Targeted (8 page)

“Okay.” She leaned back in the seat but twisted so she wasn’t pressing against the wound.

He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to banish the memory of that kiss. It was a mistake and he’d just leave it at that. This hadn’t even been in the realm of possibilities of how he’d expected things to go today. Normally he got a rush of adrenaline during firefights, but the only thing he felt at the moment was relief for Sophie’s safety. Well, that and he was still turned on. Unfortunately there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about that.

Following the signs and keeping to the speed limit, he made his way to 95 South. Technically he wasn’t going to a safe house, but Wesley didn’t need to know that. He’d purchased a place in Marathon, Florida, years back. It was listed under a bogus corporation, and it wasn’t connected to him. It was his contingency plan in case things ever went south. Only one other person knew about it, and there was no way in hell his friend would tell anyone about it.

Right now this was the best and closest option for Sophie and him to escape to. There were too many unknown variables and he wasn’t trusting her safety to anyone but himself.

Safe house: a house in a secret location, used by spies or criminals in hiding.

Ronald Weller somehow managed to keep his stride even as he walked toward the elevators. He couldn’t call Miguel Vargas from his office. Now that Homeland Security was in the building, he couldn’t risk being overheard. So far they were just asking routine questions about SBMS’s business practices, but he wasn’t fooled for a second. The government wouldn’t have shown up unless they suspected SBMS of
something
.

And after Sophie’s insistent calls last night and then again this morning, he knew she was on to something. She was a damn good worker and she could be relentless when she wanted to know something. For the past few months he’d been able to brush off her questions about Keane, but with this new guy suddenly showing up and now Homeland Security—Ronald couldn’t stop sweating. His entire world was crumbling and he couldn’t help the one person in his life who needed him most. He felt as if he was between that proverbial rock and a hard place. Except that rock was a terrorist with a gun.

Once he reached the parking garage, he scanned the rows of cars and trucks. No one was following him and no one was in the garage. He pulled out one of the throwaway phones he’d been instructed to purchase and dialed a familiar number.

Someone he didn’t recognize picked up. A woman. “Yes?”

“I need to talk to Miguel. Now.”

“Who is this?”

“None of your damn business.” He sounded a hell of a lot braver than he felt. Fear was the only thing spurring him on, though.

There was a shuffling, then Miguel came on the line. “Who is this?”

“It’s Ronald. What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

He heard the ding of the elevator, so he headed in the direction of his car and lowered his voice. There weren’t any video cameras in this garage, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him either. “Homeland Security is here. They want to talk to Sophie Moreno.”

“She won’t be a problem. I don’t know why you’re always worrying. I’ve taken care of her.” Vargas’s condescending voice grated on him.

Ronald’s throat tightened as the possible meaning of Vargas’s words sank in. “What the hell does that mean? Of course she’s not a problem. She’s not involved in any of this.”

“She’s been sticking her pretty nose where it doesn’t belong. One of my men saw her car fleeing a certain hangar last night.”

Iciness engulfed Ronald, chilling his entire body. “What are you talking about?” That was probably why she’d wanted to talk to him. He had assumed it was to discuss the books. He’d just wanted to blow her off, to buy some damn time. She’d been at Keane’s hangar?

“You should have kept a tighter leash on your employee.”

Ronald swayed for a moment. Sophie hadn’t returned from lunch yet. In the eight years she’d worked for Ronald, she’d
never
been late without calling first. He’d told her time and again she didn’t need to check in when she was going to be late, but she always did. Truthfully he’d thought she was just pissed at him for being so rude earlier. “What have you done to her?”

“She will be eliminated shortly.” His clipped tone left no room for doubt.

“You son of a—”

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

How could he forget? Ronald rubbed a hand over his two-day-old stubble as his stomach pitched. Sophie was like family to him, but he didn’t have a choice. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. I’ll be contacting you shortly regarding the next shipment.”

“And this is the last one?”

“If things go according to plan, yes.”

Ronald would believe it when he saw it. Before going back in, he tossed the phone into a trash can. With Homeland Security snooping around, he couldn’t give them any excuse to take him into custody.

Not now. Not when he was so close to having his life back.

•   •   •

“I don’t know what your problem is,
perra flaca
. You think you’re so much better than all of us. At least I have parents.”

•   •   •

Sophie opened her eyes and groaned, banishing the long-buried dream she’d been having. What the hell was that about anyway? She hadn’t dreamt about Sam in a while, and she didn’t like that she was doing so now. It made her feel vulnerable and edgy.

Blinking a couple of times, she tried to orient herself. She felt as if her body had been through a blender. It took a moment to realize she was on her side and lying on a couch. She remembered being drowsy in the car. Must have dozed off, but . . . where was she?

“You awake?” a deep voice from behind her said.

She jerked up at the sound but immediately regretted the abrupt action. Piercing pain fractured through her body. Her arms and legs were stiff and achy. As if she’d just run a marathon in her heels. Probably from being tackled by Jack at that restaurant and then from the impact of that vehicle slamming into them. She shifted around so that she was sitting upright on the blue couch.

It took a few seconds to adjust to her surroundings, but she was in a sparsely decorated living room. Two large prints of underwater ocean life hung on the wall above the flat-screen television in front of her. She focused on them as she steadied herself.

The large room was attached to a kitchen where Jack stood behind a counter. It was the only thing separating them. She eyed him warily. After that hot—and unexpected—kiss, feelings of long-dormant lust battled the soreness shooting through her arms and legs. It was one thing to fantasize about kissing the sexy stranger, but quite another to actually do it. Especially since he was probably a criminal. “Where are we?”

“Marathon.”

“In the Keys?”

“Yes.”

She reached around and gingerly touched her shoulder blade. What if it was already infected? Why hadn’t he woken her up?

As if he read her mind, Jack said, “We
just
got here. You haven’t been asleep long and I was letting you rest a couple minutes.”

Using the couch arm as a crutch, she pushed up and tugged her oversized T-shirt down. She had about a hundred different questions—like who the hell he really was—but first she wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to bleed to death.

Jack was completely immobile while she walked into the kitchen. The tile cooled her bare feet as she stepped toward him. She figured he was trying to keep her calm, and that was fine with her. He’d already laid out towels, bandages, tweezers, peroxide, and alcohol.

She stared at his large, callous hands as he opened one of the butterfly bandages, and suddenly she felt very small. And terrified. She was in a strange place with a strange man. A man she’d recently shared an intimate moment with. Yes, he’d saved her life, but kissing strangers wasn’t something she did. She’d never even had a one-night stand, yet she’d let a man with a scary gun and sexy muscles kiss her senseless.

Worse, she’d enjoyed it. A lot. The timing had been insanely inappropriate, and even so, she wouldn’t mind a replay. Not to mention she’d fantasized about doing a whole lot more than kissing Jack. But what if he expected more from her? Her throat seized as violent scenarios played in her head. For all she knew, his name probably wasn’t even Jack. From what little she’d gathered, she knew he didn’t work for Keane Flight.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” His words sliced through the quiet room like a machete.

A momentary burst of panic skittered across her skin. She’d been at the mercy of a man before. Defenseless and hurt so badly it made a shiver snake through her even thinking about it. She clutched the counter, fighting to take a full breath.

Jack didn’t move. Just watched her with a preternatural stillness. As if he was trying to reassure her without words, but actions. The man might be a criminal, but he’d also given her a gun—which she’d lost during her swim to freedom. He hadn’t had to do that. The rational voice in her head overrode her fears. If this man wanted to hurt her, he would have by now. He’d had plenty of chances. And she seriously doubted he’d have laid out bandages for her if he didn’t care about her injuries.