“What about Lockhart?” asked Jed. “We can’t just turn her loose, she’s wanted for murder. Even if the truth comes out the cartel still wants her dead for reasons unknown.”
Audrey was definitely in danger. “We have to assume either Brightman or the cartel masterminded this whole thing, or they’re working together. We need more people on them. See if there’s a connection between Gómez and Brightman.” Killion scrubbed his face. “Did you check the phone records of those two detectives?”
“Yeah.” Jed sounded like he was working on a computer now. “Detective Torres called a burner cell located out the outskirts of Bogota. Parker is trying to pin it down because that same burner cell was used to call a number in Kentucky. The burner is now turned off and if the person they called has half a brain they’ll have ditched it.”
“Keep monitoring it. Plenty of smart people do stupid things.” He thought of all the things he wanted to do to Dr. Lockhart even though she didn’t have a clue. Smart people. Stupid things.
He mentally kicked himself. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone under his care and supervision. The situation had changed.
“We’re gonna need documentation to get back into the country. We’ll stash Audrey in a safe house somewhere. As long as no one spots her arriving she should be safe until we catch up with the guy pulling the strings.”
“It’s going to take a while to set up transportation if we want to keep this below the radar. Unless those Brit friends of yours can give you another ride? Chatter is someone took out some terrorists who hijacked a vessel heading toward the Panama Canal. Think that was them?”
Killion smiled. “If it wasn’t us, it was them. But I’m not pulling them back into this unless we have to.” He wasn’t jeopardizing their base of operations in Colombia. There were other ways to move around that raised less red flags than dead of night helo flights. His reluctance had nothing to do with the way Noah had looked at Audrey back in Cartagena. “Know anyone with a boat?”
Jed laughed. “It’s only thirty nautical miles to the nearest airstrip. You could swim over and steal another plane. All very Indiana Jones by the way.”
Killion rolled his eyes at the ribbing.
“It’s going to be forty-eight hours before we can get a chopper out there,” said Jed. “I just texted Parker. His security firm is all tied up, helping us out on a case in upstate New York. Unless you want to bring in someone else?”
“No.” The risk of someone blabbing about Audrey’s identity was too great, especially with her face on every newspaper in South America.
“Think of it as a weekend—remember them?” said Jed.
Killion ignored him. “How’s Frazer?”
“Getting better. He arrested the serial killer and got the girl this time.”
“He’s definitely keeping her?”
“Looks that way.”
Killion grunted.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“That’s what?” Killion growled.
“The problem I can hear in your surly tone. You like her. You like Dr. Audrey Lockhart and spending time alone with her is scaring the shit out of you.”
“Fuck. Off.”
“Not your usual type, buddy. She’s got that nerdy thing going for her.”
“Up until ten minutes ago I thought she might still be a cold blooded killer.”
“Which made the attraction safe because you’d never betray a mission.” Killion was flattered for all of a millisecond. “Now you’re trying to run away as fast as you can.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Hey, that’s your job.”
“Bite me.” Killion hung up and closed his eyes. Dammit. He hated that Jed was right. This was why he worked alone. It was much easier alone.
* * *
AUDREY LAY IN bed staring at the streaks of sunlight playing over the ceiling. She was so mad at herself. She’d had Patrick Killion at her mercy last night but she’d managed to blow it by breaking down like some pathetic weenie. There was a knock on the door and the man himself opened it wide and stood wearing jeans, a faded blue T-shirt and sun block, which she could smell clear across the room.
“Time for some PT, Lockhart.”
She hadn’t been sure how he’d react after she’d pointed his gun at him last night. The kiss he’d placed on her forehead had been unexpected, and sweet. It made her uneasy now—too gentle, too tender—reminding her of the fact he’d taken care of her when she was sick, and rescued her when she would have otherwise died.
A hero.
Their dynamic had changed, but he was still an operator on a mission, doing dangerous things on behalf of his country. And she was still a frog biologist.
Even if he was a government agent, James Bond did not live happily-ever-after. When he did fall in love, the woman generally died a painful graphic death, and she had no intention of dying for at least another seventy years. And she couldn’t afford to believe she was anything other than a job to a man like this—no matter how “sweet” those tender little kisses were, or how they made her heart squeeze.
Audrey pushed herself up in the bed and winced as the healing skin on her side tugged. “I don’t think I’m ready for sit-ups just yet.” But she was fed up of lying around like a slug.
He grinned and she was startled by how much younger he looked. How less world-weary.
“How about a swim?” he suggested.
The idea of getting into the ocean was appealing, but there was a problem. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
He went over to the drawers and started searching through them until he came back with two turquoise pieces of string. “Unluckily for me this looks like it might fit.” He spread the triangle of material over his own chest.
“I’ve seen bigger post-it notes.” She leaned forward and snatched it out of his grasp. “I can’t believe they let you loose with a gun.” She cocked a brow. “And what are you wearing?”
His mouth twisted. “Seriously? There’s no one around for miles, and, trust me, not even the most advanced military satellite system can spot a man’s dick from space.”
She raised another brow at him, and he pushed out a heavy sigh. He went to the other side of the room and dug into another set of drawers. Whipped out a pair of red board shorts. “These big enough to preserve your modesty?” He quirked a brow back at her.
“Only if you can squeeze them over your ego.”
The smile got hot and dangerous. “I do have a big ego.”
“No kidding.” She slung a pillow at him, clutching her side as much to stop laughing as to stop from hurting herself. “Out.”
He looked genuinely pained. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve seen you naked—three, maybe four times if we count—”
“This is not helping your cause.”
“Hey”—he hung onto the doorframe, clearly reluctant to leave—“what kind of costumes do frogs wear on Halloween?”
“You really think there’s a frog joke I haven’t heard? Jumpsuits. Ha ha.”
His eyes got a wicked gleam in them. “What did one lesbian frog say to the other?”
She shook her head. “Lesbian frog?” The guy was incorrigible. “Fine. I don’t know, what did one lesbian frog say to the other?”
His smile was pure devilry. “They’re right. We do taste like chicken.”
Oh. My. God.
Heat rushed through her in a wave that had nothing to do with terrible frog jokes and everything to do with the way Patrick Killion was looking at her—like tasting her was on today’s menu. Thankfully he left before her knees went weak and she dropped back onto the bed.
Would he have taken that as an invitation? Probably.
And for the life of her she couldn’t quite remember why she was supposed to say no.
Chapter Eleven
AUDREY MADE QUICK use of the bathroom and smoothed the sunblock she found in the cupboard over every inch of her pale skin. She pulled on the bikini that w
as a little loose but felt like it might stay in place if she tied the laces super tight. She removed her bandage and checked the wound. No inflammation or pain. The skin itched beneath the flaky scab, which was a good sign. The stitches should fall out on their own soon. Ugly as hell, and a vivid reminder that she’d almost died.
She left the bandage off to air the wound. Grabbed a big beach towel out of the bathroom and wrapped it around herself. Then she headed into the living room.
Killion was in the kitchen, wearing nothing but the low-slung board shorts. His washboard abs had a thin smattering of golden hair that arrowed down from his navel and looked like it would be fun to follow.
She watched him as he packed stuff out of the fridge—food, water bottles. She hadn’t hung out with a guy who looked this in shape since she’d dated a lacrosse player during her freshman year in college. The guy had turned out to be a jerk, but as far as eye candy went… She pushed the thought out of her head. Killion was a dangerous operative. He kept in shape to steal airplanes and seduce information out of unsuspecting women.
She bet he was good at it, too.
The atmosphere had shifted from captor and captive to something a lot more friendly. A lot more. Either he was playing her, or last night’s ineptitude with the gun had finally persuaded him she wasn’t the hit woman he was looking for.
She hoped it was the latter, but didn’t really know why it mattered. She was stuck on this island regardless.
He handed her a glass of cold milk. “Did you know people froze milk?”
She blinked. What? “Sure.” She took a sip and it was delicious. She tipped it back and drank the whole glass.
“I didn’t.”
“So you’ve learned something new on this adventure. Not a complete bust after all.”
He stared at her intently and said nothing. Then his gaze lowered to the towel, putting her under the microscope again. “Why are you so self-conscious about your body?”
She tugged the knot higher. “I’m not.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be.” He pointed toward some flip-flops near the door. “Put those on.” Then he grinned again. “Do you remember when we stole that plane?”
We?
“You were out of it, but you told me even gorgeous women worry about not being perfect, whereas us fat ugly dudes think we’re sex on a stick?”
He was sex on a stick, and he knew it. “It’s a bit blurry, but it sounds like something I might say.”
“Oh, you said it.” He draped a pink towel around his neck and strapped the bag of supplies over his back. A proper boy scout. “And you kept going on about some guy called Dean Winchester.”
Her face heated. “I did not.” The fact she had a crush on the actor was not something she advertised.
He guided her out the door and closed it. It locked behind them. Talk about security conscious.
“You did. So I looked him up online when we were in Cartagena. You’re a Supernatural fan, and you like blonds.” He said it with such a self-satisfied grin she wanted to smack him.
“No,” she corrected him. “I like specific people, not generalized swathes of the population.”
The path was steep, and she was already feeling tired just looking at it. Still, she wouldn’t get stronger if she didn’t push herself. Then she yelped in surprise as Killion swung her up into his arms—again. Her fingers curled over his heart. No shirt to hold onto this time, just sleek hot muscle.
She swallowed nervously and raised her eyes to meet his. “I can walk you know.”
It felt weird to touch him skin on skin. Intimate. Considering the complicated nature of their relationship, she probably shouldn’t enjoy feeling the beat of his heart against her palm, but she did.
“A day ago, Professor, I didn’t even know if you were going to make it through the night. Swimming was my idea, but let’s take it slow, okay? I don’t want you to suffer a relapse. Anyway, you can carry me back.” His grin told her he knew the effect he was having on her libido.
She sighed.
It didn’t seem fair that he held all the aces. She was hardly some simpering female, but she was completely out of her element.
The blue eyes were serious for a moment, and his face was a lot closer to hers than she’d realized. His gaze dropped to her lips. There was attraction there, but she didn’t know how real it was.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
Maybe it didn’t have to be real. Maybe until she found her way back to civilization she should just take advantage and enjoy herself…
“So what happens next?” she asked rather breathlessly.
“We need to wait for transportation to the mainland and then you need to lay low until I can figure out who set you up and why Mano de Dios tried to kill you.”
“So you finally believe me?”
He nodded.
And because he didn’t try to elaborate, she actually believed him.
“That could take months.” She had a job, a life.
“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. “We’ll figure this out. The most important thing is you’re safe. The frogs will wait.” His arms squeezed her tighter against his chest and, even though she didn’t necessarily agree, she didn’t argue.
They followed the dirt path, passing under the dappled canopy of deciduous trees and coconut palms. A lizard darted into the bush, but it moved too fast for her to be able to identify it.
“It might take a day, a week, or a month. But I will get them and I’ll figure out a way to clear your name,” he murmured, almost to himself.
A lump formed in her throat. This man had saved her life even when he’d thought she was a killer. Despite everything, she realized, subconsciously she’d always trusted him. “I guess I owe you my life. I’m sorry I pointed your gun at you last night.”
“If I’d been in your position I’d have shot me days ago.” His irreverent grin made her pulse skip. “Just don’t do it again. And next time I say skinny-dipping we go skinny-dipping. Got it?”
“You are incorrigible.”
“Clothes are overrated,” he insisted.
“Stubbornness is a flaw, you know that?” He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it. “As is always needing to win an argument.”
He shook his head. “Jensen Ackles. Unbelievable.”
She grinned. “He’s hot. You’re jealous.”
“We’ve been over this.” Finally at the bottom of the steep hill Killion placed her carefully on her feet. Then he took her hand and she couldn’t remember the last time a man had been this considerate. She should get abducted more often. “Beach is just around this corner,” he said. “Come on.”
As suddenly as he started walking, he stopped and raised his free hand in warning. A snatch of sound drifted on the breeze. Voices.
Her eyes shot to his. From the tension in his grip they weren’t expecting visitors. He put his finger to his lips and spoke just above a whisper. “Could be day-trippers taking advantage of an empty private beach. Or it could be bad news. Let’s assume the worst.” He slipped off the backpack and retrieved his weapon, drawing her deeper into the shadows of the trees.
“We need to lose this.” He tugged the white towel off her shoulders and balled it up and stuffed it under a bush, sweeping dust and dirt over the top. He didn’t comment on her bikini, but his eyes went to her stab wound. He draped his dusky pink towel over her shoulders and gave her a tight smile. “Healing nicely. Now keep completely still. Movement attracts the eye.”
The voices seemed to be getting closer—men creeping along the path speaking Spanish. Killion drew her behind a large palm tree. Him facing the path, covering her with his body. They were hidden in dappled shade beneath dense coconut palms. Hard to spot unless someone was actively looking for them. The sound of a weapon being cocked sent a spark of fear straight through Audrey and she startled. Killion pressed his body more firmly against hers in warning. Out of the corner of her eyes she counted six men inching furtively along the trail.
>
“Okay. Plan B.” His words were a brush of air against her ear. “You okay?” he asked when the men were out of sight.
His fingers gripped her upper arm, and she realized she was shaking. She looked up at him. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“That’s my girl.” He took her hand and led her through the woods so they could see the beach from the safety of the trees. A guy sat in the sand guarding a small inflatable boat that had been pulled up out of the surf.
“Wait here.”
She sat motionless, crouched in the bushes, feeling pathetic and needy. All these years she’d preached equality, but she wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain. But she was a biologist, not some government agent or member of a criminal gang. She’d hinder rather than help if she started giving Killion orders.
He was back. “There’s a fishing boat anchored just offshore. How far do you think you can swim?”
“Normally I can swim for at least a mile, but…” She held out her fingers, which were trembling “…I don’t have a lot of strength, so it depends on how strong the current is.”
From the tight expression on his face the currents were pretty strong. “Plan C. Give me ninety-seconds to get around the other side of the beach and then you drop into the surf when the guy isn’t looking. Stroll up onto the beach as if you’ve just come in from a long swim. I need you to deliberately draw his attention to you and away from me. Take off your top.”
“Seriously?”
“Trust me. All I need is a five-second distraction and your breasts will get me that.”
She instinctively held her hands over her boobs. Her cheeks were hot, but she could do this. Hopefully. “How should I act? Sophisticated or shy?”
“Men are idiots, so a little strutting would probably work best. But it doesn’t matter. He won’t notice anything except for your body. Not at first.”
And then he was gone.
Shit. Audrey couldn’t do this. She was not a Bond girl. She looked down at her chest. She was a shy person. Private.
Crap. She was supposed to be counting.
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