’Brien,” J.T. said, acknowledging the man at the door.
Patrick O’Brien. Eve remembered now.
“She’s resting,” O’Brien said quietly. “You just missed Victoria. She’d been with her since she arrived at the E.R.”
J.T. patted the other man’s arm. “I appreciate your being here. And Victoria.”
O’Brien nodded. His glance at Eve was fleeting. He didn’t speak. She supposed everyone at the agency knew about her.
Why should she care?
As she followed J.T. into the room, she couldn’t slough off the sting.
Whether she should or not, she did care.
Eve stayed near the door as J.T. went to his mother’s bedside. The array of monitors beeped and hummed. A foreboding white bandage on the woman’s forehead looked stark against her dark hair. The right side of her face was bruised and puffy.
Eve’s throat constricted. This was her fault, too. She should never have taken this job.
Ruth Baxley had been nothing but kind to her…. And this was what she got for her trouble.
J.T. dragged the chair close to his mother’s bed and settled in. His long fingers wrapped around her small hand. The misery that was sculpted into every line and angle of his face ripped at Eve’s insides, ma
de her want to kill whoever had done this.
She felt as if she should say something. Apologize. Pray. Something. But there was nothing she could say or do to make this right.
This was wrong on an elemental level that shook her to the core.
As the minutes turned into hours, she stood there, unable to move, and watched J.T. silently grieve this wrong. He hovered over his injured mother as if his mere presence would somehow heal her, make her comfortable at the very least.
At one point the poor woman opened her eyes. Her lips trembled into a smile. J.T. kissed her cheek, murmured softly to her. Fragile whimpers echoed across the room, screaming of the pain and the fear his mother suffered still. She’d lost her husband last year. The man who’d been her high-school sweetheart, who’d loved her for more than three decades.
Now she was alone except for her son.
And someone was trying to take him, too, away from her.
Eve tried to swallow and blinked at the sting in her eyes. The primal human emotions that played out before her were foreign to her. She had never had that kind of relationship with anyone. Not a single living soul.
Well, maybe when she was a little kid. She scarcely remembered those normal years.
Her mother and father had been killed in a car crash when she was seven. She recalled vividly standing in the cemetery at their graveside services. Snow had been a foot deep on the ground. She’d been so cold. And alone. A neighbor had held her hand. No siblings, no other family except for an aunt in Phoenix—a million miles away from Winnetka. The aunt hadn’t bothered to fly in for the funeral. She did manage to show up at the airport in Phoenix when Eve arrived.
Everything had changed that day.
The heat of Arizona…the indifference of her crazy aunt.
Her childhood had ended that day in the cemetery.
Her aunt had declared that to earn her room and board, Eve would cook and clean. By the time Eve had turned ten, her aunt had been selling pictures of her to any pervert who’d cough up the cash. The Internet came next. Eve had been a star of more than one site by the time she was twelve years old.
Then she’d run away.
At thirteen she’d decided that living on the streets was better than living with her drunken aunt and her perverted friends.
Men had been a means to an end. Food, clothing or shelter. Nothing more. She’d learned how to con anything out of anyone without getting emotionally involved.
She hadn’t been to school on a regular basis since she was eleven, so she’d taught herself. With all she knew, she could easily be a university graduate with a degree in foreign and domestic affairs.
But she didn’t have a degree in anything but survival.
A nurse came in, jolting Eve out of her miserable musings.
She checked Ruth’s vitals and conferred with J.T.
Eve stayed out of the way. Just watched and wondered what it would have been like to be loved that way.
5:35 a.m.
J.T. LOWERED HIS mother’s hand to the bed and covered it with the sheet. She was sleeping again. He’d told her that he would need to leave soon but would be back. She’d been beside herself with worry for him. She’d kept saying that during the intrusion into her home and the beating that followed, all she could think about was whether J.T. was safe.
He would get those bastards. Whoever was responsible for this would pay dearly.
Eve still lingered around the door. She hadn’t said a word since they’d come into the room.
Part of his anger and frustration included her. He was so furious with her for allowing this to play out. He wanted to lash out. To shake the hell out of her for not telling him sooner so he could have headed all of this off before it escalated.
And at the same time he wanted to hold her. To keep her safe, too.
Who the hell was she that she could ram into his life, steal a big hunk of him and then turn out to be a stranger? Damn it.
He still didn’t even know her name.
He kissed his mother once more on the cheek. Time to go.
He would find who was behind all of this, starting with Rebecca James.
He considered that plan of action for a moment. No, first he needed to track down some of the folks on the list. He needed to confirm the scenario he suspected. One client’s story wasn’t enough.
Then he would go to Rebecca and enlist her help in uncovering those behind this scam.
Eve’s gaze shot to his as he turned and started for the door.
“Time to tackle that list.”
Eve glanced at his mother and then back at him. “We’ll need to take a back way out of here. They’ll be watching.”
He nodded. “I have a plan.”
Outside the room, J.T. huddled with O’Brien. They shared one of those “man hugs.” Eve hadn’t realized the two were so close.
J.T. motioned for her to follow him. As they moved down the corridor, everyone they encountered became a suspect. Since visiting hours hadn’t begun, only hospital personnel appeared to be on the floor. But Eve understood that uniforms and badges didn’t mean the people they met weren’t imposters.
Keeping a close eye on the corridor behind them, as well as each door they passed, she followed J.T. through the door marked Linens.
“Stay here.” He took a look outside the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait,” Eve argued. “What’re you—?”
Too late. He was out the door.
She paced the small room, working herself into a ball of frustration by the time he returned.
He closed the door behind him and started to strip off his clothes.
“What…?” Then she saw the scrubs in his hand. “I see.” She nodded. “Good plan.”
“I know.” He dragged on the scrub pants with her watching like a naive schoolgirl. “O’Brien slipped his keys into my pocket. We’ll take his car.”
So that was what the hug was about. “Good thinking.” If he said I know again, she was going to deck him.
When he’d pulled on the scrub top, he gestured to a buggy full of soiled linens. “Climb in and cover yourself up.”
She made a face. But then again, she’d been in worse places. Following his orders, she burrowed deep into the buggy and piled the dirty linens over her head. J.T. shoved his discarded clothes into the buggy with her. The enemy would be looking for the two of them—not a lone hospital employee.
The buggy bumped into motion. The going was smoother when they were in the corridor. She couldn’t see a damned thing.
J.T. exchanged good mornings with those he passed in the corridor. Eve tried not to breathe too deeply. But if this ruse got them out of here, it would’ve been worth the stinky ride.
She felt the buggy’s wheels bump over the elevator door guides. Though she wasn’t privy to J.T.’s plan, she imagined he would take the elevator to the basement and attempt an exit from there.
The elevator stopped several times. The sound of people loading and unloading, chatting about the coming workday, lulled Eve. She was tired. No sleep was bad for one’s reactions.
When the elevator bumped to a stop for the last time, she felt the buggy move out the open doors.
“Wait until I give you the word,” J.T. murmured.
More bumping and rolling. Finally the buggy stopped.
“Give me a minute.” He reached into the buggy for his clothes.
Now he was being modest?
He tapped the buggy. “Come on.”
She unburied herself and stood. He offered his hand while she climbed out. Eve righted her clothes and smoothed her hair.
“What now?”
“There’s a maintenance exit over there.” He indicated the west end of the basement. “O’Brien’s car is parked in the E.R. visitor’s lot.”
That meant a walk around the building.
At this hour they would no longer have the cover of darkness. Speed and caution would be necessary.
J.T. hesitated at the
exit. “If we run into trouble, take cover and call 9-1-1. I’ll try and keep them distracted.”
Eve gawked at him. “Why don’t you take cover and call 9-1-1? I can keep them distracted as well as you can.”
“Are we really going to argue about this?”
The determination on his face told her he wasn’t budging. “Whatever.” She would call 9-1-1 all right, but then she would do what needed to be done.
Once outside, they weaved carefully between cars, moving toward the other end of the property.
J.T. stopped next to a minivan. He nodded in the direction of his SUV. To the right, a couple spaces over and behind the SUV, a dark sedan had parked. Two men waited inside. The sedan had been backed into the spot for a quick exit.
“I can’t get the Glock.” Eve needed her weapon. J.T. couldn’t exactly go back to his house for his.
“We’ll come back for it.”
Yeah, yeah. But what about the meantime?
Keeping low, they made their way to the E.R. end of the building. They weren’t likely to be spotted leaving from a good distance from where the SUV was parked.
In O’Brien’s car, she turned to J.T. “Where to first?”
“I thought we’d go down the list, see if we can confirm a pattern.”
“Before going to see your friend Rebecca?”
She cringed when his expression reflected the idea that he’d once again picked up on her dislike of the concept that he had a friend named Rebecca.
Amazingly dumb.
Eve scooted low in the seat as they exited the E.R. parking area, just in case any attention was directed at all departing vehicles. They would expect two passengers. She needed them to see only one.
When J.T. gave the all-clear sign, she scooted back into the seat and tugged on her seat belt.
“Sorry about your mom.” She meant that. She also needed to shift the subject away from Rebecca what’s-her-name.
“Me, too.”
They drove in silence for a minute or so.
“I’ve been thinking,” J.T. said abruptly.
She shifted her attention to his profile. “And?”
“There’s no reason for your continued involvement in this situation. I can drop you off….”
That he didn’t look at her told her this was the it’s-over-get-lost moment.