by Katie Reus
Her damp black wallet was on the small nightstand next to the bed. She hadn’t even noticed it earlier. It was wet and still zipped up. The few receipts inside were ruined, but her credit cards were fine. She didn’t see her flash drive anywhere, which meant either he’d found it or it was still in the lining of her bra. Wherever that was.
“What was in your purse?” Jack asked quietly.
She raked a shaky hand through her hair, hating that she’d had to leave it behind.
“I had my assistant compile a list of flight logs, flight patterns, and a few other accounting mysteries connected to Keane Flight that I’ve been looking into.” She left out the part about the incriminating pictures.
He nodded as if he already believed her. “We know about most of this.”
Okay, then. “We?”
Of course he ignored her question. She was starting to get used to that. “Was that file the only information you have on Keane and SBMS?”
She wasn’t going to answer just yet. “Where’s my bra and panties?” Jack hadn’t proven that he worked for the government and he hadn’t even told her which branch. Her boss might have been acting strange lately, but before she told this stranger anything, she was going to call Ronald and get more answers. She owed him that much. Jack might have saved her life, but doing that could still be for his own purposes, and Ronald was more than just her boss. He was her friend. Hell, he was like a father to her.
The question took Jack off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I, uh, hung them up in the closet to dry. Didn’t know if you’d want them later.”
She tried not to let her elation show. Instead she held a hand to her forehead and swayed on her feet, hoping he bought her act. “Thank you . . . I’m feeling a little weak. Do you mind if I lie down for a bit?” She stumbled to the bed before sitting on the edge of the mattress. His eyes narrowed and she wondered if she’d overdone it.
When he shook his head she relaxed a fraction. “There’s not much here in the way of food, but I’ll be cooking rice and beans. Want me to wake you up in an hour?”
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Perfect.”
Once he shut the door behind him, she rushed to depress the simple button lock. The satin nickel lock was flimsy, but if he tried to open it, she’d hear the door jangle. Or if he really was a spy, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, it made her feel better. She hurried to the window and pulled back the yellow curtain. They were on the first floor. Perfect.
Jack might not want to hurt her, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.
Blood rushed in her ears as she slid open the closet door. Even the rustling of her dress seemed overly pronounced as she dug the flash drive from the lining of her damp bra. It was so lightweight she wasn’t surprised he’d missed it. Of course, he probably hadn’t thought to search her undergarments because, well, why would he? She snagged the lone pair of tennis shoes on the floor and slipped them on. They were too big and looked ridiculous with the dress, but she wasn’t running around in bare feet. She grabbed her wet wallet and eased open the window. After a quick glance around she hoisted herself through and dropped onto a grassy incline. No alarm had gone off when she opened the window, so she figured she was safe.
Unless he had a silent one. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline snaking down her spine.
As she surveyed her surroundings, Sophie realized she was in an end condominium near a body of water. Taking her chances, she headed toward the dock. Maybe she’d find someone to help her. She slowed and peeked around the corner of the building. There was a screened porch, but she didn’t see Jack anywhere.
She picked up her pace and jogged toward the dock. Jack’s place was one of four condominiums facing the water. There was a small marina and restaurant at the end of the row of buildings. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she kept her walk steady as she headed down the wooden planks and toward the faint reggae music.
The entire bar was built out over the water and completely open. There was a thatched roof covering the place, but there were no walls and no air-conditioning, just a long, rectangular wooden bar, ten high-top tables, and random nautical pieces hung up everywhere. There was even a fake parrot perched next to the cash register and a ship’s wheel dangling above it. She didn’t see a bartender, so she took a chance and sat next to one of the six older men drinking at the bar. He was the only one sitting by himself.
“Do you know if there are any pay phones around here?”
The man with the gray beard glanced up from his beer and frowned as he took in her appearance, no doubt noticing her faint bruises. “You don’t have a cell phone?”
“My car got a flat tire about half a mile back. When I went to use my phone, I realized the battery had died. I’m vacationing with friends and need to tell them where I am.”
“Here. Use this.” He fished a phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Damn. People weren’t this nice in Miami. “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”
She took a seat at an empty table a couple of feet from the bar and dialed Ronald’s number. He picked up on the second ring. There was a cautious note in his voice. “Hello?”
“Ronald? It’s me.”
“Thank God you’re all right. Where have you been? It’s been all over the news that there was a shooting at La Marea. Were you there when that happened?”
Until she knew more she decided to be evasive. “It’s a long story. Why was Homeland Security at work today?”
He sighed. “They weren’t very clear, but they want to talk to everyone in the office. Including you.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea. They said it’s just a routine thing.” Something in his voice told her he knew exactly what was going on.
A bead of sweat trickled down her spine. Why would Ronald lie to her? “Listen, I’m in a little trouble and I don’t know where else to turn.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” A tiny voice told her not to say the city even though she desperately wanted to trust him.
“Wherever you are, you need to stay there. Get out of town for a few days at least. I’ll tell everyone you’re sick.”
“You don’t think I should come back to Miami?” More alarm bells went off in her head. This wasn’t the behavior of a man in the dark. Maybe she couldn’t trust him either. Did he know about the weapons Keane Flight were apparently delivering or selling or whatever?
“I can wire you some money if you need, but you have to stay hidden.” His tone bordered on frantic.
“I don’t need money, I need answers. What the hell is going on?”
“I can’t explain everything without risking . . . Damn it, Sophie, I can’t tell you. You’ll just have to trust me. In a few days I’ll be able to tell you everything. Promise me you’ll stay hidden and don’t trust anyone.”
No problem there. She didn’t even trust Ronald at this point. “What about Jack?” She glanced over her shoulder.
“Are you still with him?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. I don’t know much about him, but I don’t think he works for Keane Flight. Since Paul is in a coma, there’s no way to ask. You need to disappear. Just for a few days. Can I contact you on this phone?”
“No, I borrowed it and I need to give it back soon.”
“Try to get your hands on another phone and call as soon as you can.”
“Okay.” Feeling numb and confused, she disconnected and walked over to the older man. “Thanks.”
She’d turned to leave when a hand clamped around her waist in an iron grip. She whipped around and found herself staring up into Jack’s pale blue, hard eyes. Before she had a chance to react, Jack had her back pressed up against the bar. “Where’ve you been, sweetheart?”
His tone might be endearing, but his eyes glinted with a deadly edge. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the man who’d let her use his
phone watching them. When she tried to move, Jack pressed harder, his muscular stomach and chest an immovable force. The wooden edge of the bar dug into her spine.
An icy chill crept up the back of her neck as she tried to shift again and failed. The man was like stone. “I got a flat tire and, uh, my cell phone died.”
Jack leaned down close to her ear so that only she could hear. “Don’t make a scene.”
His hot breath on her skin sent a wave of clamminess over her entire body. She hadn’t been too afraid of him before, but now she was rethinking her escape attempt. Maybe she should just have run and hidden somewhere. She nodded, hating that his close proximity rattled her physically. Taking his extended hand, she let him lead her from the bar. “What are you going to do?”
“You are going to eat dinner and then we’re going to talk.”
He wanted to feed her? That didn’t seem like the actions of a man bent on hurting her. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. She tugged once, but he simply tightened his grip. It was almost deceptively gentle even if he was immovable. Her palm was sweaty, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. He was holding tight.
“Are you going to hurt me?” She hated the fear she heard in her voice but couldn’t hide it. He was a lot bigger and stronger than her and he was clearly deadly.
His lips pulled into a thin line. “I don’t hurt women, Sophie, and I would never hurt you. But I will get my answers.”
She bit her bottom lip. The way he said her name was too familiar. It rolled off his tongue as if they were friends. Maybe more than friends. Lovers even. She swallowed at the abrupt, ridiculous thought and forced herself to look away from his granite profile. She also tried to ignore the sudden heaviness in her breasts.
Something else was happening here between them, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around the implications. Every time she looked into his eyes, she saw Sam. It actually explained her insane erotic draw to the man who could be her enemy. Her body was at war with itself. Desire and fear battled each other for dominance. Unfortunately desire was kicking fear’s ass.
Chapter 6
Operative: an intelligence officer or agent operating in the field.
Wesley tried Jack’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail. He didn’t need to bother one of his analysts to figure out Jack had taken out the battery. If he’d turned off his phone, he’d definitely taken out the battery. And he would have been sure to avoid civilian CCTVs or traffic cameras if at all possible. All easy ways to track him, and if Wesley had been keeping physical tabs on him before he’d gone dark, he likely could have tracked the man. Then again, maybe not. Jack was trained well and he was familiar with Miami in a way he wasn’t anywhere else. He could disappear if he wanted to bad enough.
Wesley’s best agent had gone dark without explaining why, and now he wondered if he’d sent Jack into the field too soon. Even though the final purpose of Jack’s last op had been to bring down those Albanian terrorists, any undercover operation dealing with the exploitation of kids was brutal. But Jack had never had a problem acclimating to another situation in the past. The man was like a machine sometimes.
Sophie Moreno was the only soft spot he had. Wesley could have sent someone else in for this job, but he wanted Jack to get over her and find some kind of normal life with someone. Anyone. Wesley had recruited Jack when he was only twenty-six. After eight years in the Marines, Jack had been physically tough and the best sniper he’d ever seen, but he’d also been his youngest recruit for the new black ops team he’d been putting together at the time.
Five years later, Wesley had never regretted his decision. He simply wanted Jack to find a life outside his job. The rate for substance addictions and broken relationships in this line of work was high, but Jack didn’t have a problem with either. Hell, the man would have to have a damn relationship in the first place for the latter to be an issue.
Wesley tapped his finger against his mouse and pulled up Sophie’s file. He’d read her dossier half a dozen times and had everything he could possibly want to know about her boss. Still, he wanted more. Especially if the woman was fucking with Jack’s ability to do his job.
Wesley hit one of the intercom buttons on his phone, connecting him to Thomas Chadwick, one of his best analysts. “Thomas?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to run another detailed check on Mandy Abarca, Benson Pollard, and Hannah Young. Go as deep as you can.” He’d had another analyst run their information before, but he wanted this check to see if they’d missed anything.
“What’s their connection?”
“Sophie Moreno.”
“Got it. I’ll send it to your screen as soon as I have the information.”
“Thank you. If you need help, ask Williams to help you. He’s familiar with Ms. Moreno’s file.” As soon as he disconnected, he dialed a friend of his at the Drug Enforcement Administration.
“Deputy Director Southers’s office,” a perky female voice answered.
“Connect me to Max, please.” They hadn’t spoken in a few months, but he’d served with Max decades ago when they were both in the Navy.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s gone for the day.”
Wesley glanced at his watch. It was only six. “Tell him Wesley Burkhart is on the line.”
“One moment, sir.”
A few seconds later his longtime friend picked up. “Wesley, how are you?”
“Hey, Max. How are the wife and kids?”
“Mary’s good and the boys are still in college, but I know that’s not why you’re calling. What’s going on?”
“Do you have any contacts at Homeland Security?”
“I work with a couple of those guys every now and then. Why?”
The DEA and Homeland Security were bound to overlap, especially in a place like Miami. Thanks to the drug and slave trade, it was a cluster of acronyms in south Florida. “Have you heard any chatter lately about South Beach Medical Supply?”
“SBMS? Yeah, Homeland’s been watching them and so have we because of suspected unusual activity. Why?”
“What about a woman named Sophie Moreno? Any red flags on her?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll ask around,” Max said.
“Thanks. I’ll be at the office for the next hour.” In reality, probably longer than that.
“Why is the NSA interested in them?”
“It involves a separate mission. Don’t worry, we’re not invading your territory.”
“So you don’t know anything about a possible sniper shooting at a restaurant downtown this afternoon?”
He didn’t even pause. “Not a thing.”
Max was silent for a moment. “All right. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
“I owe you one.”
As they disconnected, Wesley pulled up one of the files Thomas sent him. It was on Mandy Abarca, Sophie’s assistant. His gut told him Sophie wasn’t involved, but without having any way to contact Jack, he couldn’t take a chance that Jack would let his guard down.
A sharp knock on his door interrupted his reading. “Come in.”
Steven Williams, one of his better analysts, opened the door. “Got a second, boss?”
“What is it?”
“I found some interesting information on Benson Pollard, one of the men working with Ms. Moreno.”
“And?”
“He’s recently acquired a lot of gambling debts. He’s into his bookie for about fifty thousand dollars.”
Very interesting. “Have you e-mailed me the information?”
“Yep. I just wanted to let you know.” He stood by the door expectantly.
“Is that all?”
“Uh, yeah.” Without another word, he shut the door behind him.
Wesley scrubbed a hand over his face. Steven was a bit of an ass-kisser, but he was good at what he did, no doubt about it. He’d graduated from MIT with a degree in political science and he was a genius with computers. Sometimes Wesley wondered wh
y he was working for the NSA instead of a private firm.
• • •
Jack sat across the kitchen table from Sophie, watching her push her food around her plate. She hadn’t said much since they’d been back, but every time they made eye contact, she averted her gaze. As if she was afraid of him.
His grip on his fork tightened. He understood she was scared, but so far he’d done nothing but protect her. Hell, he’d even given her a weapon. Sure, he could have taken it from her if she attempted to use it against him, but it had been a peace offering. The only way he knew how to make her feel more at ease. Maybe that was his damn problem. He should be more focused on the op than with Sophie. Unfortunately the need to keep her happy won out over everything. Always had. And that kiss had just reminded him how much he still wanted her.
“Did you use your credit card at the bar?” His voice held more heat than he’d intended.
She shook her head. Her dark hair fell forward over her shoulders, making him itch to thread his fingers through it again. To pull her body close to his and feel her soft breasts pressing against his chest. Not because she was in shock or needed to get warm, but because she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“Did you call anyone?”
She started to shake her head, then shrugged. “Yes. My boss.”
Damn it. “What did he say?”
She squirmed in her seat. “He told me not to come back to Miami for a few days.”
Interesting. “Did he say why?”
“No, but . . . I don’t think he was being completely honest with me.”
He started to ask her another question when she cut him off. “How do I know you really work for the government?”
Knowing he had no other choice, he pulled his phone and battery out of his jeans pocket and put the battery back in. He hated breaking silence, but she’d tried to escape. Honesty was the only thing that would work with Sophie. She wasn’t involved with any sort of terrorist activity. Gut instinct had gotten him far and he simply knew she wasn’t dirty. That didn’t mean he couldn’t use her relationship with Ronald Weller to his advantage.
Wesley picked up on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”