by Lori Wilde
Once upon a time he’d viewed working for the Lockhart Agency his dream job—never in one place long, exotic cities, beautiful women, danger and intrigue. Now he was surprised to find the prospect no longer excited him. He was tired of rambling. He’d seen the exotic cities, he’d had more than his share of beautiful women and, to be honest, the incidents of danger and intrigue were few and far between. Mostly, he was there as a deterrent to trouble. Mostly, his job consisted of just watching people and observing behavior. That was fine for someone like Jake, whose natural temperament ran that way. But Quint was a people person. He liked action and adventure and good times, and he liked sharing his expertise with others. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be an air marshal. He sure hadn’t done much toward catching the person who was trying to sabotage Taylor Milton’s resorts.
“Jorgie,” he said, then stopped, not sure what he’d intended on saying.
She turned to look at him. The morning sun slanted across her face, casting her in a soft glow. She smiled and his heart did an odd little two-step. “It’s okay, Quint, I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?” How was that possible when he didn’t know what he was going to say?
“I had a good time with you, but that’s all it was. A good time.”
“Um, right,” he said, not because that was what he was feeling, but it was what she seemed to expect. “So you don’t regret it?”
“Not at all. You’ve given me some great vacation memories.” Her smile brightened at the same time his heart sunk.
“That’s good,” he lied. It did not feel the least bit good.
They stared at each other, the air practically quivering between them as they stood among the ancient ruins. Silence roared in his ears.
And all he wanted to do was kiss her again. Brand her with his mouth. Lick the hot pulse pounding at the hollow of her throat. But she crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her eyes.
He wanted to say something that would change everything, but suddenly he felt claustrophobic, as if the island were shrinking and the lagoon were rising and there was nowhere to run.
“Ahoy!” a man’s voice called out in the distance. It came from the beach. “Quint? You out there? Can you hear me?”
Jorgie raised her head. He saw relief in her eyes. “Sounds like we’re being rescued.”
15
Betrayal is an inevitable consequence of love
—Make Love Like Casanova
IT HAD TAKEN a long time for Frank Lavoy, the head of security at Eros, to realize Quint was missing. For one thing, the boat they’d taken out had ended up back at the resort, neatly tied to the dock as if they’d brought it back safe and sound. For another thing, Taylor Milton had called to say she was on her way back to the villa to check out the problems they’d had with the blackout.
That was when Frank had repeatedly called Quint’s cell phone and gotten his voice mail. After several hours, his suspicions had been raised and he’d gone in search of him. Even that hadn’t clued him in until he’d gone looking for Jorgie, as well, and been unable to find her. That’s when Frank had sent out two of his men to the island.The two members of the security staff, Mario and Gianni, explained all of this while Quint and Jorgie tucked into the pastries and hot coffee they’d brought with them. One important detail stuck in Quint’s head. Taylor was on her way to Venice while he’d been MIA with Jorgie. She was scheduled to arrive at any time.
Guilt bit into him. He’d fallen down on the job. He knew he shouldn’t have gone on the picnic with Jorgie, but he’d been unable to help himself. She’d bewitched him, this innocent-looking girl next door with a deliciously wicked side. And he was going to have to pay the price, but, man, what a glorious way to fall.
He smiled just thinking about what they’d done. Whatever punishment he received, she was worth it.
They reached the resort forty minutes after Mario and Gianni rescued them. Frank was pacing the cobblestones, looking concerned. He had Jorgie’s bag tucked under his arm and he gave it to her as they came ashore.
Jorgie thanked Frank, smiled and waved to Quint, and took off inside. He wanted to go with her, but Frank clamped a hand on his shoulder.
“Damn, I’m glad you’re okay,” Frank said. “What happened?”
Quickly, Quint told him what had transpired on the island the previous day in regard to the boat going missing. He rummaged through the picnic basket for the severed rope and passed it over to head of resort security.
“It was cut,” Frank said flatly.
“Yep.”
“Someone wanted to make sure you were stranded and kept out of the way.”
“Looks like it. Did anything happen last night while I was out of commission?”
Frank shook his head. “Nothing I’m aware of.”
Quint stroked his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “This is fishy.”
“It is.”
“How are things this morning?”
“Quiet. It’s Sunday. Most people are sleeping in or they’re at the festival in the Piazza San Marco.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Like there’s more sabotage in the offing.”
“Me, too. I called in everyone on their day off. We’re loaded for bear.”
“That’s good. When’s Taylor scheduled to arrive?”
Frank consulted his watch. “Within the next hour.”
“With all your staff on board that gives us just enough time to do a sweep of the place.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” Frank asked.
Quint met his gaze. “Any and all signs of trouble.”
WHILE QUINT WAS TALKING to Frank, Jorgie entered the lobby just as her cell phone rang. She was tempted to let it go to voice mail and call Avery back later, but she wanted to tell her what had happened on the island and get her advice on how to handle her feelings. She plunked down on a plush sofa in the lobby and flipped open her phone. A quick glance inside her bag told her that all her belongings were intact. “What time is it in L.A?” she asked, instead of saying hello.
“I’m nine hours behind you,” Avery answered.“So it’s after midnight where you are. What’s up?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
She could hear something different in her friend’s voice. Something reverential, sacred. “What’s happened?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.”
“I’m in love,” Avery squeaked.
That was the last thing on earth Jorgie ever expected her friend to say. “What?”
“Oh, Jorgie, I never knew it could feel this way. It’s wonderful, breathtaking. I feel like a new person. I feel like the world is wide-open with possibilities. I feel…” She paused, inhaled audibly. “I feel so much I can’t express it all.”
Jorgie bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She knew how it felt, too. Except her joy was colored with darkness because she knew she loved in vain. “What’s his name?” she asked, trying to be happy for her friend even though her world was crumbling.
“It’s Jake, and he’s magnificent.” Then she was off, chatting rapidly about the Eros cameraman who’d captured her heart. “So how are things with you and Quint?” Avery finally asked.
“Fine,” Jorgie said, no longer wanting to ask Avery how she handled casual sex that had backfired miserably.
“Did you guys hook up?”
“We did.”
“How do you feel?”
A mass of emotions tangled up in Jorgie like short-circuiting wires. She didn’t think she could talk about it without crying. “Look, Avery, can I call you back?”
“Sure, sure, but make it much later. I’m going back to bed and waking Jake up for another round of red-hot sex.”
“Enjoy yourself.”
“You know I will.”
“Good night,” Jorgie murmured, and hung up the phone. She stuffed it back into her tote, grabbed her key card from the side pocket of the ba
g and headed for her room. She couldn’t wait to get into the shower, where she could have a good, long, hot, wet sobfest.
Jorgie was so into her mental merry-go-round she wasn’t paying much attention when she slipped her key card through the lock-release mechanism in the door handle. She barely had the door open. Her head was down and she didn’t see the danger lurking.
One minute she was on her feet thinking about Quint and her life and the fork in the road she was facing and suddenly…bam! She was lying on the cool marble tile watching someone dressed all in black and wearing a black ski mask step over her body and sprint out the door.
It took a second or two for her mind to register what had just happened.
Someone had been in her room.
She lay there on the floor, head throbbing, fear pressing down hard on her lungs, squeezing out the delayed sound of the scream she hadn’t even known she’d screamed.
JORGIE!
Quint was headed for the elevators when he heard the scream that chilled his blood, and he just knew it was Jorgie. Something terrible must have happened to her.Get to her now.
Immediately, instinct and training had him rushing for the hallway just as a figure in black barreled past him and ran into the lobby. Several of the guests gasped and muttered words of exclamation as the person spun through the crowd lined up for the registration desk.
Normally, Quint would have instantly given chase, but one thought gave him pause. Jorgie might be hurt and needing him. For a split second he hung on the horns of indecision. Go after the suspicious-looking character in black or make sure Jorgie was okay?
Assuming the person in the ski mask had indeed assaulted Jorgie, then if he was down here he could do her no more harm. But what if he’d already hurt her?
“Stop!” Quint commanded.
To his surprise, the figure in black halted, but only for a fleeting moment. Then the person turned and fled through the side door, knocking over an elderly woman in the process.
Quint’s instincts urged him to give chase. Cops and robbers had been his favorite game as a child. But the thought of Jorgie lying hurt and bleeding obscured everything else.
He’d never been in a position like this. Having to choose duty over a loved one.
Loved one. The words etched into his brain.
If he hurried he could catch the guy. Move, go.
He wished he had his duty weapon. He’d left it behind when he’d gone on the picnic with Jorgie. Another dumb move in a long line of dumb moves.
Quint charged back toward Jorgie’s room. He should have gone to her immediately. If anything had happened to her he’d never forgive himself. Catching the saboteur was incidental when compared to her safety. Her door was closed. Fear knotted his throat.
“Jorgie!” He pounded furiously.
She wrenched the door open so quickly, he tumbled forward, staggering across the threshold. Her eyes were wide, her bottom lip trembling. In an instant he saw what troubled her. The room was trashed. Her clothes strewn about, drawers pulled open, the covers stripped from the bed.
“A ma-man,” she stammered, “was in my room.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She nodded mutely.
Now he raced to the lobby, flew out the side door and burst out onto the narrow. He stopped, looked right, then left. Which way had the intruder gone?
If he went right, the walkway circled back around to the front entrance of the resort. Frank’s men, Mario and Gianni, were stationed out there. The intruder would head left toward the Piazza San Marco, where he could shed his ski mask and quickly be lost in the crowd of tourists.
Just as he thought it, he spied a black ski mask hanging half out of a trash receptacle. He stopped long enough to grab it and stuff it into his back pocket. His optimism plummeted, but he kept running, hoping against hope that somehow he could find the man. He elbowed aside a pack of teens engaged in horseplay and dodged a man on stilts juggling orange glowing balls. The air was ripe with Sunday-morning-in-Venice-during-tourist-season smells—fresh baked bread, roasted turkey legs, spicy steak-on-a-stick.
Across the piazza he spied a man in black moving swiftly through the throng and Quint’s gut told him that was his quarry. The years he’d spent in Venice gave him an advantage. The man was headed for a church, aiming to slip through it to the waterway beyond, but Quint knew a shortcut. He turned back the way he’d come, slipping down a narrow side street that exited on the other side of the church. Fewer people were here. It was easier to run.
He reached the canal on the other side of the piazza just as the man emerged from the church, heading in the opposite direction from Quint. He poured on the leg power, running as fast as he could.
The intruder wasn’t expecting it, but he must have heard Quint’s footsteps because he started running, too. But he was too late. Like a cheetah bringing down a gazelle, Quint was on him, grabbing the man around the shoulders, taking him to the ground. The force of the momentum sent them both flying and they stopped on the edge of the street, inches from falling into the canal. Quint drew back his fist, ready to fight if the guy was so inclined.
“Don’t hit me, don’t hit me.” The man raised his hands to shield his face.
Quint stopped. He knew him.
It was Joe Vincent from his Casanova class.
QUINT HAULED Joe back to the resort by the scruff of his neck. They were at the front door just as Taylor Milton and Dougal disembarked from their vaporetto. “Here’s your saboteur,” he announced.
Cool as always, Taylor simply raised an eyebrow. “Good job, Mr. Mason.”They stepped into the lobby to a chorus of complaints. People were at the front desk, angry because their rooms had been ransacked. Quint spied Jorgie in line; her pale face turned his stomach. It was all he could do not to go to her. Her eyes widened when she saw he had handcuffs on Joe Vincent.
“Give me a second, fellows,” Taylor said, and stopped by the desk. “Everyone whose room has been ransacked will get a voucher for a free Eros vacation.”
A cheer went up from the disgruntled group and all the grumbling stopped.
She nodded to Quint and Dougal. “This way.”
They hustled Joe Vincent into the office Taylor used when she was in town.
“Have a seat,” Dougal said, and shoved Joe none too gently into the chair across from Taylor’s desk.
Quint told them what had happened.
“You can’t prove nothin’,” Joe said petulantly.
He tried to get to his feet, but Quint planted him back in his chair. “We’ve got the ski mask with your DNA on it and we have a witness who caught you coming out of her room. You might as well come clean.”
Taylor leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingertips and shot him a steady glare. “Why have you been sabotaging my resorts, Mr. Vincent?”
Joe said nothing.
“This is serious business,” she said. “That bomb in Japan could have hurt someone if it had gone off.”
“Hey,” Joe snarled, “that wasn’t me.”
“But the incidents here in Venice?” Taylor waved a hand at their surroundings. “That was you?”
Joe just shrugged.
“And the threatening letters and e-mail?”
He shook his head.
“Are you working for someone else?” Dougal asked.
Joe said nothing, but sweat beaded his forehead.
“Okay, if you want to go down for someone else’s crime, fine by me. I’ll call the local police.” Dougal picked up the receiver.
“Wait.”
Dougal paused.
“I’m just the hired help,” Joe admitted. “I get instructions, I do what I’m told.”
“Who hired you?” Taylor demanded, getting to her feet and splaying her palms on the desk. She looked pretty damn formidable.
“I want full immunity,” Joe said. “I tell you who hired me and I walk.”
Dougal looked at Taylor and nodded. Taylor sat
back down. “Very well. If we can validate your accusation and you agree to testify against the person who hired you, I won’t press charges. But I want a name and I want it now.”
Joe swallowed, nodded. “Okay.”
“The name?” Taylor crooked her finger in a cough-it-up gesture.
“General Charles Miller.”
Taylor blinked. A flicker of surprise passed over her face but she quickly recovered. “Cut the crap.”
“I’m not kidding,” Joe said, then he rattled off the times and places he’d been contacted by the general and the things he’d been asked to do. “He hired other people for the other resorts. I was only one of four.” He told them everything he’d done at the resort, including causing the blackout and ransacking the guests’ rooms. He also confessed to following Quint and Jorgie to the island and stealing their boat.
Taylor looked completely unsettled. “But why would General Miller do that? He was my father’s best friend. He and his wife are my godparents.”
Joe shrugged again. “He told me he hated what you’d done to your father’s airline. That your old man would be ashamed. He wanted to scare you into closing down the resorts. That’s all I know.”
Taylor slumped in her chair. Quint could see the betrayal in her eyes. She put a hand over her mouth. Then she picked up the phone and made a call. “Hello, Mitzi? It’s Taylor. Is Chuck there? Yes, I realize it’s the middle of the night, but this is important.”
A long moment of silence passed. No one said anything.
“Chuck,” her voice came out sounding tight. Quint found himself feeling really sorry for her. “This is Taylor. I have someone here who’s leveled a serious accusation against you and I just wanted to hear you deny it.”
Then calmly, quietly, she told the man she’d trusted like a father what Joe Vincent had just told them.
Another long moment of silence passed in the room. Quint could hear the ticking of the wall clock. Even Joe kept his mouth shut. Quint supposed the general was either denying or defending his actions.