Targeted

Chapter 5

Safe house: a house in a secret location, used by spies or criminals in hiding.

Ronald Weller somehow managed to keep his stride even as he walked toward the elevators. He couldn’t call Miguel Vargas from his office. Now that Homeland Security was in the building, he couldn’t risk being overheard. So far they were just asking routine questions about SBMS’s business practices, but he wasn’t fooled for a second. The government wouldn’t have shown up unless they suspected SBMS of something.

And after Sophie’s insistent calls last night and then again this morning, he knew she was on to something. She was a damn good worker and she could be relentless when she wanted to know something. For the past few months he’d been able to brush off her questions about Keane, but with this new guy suddenly showing up and now Homeland Security—Ronald couldn’t stop sweating. His entire world was crumbling and he couldn’t help the one person in his life who needed him most. He felt as if he was between that proverbial rock and a hard place. Except that rock was a terrorist with a gun.

Once he reached the parking garage, he scanned the rows of cars and trucks. No one was following him and no one was in the garage. He pulled out one of the throwaway phones he’d been instructed to purchase and dialed a familiar number.

Someone he didn’t recognize picked up. A woman. “Yes?”

“I need to talk to Miguel. Now.”

“Who is this?”

“None of your damn business.” He sounded a hell of a lot braver than he felt. Fear was the only thing spurring him on, though.

There was a shuffling, then Miguel came on the line. “Who is this?”

“It’s Ronald. What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

He heard the ding of the elevator, so he headed in the direction of his car and lowered his voice. There weren’t any video cameras in this garage, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him either. “Homeland Security is here. They want to talk to Sophie Moreno.”

“She won’t be a problem. I don’t know why you’re always worrying. I’ve taken care of her.” Vargas’s condescending voice grated on him.

Ronald’s throat tightened as the possible meaning of Vargas’s words sank in. “What the hell does that mean? Of course she’s not a problem. She’s not involved in any of this.”

“She’s been sticking her pretty nose where it doesn’t belong. One of my men saw her car fleeing a certain hangar last night.”

Iciness engulfed Ronald, chilling his entire body. “What are you talking about?” That was probably why she’d wanted to talk to him. He had assumed it was to discuss the books. He’d just wanted to blow her off, to buy some damn time. She’d been at Keane’s hangar?

“You should have kept a tighter leash on your employee.”

Ronald swayed for a moment. Sophie hadn’t returned from lunch yet. In the eight years she’d worked for Ronald, she’d never been late without calling first. He’d told her time and again she didn’t need to check in when she was going to be late, but she always did. Truthfully he’d thought she was just pissed at him for being so rude earlier. “What have you done to her?”

“She will be eliminated shortly.” His clipped tone left no room for doubt.

“You son of a—”

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

How could he forget? Ronald rubbed a hand over his two-day-old stubble as his stomach pitched. Sophie was like family to him, but he didn’t have a choice. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. I’ll be contacting you shortly regarding the next shipment.”

“And this is the last one?”

“If things go according to plan, yes.”

Ronald would believe it when he saw it. Before going back in, he tossed the phone into a trash can. With Homeland Security snooping around, he couldn’t give them any excuse to take him into custody.

Not now. Not when he was so close to having his life back.

• • •

Sophie clutched her chemistry books tighter against her chest as she came up on Second Street. The smell of freshly cut grass tickled her nose. All the lawns in the neighborhood were perfectly mowed. Except her home, of course. Her foster mother was older and didn’t care about stuff like that. As Sophie rounded the corner, her stomach tightened when she saw Inez Reyes standing in her front yard talking to two of the neighborhood kids.

Hoping to avoid another confrontation, she crossed the street. It was useless. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Inez say something to them, then run across the street.

“Sophie! Where’re you going so fast?”

The knot in her stomach tightened. She didn’t stop walking. “I’ve got to get home.”

“I’m having a party Friday night. Ricardo was asking about you,” the tall, curvy girl cooed.

Somehow Sophie doubted that. With her flat chest and nonexistent curves, boys never looked at her. Not that she cared. They were a waste of time and she wasn’t going to end up pregnant before she’d graduated from high school because of some loser. For some reason unbeknownst to her, Inez just liked to pick on her. And she’d never done anything to the other girl. “Whatever,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know what your problem is, perra flaca. You think you’re so much better than all of us. At least I have parents.”

Sophie didn’t respond. If she did, she’d start crying. And she refused to let this stupid girl see her tears. Three more houses to go. Only three more and she’d be home. It might not be much, but at least it was safe.

“I’m talking to you, stupid!” Inez grabbed her arm, but before Sophie had a chance to react, a heated male voice interrupted them.

“Get away from her, you fucking cow.” It wasn’t exactly a shout, but there was a deadly edge to that voice.

Sophie and Inez both jerked to a halt and turned. Sophie wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but her stomach did a little flip-flop as the cute dark-haired boy closed the distance between them. Casting a withering look at Inez, he positioned himself in between them. “If you talk to her again, I’ll tell everyone in school that you’ve fucked the entire basketball team and now you’re making your way through the baseball team. You know they’ll believe me too.”

Sophie watched as the other girl’s face paled a deathly white beneath her normally caramel skin.

“Fuck you.” Inez flipped her dark ponytail over her shoulder before running back across the street.

The tall—really cute—boy glanced down at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh, thank you.” The afternoon sun beat down on her face, but the heat rushing to her cheeks had nothing to do with that. Boys rarely looked at her, and the careful way he was watching her made her nervous.

He shrugged and took her books from her hands. “I’ll carry these for you.”

She was too stunned to argue, so she fell in step with him. “Do you even know where I live?”

“Yep, you’re Sophie Moreno and you live with Ms. Bigsby.”

An alarm bell went off in her head. She stopped on the sidewalk and refused to take another step. There weren’t many white boys who lived in her neighborhood, and he wasn’t one of the few who did. Cute or not, she wasn’t going anywhere with him. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Sam. I just moved into Ms. Bigsby’s house today. She told me about the problems you’ve been having with that stupid girl.” He jerked his head in the direction of Inez’s house.

“Oh . . . I didn’t know we had anyone moving in.” For a foster mother, Renee Bigsby was one of the nicer ones, so Sophie was surprised she hadn’t said anything.

“It was last minute. My last house was . . . It doesn’t matter. Since I already attend Miami Beach High, my social worker wanted to keep me in the same district since I graduate soon.”

“You go to Miami Beach High too?” Sophie frowned at him. He had unmistakable pale blue eyes. Kind of like a wolf. She’d definitely have remembered him.

“Yeah. I play baseball. I’ve seen you around.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked at her.

“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip, unsure what to say. Now she wished he hadn’t taken her books. They provided a nice barrier and she felt exposed as this strange boy stared at her with barely concealed interest. It didn’t make her feel uncomfortable exactly, but she didn’t know what to do about the tingly sensation in her stomach.

He averted his gaze and a light shade of red crept up his neck. “She’s just jealous, you know.”

“Who is?”

“Inez.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She turned and started walking toward her house.

Sam kept pace with her. “She is. Trust me. You’re pretty without trying and she hates you for it.”

Another strange flutter settled in her stomach. He thought she was pretty? Sophie didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what to say anyway. Talking to the same sex was hard enough. Talking to boys—cute ones at that—no, thank you.

• • •

Sophie opened her eyes and groaned, banishing the long-buried dream she’d been having. What the hell was that about anyway? She hadn’t dreamt about Sam in a while, and she didn’t like that she was doing so now. It made her feel vulnerable and edgy.

Blinking a couple of times, she tried to orient herself. She felt as if her body had been through a blender. It took a moment to realize she was on her side and lying on a couch. She remembered being drowsy in the car. Must have dozed off, but . . . where was she?

“You awake?” a deep voice from behind her said.

She jerked up at the sound but immediately regretted the abrupt action. Piercing pain fractured through her body. Her arms and legs were stiff and achy. As if she’d just run a marathon in her heels. Probably from being tackled by Jack at that restaurant and then from the impact of that vehicle slamming into them. She shifted around so that she was sitting upright on the blue couch.

It took a few seconds to adjust to her surroundings, but she was in a sparsely decorated living room. Two large prints of underwater ocean life hung on the wall above the flat-screen television in front of her. She focused on them as she steadied herself.

The large room was attached to a kitchen where Jack stood behind a counter. It was the only thing separating them. She eyed him warily. After that hot—and unexpected—kiss, feelings of long-dormant lust battled the soreness shooting through her arms and legs. It was one thing to fantasize about kissing the sexy stranger, but quite another to actually do it. Especially since he was probably a criminal. “Where are we?”

“Marathon.”

“In the Keys?”

“Yes.”

She reached around and gingerly touched her shoulder blade. What if it was already infected? Why hadn’t he woken her up?

As if he read her mind, Jack said, “We just got here. You haven’t been asleep long and I was letting you rest a couple minutes.”

Using the couch arm as a crutch, she pushed up and tugged her oversized T-shirt down. She had about a hundred different questions—like who the hell he really was—but first she wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to bleed to death.

Jack was completely immobile while she walked into the kitchen. The tile cooled her bare feet as she stepped toward him. She figured he was trying to keep her calm, and that was fine with her. He’d already laid out towels, bandages, tweezers, peroxide, and alcohol.

She stared at his large, callous hands as he opened one of the butterfly bandages, and suddenly she felt very small. And terrified. She was in a strange place with a strange man. A man she’d recently shared an intimate moment with. Yes, he’d saved her life, but kissing strangers wasn’t something she did. She’d never even had a one-night stand, yet she’d let a man with a scary gun and sexy muscles kiss her senseless.

Worse, she’d enjoyed it. A lot. The timing had been insanely inappropriate, and even so, she wouldn’t mind a replay. Not to mention she’d fantasized about doing a whole lot more than kissing Jack. But what if he expected more from her? Her throat seized as violent scenarios played in her head. For all she knew, his name probably wasn’t even Jack. From what little she’d gathered, she knew he didn’t work for Keane Flight.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” His words sliced through the quiet room like a machete.

A momentary burst of panic skittered across her skin. She’d been at the mercy of a man before. Defenseless and hurt so badly it made a shiver snake through her even thinking about it. She clutched the counter, fighting to take a full breath.

Jack didn’t move. Just watched her with a preternatural stillness. As if he was trying to reassure her without words, but actions. The man might be a criminal, but he’d also given her a gun—which she’d lost during her swim to freedom. He hadn’t had to do that. The rational voice in her head overrode her fears. If this man wanted to hurt her, he would have by now. He’d had plenty of chances. And she seriously doubted he’d have laid out bandages for her if he didn’t care about her injuries.

She pushed out a long breath and turned so that her back faced him. “Can you help?” Her left arm was too stiff, so he helped her lift it over her head. Aware of how exposed she was, she froze, unsure what to do when the shirt was off.

He cleared his throat nervously, which actually made her feel better. “Uh . . . you might want to use this,” Jack said as he handed her a hand towel.

Sophie was thankful she wasn’t looking at him and hoped he couldn’t sense her embarrassment. With her back still to him, she covered her breasts with the towel, using one hand to keep it anchored in place. She’d had to lose her bra earlier because it had been soaked through just like the rest of her clothes, and getting warm and dry had been a priority.

She glanced over her shoulder to look at him and saw he was averting his eyes. The apprehension she’d been feeling almost dissipated completely. Almost. He might not be who he said he was, but he wasn’t going to attack her like a rabid animal.

“I’m going to pull out a few shards of glass, then cleanse the area with alcohol. It’ll sting, but these are all surface wounds. You probably won’t even be able to see the scratches in a few days. Do you need to sit down?”

“No. Sorry about earlier. It doesn’t happen every time I see blood. I don’t know why it did this time.” She was beyond embarrassed by the way she’d handled herself. Hyperventilating like that made her cringe.

“A lot happened today. Some people have higher levels of tolerance for stress. You were pretty impressive, so cut yourself some slack.” His deep voice was like a gentle salve against her worries.

Her shoulders bunched when his fingers grazed her skin. As he pulled a piece of glass from her shoulder, her back automatically arched. “What about you? Does this sort of thing happen to you all the time?” Maybe if she talked, it would take her mind off the pain. And the fact that she was standing half naked and alone with a very dangerous man. Hurting her might not be part of his agenda, but this man was an absolute predator. It was clear in his every move.

He chuckled as he pulled out another piece. “More than you’d think.”

She stiffened again and gritted her teeth as he withdrew yet another. The pieces he placed on the counter were so small, she couldn’t believe she’d bled so much.

“That’s it. Now I’m going to cleanse it.”

“Okay.” She liked that he was walking her through each step. It gave her a tiny sense of control, something so important to her. She also appreciated that he wasn’t touching her more than necessary. It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about the kind of man he was.

The cool wet cloth against her skin soothed her. Even the alcohol felt good. It burned, but it was a relief knowing she was okay.

He cleared his throat again. “You might want to shower before I put on the bandage. If not, I’ll have to rebandage it later.”

Clutching the towel to her chest, she turned to face him. “Then you’ll answer all my questions?”

He stared at her with those somehow familiar pale bluish eyes that reminded her so much of the boy she’d once loved, and an explosion of butterflies launched in her stomach. Maybe it was the dream she’d just had, but watching him—unwanted memories played in her head with a vengeance.

“As much as I can.” His voice was slightly strangled, mirroring how she felt.

But there was no way he could be feeling or thinking the same thing as she. Sophie decided to take a chance. “Can you answer one now?”

“Maybe.”

“Is your name really Jack Baldwin?”

He paused for a long beat and she wasn’t sure he would even answer. That alone pretty much gave her an answer. Finally he spoke. “It’s Jack Stone.”

At least he was being honest. Or maybe that was simply another alias. She inwardly sighed when she realized it didn’t matter how truthful she thought he was being. She had no way of knowing truth from lies or how to check out who he was. “Where’s the shower?”

He turned around and led her down a short hallway. “This is your room.” He motioned to the room on the right. “That’s mine.” He indicated to the one on the left. “They both have private bathrooms. I managed to dig up some clothes for you, but we’ll get you something more suitable tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” They still hadn’t called the cops, Homeland Security was apparently at her work, someone definitely wanted her dead, and he expected her to stick around?

“Shower first. Answers later.” That pale gaze of his was so damn intoxicating.

Maybe he thought he could hypnotize her into staying. She blinked and forced herself to glance away. After the way he’d tackled her at the restaurant, then their running for their lives, only to be followed by a car crash and an unexpected swim in the freezing ocean . . . Yeah, she could do with a hot shower. “Okay.”

He stopped her with a gentle hand on her upper arm as she stepped through the bedroom door. “I noticed earlier that you’ve got a few scratches on your leg. Will, uh . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and something told her he rarely stumbled over his words.

It was all she could do to ignore what the feel of his callous hand against her skin was doing to her senses. There was something so frustratingly familiar about it, and it was driving her crazy. This man was likely a criminal! She’d never been one to get turned on by the bad-boy image, but apparently her body was making decisions for her now. Her nipples hardened involuntarily under the thick towel. “What?”

“There’s probably a little blood on your legs too. Do you want me to wait outside the bathroom or anything?” He rubbed his hand over his face in a manner so similar to the way her Sam had done, it made her breath catch.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Despite the sudden heavy sensation in her chest at the thought of a man who had died way too young, the ghost of a smile teased her lips as she shut the bedroom door behind her. Jack’s tripping over his words gave her a strange comfort.

The bedroom was furnished but sparse. There was a bed with a white-and-yellow paisley comforter, a dresser, a nightstand, and two inexpensive pictures of palm trees hanging on the wall. A man had definitely “decorated” this place.

He’d laid out a green halter-style summer dress on the bed for her. It looked a little too big, but at least she had something to put on. A small part of her wondered where he’d gotten it from, but she really didn’t care. Clean clothes sounded pretty damn good at the moment. No underwear, though, so she’d be going commando for a day. Thankfully the dress had a built-in bra.

After stripping off the sweatpants he’d given her, she opened the bathroom door and some of the tension ebbed from her shoulders. There was a toothbrush, a washcloth, shampoo, a razor, and bath soap. She pulled back the nautical-themed shower curtain and twisted the shower knob. As soon as steam rose, she stepped under the pulsing jets, but quickly turned the pressure down.

Bruises were starting to show up on her right hip, and she could only guess where she’d gotten them. She also had a few dark splotches dotting all down her arms and legs. And they were only going to get bigger. She’d probably look as if she’d been in a bar brawl.

Her movements were sluggish, but she managed to wash her hair and scrub the dried patches of blood off her legs.

When she was younger, she used to pass out at the sight of blood all the time. But she hadn’t passed out since after . . . that night. Bile rose in her throat as a sudden image of her last foster father flashed in her mind. To this day the smell of whiskey made her ill. Despite the hot water, a chill skittered over her skin, giving her visible goose bumps. When another unwanted shudder snaked through her, she grabbed the bar of soap and began vigorously scrubbing her arms. She had more important things to worry about. Like why was someone trying to kill her and who was the man supposedly helping her?

Jack Stone. The name lingered in her mind and on the tip of her tongue.

Sophie wished she was dealing with anyone but him. Every time she looked at Jack, she was reminded of Sam. He’d been her best friend. The boy she’d lost her virginity to. He’d been her everything. Her whole damn world at one time. The one person she could count on for anything and the one person she’d been able to completely be herself around.

Inevitably, she was also reminded of the last hateful words she’d said to him. She tried to pacify her guilt by telling herself she’d been young and hurting, but there was no excuse for the way she’d blamed Sam. Nothing that had happened had been his fault. And she’d never get the chance to tell him how sorry she was for shutting him out of her life. They’d been so close and she’d just ended things. She’d been in pain and as awful as it was to admit, she’d wanted him to suffer too. God, she’d been a wreck back then.

A few errant tears escaped. For Sam’s memory, or for herself, she wasn’t sure. She brushed them away as the last soapy suds rushed down the drain; then she turned the water off. Despite her burning questions, Sophie took her time. She found lotion under the sink and smoothed it over her arms and legs. After running a towel over her hair and combing it with her fingers, she slipped the dress on. The thin material was soothing against her skin. She spared herself one last glance in the mirror before opening the bedroom door.

Jack wasn’t going to hurt her. Nothing he’d done so far indicated that was his intention. She found him in the living room on a laptop and hated that little tingling sensation she got when she saw him. He was working on a laptop, his long fingers flying across the keyboard. His forearms slightly flexed, drawing her eyes up the length of his arms to those wickedly broad shoulders. She wanted to smooth her hands over them, dig her fingers into his bare flesh while he kissed her again. Okay, not the time to indulge in that fantasy, she chided herself. “Where’d you get the computer?”

He closed the computer and looked up. “It was here.”

For a brief moment, his eyes darkened as they raked over her body. The look was quick, but he did a complete sweep from her head to feet and there was no denying the way his gaze lingered on her breasts. Men. Not that she could judge since she’d been checking him out too. She curled her toes into the plush carpet as she stood in between the entrance of the hallway and the living room, every inch of her aware of his raw masculinity.

He saved her by standing. “Come on. I want to bandage your shoulder before we do anything else.”

Sophie nodded and followed him to the kitchen. At least with this dress she didn’t have to take off her clothes again. His hands were gentle as he pressed the butterfly bandage to her exposed shoulder. A flutter settled in her stomach as his fingers glided across her skin, but she ignored the strange sensation. He still hadn’t mentioned that kiss and it was doubtful he ever would. She’d been freaking out and it had obviously been the only way for him to calm her down. He had enjoyed himself, though. Of that much, she was sure.

When he was finished she took a couple of steps forward and turned to face him. Using the counter as a support, she found her voice. “Ready to answer my questions?”

“Do you want to sit?”

“No. I want to know who you are and who you work for and why you wanted to meet me today. I know you don’t work for Keane Flight, so don’t even go there. And I want to know who the hell was shooting at me.”

His dark eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s a lot of questions.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you start with who you are?”

He leaned against the other counter, eyeing her with an expression she didn’t understand. “That’s a complicated question.”

Her temper ignited. “Well, how about you try to answer anyway?”

He was silent for a long beat and she was under the impression he was sizing her up. What, did he think she knew what was going on? The thought was so stupid she almost rolled her eyes.

“I work for the government . . . in a clandestine capacity.”

Okay, that wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Like a spy?”

His lips twitched. “Something like that.”

If someone hadn’t tried to kill them multiple times today, she’d probably laugh in his face. “What agency?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

He ignored her question and asked another. “What’s your next question?”

For a split second she contemplated grilling him, but something told her that he was the kind of man who would only crack under torture. And probably not even then. He stood there watching her, his face completely impassive, like a granite statue.

She tried to bite back her frustration. “Okay, who was trying to kill us?”

“You. Not us. And I should be asking you that question.” One of his eyebrows lifted almost mockingly.

She gritted her teeth at his confident tone. “Me? How could you possibly think someone was shooting at me? You’re the hotshot spy. Maybe it was you they’re after.”

“They were after you, and that means you have something they want. Or you’re working with them.” His deep voice might be an aphrodisiac, but right now his calm attitude was simply annoying her.

Her hands automatically clenched into fists. “Working with who?”

His shoulders lifted casually, as if the answer should be obvious. “Terrorists.”

“Terrorists? You are insane.” She shoved away from the counter and tried to move past him through the kitchen entryway.

Jack shifted so that he stood in front of her, completely blocking her exit. In her bare feet, she was barely five foot two and he had to be at least six feet tall. She bit her bottom lip. If he wanted to keep her there, there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. No matter that she didn’t fear him physically hurting her, that didn’t mean he couldn’t restrain her.

“Move,” she ground out, hoping her voice sounded stronger than the trembling one inside her head.

Her order fell on deaf ears. “Sophie, you have something they want or you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have. If you’re not involved, then think about the last few months at work. Have you noticed anything different about anyone you work with?”

She didn’t have to think about the last few months because she knew that if someone wanted her dead it was because of what she’d seen last night. “You don’t actually think I’m a terrorist, do you?” She needed to get that out of the way first because if he did, she wasn’t going to bother talking with him.

Something passed over his features as he shook his head. It was brief, but she knew what it was. Sincerity. “No, I don’t. But my superiors aren’t as convinced. So why don’t you tell me what you know?”

“My purse . . .” She’d left it in the SUV, which was now at the bottom of the bay. And it had that file with Keane Flight’s records.

“Left behind, though your wallet sort of survived. Your credit cards and ID are still inside.”

“Where?” There was nothing tied to SBMS in it, but she was glad he’d saved it. After she’d changed out of those wet clothes, she hadn’t even been aware of what he’d done with them or the wallet.

“Your room.”

Wordlessly she made a move to leave the kitchen mainly because she wanted to get out of the enclosed area. Jack made her feel almost claustrophobic.

“I’ll come with you.” He shifted to the side so she could pass, but not enough that she could avoid touching him. Her shoulder brushed against his muscular chest, sending a rush of heat to her lower abdomen. She hated her purely physical reaction to him. It made her feel out of control, and right now that was the last thing she needed.

He wasn’t more than a foot behind her as she made her way to the bedroom. Something about his scent was familiar. It was spicy and just plain masculine, but there was something else. Something that triggered familiar memories. Memories she wanted no part of. He might have the same dark hair and same pale eyes as Sam, but she had to be imagining any other similarities. Her mind was seeing what it wanted to see. Nothing more.

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.