Authors: Cait Jarrod
Kidnapped Hearts (3 page)
He cleared his throat. “I’ll have a man
come over in the morning to replace the glass for you.”
“No need. I have a repairman, Panama
Jack.”
Jake’s eyebrows arched. “
Well, if he isn’t available, let me know.”
She found the roll and headed toward the
front entrance.
Jake unrolled the shelf paper and held it
over the small hole in the front door while Pamela stretched the duct tape and
attached the vinyl paper to the window. He took the roll and finished taping
the other three sides, and then they moved through the kitchen doors to the
shattered window and repeated the process.
“I’ll need to make a list for the
repairman.” She strolled into her office, settled in her chair, and searched
for a notepad.
Jake followed. His concern started to
touch a place she didn’t want to consider. Giving up on the post-its, her hands
went up in the air. He pulled the pad from an organizer and tossed it to her.
“You can’t stay alone.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Agent Gibson—”
“Jake,” he interrupted.
She focused on the paper; anywhere was
better than being sucked in by those blue eyes. “I have enough men in my life
to watch over me, to a fault sometimes. I don’t need any more.” She knew her comment
was mean, but she couldn’t take the chance of letting this man inside the wall
she erected after Sam.
He crossed to her side of the desk and
propped his butt on the corner. Crossing arms and legs, he looked down at her.
“I’m trained to protect. Are your friends?”
She was forced to look at him, all of
him.
One had been
. “It doesn’t
matter. You’re not watching over me.”
“At least let me drive you home.”
As if to support Jake’s comment, thunder
boomed, and the lights flicked off. The emergency lights immediately flickered,
brightening the area.
She wrote the kitchen and dining room
emergency lights on the list, then the back door light along with the
windowpanes.
He made a good point.
“I’ll drive to a girlfriend’s house.”
“It’s late.”
The clock on the wall chimed two. Her
friend would unnecessarily worry receiving a call at this time of night.
“What about tomorrow night?” Jake said,
interrupting her deliberations.
Tomorrow hadn’t entered her mind. Late in
the afternoon, the Band of Friends, known as the BOFs, would be meeting at the
café. She could stay with one of them. “I have a friend I can stay with
tomorrow night.”
He straightened and pulled his wallet out
of his back pocket then flashed a badge. “Proof, I’m who I say.”
Pamela looked at the badge and the
picture beside it. The FBI jacket could have been anyone’s, but the badge was
definitely his. Again, the name Jake Gibson caught her attention. “The badge
has retired across it.”
“Like I said, I retired a few days ago.”
He shoved the wallet back into his back pocket. “I’ll sleep on your couch, and
you can lock the bedroom door.”
“Could a locked door stop you?”
He touched both her shoulders. Blue
compassionate eyes looked at her. “Look, I’m here to help you, not hurt. I
can’t force you to let me stay, but I hope you will reconsider.”
As she gazed into his eyes, she noticed
the same unfaltering demeanor she had seen in other men who had been to war.
The look that said, I’d do whatever it takes to protect you.
But why would he volunteer to help her?
He disappeared and a second later
returned with his raincoat in his hands. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He
tugged on her hand until she stood, then wrapped his raincoat around her.
The deer in the headlights look had to be
what he saw when he eased her into his arms and said, “I’ll take care of this.”
She didn’t understand why this man with
the familiar name was being so nice to her and didn’t truly know if she could
trust him. Yet, she needed help, and he was offering. Burying her head in his
shirt, she did what she refused to do in front of another man. She cried.
Something about his rectitude, his charm,
and she knew under his watchful eye, she’d be safe. From what or who she needed
protection continued to be a mystery.
Chapter
Two
The next afternoon, Jake strolled toward
the large rock behind his house along the
He had a full cooler in one hand, a fishing pole in the other, and his dog,
Willis, trotting beside him. Propping the pole against a tree, he snatched a
beer from the cooler, tossed a stick into the water, and leaned back on one
elbow to watch his black
As the afternoon sun beamed down on him,
Jake’s thoughts drifted to the previous night at Pamela Young’s townhouse.
Learning she planned to sleep on a different floor than him, the uneasiness
from the information he received two days ago multiplied. He still couldn’t
believe what an informant had told him minutes before boarding a plane to the
States.
A branch snapped behind him. He swung
around and faced a redheaded man wearing jeans and a button down dress shirt
walking toward him. Jake’s eyes dropped to his loafers. He’d never change.
“Larry Newman, how in the hell are you?”
“Good.” His former co-worker held up a
cooler. “I brought my own.”
“Smart man.”
Larry scooted on the rock, dug into his
cooler for a brew, and sighed. “Great spot.”
“It is.” Jake tasted his beer, eyeing
Larry over his can. Something was up. “Glad to see you.”
“Stop looking at me like that.” Larry
punched Jake on the shoulder. “I missed you, buddy. I was beginning to think
you’d have to stay in hiding forever.”
“Felt like it.”
Larry shifted. “I heard about the case
the Director threw in your lap. You’d think the man owns you.”
“In a way he does.”
“Maybe,” Larry shrugged, “but even if the
Director did pull you from a life of crime, it doesn’t give him the right to
demand you work freelance for him.”
“I don’t have anything else planned, so I
might as well.”
Willis dropped a stick at Larry’s feet
and smelled his pant legs. He must have passed the smell test since the dog
looked at the stick, then to Larry, waiting for it to fly.
Larry sailed the stick into the water.
“You don’t mind working on a case involving Pamela Young? I know how you
avoided her the last time you were home. I believe your words were, ‘She’ll
mess with my focus’.”
Jake smiled grimly at the water. “I
should have approached her back then. If I had, I wouldn’t have dated the
mistress of a known terrorist.”
“You didn’t know.”
Jake’s body went rigid as the tension
seeped into his muscles. “I was a fucking FBI agent, Larry. I was trained to
know how to read people.”
“Give yourself a break. The FBI had your
alias,
The Warrior
, buried so deep in
the Black Scorpions gang that no one suspected Jennifer to be anything other
than a woman on the prowl for a punk.”
“Hey, watch it,” Jake teased, leaning
over and picking up a rock. “I was a bad boy.” The rock plopped in the water.
“With long hair. Yeah, I get it. I’m just
saying you weren’t the only one she fooled.”
Jake gulped his beer then looked at
Larry. “Maybe, but I won’t be that stupid again.”
Larry shook his head. “It’s the name of
the game. Let it go.” He exhaled. “How Sanjar discovered your true identity
baffles me.” Larry picked up a pebble, tossed it in the air, then caught it. “I
mean, how many women like to call their boyfriend
The Warrior
?” He held up a hand. “Scratch that.”
The tension in Jake’s shoulders relaxed.
He chuckled. “She loved it. The whole biker thing turned her on.”
Larry quickly covered his ears. “TMI, Jake,
TMI.”
Jake laughed harder.
“In all seriousness though, I’ll be
shocked if Pamela’s involved with Sanjar. She’s good friends with one of the
field agents,” Larry said, skipping the pebble across the river’s surface.
“It wouldn’t be the first time an agent
gets stubbed.”
Twigs snapped behind them, ending their
conversation. Both men reached for their guns.
“I see you two aren’t too far in the
wind. Your reaction time is still good, but you’re not alert enough. You boys
didn’t even hear my car pull in the driveway.”
Jake nodded and slid his gun back in his
pocket. He expected his former boss, and good friend, to drop by at some point
to discuss the case. He just thought it’d be later in the afternoon.
Larry holstered his gun. “Sir.”
Jake stood, stretching out his hand.
“Director.”
“I deserve more than a handshake from
you, son.” The Director snagged his hand and tugged him close.
Jake had to agree. Hal Kennedy had helped
him out many times over the years. He smacked the Director’s back and stepped
away.
“And call me Hal. You don’t work for me
anymore.”
Jake took in the gray-haired man with a
slightly protruding belly and nodded.
Willis took this opportunity to drop the
stick at his Hal’s feet and shook. Fetch with Willis could go on for hours.
Chuckling, Hal hitched his pant leg then
leaned his foot and rear against the rock. “I can see your dog has adapted back
home fine.”
Jake threw the stick in the opposite
direction as he settled back on the rock. “He’s just as much of an attention
whore as ever.”
Hal glanced at the river. “This is a good
spot to talk, private with no one to interrupt.”
Larry leaned on a nearby tree. “It is.”
Jake drained his bottle. “So the chatter
on the FBI wire is that Pamela is in possession of stolen bearer bonds.”
“Yep.” Larry cleared his throat. “Why
would Sanjar use a businesswoman, living in the small area of
“It’s a perfect area to hide, but I
believe there’s another person involved setting all this into motion.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, son.”
Hal shifted on the rock.
Larry nodded. “What did your informant
say?”
Jake commented dryly, “Sanjar is looking
for money to fund his hatred toward the
mentioned.”
Jake passed Hal a beer. “Last night when
I surveilled The Memory Café, I heard a woman scream from within. Given that,
and the fact I saw a man lurking in the parking lot behind the café, I broke
in. Once I entered the premises, I found Pamela Young shaking. Someone put a
brick through the café’s window. A note was attached. It said
you’ve run out of time. Don’t involve the
police
. Ms. Young has received two other notes that I have yet to see.”
“Did you see the man’s face?” Larry
asked.
“No, his raincoat covered his face.” Jake
released a breath and held up a finger. “Here’s the thing. Ms. Young said the
man had shiny teeth.”
Larry groaned. “One of Sanjar’s men?”
“Possibly.”
Hal groaned.
Larry shoved off from the tree to face
the Director. “Sir, I don’t mean to question your authority, but is it a smart
move for Jake to be involved in this case? You know Sanjar’s and his history.
Besides, the FBI should be handling this case rather than farming it out.”
Hal straightened. “All good points, but
as you know, Donald Young is a man I’ll forever be indebted to. If I can keep
his only child from being a suspect in a formal FBI terrorist case, I will. The
man saved my life in
I owe him at least that.”
“Furthermore,” Jake cut in, “It’s been
five years. I looked different then than I do now.” Long dread-locks had
covered his head like a sheep dog, causing his head to itch constantly, and
green contacts had irritated his eyes, changing the whites of his eyes to red.
“I owe Sanjar for what he did to Jennifer.” She may have deceived him, but she
didn’t deserve the fate she received.
Larry nodded. “That you do, my friend. By
the way, did Pamela remember you?”
Jake thought about last night. He didn’t
know if she remembered him, but he could never forget her. In the dark, his
body had reacted to her nearness, an occurrence that hadn’t happened to him for
some time, not since Jennifer, and that lust had backfired.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe
she did.”
“Where’d Pamela stay last night?” the
Director wanted to know.
“At her townhouse, I stayed in the guest
room.” Jake’s mind quickly flashed to her bedroom and him checking her window
latches. He had entered her room after checking the downstairs windows and
doors while she was in the bathroom. When she floated out of the adjoining
room, her mouth formed a perfect
o.
Her
expression, mixed with the cotton daisy pajamas she wore, put a fire under him,
making his veins burn with lust. His fingers itched with the temptation to
touch each daisy on her pajamas. Quickly, he had crossed the hall to the guest
bedroom before he gave into the temptation to count them and touch what the
daisies hid.