Danger in Paradise (5 page)

* * * * *

Luke opened his eyes, instantly alert. A scream ripped through the air and twenty-three years worth of built up guilt shredded through him.

It was Hope.

He grabbed his SIG from the nightstand and rushed to her bedroom. With caution, he eased open her door, but paused in the doorway.

Her balcony door was open, and the moonlight streamed through, illuminating her lean form. Hope was asleep in bed, but mumbling and thrashing around. The sheet tangled around her legs. He laid his gun on the bureau next to the door. It wouldn’t serve to freak her out even more. With measured movements, he sat on the bed and gently touched her shoulder.

“Hope, wake up.”

She opened her eyes, then opened her mouth as if to let out another scream, but stopped suddenly. Her entire body was tense as she glanced around in confusion. “What…is everything okay? Why are you here?”

“You screamed.” He didn’t know what else to say.

She sat up and shoved the sheet off her. A sheen of sweat covered her face, and her breathing was erratic, but she didn’t push him away. If anything, she seemed relieved to have him present. Though he doubted she’d admit it.

“Sorry about that,” she mumbled. She pulled back as if suddenly embarrassed, and retreated to the bathroom. He watched as she walked away from him. She wore skimpy blue shorts that barely covered her butt and a matching skin-tight tank top. It was hard not to imagine what it would be like to peel her barely-there clothes away and see what he’d been fantasizing about before she’d woken him up.

He heard the sound of running water, then moments later she was back. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He stood, figuring she wanted some privacy. “It’s no problem. Are you okay? That was some scream.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but it almost looked like she blushed. “Yeah, sorry again. I haven’t had a…it’s been a long time since I’ve had a nightmare that bad.”

“Want to talk about it?” He already knew the answer before he asked, but he had to try. The reason he wanted to know had nothing to do with helping the Santiagos. His protective instincts had kicked into high gear and he simply wanted to comfort her.

She shook her head and wouldn’t meet his gaze as she climbed back into bed. He just stood there, knowing he should leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her.

As if she’d read his mind, she said, “I’m fine, I promise. You can go back to sleep with no worries. Trust me, I’ve never had more than one in a night.”

He stood off to the side of the bed and when she finally looked at him, his gut clenched.  She stared at him with those big pale eyes, looking at him as if she knew real monsters existed. Something deep inside him twisted. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here for a few minutes.” He gestured to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“That’s not necessary.”

She was embarrassed, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t leave her now. Not after what he’d seen.

“It’s not for you. It’s for me, I’ll feel better.”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, but she finally lay back, then curled into the fetal position. He thought he heard her mumble something under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure.

A couple minutes later, her voice cut through the quiet night air. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed and rolled onto her back. It was dark, but he could tell she was staring at the ceiling. “I hate when this happens.”

“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m just frustrated that my body is tired, but my head won’t let me sleep.” She rolled over on her side so she faced him.

Even though he could barely see her face, he could feel her eyes on him. “Want to talk about something else then?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He racked his brain for a safe topic. “Favorite movies?”

“I bet you’re into action movies,” she murmured as she shifted against the pillows.

He smiled into the darkness. “Close. Thrillers. And I bet you don’t even like movies all that much?”

A soft laugh escaped. “Yeah, you’re more likely to catch me watching a nature documentary than anything else.”

Her small admission wasn’t surprising. When she didn’t continue, he laid his head back against the chair. A few minutes later though, she spoke again. “You really don’t have to stay, Luke. I promise I’ll be okay.”

He paused for a long beat, then did something he’d never done before. “Before I was in security, I was in the Marines. The majority of my time in the Corps I spent in Africa. Djibouti to be exact.” Technically his team had been stationed in Djibouti, but they’d spent weeks and months on recon missions scattered across the continent. He couldn’t tell her that though.

“Yikes,” she murmured.

Not exactly how he’d put it, but he silently agreed. The place was a shithole. “My first year back in civilian life, I couldn’t sleep for shit. I was lucky if I got a solid three hours during the night.”

“How’d you get over it?”

“Time.”

“Did you… have nightmares too?”

“Sometimes.” More often than he’d admit. He’d never woken up screaming, but he had awakened to find himself drenched in sweat too many times to count. Something he’d never told another soul. Not even his parents. He’d been barely twenty two when he’d returned home and everyone had expected him to be exactly the same. So, he’d kept that shit to himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Not really.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t being a smartass. I was—”

“I know you weren’t.” She might be a damn mystery, but one thing he was sure about. The woman was sincere.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for whatever you went through.” Her voice was quiet.

The words shouldn’t be significant, but they were because she meant it. She might not have a clue what he’d gone through, but it was obvious she was a survivor. Something he should have recognized sooner.

She shifted back into the fetal position and this time she didn’t talk or move again.

After half an hour, the steady sound of her breathing was the only sound in the room, but he didn’t leave. Watching her sleep, an odd protectiveness filled him.

Something had changed—a subtle shift inside him and in his relationship with Hope—and he wasn’t sure why. Even though he couldn’t put his finger on it, he felt the change bone deep and it scared the shit out of him.

* * * * *

Hope opened her eyes to the new surroundings and rolled onto her back. She was alive. She wasn’t bleeding and floating to a watery grave. Something she often had to remind herself. She hadn’t had a nightmare like the one last night in months. And she was embarrassed it had happened here of all places.

A slight movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Luke was still in her room. Sitting on the old wooden rocking chair he looked cramped and uncomfortable. One leg was thrown over the armrest and he cuddled a red decorative throw pillow with gold fringe. His face was all angles and harsh lines, but asleep he lost some of those qualities. Maybe it had something to do with the ridiculous pillow he clutched, but somehow he was less threatening.

She couldn’t believe he’d stayed with her. Her throat tightened at the thought, but she shoved those emotions away. He wasn’t being protective. He’d just fallen asleep. As quietly as possible, she sat up and eased out of bed. The minute her feet touched the floor, his eyes opened.

She froze, as if she was an intruder. “Hi?” It came out as a question.

He yawned and raked a hand through his hair before standing and stretching. “Morning. Can’t believe I managed to sleep in that chair.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face, still half asleep.

“Me either.” She chuckled, and some of her self-consciousness ebbed away, but she felt her face heat up as she drank in the sight of him. When she’d seen him on the balcony without a shirt, the distance had been a nice barrier. Up close and personal, she had to remind herself to breathe. All those muscles just begged to be touched. Her fingers actually itched to stroke over his chest and the incredible tight planes of his stomach. A very thin line of dark hair tracked down his muscular abdomen to the top of his boxers. To her horror, her face flamed as she wondered what he would look like underneath that flimsy barrier. Yeah, she needed to rein her thoughts in if she wanted to keep a professional atmosphere.

She quickly averted her gaze to his face, only to realize he was assessing her, too. His eyes darkened when they rested on her lower body.

Instinctively she covered her upper thigh with her hand. His intense scrutiny reminded her of her hideous scar. She’d had it for so long now she was almost able to forget it existed. Luke’s dark eyes met hers, but she couldn’t read him. She wondered what he was thinking, then inwardly cursed. She shouldn’t care. She’d never cared before. It was a part of her. If someone was disgusted by it, then screw them.

Luke broke the silence, his voice raw. “I know you probably want to get started, but if you need me, I’ll be around the house.” He started to leave, but she stopped him.

“Thank you for…” she waved her hand in the air, unable to finish. 

Instead of making her feel stupid, he surprised her. His features softened and his lips curved into a small smile. “Anytime.”

* * * * *

Patrick threw back another scotch. He could have handled this on his own. He signaled to one of the crew members on his father’s yacht that he wanted another drink.

When the man hesitated, he slammed his fist down on the cushiony chair. “Now!”

After his refill he leaned back and stretched out on the top deck. It didn’t matter if he was drunk, anyway. His father had insisted on letting his men take care of things so Patrick wouldn’t screw anything up. Despite the fact that he’d told Patrick to handle this on his own, at the last minute, he’d sent some of his thugs to tag along. His father just assumed he’d screw up. Patrick wondered why his father even kept him around.

“Maybe you should lay off.” John, his father’s right-hand man sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed hard enough so that it wasn’t a friendly gesture.

“And maybe you should mind your own damn business.” He hated that his words were slurred, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He also knew the other man was right, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of putting his drink down. If he wanted to finish the entire bottle of scotch, he would.

John grabbed his glass and tossed it into the ocean, then gave him a look that dared him to argue. Despite the urge to pummel the other man, Patrick knew it would be a mistake. John’s black eyes were soulless. Every time they made eye contact, Patrick swore John could see inside him. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the other man scared him shitless. John had been working for his father the past two years and he’d only seen him in action once.

It wasn’t pretty.

“Let’s go over this one more time,” John said.

“Why? We’ve—”

“It’s necessary. Now listen.”

Patrick grunted an acknowledgement. They weren’t letting him go with them, so what did he care?

“At dusk, we’re taking the zodiac about a half mile down from their house. We should be back in an hour. Two hours tops. If we’re not, you leave and I’ll contact your father within a week. I don’t want you hanging around inviting questions from anyone. Think you can remember that?”

“Yeah, I got it,” he muttered. “Are you sure two men is enough?”

The other man snorted and stood, dismissing his question. Hell, Patrick doubted John even needed the other man at all. He was probably taking him to appease Patrick’s father.

He laid his head back and groaned. They were still a couple hours away from Cuba and he was close to puking or passing out. The ride had been smooth so far, but a swell could come up at a moment’s notice and his stomach would roil.

He wasn’t even sure that bitch would be there. The information they’d received had been scanty, but a couple dock workers at the marina in Key West had confirmed she’d left the day before. Combined with his father’s information, wherever that had come from, it appeared as if the bitch been hired by a wealthy family in Miami to do freelance work in Cuba.

At least they weren’t on United States soil anymore. Another sign from the fates.

Mac grabbed a beer from his fridge then walked out onto his lanai. The sound of the ocean normally soothed him. Not tonight though. He missed Hope. She traveled all over the world, but this time was different. That voice in the back of his head he rarely ignored had been whispering to him that something was wrong. He hadn’t done an extensive check on the people who hired her since her agent had recommended them and hell, because he never had before. She was an adult and he didn’t interfere in her work. The family that had hired her made money in coffee, donated to charity, and didn’t make many social appearances. Almost none in fact, except the father.

His portable phone rang and after a glance at the caller ID, he answered. The area code was from DC. “Hello?”

“Mac, its Howard.”

Howard Bishop, Deputy Director of the FBI’s Washington DC division, didn’t call unless it was important. Or if he needed a favor. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”

Howard snorted. “There have been some people asking questions about Hope. Important people.”

He pushed up from his sitting position, beer forgotten. “Who?”

“Luke Romanov, for starters.”

Mac nodded as some of his tension ebbed. It made sense. The man worked with the family who had hired her. It was only natural they’d want to check her out. “What’s the big deal?”

“He ran an initial check before meeting her, but after they met he called a friend of his to run an extensive, off-the-record check.”

“Who’s his friend?”

“He works for me, and he’s not going to help him. I made sure of it.” Howard’s answer was curt.    

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be. That’s only part of the reason I called. Another man, Richard Taylor, has been looking into her.” His words deadpanned.

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s old money, but you probably recognize him because he’s made a killing in biotechnology in the past ten years.”

“Why would he be interested in Hope?” Silence. Mac’s grip on the phone tightened. “Don’t hold out on me Howard. I want answers.”

His friend sighed. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, and I don’t want you flying off the handle before I’ve finished. Okay?”

“Fine.”

“I can’t tell you why, but we’ve been watching Richard Taylor for the past two years. His son is a real loser and…shit Mac, I’m just going to say it. He’s put out a hit on Hope.”

He heard the words, but couldn’t believe they were true. “What?” He stood, sending the cheap plastic chair flying as his surroundings funneled out.

“Don’t worry about it.” Howard’s voice was provokingly calm.

“What the hell do you mean, don’t worry about it?” That was like telling him he had terminal cancer, but not to worry. He stormed into the house. The sliding glass door rattled behind him. He was going to be in Cuba by nightfall.

“I told you to let me finish. I’ve got a man on the inside.”

Mac paused with a T-shirt hovering over his opened suitcase. “What does that mean?” His heartbeat slowed, but only by a fraction.

“I can’t go into detail, and we don’t even know why Taylor is after her. My contact couldn’t get that much information out of him. The only thing we do know is he wants her dead. Immediately.”

“Tell me again why I shouldn’t be doing anything about this?” His hand balled into a tight fist around the shirt, wishing it was Richard Taylor’s neck. Whoever he was.

“Because you’ll blow my man’s cover and ruin one of our biggest undercover operations.” Howard’s voice rose a fraction.

“I don’t know about this,” Mac muttered.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” When Mac didn’t respond Howard pushed. “I want to hear you say it Mac.”

Against his better judgment Mac relented. “I won’t do anything stupid.” That didn’t mean he was going to sit by idly and do nothing.

“Good because there’s more.” His friend sighed again, a tiresome sound.

More? Nothing could be worse than what he’d already told him. “Lay it on me.”

“I’m sending you an email with old articles and pictures of the Santiagos.”

“Why should I care about them? Are they part of the reason this guy is after Hope?”

“Just check out what I’m sending you. With different people asking about Hope, I only checked them out to be thorough. Didn’t want any surprises later on. I think you might find the key to Hope’s past with them…If only we’d known all this years ago.” He sighed and Mac could feel his insides shredding to ribbons.

Mac fired up his laptop as the other man talked. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he’d known Howard since Vietnam. They’d spent a year in a POW camp together. In all the years he’d known him, he’d never heard the other man sound unsure of himself. If it hadn’t been for his friend, he wouldn’t have been able to forge a new identity for Hope. They both owed each other in different ways, though Mac could never repay Howard. He might have saved Howard’s life, but Howard had given him the gift of Hope.

“Have you pulled it up yet?”

“Give me a sec…almost there.” Thank God for fast access internet. He scanned the message and uploaded the first attachment. His throat clenched. “Shit.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

“I’ll call you back.” Unable to say more, he hung up then opened up the rest of the attachments.

Articles and pictures dating back twenty-two years popped up. After a while he just scanned the headlines.
Parents of Missing Girl Ask for Closure, Wealthy Family Offers Reward for Any Information…
when he got to a current picture of the Santiagos, he thought his heart would give out. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The pixilation of the photo was grainy, taken through a telephoto lens if he had to guess. But the younger of the two women, the daughter, looked like Hope. Too much so for it to be a coincidence that they’d hired her.

Too many questions burned inside him. Hope said she’d grown up in foster care and he had believed her. No, he
still
believed her. She’d told him more than once she couldn’t remember most of her childhood, just the years in foster care and…after. For years, she’d kept a journal next to her nightstand to record dreams, but she’d given that up long ago. He rubbed a hand over his face and finished packing his suitcase. He might not be leaving now, but he had a feeling that Hope would need him soon and he planned to be ready.