by Paula Graves
She turned in his arms, drawing his mouth to hers. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and suckled, sliding her tongue over his flesh as she lifted her arms to circle his neck.
The blanket she'd wrapped herself in fell away, leaving them skin to skin. As he gazed into her dark eyes, her solemn expression cracked apart, revealing Naughty Marguerite in all her saucy glory. "Tell me you're a really good Boy Scout."
"I am." He laid her back against the sheets.
When Laura Sandoval stepped from the shower around seven a.m., a phone was ringing. Not her home phone and not the personal cell phone tucked in the purse on the bedside table.
It was the dedicated cell phone from her office.
"Laura Sandoval."
"Miz Sandoval, this here's Grady Lowry. I run a pawnshop in Picayune, and I found your fax when I got in this mornin'."
Laura sat on the edge of her bed, trying not to get her hopes up. "Have you seen the ring I described?"
"Yes, ma'am. I paid a gal four thousand dollars for it just yesterday. Real pretty little thing."
She tightened her grip on the phone. "Did you keep a copy of her photo I.D. for your records?"
"Yes, ma'am, I did. Maggie Stone. Five-six, a hundred and twenty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes—"
Bingo. "You said you're in Picayune?"
"Yes ma'am, just west of the interstate."
Laura calculated the mileage. She could be there before nine. "Why don't you tell me exactly how to get there?"
Chapter 13
"Where's the ring?" Jack's voice roused Maggie from a hazy place somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
She opened her eyes. "Ring?"
He tugged at the empty gold chain pooling in the hollow of her throat. "The ring you wear on this chain."
Guilt swamped her in a dark, queasy wave. "I took it off yesterday and didn't put it back on." Not a literal lie—she'd just left out the part about pawning it in Picayune.
She gritted her teeth and tried to force the rest of the truth through her reluctant lips, but Jack interrupted. "It belonged to your mother, didn't it?"
His question brought hot tears rushing to her eyes, threatening to spill over. She blinked them back.
He fiddled with the chain, his fingertips brushing the ridge of her collarbone. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have—"
"Yes, it was my mother's. It's one of the last things she gave me before she died." And I sold it for four thousand dollars because I didn't have the guts to trust you.
The tears she'd been fighting slid down her cheeks.
Jack brushed away the moisture with his knuckle. "You were, what, nine when she died?"
She closed her eyes. "Yeah. My father had just started his second term in the California House of Representatives. He was already moving up to leadership positions—a real rising star. Becoming a tragic widower didn't hurt."
Jack's swift intake of breath at her bitter tone niggled at her conscience. Was she being fair to her father? James Cole hadn't been the best of husbands—his good looks and privileged background had made it all too easy to stroke his ego with a series of discreet dalliances—but to his credit, when Maggie's mother had grown gravely ill, he'd been there for her, faithful and untiring, missing house votes and sidetracking his career to stay with her until the cancer took her.
"He was good to her at the end," she said aloud. "I can't fault him for anything he did those last few months."
Jack kissed her shoulder. "That ring means a lot to you."
The enormity of what she'd done hit her like a blow to the gut. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's priceless."
She slid away from Jack and rolled off the bed, dashing away her tears with angry jabs of her fingertips. No more crying about this. No more feeling sorry for herself. She'd betrayed more than Jack with her decision to pawn the ring. She'd betrayed her mother. And herself.
But it was time to put it behind her now and move on. She gathered up her under things and slipped them on. "We need to get going." She turned back to face Jack.
He stood on the other side of the bed, pulling on his jeans. "Yeah. I think showers for everyone, and then you and Remy can repack the stuff we unpacked last night while I take all the towels and sheets to a Laundromat."
"Laundromat?" Maggie felt a flush of guilt, remembering her cover story for her trip to Picayune the day before.
"Yeah. Someone's going to link this place to me eventually. We don't need to leave proof we were here. When I get back, I'll wipe the place for prints before we leave."
"Let me take the laundry." Maggie's mind raced as the idea crystallized. She still had the four thousand dollars from the pawnbroker, plus enough extra cash to pay any interest owed. Mr. Lowry might balk at such a quick payback, but she had a built-in sob story made all the more powerful because it was true: she'd sold the last thing her mother had given her before her death and would do anything to get it back.
Jack paused in the middle of putting on his t-shirt. "I'm not sure I like the idea of sending you out there by yourself—"
"You're the one who knows how to wipe the place down for prints. Let's not waste any more time. You get the place wiped down while I do the laundry." Maggie tried to hide her growing excitement. She could stop at the pawn shop on her way to the Laundromat and have her mother's ring back around her neck, where it belonged, within an hour. And if she got the ring back this way, Jack would never have to know what she'd done. It was her chance to start over. Do things differently. Become a different woman altogether.
A woman Jack Bennett just might be able to love?
She tried to push the thought away, tuck it safely into the place deep inside where she'd relegated all her foolish dreams over the past ten years, but hope was already beginning to take root, filling her with a jittery energy as her mind raced ahead, planning the route she'd take to trim minutes off her trip to the Laundromat to work in the stop at the pawn shop.
"Okay," Jack agreed. "I'll go get Remy up and start putting the bunkhouse back in the shape we found it. Why don't you take the first shower?"
She crossed the room in a hurry, throwing her arms around Jack's neck. She rose to her tiptoes for a hard, swift kiss. "Sure you don't want to join me? Conserve time and water."
She felt his body's quick, unmistakable response right before he nuzzled her throat and murmured, "My kind of environmentalism."
As they threw off the clothes they'd so recently donned, Maggie felt the weight of fear she'd been sinking under over the last twenty four hours begin to lift. By the time she got back from Picayune, she'd have her mother's ring safely returned to the chain around her neck again. She'd be with Jack, working side by side for a way out of the danger they were in.
Her mind was screaming warnings even now, begging her to start running, keep running until she was safe—from Blevins and his goons, from the crushing responsibility of keeping Remy safe, from the insanity of falling in love with Jack all over again. But for the first time in ten years, her heart—and her feet—refused to listen.
Laura Sandoval was on the road out of New Orleans by seven-thirty, moving at a steady pace since she was going against traffic instead of stuck in the flood of suburbanites flowing into New Orleans for the work day. By eight, she was breezing through Slidell, well ahead of schedule as her Infiniti ate up miles of interstate at a brisk clip despite the light rain.
But traffic grew heavier as she neared the Mississippi line, eventually slowing to a near-standstill. Laura peered into the rain-washed gloom ahead, trying to see what might be causing the hold-up, but several eighteen-wheelers ahead blocked her view. In the left lane, a few cars were illegally crossing the slick, grassy median to the southbound lanes.
Just as Laura was working her way over to the left lane to do the same, her cell phone rang. Venting her frustration with a vicious jab at the talk button, she growled, "Sandoval."
"Good morning to you, too." Agent Travis Cooper's voice buzzed in her ear.
"Got any idea why I-59 north is a parking lot, Cooper?"
There was a brief pause. "Big rig jackknifed near the state line around six this morning. Spilled its whole load—bags of sugar everywhere. I think both lanes are blocked. Don't you watch the morning news?"
Most days, yes. But she'd had other things to think about this particular morning. "Any idea when it'll clear?"
"Should be getting close; they were projecting the mess to be out of the way by nine. Do I get paid for playing traffic reporter?"
Laura uttered a curse.
"You kiss your mama with that mouth?" Cooper's voice flattened to a Texas drawl he kept in check most of the time. "Listen, you asked for a heads up if we got an I.D. on that body pulled out of the Pontchartrain the other day. I just got word out of Philly-name's Nicky Tamburello. Used to be part of the biker mobs giving the wiseguys a run for their money up in Philly before he started doing hits for Joey Scarpelli. They got cross-wise about a year ago. Something to do with a woman."
"Ain't that always the way?" Laura murmured.
"Philly lost track of him about two months ago, after he skipped bail on a drug charge. They figured he got out of town before Scarpelli got a notion to whack him. I'd sure like to know how he ended up as fish food in the Pontchartrain."
"You and me both." Laura peered ahead as the vehicles in front of her began to creep along again. "Looks like I'm movin' again. Anything else about Tamburello?"
"Not yet. We're shaking down our contacts to see if Nicky was down here trying to hook up with the southern branch of the Family tree."
Laura had a feeling there was another reason Tamburello had come to New Orleans and ended up belly up in the Pontchartrain. Something that had everything to do with Marguerite Cole and the boy she was trying to protect.
The sign on the door of Lowry's Title and Pawn read "OPEN" when Maggie arrived a little before ten a.m. She'd gotten a later start than planned, in no small part because of the extended shower she and Jack had taken together.
Not that she had any regrets about that.
Maggie parked the Blazer in front of the store and dashed through the light drizzle to the entrance. She shook off the raindrops, scraped her shoes on the welcome mat and went inside.
The same grizzled old man sat behind the front counter. He looked up at the sound of the tinkling bell over the door, his eyes widening—no doubt surprised to see her back so soon.
She patted the roll of bills stashed in her pocket. She'd added another hundred to the four thousand, in case he charged a penalty for early redemption. She wasn't going to argue with him about his business practices. All she wanted was the ring.
She hurried forward to the counter, her gaze automatically going to the tray of jewelry in the glass display at the front of the counter. It was probably too soon for the ring to be there—wasn't there a mandatory waiting period before they put items on display?—but she couldn't stop herself from looking.
"Hi again," she greeted the proprietor. "I know it's only been a day but I've come back to redeem my ring."
The proprietor's gaze shifted slightly, looking at something just behind her. At the same moment, Maggie smelled a delicate whiff of sandalwood. The hair on her nape rose.
"This ring?" a woman's voice spoke just behind her.
Maggie whirled around to face the speaker, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the soft drawl.
Laura Sandoval stood behind her, holding her mother's ring.
"So, how many more places like this you got up your sleeve?" Remy paused in the middle of packing supplies into a cardboard box Jack and looked at Jack.
Jack picked up the duffel bag he'd just filled and placed it on the dining room table. "Like this? None. But I was thinking we could pick up a tent somewhere and camp out for a while. The weather's supposed to be nice the next few days." Though he made a point of sounding confident and in control for Remy's sake, he felt anything but. A few days camping out weren't going to solve their problems.
"When you think Doc'll get back?"
Jack glanced at his watch. Ten a.m. "I think at least another hour or so. She's got to give the laundry time to dry."
Remy made a face as he closed up the cardboard box. "I don't know why we had to do laundry again. She just did it yesterday."
Jack glanced at the boy. "She did?"
"Yeah. I think she was just lookin' for somethin' to get her mind off you bein' gone."
Jack frowned slightly. She hadn't mentioned anything about leaving the lodge the day before. He pushed aside a flicker of unease. "You sure you got everything from the bunkhouse?"
"Pretty sure. I'll go give it one more look-through." Remy headed outside.
Jack picked up a second duffel bag and went into the master bedroom to pack up Maggie's clothes, still frowning. If he'd known Maggie had already been to the Laundromat the day before, he would have insisted on being the one to go into town today. If someone saw a strange woman in town two days in a row, they might start asking questions, and scrutiny was the last thing they needed.
He sat on the edge of the bare mattress and opened the dresser drawer to retrieve the small supply of clothes Maggie had unpacked last night after Jack's arrival aborted their attempt to leave the lodge. A pair of shorts and a couple of faded t-shirts, an extra pair of white cotton panties and a bra, all from the rag-tag set of thrift store clothes Jack had picked up back in Fairhope before they'd had to pick up and run. Not even a week ago, he realized with some surprise. Had it really been such a short time ago?
In some ways it felt like a lifetime.
He finished packing away Maggie's clothes and looked around the bedroom for anything he might have missed. Her mother's ring should be around here somewhere; he remembered noticing that the chain Maggie wore around her neck was still empty when she left for town a half an hour ago. But he didn't find the ring anywhere in the bedroom or the bathroom.
Was it lost? His stomach tightened at the thought.
Maggie would be devastated if they had to leave without it.
"Give me my ring." Maggie glared at Laura Sandoval, rage overcoming terror for the moment.
"Technically, this ring still belongs to Mr. Lowry there." Laura nodded toward the man behind the counter. Maggie turned to look at the pawnbroker, who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else.
How the hell had Laura found them? Because of the ring?
Of course, she realized, her heart sinking. She'd had to show her driver's license before she could pawn the ring. The pawnbroker hadn't seemed to recognize her name, but he may have seen something on the news last night and put things together.
But why had he called Laura Sandoval, of all people? She was a lawyer, not a cop. And if she was here to take Maggie into custody, why weren't the police with her?
Maggie crossed to the counter and pulled the money from her pocket, slapping it down on the countertop. "There you go, Mr. Lowry. Thanks a lot." She didn't bother to keep the bitterness from her voice.
But she regretted the harsh tone immediately when she saw the look of hurt cross Mr. Lowry's face. As he took the money from the counter, she added, "I'm sorry. Really. It's not your fault. It's all mine."
He looked at her with gentle concern. "You take care, miss, all right?"
She gave a little nod and turned back to Laura. "What do you want from me?"
"We have a lot of questions for you."
Maggie looked around the empty pawnshop. "We? I don't see anyone but you."
"I didn't want to descend on the place with sirens blarin'."
Maggie shook her head. "I'm not leaving with you. I don't trust you."
"Where's Jack?"
"You don't really think I'm going to tell you that."
"Is the boy with him?"
Maggie pressed her lips together and didn't answer.
Laura's expression grew tight with annoyance. "Fine." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone. "I'll ask him myself."
Laura just looked at her as if she were an idiot. She pushed a single button-obviously had him on speed-dial, Maggie thought blackly—and waited.
Laura's look of confidence began to slip when there was no answer to her call, Maggie noted with smug satisfaction. She couldn't hold back a smile when Laura punched another button to disconnect the call, a scowl furrowing her brow.
"He knows you're the one who set him up," Maggie added. "He's not going to take any more calls from you."
"Set him up?" Laura's look of confusion was almost convincing. "What are you talkin' about?"
"Sending that F.B.I. agent to Mobile the same time Jack was supposed to arrive. It had to be you. You're the only one he told about wanting to go to the Mobile F.B.I."
Confusion lingered for a moment in the other woman's expression. Then a light went on behind her eyes. "Cooper."
That was the name of the agent Jack had seen. "You're admitting it?"
Laura shook her head. "I didn't send Cooper, but he may have gone on his own. He's investigatin' your 'kidnapping.'" Contempt tinged the last word. "I had a feelin' you weren't an innocent victim, Marguerite."
"Maggie. Maggie Stone. And the only thing I'm guilty of is trying to save an innocent boy from being murdered."
Laura's eyes narrowed but she didn't comment, instead lifting her phone and punching buttons.
"I told you he's not going to answer your calls."
Laura shrugged and kept punching numbers. "No problem. He'll get my message loud and clear anyway."
The second time Jack's phone rang, the ring tone sounded different. He looked at the display panel and found that the text message icon was blinking.
"Is it Maggie?" Remy crossed from the kitchen area and looked over Jack's shoulder.
Jack shook his head. He was certain it was Laura again. He'd ignored her previous call, but the blinking text message icon was too great a temptation. He displayed the message.