Accidental Bodyguard (14 page)

He grunted in what sounded like agreement and kept eating.

“You must give me this recipe,” Claudia said after another long moment.

“Sure,” Irene said. “The secret is fresh tomatoes and lots of garlic.”

Jack's spoon clattered into his empty bowl. “If you ladies are done with the business of your society of secret recipes, I'd like to resolve our problem.”

“We're here on official police business,” Claudia interjected before Jack could disrupt the fragile peace. “We can't tell you any more than that, but lives depend on no one knowing where we are.”

Irene's gaze darted from Jack to Claudia and back to Jack.

“You're still a cop? I thought you quit.”

“Please believe me, Irene,” Claudia said. “We can't give you any details, but the security of the United States government is at stake.”

Claudia glanced to Jack for his support, but he only raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that said, “Oh, please do go on. This is a fascinating tale.”

She glared at him. What she'd told his mom wasn't a lie. Carlos was a domestic terrorist who
would
blow up more government buildings if her testimony didn't keep him in jail.

“The US government?” Irene asked doubtfully. “You work for the government now, Jack?” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, Lordy. Does this have something to do with that scandal down at the federal farm bureau?”

Claudia shook her head. “I'm sorry, Irene. We can't tell you. The less you know, the safer it is for you.”

“That's like waving a red flag in front of her,” Jack said. “She won't stop asking questions until she badgers us to death.”

“I can keep a secret, son.”

“No you can't, Mother.”

“Stop it, you two,” Claudia said. “This is not helping.”

Jack sat back in his chair and issued a disgusted noise that sounded like a snort.

“Irene, if you tell anyone that we're here—anyone—it could be a disaster. That person could mention it to someone else and so on and so on.” Claudia placed a hand over her heart. “That would be dangerous for all three of us.”

“No, it won't,” Jack said. “Because Mother is leaving.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

J
ACK
SHIFTED
IN
his chair as Claudia leveled questioning eyes on him.

“Where's that bourbon?” he asked his mother.

“In Grandpa Strawn's sideboard,” Irene said.

Jack rose and approached the wooden cabinet that had been handcrafted by his mother's grandfather. She'd discarded the piece when she'd moved in with a new lover saying it didn't go with his contemporary decor. Typical of her not to cherish things that had real meaning.

He poured himself an inch of straight whiskey and returned to the table. Might as well get this over with.

“What happened to the little love nest Chuck Wheeler set you up with?”

His mother averted her gaze.

“You know I can ask around,” Jack said.

“Not without telling someone you're back in town,” his mother spit out.

Jack took a pull on the whiskey and waited her out. A conversation with his mother always went this way. Had since he'd been twelve years old and she'd left his dad for a greener bank account.

“Janie Sue found out about us.”

“You knew she would eventually.”

“Yeah, but I didn't expect her to ask Chuck to fire me. And I definitely didn't expect him to.”

“You lost your job?”

“Six months ago. That's why I'm homeless. Janie Sue spread it all over town that I was a home wrecker and a bad employee—which you know is not true—and I haven't been able to find another job because of her lies.”

“They're not lies. You
are
a home wrecker, or are trying to be.”

Irene looked away, and Jack shook his head. But of course this was the story of his mother's turbulent life. And the blowback from her disasters always knocked him off course.

That was the story of
his
life. Or it used to be. He thought he'd moved beyond his mother's gravitational pull.

“Wait,” Claudia said. “I'm confused.”

He shot her a glance. He'd been wondering when she'd interject. What must she think about his mother? During high school he'd never brought a girlfriend home so he didn't have to explain Irene's peculiar way of seeing things.

“Me, too,” Irene muttered.

“Yeah, it's like a soap opera,” Jack said. “Hard to keep track of all the players. Bottom line is my mother was screwing the county sheriff, who happened to be both of our bosses once upon a time, his wife found out and good ole Mom got the axe.”

“And now she can't get a job because his wife spread rumors?” Disbelief dripped from Claudia's tone.

“I guess you don't know small towns,” Irene said.

“I guess not,” Claudia agreed.

“I've been making my quilts and cleaning for old lady Smithfield to buy groceries and gas,” Irene said. “I'm a month behind on my car payment.”

“I'll help with that,” Jack said. “But you can't stay here. I built this cabin for one person, not three.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Irene said.

“No,” Jack said. He took the final swallow of whiskey.

“Jackson, I don't know why you—”

“No!” he shouted, cutting off her protests. He slammed the glass onto the table. He was sick of this. His mother never listened to him, but he needed to make her understand she wasn't bulldozing into his life again. Whether she believed him or not, if the Warriors tracked them to Dunnellon, she'd be in danger. He didn't need that additional complication. She had to go.

The question was where. He closed his eyes, trying to think. Why couldn't he think?

“Why don't we all sleep on it tonight,” Claudia said into the sudden silence.

She placed her palm on his forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. Knowing she wanted his attention, he met her gaze.

“Jack didn't get much rest last night and drove all day,” Claudia said. “He needs sleep. Maybe we'll come up with a solution in the morning.”

“Why didn't you get any rest?” Irene asked.

Jack focused on his mother again. She stroked the little dog curled up contentedly in her lap, oblivious to the controversy swirling over its furry head. Like mother; like dog.

“He had things to take care of last night.” Claudia rose, tugging on his arm. “Come on, Jack. You're going to bed.”

Jack stood, and realized Claudia was right about at least one thing: he seriously needed rest. Now that his body had used up the jolt of adrenaline required to deal with the intruder—his own mother—he was drained of energy. For sure the shot of whiskey hadn't helped, but whatever the cause he wasn't thinking clearly. What was he doing sitting here trying to have a logical discussion with his mother? Conversations with her always had the same outcome.

“Irene, do you want to get anything out of Jack's bedroom you'll need tonight?” Claudia asked as she all but pushed him toward bed.

“No, I'm good. I'll just wash up these dishes and crash on the sofa.”

Jack almost laughed. Typical. His mother was trying to make them feel guilty.

“Thanks,” Claudia said. “We'll talk more in the morning.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

Jack turned back to his mother. “Where's your phone?”

Irene hesitated, but like a guilty suspect her gaze darted to her huge purple bag where it rested on the recliner.

Jack grabbed the purse and fished out the phone.

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Irene said.

“We'll talk more in the morning,” Jack said, repeating Claudia's words but in a more ominous tone.

* * *

W
HEN
C
LAUDIA
CAME
to consciousness, it was to the sound of birds singing and chirping joyously, obviously delighted with the new morning.

The next thing she became aware of was heat from the large body of Jackson Richards—in full, glorious view since he wore nothing but his briefs—stretched out next to her on the bed. Stretched out extremely close to her because the bed was full size, not even a queen.

He lay flat on his back breathing so deeply she'd almost call it a snore. She supposed it would be polite to avert her gaze, but didn't want to. What she wanted to do was give in to the visceral pull that urged her to straddle him and let instinct take over.

She rolled onto her side and allowed herself to take a long, admiring look at his well-toned physique. Her gaze lingered on a scar that slashed across his abdomen in the wrong location for appendicitis. Had her gladiator been in a knife fight?

To maintain that body, he had to work out regularly. Karate couldn't create all those muscles. Or could it? Damn, but this guy was hot. Would he sizzle? She reached out a finger, but stopped herself.

Jack needed sleep. When he'd hit the bed last night, he'd gone out so fast it was as if he'd turned off a switch. She'd worried about awkwardness, but after such a tension-filled day, they hadn't exchanged a word. Although rolling around with Jack on this bed might have been a nice release.

Yeah, very nice.

She closed her eyes.
Stop it. Think about something else.

She recalled the previous evening, meeting Jack's flamboyant mother and Pookie, her sweet dog. Now someone else had seen her face, someone else to worry about telling the wrong person. Irene had surely complicated things, especially since Jack didn't trust her to keep their presence a secret. He'd gone so far as to confiscate her phone. Claudia stifled a giggle, remembering the outraged expression on Irene's face, but quickly sobered.

Really, her situation wasn't funny at all.

The calls of the birds snagged her attention again, and she looked out the window, trying to find them. Must be hundreds to make that much noise. She didn't see anything flying, but in the brightening morning she saw the emerging shapes of trees.

Careful not to disturb Jack, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the window.

Wow.

An immense green forest, full of towering pines, spread out beyond Jack's backyard. She longed to go outside and breathe in the scent.

A few isolated trees had been left in the yard, and that was where she spotted three feeders, where a variety of quarreling birds jockeyed for prime position at the trough. Irene must keep the feeders full of seed, which explained all the birds clamoring for breakfast. This was February. Wild birds needed help this far north to make it through the winter. The patch of grass between the house and the forest was brown, not green.

It'd been dark when they arrived last night, so she hadn't appreciated the beauty of this setting. Of course she'd been too frightened of the supposed intruder to appreciate anything at the time. But the lure of those woods was almost as strong as the pull of Jack's body.

She'd been cooped up for so long, first inside the walls of Villa Alma and then—even worse—inside a tiny gun locker.

By God, she was going to go outside and breathe.

Claudia grabbed her jeans from the chair where she'd draped them and moved to the door. She'd slept in her T-shirt, and that would have to do for now. Turning the knob quietly, she slipped out. Jack didn't so much as twitch as she closed the door behind her.

After pulling on the jeans in the small hallway, she moved to the living room where Irene, covered by one of her quilts, snored loudly on the sofa. The window behind her displayed more forest extending in that direction.

Pookie, resting at her owner's feet, raised her furry head to eye Claudia with interest. When Claudia stepped to the back door, Pookie leaped to the carpet and followed.

Claudia stood at the door and peered outside. Pookie looked up and cocked her head as if saying, “Open the door already. I need to pee.”

Trying not to wake Irene, Claudia quietly unlatched the door and slid it across the track. Pookie bounded outside, and the birds scattered into the trees with outraged shrieks. After squatting to relieve herself, the dog glanced toward the house, probably wondering why the stupid stranger wasn't joining her in this perfect morning.

Still Claudia hesitated. She was tired of living in the shadows of life, but was it safe for her to venture outside? Jack claimed his cabin sat in the middle of fifty acres, so there was no one to see her. No way could Carlos's henchmen find her this fast. Surely she could enjoy a few brief moments of freedom.

With a deep breath, Claudia stepped over the threshold onto a concrete slab, keeping close to the cabin. The cold morning air bit at her flesh, making her wish she had a fur coat like Pookie, who had scampered to the beginning of the tree line and patrolled the perimeter with her nose to the ground.

Yeah, maybe it was cold out here, but the huge expanse of open space soothed her soul. She felt liberated by all this undeveloped real estate.

She shut the door behind her to preserve the interior heat and took a hesitant step onto the deck, which contained one Adirondack-type chair next to a small round table, a gas grill and a clay chiminea. Hugging herself for warmth, she took a long look around. The huge forest surrounding Jack's cabin appeared to be endless, but she knew of course it wasn't. Couldn't be. But it felt vast, knowing, as if it protected secrets she needed to learn.

To her right, at the far end of the cleared land, she spotted an opening into the trees and suddenly longed to take that path. What would she discover? Maybe later. But not alone. With Jack.

To her left she found a sleek aluminum Airstream travel trailer, a storage shed and a stack of firewood. The image of sitting in front of a roaring fire with Jack popped into her head.

Too bad Irene's presence ruined that idyllic fantasy.

With Pookie too far away to worry about, the birds had returned to the feeders, and flitted back and forth from their breakfast to the trees. She couldn't identify them all, but recognized a brightly colored male cardinal and his mate, a more subtly hued female. Fascinated by their activity, she gradually realized each bird remained aware of Pookie, constantly on alert for the return of the dog or the approach of some other hidden danger, scattering back to higher perches at the slightest noise.

Just like she should remain on alert for Carlos's henchmen.

Maybe she should go inside. Someone could emerge from those woods any second. With a weapon. Or they could be lurking behind the tree line with a scope aimed at her. Feeling as if a long-legged spider crept up her spine, she shivered and pressed her back against the cold wall of the cabin.

What a way to live. Would she react this way for the rest of her life, scattering for cover, hiding from every loud noise like a nervous bird?

She should go inside.

No. A few more minutes. Even though now thoroughly chilled, she refused to step away from this little slice of heaven just yet.

Behind her, the door slid open, and Jack stepped outside carrying two cups of steaming coffee.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied.

He wore jeans and a bulky sweatshirt, looking comfortable, well rested and sexy as hell even though fully clothed. What was it with her and Jack? He pulled her in like the moon created the tides.

Claudia reached to shut the door for him, and Pookie darted inside, brushing her ankles.

Her gaze dropped to the second mug.

“Is that coffee for me?”

He handed her a mug. The brew was black, the way she liked it. She smiled, pleased he'd remembered.

“Thank you, kind sir.” She took a swallow, and felt the welcome warmth slide down her throat. Well, well. Her gladiator had many talents, and he definitely knew how to make coffee.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Great.” She motioned with her head toward the backyard. “This is beautiful, Jack. I know I shouldn't be out here, but I couldn't help myself.”

He nodded and took a swallow of coffee, surveying his property over the rim of the mug. “You're okay for a few minutes.”