“Why are people staring at us?” Charlotte murmured as they neared their destination.
The question let him know for sure she had no idea who he’d been before becoming a SEAL. “Probably because you’re so pretty,” he replied.
“Smooth,” she said, shooting him a grin. “But I think it’s because you look conspicuous wearing sunglasses indoors.” She arched her eyebrows at him.
“They’re not coming off,” he informed her.
She rolled her eyes and tugged him into the wig shop.
Releasing her to find a wig, Lucas guarded the entrance and left it to Charlotte to make her own selection.
Within minutes and with convincing pathos, she had made the store attendant believe she was going to lose her lovely red hair due to chemo. Together, they selected a chocolate-brown wig that was too dark, in Lucas’s opinion, for her complexion. Charlotte paid for it with Fitz’s credit card, thanked the lady, and reclaimed Lucas on her way out.
Her small smile informed him she was enjoying herself.
“Where is Saul?” she asked, peering around her as they headed toward an ocular shop.
“Don’t bother looking,” Lucas told her. “You’re not going to see him unless he wants you to.”
“He’s a sniper, isn’t he?” she guessed, glancing up at him for corroboration.
“Yes. And he excels in the art of camouflage.”
“What about you?” she asked. “What’s your specialty?”
“Little bit of everything,” he replied. “Last year, I took Jaguar’s place as troop leader.”
“When he disappeared?”
“Yes. I’d like to be the operations officer one day, though,” he admitted. “I like planning missions.”
“I bet you’ve planned out your whole life, haven’t you?” she asked with a sidelong glance. Her eyes immediately widened. “You have!” she guessed. “I can tell by the look on your face. Gosh, you have got to work on that.”
He steered her around the slow couple blocking their path. “Work on what?”
“Your poker face,” she explained. “You are utterly transparent. I can see everything you’re thinking.”
He did not like the sound of that.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’d rather you were transparent than inscrutable, like Special Agent Fitz.”
Her mention of the agent reminded Lucas to pay more attention to their surroundings. He’d noticed several people watching them already, though most likely they just recognized him from television. He couldn’t just assume that, though. If anyone recognized Charlotte, word might get around that she was back in the area. According to Fitz, the hunt for her would be on.
“Here we are,” she said, leaving him at the door of the ocular shop while she headed inside for a pair of glasses.
The store was so busy it took her almost thirty minutes just to get plastic-framed glasses with prescription-free lenses. Lucas leaned against the wall, waiting. At last, she approached him, wearing them as if she’d had them on all along.
“What do you think?” she inquired, angling her face up at him.
She looked so much like a sexy librarian that he could think of nothing else for several seconds.
“They look good,” he said, rather abruptly. “Come on. This is taking too long.”
Grabbing her hand, he towed her toward the escalator that would take them to the lower level.
They were descending the escalator amidst the crush of other people when the kid behind them tapped Lucas on the shoulder. He realized, looking back at him, that the youth was wearing a Cowboy’s jersey.
Oh, crap.
“Aren’t you Jonathan Strong?” Blue eyes searched his face with awe.
“No, sorry,” Lucas lied. “I just look like him.”
Given the disbelieving look he got, the kid wasn’t convinced. With a pricking of his conscience, Lucas turned his back on him. Usually, he liked talking to young people, telling his story and encouraging them to give their lives to God. But the last thing he wanted was for this kid to snap a photo of him and publish it on Snapchat or Instagram, especially if Charlotte was also in the picture.
As they stepped off the escalator, he hustled her toward Nordstrom, a department store located at the far end of the mall. Watching for the teen’s reflection in the glass storefronts, he was conscious of Charlotte’s sidelong glances.
“That’s why you’re wearing sunglasses,” she finally guessed. “You’re famous and you don’t want people recognizing you! I should have guessed,” she muttered to herself.
“Guessed what?” he asked, wondering what she’d concluded.
“You’re a movie star, aren’t you? You played the part of Captain America.”
He could tell she was teasing, but he laughed at her obsession with the superhero.
“Haven’t you ever watched football?” he asked incredulously. “I’m Jonathan Strong. I was a tight end for the Dallas Cowboys. Now I go by my middle name.”
“You are not a Texan,” she declared, jerking him to a stop.
“What do you mean? I was born and raised in Texas.”
“If you were a Texan, you would talk like Roger Holden or like Saul, with all your vowels drawn out.”
Lucas grinned and urged her to keep walking. “Saul wasn’t raised by my mother, who’s an English teacher. We had to have perfect grammar and no vernacular.”
“And no cussing, either,” Charlotte guessed.
“Well, that’s more of a personal endeavor.”
“Because of your religion,” she guessed.
He shot her a startled look. “I’m not overly religious,” he protested.
“What are you then?” Her tone was more curious than ridiculing.
“A child of God,” he said simply, “same as the rest of us. I know God loves me, and I try to show His love to others.”
Charlotte fell thoughtfully silent.
“What about you?” Lucas prompted.
“I used to think God loved me.”
Her short reply conveyed pain and disillusionment.
Remorse tore through Lucas for not considering how her parents’ deaths must have affected her.
“That would have shaken my faith, too,” he admitted, squeezing her hand.
Averting her face so he couldn’t see her tear-bright eyes, she gestured at the department store in front of them. “We’re here.”
Lucas glanced at his watch. “Think you can get everything you need in less than an hour?”
She looked up at him wryly. “You don’t like shopping, do you?”
“Actually, Saul has to pick up his dog from the sitter’s by 1700 hours. He didn’t leave enough food.”
Her eyes widened. “You should have told me that earlier. Step on it.” She pulled him toward the women’s wear. “If I only have an hour, then you’re going to have to help.”
“I said less than an hour,” he reminded her, but let her drag him into the section of colorful clothing.
She homed in on a rack of blouses.
“You see this?” she asked, snatching up a hideous leopard-print blouse. “This is the look I’m going for. I call it desperate divorcée with bad taste. Garish, over the top, in a size eight. Find me five blouses that fit that description—earth tones preferably. I’m going to look for slacks and undergarments. Then I’ll need shoes because I can’t just keep wearing these sandals. Gosh, I hope Fitz gave me enough money,” she added under her breath as she spun away from him.
“Charlotte.”
She stopped and looked back at him, one eyebrow raised above the other. The look almost made him laugh.
“Don’t leave my sight, please,” he requested.
She sent him a smile that melted his insides. “Thank you for saying please.”
Whirling, she strode away like a woman on a mission. He watched her for a minute, enjoying the athletic yet graceful way she moved, then applied himself to the task she’d given him.
Having h
ad two older sisters and an ex-fiancée, all of whom loved to gossip about women’s fashion, he had a fair idea of what Charlotte was looking for. Within ten minutes and channeling the Kardashian sisters, he’d picked out five blouses in varying colors and styles.
Carrying them to Charlotte for her approval, he realized she had already selected several pairs of slacks and was picking out lingerie.
“How do these look?” he asked, averting his gaze from the lace bra dangling in her right hand.
She cast a critical gaze at the blouses he’d selected. “Hideous. They’re perfect.”
“Do you need to try them on?” To avoid looking at the bra, he fixed his gaze on her face while suspecting, by her tiny smile, that she was enjoying giving him an awkward moment.
“There’s no time for that,” she declared. “I’ll keep the tags on and return anything that doesn’t fit. Hold this?” She dumped the slacks in his arms and turned her attention to picking out panties. “I still have to find shoes after this.”
“I’ll take these to the register,” he volunteered, distancing himself quickly.
On his way to the check-out counter, Lucas found himself wondering if God was testing his commitment to his new plan. He’d just promised himself his next relationship wouldn’t be with a career-oriented woman. He wanted a wife who put God and family first. A woman who doubted God’s existence and was bound for the CIA was obviously not the woman for him. He just wished he didn’t find her so attractive.
Leaving the articles with the helpful cashier, his gaze alighted on the jewelry counter near the cash register. A dainty silver crucifix immediately caught his eye, reminding him that Charlotte would need jewelry to complete her disguise. A cross glinting at the base of her throat ought to remind him to remain professional.
He picked up the box it was in, then selected two silver studs to match. Seeing Charlotte trying on shoes in the next department, he carried the jewelry over to her to see if she liked it. As he neared her, she stood up hefting two boxes.
“You’re done already?”
“Almost. I still have to get makeup.” Her forehead furrowed with concern. “I don’t know if Fitz’s gift card is going to cover everything.”
“No worries. I’ll pay for the rest,” he assured her.
Her chin went up. “Only if you let me pay you back.”
“That’s up to you,” he said, squelching inappropriate thoughts about how she could do that. “Here, I’ll take the shoes to the register. What do you think about this jewelry?” he asked, handing off the smaller items in exchange for the shoe boxes.
She looked at the cross, then up at him. “Is this supposed to be a talisman?”
He considered his reason for picking it out. “Sort of. But every woman wears jewelry. Your disguise wouldn’t be complete without it.”
“Good point,” she acknowledged. “Now I’m sure Fitz’s credit card won’t cover everything.”
“Like I said, I’ll pay the rest.”
“Thank you,” she replied, handing him back the jewelry to add to her mounting pile. “I still need to get makeup.” She tipped her head in the direction of the makeup counter.
“Go for it.” With his hands full, Lucas watched her stride away.
Fifteen minutes later, they left Nordstrom laden with her purchases. The sum total proved to be quite a bit more than Fitz had supplied with the gift card. Charlotte reiterated her promise to pay him back.
“Look, I have money to spare,” he finally told her, “and I’m not trying to be a sugar daddy either,” he added, earning a startled glance. “I just want your disguise to be complete. That way my job is easier. Understand?”
She considered his words for several seconds, then nodded. “Okay, but I’m still going to pay you back. It’s time to put on my disguise and take my picture,” she added.
They struck out toward a photo kiosk they had located earlier, not far from the public restrooms.
As Charlotte disappeared into the women’s room to change, Lucas held the remainder of her purchases and waited.
A man bending over the water fountain straightened and bumped forcibly into him.
“Sorry, partner,” he said with a western drawl.
Lucas realized he was looking at Saul, who’d stuffed his hair into a ball cap and changed his shirt. “Seen anyone suspicious?” Lucas asked him.
“Just the kid who took your picture when you weren’t looking.”
“He did?” Lucas searched the crowded corridor for the culprit.
“Don’t worry,” Saul assured him. “I kindly asked him to delete it.”
“Oh, boy.” Lucas pictured the conversation they must have had.
“Scared the crap out of him,” Saul admitted. “But I watched him delete it. Charlotte’s face won’t be on Instagram tonight.”
“Who is Charlotte?” asked a husky female voice with a southern drawl.
Both men pivoted toward the woman who’d just stepped out of the restroom. It took Lucas a full second to realize he wasn’t looking at a stranger.
“Wow,” he breathed. She’d altered her appearance so drastically she could have walked right by him without him knowing it was her.
Wavy brown hair paired with black-framed glasses and an entirely different complexion was the secret. Her wardrobe—leopard-print top, black slacks and pointy-toed black heels—screamed Check me out, boys! Picturing the undergarment she had to be wearing, Lucas focused intently on the cross shimmering above her plunging neckline.
His and Saul’s astounded expressions brought a smile of amusement to her mauve lips.
“Picture time,” she declared. From her purse, she produced the envelope Fitz had given her. “I need a name.”
“Jezebel,” Saul drawled.
“A serious name,” Charlotte said, taking no offense. “I like Justice, your sister’s name,” she said, looking at Lucas for his permission. “Justice Strong. I wouldn’t want to endanger her, though,” she qualified.
Lucas took in Charlotte’s stance, the way she held her chin high with her head defiantly tilted. “Justice suits you, and her last name’s Adams now, anyway, so why not? If anyone asks who you are, I’ll say you’re my sister visiting from Texas.”
“Perfect,” Charlotte replied. Stuffing the sundress she’d been wearing into one of the bags Lucas held, she crossed to the nearby photo booth and disappeared behind the curtain, only to poke her head out seconds later.
“I need a credit card,” she stated with chagrin.
By the time they left the mall with her photo taken, it was late afternoon. Lucas, who was driving, swung by a post office, and Saul jumped out to mail off Charlotte’s new photo and the ID form in the envelope Fitz had given her. Saul had suggested she use his address.
With that task checked off, Lucas put a lead foot on the accelerator, only to become mired in rush-hour traffic.
“Aww, c’mon,” Saul muttered, glancing at his watch.
When Charlotte kept quiet in the backseat, Lucas glanced over his shoulder at her, not surprised to see her head lolling on the headrest, her eyes closed. Considering all she’d been through, she had to be exhausted. A protective compulsion seized him, causing him to depress the brake pedal more gently.
Sleep in peace, brave girl, he caught himself thinking. I won’t let anyone harm you.
Eyes glued shut from sheer exhaustion, Charlotte willed herself to take a nap, but the quiet conversation coming from the front seats piqued her interest.
“You realize we can’t split up,” Lucas said to Saul, “so where are we keeping her, your place or mine?”
“You’ve got the security system,” Saul pointed out.
“And you’ve got a dog. I don’t have any furniture downstairs,” Lucas added.
Saul swore under his breath. “Monica had no right to take your furniture, brother. It’s bad enough she took the ring if she ain’t going to marry you.”
Lucas hushed him. “I don’t care about the furniture or the r
ing,” he retorted.
Lucas’s words, spoken in a terse tone she hadn’t heard from him before, brought Charlotte more fully awake. She kept her eyes closed, however, processing what she’d heard. Lucas had been recently engaged to a woman named Monica! And, apparently, she’d taken his furniture, not to mention her engagement ring, when they broke up.
Peculiar feelings sluiced through Charlotte. On the one hand, she was pleased to hear that Lucas was single—not that she considered herself a candidate for a relationship with him. On the other hand, it panged her to hear that such a great guy had been treated badly. He’d shown her nothing but patience and consideration all day long. A guy like him deserved a woman every bit as kind as he was.
“My place is fine,” Saul relented. At the same time, a chime sounded up front, and Charlotte peered through her lashes to see Saul frowning at his cell phone.
“Master Chief says he’s breaking into Lowery’s apartment tonight,” Saul conveyed.
Lowery, Charlotte recalled, was the XO who’d committed suicide. Why would Master Chief Rivera be breaking into his apartment?
“You really think you can tell from the photos if Lowery shot himself?” Lucas asked.
Ah, that was why. They wanted to know if Lowery might have been murdered.
“Should be able to,” Saul replied. “Wish he’d have let me go with him to see for myself. Be safer with a buddy.”
“God won’t let him fall,” Lucas said, with absolute certainty.
Fall? Charlotte couldn’t imagine how Master Chief was breaking in. Surely, he wasn’t climbing the face of the building.
Saul just grunted. Charlotte could tell by the cynical sound that Saul wasn’t as naïve as Lucas was. God didn’t protect everyone who loved Him. If He did, her mother would still be alive today.
Chapter 5
Charlotte rolled onto her back and sighed. She couldn’t sleep any better here in Saul’s house guarded by two SEALs than she had as Holden’s captive.
It wasn’t the bed’s fault. Saul’s guest bed, with a thick mattress and a handcrafted headboard he’d carved from butternut, was plenty comfortable. Tucked under the eaves of a 1930s bungalow-style cottage, his spare bedroom was quaint and cozy. The rest of the whitewashed home touted a front porch, a big backyard, and a chocolate Labrador retriever named Duke. Charlotte ought to be sleeping like a baby. God knew she was tired enough.
Every Secret Thing Page 6