Undercover Pursuit

by Susan May Warren

  “I’m going to kill him,” Luke said. But Benito beat him to the punch—literally. Luke didn’t stop Benito as he cut across the patio on a path of destruction toward Duncan.

  Maybe he should have. Yes, for sure he should have. Luke should have never let Benito grab Scarlett’s arm and tear her away from Duncan’s embrace.

  He should have jumped in to stop him before Benito pulled back and slammed his fist square in Duncan’s face.

  Oops.

  TWELVE

  This game had stopped being pretend and turned into full, bloody reality. Maybe it had been reality all along and now it had simply spilled over into Scarlett’s real life.

  Her Minnesota life.

  Duncan’s life.

  “Duncan!” The poor man looked up at her, holding his nose, blood dribbling down his chin. He’d never been the bodybuilder type—he was more of the coffee-shop-and-philosophy brand of man, with unremarkable hair, round spectacles and soft hands. To see him prone on the patio, blinking up at her as if he’d been attacked by a buffalo…her heart went out to him.

  She rounded on Luke. “What was that for?”

  Luke held up his hands. “I didn’t hit him.”

  True. She growled at Benito. “Why did you do that?”

  Benito stood over Duncan, his fist clenched. Duncan just pinched his bloody nose. “He’s trying to steal you. From Luke.”

  Oh, for cryin’ in the sink, she wasn’t a puppy. Or a priceless diamond. And, in case he hadn’t noticed, “Luke broke up with me. He doesn’t want me back.”

  “That’s a lie. He loves you.” Benito glanced at Luke, who nodded.

  What?

  Then why the big—and painful, she might add—break up at the rehearsal dinner?

  Every accusation he’d hurled at her dug another piece out of her, made her want to curl into a ball, put her hands over her head.

  You weren’t worth my time. That line was delivered like a fist in the gut and she still ached from the blow, the words ringing in her head even with the knowledge that he’d most likely been lying.

  Probably.

  She hoped.

  Oh, it didn’t matter anyway, because Luke had done what he’d intended. He’d broken up with her. Publicly. So he wouldn’t have to marry her tomorrow.

  No, no, so she would be safe when Lucia didn’t marry Benito tomorrow.

  She’d had a difficult time keeping that at the forefront of her brain as she’d stalked away from the dinner, as she wiped her hands across her eyes, as she’d nearly plowed right into Duncan.

  “Whoa—hey, what—Scarlett, is that you?” Duncan’s kind voice had cut through her dark thoughts, her plan to run back to her hotel room and bury her head in her pillow and weep. He gripped her by her bare shoulders and leaned down to peer at her face. “Are you crying?”

  She had been. And she’d had no defense as she cleared her tears.

  “I just broke up with my fiancé.” It was part pride, part charade that formed those words, especially since Bridgett had most likely filled him in on her engagement.

  “Your fiancé? What? Since when are you engaged?”

  Or not. She shook her head. “It’s a long story, Duncan.”

  “I wouldn’t mind listening. You used to share your thoughts with me.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  He looked down, away from her. “Probably too long. Listen, we can talk if you want. The rehearsal is over, the party’s in full swing. I came back to get Bridgett’s sandals. Her feet hurt.” He gave a small smile. “It was awfully nice of you to change the venue. Bridgett loves the lighthouse.”

  He averted his eyes again when he said it, and that’s when she grabbed his arm and brought him off the pathway toward the pool.

  “I’m so sorry that I embarrassed you the night of the engagement dinner, Duncan. I was hurt, and I dreamed up this future with you—”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “No, really. I should have figured out that you weren’t in love with me—”

  “But, Scarlett, I was.”

  And that had silenced her, stealing the words right out of her mind, stilling the crazy emotions swirling in her chest.

  “What?”

  He looked away. “Yeah. I was in love with you for two years. But I didn’t have the courage to tell you. And then your sister showed up and she…well, she made it so easy. She asked me out, and she asked me to marry her.”

  Her sister had done the proposing? Not Duncan?

  “Do you…love her?”

  He gave her a smile. “I’m crazy about her. But you weren’t wrong. I was a coward with you. Then…and when you said something at the engagement party. I told your sister the truth that night, and amazingly, she still wanted me.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry you got caught in the middle of this. That I hurt you.”

  “You…loved me? And you never told me? You let me believe we were just friends? Why?”

  “Because I couldn’t believe that you would want me.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

  “Oh, Duncan. The crazy lives we lead by not telling the truth.” She took a breath, and for a second her own crazy truth sizzled at the tip of her lips. I’m not really engaged. But she couldn’t betray Luke’s secret. Not without jeopardizing Lucia and Luke’s safety.

  And, after all their sacrifices, all the hurt, it remained the one thing they had together.

  “Can you forgive me?” Duncan asked.

  She gave him a small smile and took his hand. “Of course. As long as you promise to take good care of my sister.”

  “I promise.” Then he’d leaned down, wrapped his arms around her and drawn her into a brotherly embrace.

  She’d slipped her arms around his neck. So comfortable, so familiar and…she felt nothing.

  Nothing remained of the feelings, the wild crush she’d had on Duncan, except a gentle, warm affection.

  Most of all, her crush hadn’t compared in the least to the swirl of feelings she had for Luke.

  And she’d known Duncan for two years. Luke, for two days.

  Duncan’s cowardice had saved her from a life of humdrum.

  Not that she’d necessarily have a life of excitement—or of any kind—with Luke, but knowing the difference mattered. At least now, she knew what she wanted.

  Luke.

  And then, as if by thinking his name, she’d conjured his voice.

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  Huh? She let go just as Benito grabbed her arm, ripping her away from Duncan. She’d barely found her footing when Benito sent his fist into poor, unarmed, peace-loving Duncan’s face.

  Duncan slammed into the pavement.

  She looked now at Luke, Benito’s words vibrating in her head.

  “You love me?”

  Luke met her eyes with a raw expression. The look of someone unmasked. His mouth opened, but for the first time, nothing of his fast-talking wit emerged. Luke loved her? No, it had to be a part of the game. But they’d had their goodbye, their explosive parting. Why would he track her down unless…

  Benito didn’t believe them. Or maybe he did and simply wanted to do a good deed. One that Luke couldn’t stop.

  Then why didn’t she see a warning in his eyes instead? Why the emotion, the…fear? The silence?

  She glanced at Duncan, now leaning his head back, checking the bleeding. “Benito, let him up.”

  She reached out and helped Duncan to his feet, scrambling for words. She and Luke couldn’t kiss and make up because then she had no doubt that she would be getting married tomorrow night.

  Besides, she had to save Duncan from another right hook. And try to get her scrambled thoughts in order.

  “Why don’t we all cool off a bit…”

  “Do you love him or not?” Benito demanded.

  “Duncan or Luke?”

  Benito looked as if he just might hit her. “Luke.”

  “Of course I love Luke.” And then, because he’d gone first, and b
ecause she just had to make sure, she let him see her love right there in her eyes.

  It seemed to strip something from him, and he looked away.

  Good. She shouldn’t be the only one scrambling to figure out what to do. But he could back her up anytime here.

  “I wasn’t trying to steal her, for pity’s sake!” Duncan had finally stopped the bleeding and now rounded on Benito, as if he might strike him back. Except he stood a good three inches shorter and had to glare up at Benito.

  She would have laughed but she wanted to give Duncan props. The poor man was probably quoting Bible verses in his head. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear…

  “You weren’t? You’re not here to take her away from Luke?” Benito said.

  “I’m standing right here, Benito. And last time I looked, I wasn’t for sale.”

  But Benito ignored her. As did Duncan.

  “Of course not. I’m marrying her sister tomorrow. I don’t want Scarlett.”

  Ouch. That could have come out nicer.

  “She’s just a friend.”

  Better, but still. Ow.

  Benito narrowed his eyes at Duncan. “You weren’t in love with her?”

  Duncan drew in a breath. “I was. But not anymore.”

  She could feel Luke’s exhale of relief from a foot away.

  The argument had been a farce. He didn’t really believe that she loved Duncan.

  Not everyone is like that woman who lied to you.

  It seemed she wasn’t the only one struggling to part fact from fantasy.

  Benito smiled. “See, Luke? I told you that it would work out.”

  “Yeah, you were right, dude.” But his eyes widened when Benito clamped him on the shoulder.

  “Tomorrow, there will be two weddings.”

  Do. Something. She saw it in Luke’s face when he glanced at her, and despite the screaming inside, despite the fact that yes, she would love to see Luke’s eyes when she showed up in that dress and that she longed to tell him that she would never betray him, never lie to him, she said, quietly, “No.”

  Benito frowned at her. “What?”

  “No. Luke doesn’t trust me. And I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t trust me. It’s over, Benito.” Then without another word, she broke through the huddle of men and walked toward her hotel.

  Halfway up the path, she hazarded a look over her shoulder. Duncan had vanished, and Luke and Benito had turned down the pathway back toward the beach party.

  No one was coming after her.

  “Yes, I took care of it, Chet.” Luke sat on his bed in the darkness of his villa, his cell phone pressed to his ear, the doors to his balcony open. The scent of a storm was in the air, the smell of seaweed and other debris tossed to shore. Below his balcony, the waves pounded the coral, hollowing out the rock.

  “Scarlett won’t be in the way tomorrow? Because you need to focus all your energy on Lucia. Man, I wish you had waited for Stacey.”

  Him, too. Except, well, then he wouldn’t have met Scarlett and…no, no, that would have been better, too—

  “I can’t do anything about it now. And I’ll be ready in the morning. Just tell me where you want me.” He imagined that Chet had met the other members of the assault team, briefing them and working with the commander of the CIA to create their plan of attack. The pictures Luke had sent earlier of the wedding pavilion and the cliffs should help the team lay out a strategy. At least he hadn’t screwed up that part.

  He loves you, Benito had said, and why, why, why had he nodded? And worse, for a brief second, when she looked at him, she’d caught him with all his emotions on the surface, the truth right there for her to see. Which had turned him lethally mute. Thankfully, she thought fast on her feet. She’d saved both their hides.

  “We need visual confirmation of Augusto, so as soon as Lucia signals that he’s arrived, you let me know. You still have your earpiece?”

  Luke braced his forehead on his hand. Of course I love Luke. That had sounded so real, her eyes matching her words. Wow, she had pulled this charade off in spades.

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah. I got it. Sorry.”

  “Is your head in this game?”

  Luke stood up and leaned on the dresser, peering at himself in the mirror. Mildly burned, a growth of whiskers, his eyes red from the glare of the sun, he looked like a guy hanging out at a yacht club instead of on security detail.

  Head in the game. Head in the game. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Okay. I’m trusting you. You’re the only eyes I have, so be ready. We don’t want to have to wait until the bride is at the altar—that only makes her a target.”

  “Got it. I’ll be in touch as soon as I see him.”

  “Be safe.” Chet clicked off and Luke tossed his cell phone on the desk.

  Luke doesn’t trust me. And I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t trust me.

  He needed to purge those words from his chest where they burned a hole through him and threatened to turn him inside out.

  He did trust her.

  He trusted her because…because that’s what you did when you loved someone. Even if they don’t deserve it—which she did—you trusted them because the alternative would haunt you, tear you to shreds.

  “I’m sorry, Scarlett,” he said. Maybe after…well, he’d like to track her down. Take her out on a real date.

  Although he doubted that she would speak to him again.

  He walked out to the balcony and stood at the rail, listening to the black sea.

  “Hello, Luke.”

  Everything inside him tensed. He schooled his voice. “Claudio. Should I ask what you’re doing in my villa?”

  Claudio sat in a chair, staring out at the ocean. Only the orange ash of his cigarette glowed in the darkness and betrayed his face. Luke replayed his conversation with Chet in his head. How much had Claudio heard? “Who were you talking to?”

  “A friend. I have a surprise planned for Scarlett tomorrow. I’m going to try and get her back.” Too much of that lie was salted with truth.

  “Now, that’s the thing. I don’t think you two were ever engaged. That you even knew each other before this weekend. Sure, you care about her, but she looks at you with surprise. Like she can’t believe you walked into her life.”

  Uh-oh.

  “And frankly, you look at her the same way.”

  He did? So, some things he couldn’t hide. “I’m always amazed that I lucked out with such an incredible woman.”

  “You’re lying. You’re here for some other reason.”

  “Like what?”

  “To hurt my family. I’m not sure why I think that, but you watch everything, Luke. Like a professional. And you’re always hovering around Benito. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Are you a friend or an enemy, Luke?”

  “I’m just the fiancé of the maid of honor.”

  “Mmm. Okay. I heard that you two were supposed to get married tomorrow, until you had the blowout tonight. Nice fight, by the way. If you weren’t acting, then I know how you feel.”

  Luke drew in a breath.

  “But let’s say that you were acting. I’d guess that if you were acting, then your lady friend—I sincerely hope you didn’t pick her up on the sidewalk—probably doesn’t want to marry you. So let’s find out.”

  Too late Luke heard movement behind him. He turned and a hand throttled him, cutting off the air in his throat. The cold nose of a gun barrel pressed to his chin. He recognized the muscle from the boat.

  “If your fiancée shows up tomorrow, hoping to marry her beloved, then you live. If not, then, well, I haven’t gone shark fishing for a while.”

  “We broke up. She’s probably packing for the mainland right now.”

  “Maybe. But Lucia is delivering her best friend a letter. From you. Apologizing. Begging for a second chance. You do believe in second chances, don’t you, Luke?”

  Uh, actually, well, no. But he wanted
to. Oh, he wanted to. Preferably, however, with Scarlett safely off this island, back in Rochester. Then he’d track her down, his hat in his hand, so to speak.

  He’d apologize. Beg for a second chance. Hope that she believed him.

  But not yet.

  “She’s my fiancée, and she knows my handwriting. She’s going to know it’s not from me.”

  “Then let’s hope she thinks you wrote it in the throes of emotion and believes it to be your desperate attempt to win back her heart.”

  Desperate, yes, but desperate to keep her out of danger.

  This wouldn’t turn out well. If she showed up, she’d jeopardize Lucia’s safety. If she didn’t, then Claudio would suspect the truth, and at the very least, they’d lose Augusto.

  And Luke would find himself dragging behind Claudio’s yacht.

  He didn’t want to guess what Claudio might do to Scarlett.

  Please, God, don’t let Scarlett show up tomorrow.

  But he got it then. Claudio’s plan was suddenly painfully clear. Augusto wouldn’t show until Scarlett showed up.

  THIRTEEN

  “Is this for real?”

  Scarlett sat on her double bed, the lights of the town below, the air conditioner blasting canned air.

  She longed to be outside, to let the salty air clear her head. She’d changed into her capris and a sleeveless shirt, intending on doing just that when Lucia knocked on her door.

  “It’s from Luke,” she said, pressing a letter into Scarlett’s hands.

  Scarlett let her in without a comment.

  “He left it for me in my stateroom, with a note to deliver it to you.” Lucia pulled up a chair, her face drawn.

  Dear Scarlett,

  I was wrong to accuse you, I know that. Please take me back. Please marry me tomorrow. I will wait for you at the altar.

  Love, Luke

  Love, Luke? What on earth? She looked up and read the question in Lucia’s eyes. “He wants me back. Has asked me to meet him at the altar.” She shook her head.

  “Really?”

  No. Because without a sliver of doubt she knew Luke would have never sent this letter. Even if she longed to believe it.