Kidnapped Hearts

by Cait Jarrod

  Jake’s cell phone vibrated, and he turned away from the table. “Gibson.”

  “The Warrior, so we finally speak.”

  An agent or Scorpion?

  “Are you keeping my girl safe?”

  Jake grimaced; it was worse, an agent acting as big brother. Could this day get any worse? “Agent Anderson.”

  “I expect you to keep her safe.”

  “Anything else, Anderson?”

  “You’ve pissed off the Scorpions, and they want retaliation—”

  Jake closed his cell. He didn’t need a lecture.

  “Steve Anderson?” Larry asked.

  “Yup.”

  Jake tilted his head toward the phone Hal released a few minutes ago. “Agent Anderson is your Intel man.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake entered The Memory Café, a grim expression on his face. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of his mood, she quickly went into the storage room to finish her supply order.

  Her dad would be arriving later to finish the necessary preparations to open tomorrow, and she wanted to help as much as possible. Her father had called earlier and demanded that she didn’t come in to work while the cafe was opened until the FBI caught whoever was threatening her. Knowing it would be fruitless to argue with an ex-marine, she kept her mouth closed.

  She sat on a crate, and the thought of not seeing her café, family, or friends for some time, made her chest tight.

  Jake strode inside the storage room. She looked up from her perch and met his scowl. Although, she knew the scowl wasn’t directed at her, she felt responsible. It had only been a couple of hours since she saw him, and during that time, he had gotten a bruise on his jaw and above his right eye. “Did you run into a tree?”

  “Nope, a fist.”

  She pursed her lips, debating if she should inquire any further. Had he received the punches because of her case or for some other reason? He spoke before she could figure out what to say next.

  “You need to finish up. We’re going into hiding.”

  “To your house?”

  “Nope.”

  Her pencil slapped against her clipboard. “What? I thought you said we would stay at your house.”

  He shrugged. “The higher ups have changed our plans.”

  “Where then?”

  “I can’t say until we get there.”

  She slid her hand over her nervous stomach. “I need to get some clothes from my townhouse.”

  He nodded before heading out the door. “We’ll have to leave in five minutes.”

  Suddenly, feeling all alone, she decided to call Paul. She needed a friend, and it’d be a lot easier to talk to him than Celine. She’d probably have Pamela in tears within a few seconds

  “Athletes R Us,” a cheerful voice boomed in the phone.

  Not knowing what to say, she blurted, “Your brother is a pain.”

  Paul remained silent.

  “Well, say something.”

  “Did you expect me to argue? He is a pain.” Paul paused. “Pamela, I don’t know what has happened between the two of you, since I’m not in the know. I’m assuming something is going on with the case.” He hesitated, and she heard him sigh. “You haven’t fallen for him, have you?”

  Had she? Could that be the reason he got under her skin so easily? She’d finally thought of him as more than a sex on a stick. “I could do a lot worse.” Sam popped into her mind, a perfect example of regret.

  Paul groaned. “Pamela, no. Don’t do it. He’s broken, not stable. He doesn’t do relationships well. He’ll tell you the same thing. Run while you can.”

  “Paul, I didn’t say I fell for him. I said I could do worse.”

  “Yeah, well, it sounds like you’re halfway there. Once Jake spins his charm, women have a hard time resisting.” He chuckled. “Up to a few years ago, his long hair had lured the ladies. I wonder what it is now.”

  “Paul, I have to leave.”

  “Yeah, I have several customers that are demanding my attention, too.”

  “No, I mean, Jake is taking me—”

  “Don’t say a word,” a deep voice said from the door.

  She glanced over at Jake standing at the threshold, his hands on his hips, looking pissed. Her mouth fell open. “Paul—”

  Jake shut the door behind him, then snatched the phone out of her hand, and hung up. “What were you doing?”

  Why was he angry? “Telling Paul I would be out of town for a while.” She stood. “Did you already tell him?”

  His shoulders hunched. “Pamela, going to a safe house means no one knows where we will be or that we’re leaving.”

  She closed the gap between them. Jutting her chin upward, she looked him in the eye. “Excuse me, Jake. I don’t know the proper etiquette for going underground. You have no right getting mad at me.”

  He grasped her shoulders, holding her close to him, and opened his mouth. If she moved an inch, their lips would touch. Their gazes locked, neither of them moving or saying a word. It may have only been for a second, but a moment longer than she could stand. The pull of his eyes was strong. She backed up, causing his hands to glide down her arms before they parted.

  A few seconds elapsed, then he held up her cell phone. “Put this in your office desk drawer.”

  “I can’t take it with me?”

  “Afraid not. It can be traced.”

  “Who? Why?” She lowered her head, realizing there was no wisdom in asking questions that had no answers. She took her phone to her office as Jake requested. An overwhelming feeling of dread fell upon her. She tossed the clipboard on top of the desk and pitched her phone in the top, then pulled out a note pad. She didn’t know when or if she would ever see anyone again. On the note pad, she scratched I love you all. Short and sweet, and too corny. She ripped it from the sticky pad to toss it in the trash.

  “Ready?”

  Her hand flew to her throat. “Don’t sneak up on me. You scared me.”

  He grinned. “Sorry, you are a little bit jumpy.”

  At least he wasn’t frowning. “Yes, and you should be, too.” She held up her hand. “Never mind, scratch that last comment. Nothing penetrates that hard exterior.”

  The muscles in his neck twitched, as he remained silent.

  Not having time to write something else, and afraid Jake would make her throw it away, she stuck the note on the surface of her desk as soon as Jake turned his back.

  After stopping by her townhouse, then his house, they exchanged the Chevelle for a Honda, then made their way east. When they didn’t take the interstate toward the ocean, she wondered if they would be heading toward an unpopulated area.

  About two hours later, they pulled onto a rural road with scarce development. “Our names are Betty and Ed.” He paused. “Boop.”

  “You’re kidding. Betty Boop.”

  Jake chuckled, “Yeah, I am. Our last name is Daley.”

  She repeated the name in her head. “Okay.”

  “It’s not quite up to us to approve or disapprove. We were given identification with our new names. The powers that be picked the names for us. Your new license is in the glove compartment.”

  She opened it and took out the first thing her hand landed on, which was the car registration. Their fake names were typed across it. Next, she picked up her license. The picture was the same as her previous one, yet she possessed a new name and address. She now lived in NorthCumberlandCounty in Virginia, the middle of nowhere. “I feel as if we’re in the Witness Protection Program.”

  “In a sense. Although, you will return home.”

  “What about you?”

  He briefly looked out the passenger window. “I never know. I’ve disappeared before.”

  There was more; she could sense it in his demeanor. One thing she’d learned about Jake, if he didn’t want you to know, come hell or high water, he wouldn’t tell. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  With his elbow on the door, he leaned his head forward and shoved
his hair off his forehead. “It’s part of the job.”

  “You’re retired.”

  The signal on the car clicked on, and Jake stopped talking. Conversation over. He turned into the driveway of a tan two-story beach house along the Chesapeake Bay. Pamela emerged from the car and gazed at the breathtaking gardens that surrounded the house. “This land is beautiful.”

  “It is.”

  “How did this become a safe house?”

  “It doesn’t look like a safe house, does it?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s the perfect location for the Daleys to have their honeymoon.” Jake dragged their two pieces of luggage out of the trunk.

  “What? Honeymoon?”

  “Yep, I think it’s Larry’s bizarre sense of humor. I have our marriage license in my wallet.”

  “We could be brother and sister.”

  Jake ascended the stairs to the screened-in porch, then unlocked the door. “As if that would be believable.”

  He had a point. Even when they argued, their eyes devoured each other. “Wow,” Pamela said, strolling inside the house.

  “You can have the upstairs bedroom. I’ll stay down here.”

  Staying upstairs alone wasn’t her preference, not with men threatening her. Pamela climbed the stairs, bypassed by a bedroom with a twin size bed, then moved into the master. A balcony extended the length of the room, and the Chesapeake Bay splashed to shore a few hundred yards away. On the deck, she looked in one direction, then the other. There was no one anywhere, only sand and bushes. Back inside, she closed the French door and jumped. “Jake, you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.”

  “Is the room satisfactory?”

  Pamela’s eyebrow rose. “Would it make a difference?”

  “No.”

  She looked at him leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He’d changed into shorts and a t-shirt, all masculine and delicious. She tilted her head toward the water. “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “Clothes aren’t needed on a deserted stretch of beach.”

  She swallowed. A maddening man. First he was pissed, and now he flirted. “But, you’re here.”

  He pushed off from the door and headed toward the stairs. “Yep.”

  She sank onto the bed and stared at the water. The two of them would be together for who knew how long. Good idea or bad, she wasn’t sure. They could chew each other’s heads off within a few days, or they could end up in bed together for lack of anything else to do. This last thought gave her pause. The strong attraction to him hadn’t ceased, and she would love to pursue whatever was materializing between them. On the other hand, she didn’t want him by default because they were the only two people here.

  She grabbed her suitcase, which Jake had set inside the door, and tossed it on the bed.

  In front of two pillows were ceramic geckos, one on top of the other. No way. They looked to be having sex.

  Pictures covered the walls. Figurines were placed in just the right spot. This house could be either someone’s home or a museum. She unpacked her suitcase into two drawers that were empty. The others had personal belongings. She came across a swimsuit, a size two. She couldn’t shove her size six body into it.

  Maybe, they could take a drive to find a department store. She grimaced. On the way here, she hadn’t seen any stores except for the Dollar General.

  “Are you hungry?” Jake yelled from downstairs. “I’ve grilled hamburgers.”

  She was famished. The night of the shooting had been the last night she ate well. She changed into shorts and a tank top, grabbed her flip-flops, then padded downstairs. The floor to ceiling windows lent a beautiful view of the water, and Jake. He sat at a picnic table under an umbrella with a beer in his hand and a plate of food in front of him.

  “Where did all this food come from? And can you drink while you’re on the job?” she asked, pushing through the screen door. She filled her plate, then sat across from him.

  “The refrigerator was stocked for us, and I’m on the job twenty-four-seven.” He took a swig of the questionable beverage. “One beer won’t hurt anything.”

  However, he didn’t have just one. By the time their lunch ended, he had drunk three. Looking at him, she’d never guess.

  “I have no cell reception here. So we’re gonna have to take a trip toward town until I get it.”

  “I thought we couldn’t have a cell.”

  “I have a new one; it’s untraceable.”

  “Okay, I need to buy a swimsuit.”

  He nodded. “Did you bring cash?”

  She never carried cash, and it didn’t occur to her to do so before they left. “I didn’t, and I guess, using a credit card is out of the question.”

  “We don’t want a paper trail. Lucky for you, I brought plenty of cash.”

  “I don’t want you to buy me a swimsuit.”

  Jake chuckled and tossed his empty paper plate into the plastic trashcan at the end of the porch. “We’ll leave in a few minutes after I take a shower. I leaned up against a pine tree filled with sap while grilling.”

  ****

  “Jake, have you seen my purse? I thought I brought it in with us.”

  Jake had disappeared somewhere in the back of the house, and since she hadn’t had a tour yet, she didn’t know what hid behind the walls. “It’s on the kitchen island. I removed all of your identification from your purse.”

  “You what?” She lifted her purse, then tossed it down again. “Are you in the bedroom?” Pamela looked down the hallway. In the back were two bedrooms, one connected to a bath. All the doors were open. Jake strolled out of the bathroom into a bedroom wearing a towel knotted low on his hips. All thoughts of yelling at him for rummaging through her purse fled.

  “Keep looking at me that way, and you’ll be seeing what’s underneath the towel.”

  He wasn’t even looking at her. How did he know she watched him? She backtracked and stopped at an end table. Above it, hung a painting of a naked woman brushed in blue watercolors.

  Jake came out of the room, a pair of shorts hung low on his torso, the top button undone. He stopped right behind her. “Interesting.” The muscles on his nude chest flexed and bulged as he ran a towel through his wet hair. Pamela licked her lips, then sucked them inward, her body overheating from the erotic picture he made. “Check out my bedroom and bathroom. This couple knew how to get the juices flowing.”

  He did, too. She walked into the bathroom. Three naked torsos with their arms wrapped around each other graced a glass bathroom shelf. She wandered into his bedroom. The venetian blinds were open, and she wondered who might have gotten a glimpse of Jake as he changed. Then she remembered. They might be the only ones staying at this beach.

  “It’s over there.”

  Another picture of a naked woman hung in the corner. “Where are the naked men pictures?”

  “A female body is more artistic.”

  “Yeah, right, I think that would depend on the beholder.”

  He chuckled, buttoned his shorts, and snatched a shirt off his bed. “Ready?”

  She was primed and ready, but he wasn’t referring to sex. She nodded.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Is there a chance anyone could see us?” Pamela asked, climbing out of the car. There was only one street running through the small Northern Neck town, lined with old houses and a marina situated at the end, reflecting the fishing community.

  “There’s always a chance,” Jake said, staring at his cell phone as they walked to the pier.

  “Are any agents nearby? I don’t see a prerequisite Suburban.”

  Jake grinned. “They’re here. I told them what you said, and they changed vehicles.”

  She playfully hit his arm. “You did not.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Hello,” a silver-haired woman walked toward them. “Are you two the honeymooners staying at Kazenske’s Den?”

  Jake brushed past Pamela and stretched out his hand. “Ye
s. This is my wife Betty, and I’m Ed Daley.”

  Hearing the odd name, Pamela frowned.

  “Hello, I’m Sylvia Wadsmith. My husband, Alfred, and I own a bed and breakfast a few buildings down. We’re in charge of maintenance on the rental properties on your street. If you have any problems, let us know.” Sylvia shook Pamela’s hand. “My, you’re a pretty girl.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman measured her. “You know, if you smile, you’ll be even prettier.”

  Jake wrapped his arm around Pamela, tugging her close, he said, “I just told her some news that threw her off guard.” He bowed his head and kissed her lips. “She’s just in shock.”

  Her fingers touched her lips.

  “Oh, I see,” said Sylvia. Pamela could tell the inquisitive woman wanted details. She hoped Sylvia wouldn’t ask too many questions about their fake marriage. She’d never be able to lie to keep up the charade.

  “Well, that’s better. You aren’t smiling, you’re glowing.” Sylvia waved. “You two love birds have fun.”

  Pamela yanked Jake’s arm, dragging him around the corner of one of the buildings near the marina. “What were you doing?”

  “Pretending we’re on our honeymoon, Betty.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Stop that.” She swatted his hand, but he didn’t move. Her hand stilled on top of his. “Jake.”

  His dark wavy hair gleamed as his gazed bored into hers. “I think we need to practice, so we’re convincing.”

  “Prac—”

  He cupped the sides of her face, breaking off her words. The warmth of his breath caressed her face as his lips touched hers.

  Breathing in the bay rum scent of his skin, her body purred, and she arched into him. Her hands traveled up the hard planes of his chest to curl in his silky hair. He tightened his embrace, plastering her body into him. At that moment, there was no one else, only the two of them with the wind gently stroking them. He eased back, nibbled her lip, and then kissed the hollow of her neck before stepping back. “I think we’ve got it.”

  Her voice abandoned her along with the steadiness of her knees. She teetered and grasped his arm until righting herself, then nodded.