Protector (13 page)

“Jolynn,” he growled in her ear, “I don’t have time to argue with you. We need to get out of here— now. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Words of recrimination clustered inside her. She burned to yell, screech, rage at him, but knew she couldn’t afford the luxury. Had he come to work for her father or against her father? Regardless, she had no intention of doing anything he said.

“Okay, Red, when I get up, we’ll run for it. On three. One— two— three.” He rolled off and yanked her up by the arm.

Loading her anger into her fist, Jolynn punched him in the stomach. His grunt echoed in her ears as she took off running.

She clambered up a narrow path, not much but with a few footholds creating a ladder up alongside the opening to the catacomb. She would run all the way to Dallas if necessary to put miles between herself and the liar with an angel face.

His arm banded around her again. Charles hauled her up the embankment. His hard, impersonal touch bore no traces of the passionate man of the days prior, the tender friend of
mere moments before. She searched behind them but saw no signs of the distant gunman who’d been shooting earlier.

The beach looked strangely peaceful, as if no one even noticed how close death had lurked.

Her arm wrenched in the socket as Charles tugged her along. Climbing relentlessly until civilization took hold again. People appeared here and there, a car driving past, a tourist snapping photos. Two teens with skimboards pointed at their soggy clothes and laughed.

Charles ignored them. His hand held firmly to her as he charged past cars and a van parked on a narrow side street. His gun was nowhere in sight, but she knew he had it within easy reach.

Was he going to steal a ride?

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and thumbed the button. Lights lit up on a little Fiat behind the van. Hell. He had a car here. A car conveniently stashed on the off chance someone shot at him?

Her stomach lurched. A police station sounded so much better, especially since they were back on a public street now. What was he going to do? Kidnap her?

A pop whizzed by her ear. A back front tire on the van deflated. Oh God. The two or three bystanders scattered fast, ducking back into the safety of their homes. No help forthcoming from them.

Charles grabbed her arm and hauled her to his side. Gun raised, he squeezed off a shot. A man at the end of the back street clutched his knee and fell to the cobblestones— his gun skittering away. The reverberation of Charles’s gunshot still vibrated into her, binding them with a nauseating link of violence.

He yanked open the Fiat’s door and shoved her into the driver’s side.
Pushing her the rest of the way inside, he slid in after. She angled over the gear shift and into her seat.

Charles untangled his legs from hers and jammed the key into the ignition. With a glance over his shoulder, he slammed into gear. They peeled away from the curb as a single bullet embedded itself in the rear window.

Bulletproof glass? On a Fiat?

Who was this man?

“Put on your seat belt— now.” Charles’s cold voice bore no resemblance to the speaker of heartfelt confidences.

Automatically, Jolynn obeyed, snapping the shoulder harness. He turned a sharp left onto the twisting main road.

He removed one of his hands from the wheel and sifted through the contents of the glove compartment. The car’s weaving response launched Jolynn against the passenger door.

She grabbed for the steering wheel. “I don’t know what’s going on, but stop playing around and drive.”

Charles abandoned his search in the glove compartment and shoved her aside. “For crying out loud, would you quit trying to kill us. I wear contacts and they fell out when we got tangled up back there.”

His bare eyes glinted. He narrowly missed driving up a telephone pole.

Jolynn frantically inventoried the contents of the glove compartment. Tossing papers on the floor, she finally uncovered the small plastic case.

“Open it,” he ordered, his strong square jaw tense.

She fumbled with the container, almost dropping it on the floor. Charles pulled his hands away and grasped for the lens case.

They swerved right. She screamed, clutching the steering wheel. “I would have appreciated a little warning.”

A
few muffled curses later, he slipped the contacts in place. Charles blinked fast. He pushed her hands aside and resumed control.

He cast a quick glance in her direction. “Thanks.”

The nearly opaque brown of his unshielded eyes pierced her.

“Who are you?” Had she escaped one threat only to meet the same fate as her uncle?

He slowed the car to a more manageable speed, looking like a normal commuter tooling around the back roads of Sicily.

“Damn it, answer me.” Rage coursed through her, this betrayal so much worse than her father’s rejection the month before. She’d expected that. Charles had stolen something far more precious by the seaside cliff— hope.

“Talk to me.” She thumped a fist against the scratchy upholstery. “I have a right to know. Do you plan to kill me, kidnap me, what?”

His hands clenched around the steering wheel as the little car whipped down a narrow road. The engine hummed with a precision and speed that were hardly hallmarks of the utilitarian base model of this vehicle.

Jolynn tugged his arm. Muscles flexed beneath her touch. How could she have ever thought him safe? “Hey, I already know you’re not one for long speeches, but you’re crazy if you think we’re going to just pretend nothing happened.”

His stony expression didn’t alter. “I’ve left out a few details about my past.”

“Drug dealer?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Arms dealer?”

“If so, don’t you think I would be decked out with more firepower?”

She considered how he carried himself, how he’d protected her. “CIA?”

“It’s best you don’t know the details.”

Ah, so she’d gotten close with that last guess. Some reassurance at least that he wasn’t the worst. But he was still tangled up in something horrible— and he’d lied.

However she looked at it— whomever he worked for, she’d been used.

None of this man’s tenderness had been real. Jolynn remembered all she’d told him during their riverside walk. Of course, he’d only been interested in what she could relate about her father. Even his apology outside her stateroom had been a lie to wrangle his way into her confidence. She hurt. All the way to her toes, she ached with a pain that had nothing to do with her fall.

Pressing a finger against the fogged window, she wrote his given name, remembering her first night at the casino when she’d seen his name tag.

He downshifted around a corner, leaving the city behind, the countryside open ahead. “For what it’s worth, my name really is Charles. You can call me Chuck.”

She flattened her palm against the window and swiped away the scrawl. “Well, Chuck, I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you.”

“Give me the phone under the seat.” His casual voice filled the car, bearing no more emotion than if he’d asked her to pass the butter. Of course he had a cell phone tucked away in his getaway car.

What else had he planted in her life without her knowing?

The old Jolynn roared to the surface, ready to fight. “Get it yourself,
Chuck
, you lying son of a bitch.”

“That I am, Jolynn.” A flutter of some emotion, weariness
perhaps, flickered through his eyes. “Now, let me have the phone anyway. I need to keep my hands on the wheel.”

She wanted to argue, if for no other reason than to vent the emotions chugging through her, but bottom line, she didn’t want to be in the middle of another shoot-out anytime soon. She reached under the seat, groping around for a moment before she found the slim device.

“Here…” Tossing it at him, she felt a grim satisfaction at his wince when it Frisbeed against his abs. The little girl inside her who threw rocks at statues wanted to hurl all her hurt at him.

“Thanks.” He cast her a very unamused look before he punched numbers into the phone. “Four-six-nine. Alpha-Foxtrot.” His clipped, professional tone cut the air. “I’m coming in.”

The final confirmation of his deception slammed the door on her dreams. Jolynn wanted to kick herself for believing he was genuinely interested in her, that they might have something to offer each other. Worst of all, she still wanted him. And as much as she wanted to jump out of this car at the nearest corner, Chuck had kept her alive when someone out there was gunning for her. Someone who could still be looking for her.

For now, it appeared her best option was to stick close to him and pray like crazy a better option presented itself ASAP.

*  *  *

A cruise ship offered more places for a hired assassin to hide than a person would think.

Parked on a silver bar stool, he sipped his Peroni, eyeing the crowd over the top of the beer mug. Sure, the
Fortuna
left port and floated around. But with all the traffic going
on and off this oversized party barge, it wasn’t that tough to swap out one person for another as long as the people looked vaguely alike on the passport.

Everyone was more zeroed in on the beautiful people anyway. Like the jewel-draped contessa of who-the-hell-knew-where blowing on the dice for a different gigolo in each port. And the Italian torch singer laughing over lunch with her American flyboy.

But no sign of Jolynn and her new pal.

If all went according to plan, he wouldn’t see their faces again. Ever.

He’d intended to take care of her later in the States, but then her trip presented too perfect an opportunity. And there would be less scrutiny here than in the United States. Although the parking lot carjacking attempt had been a bust. Breaking into her suite hadn’t gone well, either. He’d intended for his underling to pitch her off the balcony, but instead merely stirred others on the hall into hysteria.

With luck, the local henchman he’d subcontracted to pop Jolynn during her sightseeing jaunt would eliminate the problem once and for all. Good God, the woman seemed to have nine lives.

It was a shame her fling with the blackjack dealer called for an additional death, but that could be turned into an advantage. It should be simple enough to toss around rumors of his having unpaid debts to loan sharks.

Problem solved. One more barrier out of the way to achieving his goal. Total control of the Taylor family and fortune. Thanks to the business being funneled through this cruise ship, that fortune was growing exponentially.

Speak of the devil, he saw one of the latest players in their exchange of information head for the slot machines.

Yes, things were moving along according to schedule. By
the time they reached their final destination in Spain, all the components would be in place for a top-dollar package.

An explosive package that would rock the world.

*  *  *

Chuck slammed on the brakes, the tiny village street narrow and packed with pedestrians. A battle raged inside him as fierce and tenacious as the one they’d just left behind. His worst fear had happened. He’d let Jolynn distract him, and she’d nearly lost her life for his screwup. While he’d stood there sucking on her finger like a lovesick puppy, his guard dropped.

Cranking a hard left around a corner, he narrowly missed an old man pushing a wheelbarrow full of produce. Jolynn braced her palms against the dash, silent for the half hour since they’d left the port city limits. He still couldn’t be certain who the target had been. Was the attack an extension of the earlier attempt on Jolynn in the casino parking garage? Or had his cover been blown? What about the rest of his team back on the ship?

Regardless, his assumed identity was shot to hell. He seriously doubted he could convince anyone a blackjack dealer carried around a military-issue automatic and drove an armored car.

The disillusionment in her eyes when she’d stared at him… His hands shook. Now, he owed her.

He parked the Fiat on a side street in an older section of a remote little fishermen’s village— with a safe house. He had addresses stored in his brain for one at every port of call along the way for this mission.

“This is it?” Jolynn asked, her voice full of skepticism.

He doubled-checked the address on the pastel pink
plaster and stone row house, age lines streaking downward with tiny cracks. “Yes, this is our stop.”

She snorted. “I’ll certainly think twice before advocating further government budget cuts. Do they make you guys type reports on a manual typewriter? Etch them on papyrus? I would wager you even boil the lead to make your own bullets.”

Now probably wasn’t the time to mention his techno background. “Glad to see you’ve recovered your sense of humor.”

“Oh, I’m fine, invigorated. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” She swept her tangled hair back brusquely. “A walk by the water, pilfer some info about her crooked daddy, then treat her to a shoot-out and trip to CIA headquarters. What a great date you are.”

He ignored the anger in her voice. If only he could ignore the pain in her green eyes as well. “I’m not CIA and this isn’t headquarters for anything.” He would feel his way through telling her more once he checked with the agents inside. “This is just a safe house. Of course, now that you’ve been here, it’s no longer secure. Everything will be moved to another location shortly after we leave.”

“If you’re not CIA, you’re obviously with some spooky agency. You wouldn’t want this big bad Taylor selling you out to all her mob friends.”

“Cut it out, Red.” He scanned the area from the relative safety of his reinforced Fiat. “You aren’t going to run from me again, are you?”

“I’m not particularly pleased to discover you’ve been lying since we met. But at least I know you’re not a thug for hire planning to feed my toes to the fish or I would be dead already. Now that the gunfire has settled, it seems best to stay put with you. For now.”

He knew her adrenaline rush would fade soon, and he needed to get her inside before that happened. Weakness would flood her in the wake of a day no one should have to experience. He shoved aside his own need to assess his actions, his guilt, fixating instead on taking care of her. “You do pack quite a wallop. I’ll let you have that one. I figure it’s your due for our… encounter.”