Hot Pursuit (33 page)

“Lead on, Superman.”

Matt bit back another laugh. “It’s Richie
Rich, actually.”

“What?”

“My team name. Richie Rich.”

He saw the flash of her teeth in the
darkness. “Of course it is.”

Matt couldn’t resist the impulse to touch his
mouth to hers. A jolt of need shot to his groin, but he ignored it,
concentrating instead on the amazing sensation of feeling her hot
tongue against his. He broke the kiss sooner than he wanted.

She got behind him, shadowed him up to the
side of the house. He stationed her behind the AC unit, told her to
stay put and watch for anyone coming up from the bayou or through
the backyard.

“Can you whistle?”

“Yes.”

“Loud?”

“Loud enough.”

“Then if you see anyone before I get back,
whistle. But only if they aren’t close enough to make your position
right away. Soon as you whistle, head toward the front of the
house. When the coast is clear, run for the main house but stick to
the woods. Here.”

She took the knife he held out, her eyes
growing wide as she met his. “Matt, I—”

“Use it if you have to. Don’t be squeamish,
Evie. They won’t be.”

She nodded, her eyes still huge, and he
squeezed her shoulder quickly before slipping toward the front of
the house. As he moved, he drew the .45 he’d taken from the main
house. He had to case the place and make sure no one was inside
before going for the garage and her car. He didn’t want to be here
any longer than necessary. His plan was to get the discs, Chris’s
laptop, and get back to the
Candyland
. The senator had
satellite Internet on the yacht—just in case he had a desperate
need to follow the market while enjoying a leisurely afternoon with
his wife—so transmitting any files wouldn’t be a problem.

The other option was to get up to the main
house and check out the discs there, but it was too dangerous. If
someone was watching the house, he didn’t want to put his family in
danger from an assault. Not to mention the likelihood of a police
visit to ask questions about the explosion.

No, it would take a little more time, but
going back to the yacht was the best option. He came to the front
edge of the house, hunkered down in the bushes, and studied the
area. There were no cars down here, no movement of any kind. He
eased from behind the bushes and skirted the front perimeter,
keeping the house at his right.

It took a few minutes to make sure the entire
perimeter was clear; then he was back at Evie’s side, urging her to
follow him to the rear of the house. They crept up onto the porch
and took up stations on either side of the door. Matt took the
small flashlight from his pocket and held it in his right hand,
directly above the gun in his left. He’d love to have some
breaching explosives right about now, maybe a flash-bang to toss
into the room, but all he had was the element of surprise and his
training.

He’d warned Evie not to be startled,
instructed her to wait here until he gave her the all clear. He met
her gaze now and she nodded.
Go for it
.

What happened next occurred in a sequence so
ingrained in him he didn’t have to consider the steps before
acting. One minute he was standing outside, the next he was in, gun
in front of him, flashlight sweeping into the corners of the room,
blinding anyone who looked directly at him. It also put him in
silhouette, making it harder for someone to target him. Add in the
surprise of a bursting door, and you were guaranteed a disoriented
criminal, at least for a few seconds. With a flash-bang, the
disorientation would be complete.

He quickly went through the house the same
way and then returned to the door.

“It’s clear.”

“Thank God for that.” Evie let the knife
droop in her hand. “I think I prefer being a chef to a secret
agent.”

“But if the chef thing doesn’t work out, you
have a career to fall back on,” he teased.

“That’s okay. I’d rather be Mama’s shampoo
girl if it came down to it.”

“Come on.” He led the way to the garage. Evie
hurried to her car and yanked open the passenger door. She rifled
through the side pockets, pulled out papers and a candy bar
wrapper. Next, she opened the glove compartment. She came up with
three discs, all of which she tossed into the pile.

“Are there any in the player?” It was an
older car that had been fitted with an aftermarket disc player
which sat on the floor beneath her passenger seat.

“Yes.” She slid the door to the changer open
and took out the cartridge. Six discs fell into the pile. “We have
to go through the boxes,” she said, looking at him apologetically.
“The cases for these are in there. There should be other discs
too.”

“We’ll have to do it quickly.” Matt grabbed a
box, upending it on the garage floor. They didn’t have time for
preamble, and Evie didn’t protest. She picked up another box and
turned it upside down, scattering books and papers across the
floor.

Matt located two CDs. He grabbed another box.
Fifteen excruciating minutes later, all her stuff was scattered
across the third bay again. But they had a pile of CDs, including
one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

“Is that all of them?”

“Has to be. We’ve been through
everything.”

“Then we gotta boogie.” The tension to escape
the garage and get back to the yacht began beating a drum in his
head. They gathered up the CD cases, stuffed them in a small box,
and went back through the house. Matt took a moment to grab some
cheese and fruit from the fridge, snagged the laptop and cord off
the counter, and led the way back to the dock.

They were gliding down the bayou away from
Reynier’s Retreat when Evie’s phone rang. She glanced at the
display and then looked up at him. He couldn’t see her face well in
the darkness, but her agitation was evident.

“It’s David’s number.”

BRIANNA UNLOCKED THE HANDCUFF FROM the iron
headboard and made Sarah stand. Her legs were shaky and stiff, but
she felt better after eating the hamburger and fries. The man had
gone outside to talk on his cell phone. His voice drifted through
the open door.

“Yeah, babe, it’s me… I know you’re
surprised… No, I didn’t blow anything up, it was probably Rivera’s
guys… My cousin, George… Yeah, strong family resemblance…”

“I gotta pee,” Sarah said.

“Tough. We’re going.”

“I’ll piss in the boat if you don’t let me
go.”

Brianna scowled. “Get in there and don’t
waste time.” She gestured toward the bathroom.

Sarah hurried inside, thankful Brianna hadn’t
cuffed her wrists together yet, and yanked down her pants to squat
over the toilet. She could still hear the guy talking through the
cracked window as she concentrated. Her bladder had been abused so
long it didn’t want to let go.

“I need you to bring it to me… What do you
mean you don’t have it?”

He sounded like he was going to pop a blood
vessel or something.

“Go get it then. And call me once you have
it… Why? Because I can help you get your sister back, that’s why…
Just fucking call me, you got it? And don’t think of pulling any
funny shit with that tough military guy you got salivating after
you, okay? Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

A second later, she heard footsteps on the
stairs. “What’re we waiting for, Bree?”

“She had to take a piss.”

Sarah jumped as the door rattled on its
hinges. Her bladder chose that moment to release.

“You better hurry it up, little girl, or
you’ll be gator bait.”

“Almost done,” she said, her voice hoarse.
God, had it ever felt so good to pee? Warm liquid flooded out of
her until she was empty. She reached for the toilet paper, thanked
God there was a little left, then finished up and thought about
escape. There was no use trying to slip through the window—it was
too small and there was nowhere to go if she did get through. Only
if she could make it to the boat first would she stand a chance.
Since she couldn’t, since she felt weaker than a newborn baby, and
since she was sick and tired of all this shit anyway, she opened
the door and rejoined Brianna and the new guy.

They hustled her outside and into an airboat,
sans duffel this time.

“What’re we doing with her anyway?” Brianna
said. “Hauling her around is too much trouble.”

“We may need her. We’ll stick her in the
trunk of your car. If we need her, she’s there. If not, it’ll be
awhile before anyone finds her.”

“Why not just leave her in the swamp and be
done with it?”

Sarah’s heart thudded. She had no doubt what
Brianna meant.

“Did you hear anything I said? We might need
her.”

“And when we get what we want?”

He made a slicing motion across his neck that
would have been comical if he weren’t serious. “Then we take care
of them all.”

* * *

When they got back to the yacht, Evie
scrambled on board and let Matt hand up the box of CDs and the
food. He joined her before cutting the aluminum boat adrift. There
just wasn’t enough time to return it, and they needed to move
quickly. The small craft would float into the swamp and maybe get
stuck in the marsh grass or the duckweed. The owner would be able
to retrieve it, if he could find it.

“I’ll make sure whoever owns it gets the boat
back, Evie,” Matt said as if sensing the direction of her thoughts.
“Or I’ll buy a new one.”

“I suppose that’s the last thing I should be
thinking about. But you’re right, I was.”

She’d been focusing on mundane things since
the phone call for the simple fact she still couldn’t believe David
was alive and well. He claimed the body was his first cousin,
George, who also worked for Rivera. And he admitted he’d been at
the house and switched ID when he found his cousin’s body. He said
he wanted the police to think he was dead because it would make
leaving the country easier. She wasn’t sure she bought that excuse,
but whatever.

He also claimed to be able to help her get
Sarah back. He hadn’t bothered to explain how.

Evie followed Matt below. He set the box of
CDs on the table and rifled through it.

“Red Hot Chili Peppers?” He held it up for
her inspection.

“That’s what he said.” She hadn’t admitted to
having the CD when David told her what he wanted. Something stopped
her. Was it the right thing to do? It’d felt like it at the time,
but now she wasn’t so sure. What if she’d said yes? She might be on
her way to retrieving Sarah right now. Instead, she was sitting on
the Girard yacht anchored at the mouth of the bayou and waiting for
Matt to examine the CD case for evidence of hidden information.

He opened the case and took the disc out.
Carefully, he pried the case apart and spread the contents across
the table. He looked at the band information folder, then took out
a penlight and ran it over all the surfaces.

“Well?”

Matt shook his head. “Unless this guy knows
something I don’t about information storage, I’m not seeing
anything. Shit.” He snapped off the light and picked up the disc,
running his fingers around the edge. Then he turned the disc over.
His smile was immediate. “The tricky bastard.”

“What?”

He turned the back of the disc toward her.
“See the bluish color? It’s rewritable. The label is a copy. He
used labeling software to duplicate the original so you wouldn’t
notice he’d switched it out. You said you bought it new,
right?”

“Yes. But it has the music on it. I played it
not too long ago.”

He held it up at eye level and studied the
label. “He probably copied the disc, then added his information to
it. It’s a good job on the label. Not noticeable unless you study
it closely.”

And she’d never noticed the switch, just like
she’d never noticed that a dead body that looked like David wasn’t
actually the man she’d once shared a bed with. My God, how obtuse
did she have to be?

“Evie.”

“What?”

Matt took her hand, pulled her over until she
could sit on his lap. He nestled her between his strong thighs. His
fingers threaded into the hair that had fallen forward over her
breasts. He twisted a lock around his index finger, lifting it to
his nose. Then he tugged her down and kissed her. Softly, so
softly. She felt his body stirring even though the kiss wasn’t very
sexual. It wasn’t meant to be sexual. He was comforting her, giving
her his strength, telling her it was okay. And he was doing it all
with his lips and tongue. She moaned into his mouth and sank into
the deliciousness of a kiss with this man she could love.

Tears sprang to her eyes and a sob caught in
her throat. She wrenched her mouth away as it burst from her. He
hugged her to him, his strong arms encircling her, cradling her
against his broad chest.

She didn’t want to feel anything for him, and
yet she couldn’t help it. She
could
love him. Hell, she was
more than halfway there already. Damn him for being so decent and
unselfish.

“How many times have you ever seen a dead
body?”

He’d misunderstood, of course, and she was
grateful for it. “Once,” she managed, gulping in air and forcing
the tears into the void. She would
not
cry. Not now, not
here, and not over him.

“It was dark, even with the porch light, and
there was a lot of blood. You saw what you were meant to see, Evie.
The guy looked enough like David to pass for him if you didn’t
study him. You seemed surprised he had a goatee.”

“He was heavier too, but I figured he put on
weight the last couple of months.”

“It’s not your fault, okay? You saw a dead
man who looked like David. You didn’t spend time looking at him. It
was a natural conclusion to make and the fact he had David’s ID on
him confirmed it for the police.”