The Baby’s Bodyguard Read online

  He shook his head. “So, you had nothing to do with anything.”

  “No more than you did,” she said, and again thought of David and the last time she’d seen him. Oh, no, she had to be wrong. Softening her voice, she added, “If you had been in the car with Hugo Correa, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

  “The two men who were in that car died,” he said. “They were my men, I should have been there.”

  “I saw the pictures taken after the incident. I saw what they did. There’s no way you would have survived, Jack. It’s a miracle anyone did.”

  “My job was to make sure everyone survived.”

  “I don’t understand you,” she said, her voice raspy. “This is no one’s fault but the rebels who try to get their way by destroying innocent lives. You know their methods, you know better than anyone what they’re capable of. They recruit children. They support drug cartels to finance their so-called patriotism. They murder anyone who wants out. I work for a nonprofit organization started by a man who wanted to improve the education of children in South America, who wanted to help them build a future. How could you think I’d have anything to do with people like the GTM?”

  He pushed himself away from her, hitching his hands on his waist as he continued to stare at her face, reaching who knew what conclusions. His gaze was still intense but dare she hope she detected a glimmer of doubt?

  A year before, she’d noticed him the minute he walked into the hotel bar to meet with her to go over the plans for the next day. Tall, dark and handsome as the saying goes, and with those blue eyes that could peel the clothes right off a woman. Their attraction had been immediate and mutual, and he was right, the sex had been world-class.

  Now, thinner but somehow stronger, less refined and honed by months of deprivation, he still exuded enough sex appeal to topple a dozen women in a single glance. The look in his eyes might not be soft and warm, but it had her sizzling inside and out and she wasn’t proud of it.

  “I’m leaving,” she announced. “I was supposed to be home a half hour ago. Goodbye.” She got to her feet and walked a few feet, then turned back to him. “Jack? You believe me, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does,” she admitted.

  He ran a hand through his long hair, clearing his forehead for a moment. “Everything added up,” he said as though to himself. “I was so sure it was you.”

  “I really would like to know how you escaped, Jack. I don’t understand why I didn’t hear about it on the news.”

  “Hardly anyone knows I’m back.”

  “Didn’t you go to the consulate? Didn’t you need to get a new passport?”

  “Not the way I came back into the country.”

  “Why would you come back illegally? You’re a hero—”

  “I came back under my own terms to find the truth,” he said, looking out to the ocean. “I didn’t want to get lost in red tape and protocol. I’ll do that later. I have this feeling there’s a ticking bomb I can’t find.”

  “Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.”

  He flashed her a quick glance. “I thought you would have the answers. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “I guess I’ll have to settle for that,” she said. She started to turn again.

  “Meet me later tonight,” he said suddenly, reaching for her arm, catching her sleeve.

  “I can’t,” she mumbled. “It’s impossible.”

  His fingers slid down her arm, lingered on her hand. “Come to Fort Bragg for an hour,” he said, his voice softer now.

  Fort Bragg was several miles south of Allota and was the home of the Staar Foundation. She’d just come from there an hour before. She said, “I’m sorry—”

  “Please,” he added. “I need to know more about your plans in Costa del Rio. Anything you can remember might help. I have to figure out what’s going on down there, Hannah. It’s more important than I can tell you. It’s bigger than the ambush and a half-dozen deaths. This isn’t just about revenge.”

  Glancing down at their linked fingers, she recalled how bereft she’d been when he disappeared the day after their night together. Coming on the heels of David’s death, she’d decided she was a jinx of the worst kind.

  After their one wild night together had she anticipated their relationship might continue? The truth? Yes. There was something about Jack Starling—there had been then, there was now. But things had changed and now there was too much at stake to get involved. “I’m sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “It’s impossible.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he murmured.

  Together, they walked back up the dune. The parking lot had cleared out while she was gone and now Hannah’s car was the only one at the back. She’d been away from it less than thirty minutes. The perishables should be okay. Well, maybe not the ice cream…

  The explosion wasn’t the kind that shook the earth, but was so unexpected, it sent Hannah toppling back against Jack. He immediately swiveled her around as if to shield her from danger, the bodyguard in him coming to the forefront, his strong, warm body pressed against hers.

  She looked over his shoulder at the black cloud of smoke enveloping her car.

  Chapter Two

  At police request, Jack presented his identity, holding his breath it would pass scrutiny. The last name on it was Carlin instead of Starling. It had stood up earlier in the month when he used it, and he assumed it would hold up again. The cops made notes and handed the false driver’s license back and then proceeded to ignore him.

  Hannah had walked away from him to make a call, and now she tucked her cell phone into her handbag as she returned. She’d seemed desperate to make this call after the explosion. He didn’t know if it was because she thought she knew who was behind the bomb or because she was concerned a loved one would hear the news and start to worry.

  There was so much he didn’t know about her.

  Twenty feet farther along, firemen and police were finishing their investigation. The afternoon was giving way to evening, the breeze of earlier in the day getting serious enough to thrash Hannah’s straight, shoulder-length hair around her neck. She turned her face into the wind to clear a few glistening strands of red-gold from her mouth and eyes.

  She struck him as more contained, less vulnerable and stronger than the last time they’d met. Just as attractive, yes. Just as interesting with a spark of naughty in her clear green eyes. He liked the way her nose tilted up a little at the end, he liked the few freckles scattered across her cheeks.

  After seeing and talking to her again it was hard to believe she’d been in on something as nasty as what happened in Tierra Montañosa. He had the gut feeling she was telling the truth, but he had just as strong a feeling she was hiding something he needed to know.

  “What did you mean when you accused me of watching you?” Jack asked.

  “It’s not important,” she said, and then looked over his shoulder as something else caught her attention. He turned to find that one of the police officers had detached himself from the others and was walking toward them. With a hasty glance back at Jack, Hannah quickly moved to meet the officer and lowered her head as they spoke. Jack recognized her attempts to keep her conversations private. He’d operated the same way for most of his life.

  He swallowed his impatience with her and closed his eyes, searching for the Zen-like spot inside himself he’d learned to access during his months of captivity. For an admitted control freak, there was nothing more humbling than being at the total mercy of merciless men. He’d found the only way to survive with his brain still working was to adapt.

  He relaxed tense muscles in his neck and shoulders as the cool ocean breeze blew in his hair and whipped his shirt around his torso. He concentrated on the caw of gulls, the distant sound of waves. The crowd noise receded. He was standing alone, an invisible shaft of energy running through his skull and out the soles of his feet, connecting him to the center of t
he earth. He was free.

  No wire cages. No chains around his neck. No starvation, no guns jabbed into his gut for no reason. No yelling, no threats, no terror.

  Part of him yearned to accept that it had all happened the way Hannah said, to get on his bike and go find the rest of his life and never look back. But it wasn’t a big part and he knew in his heart it would never happen. He was who he was today because of what had happened to him yesterday. That’s the way it worked.

  He opened his eyes to find Hannah staring at him. She wore a salmon-colored sweater that somehow matched her lips though he hadn’t noticed any lipstick. Until that second he hadn’t realized he’d even looked at her lips, but of course he had. If he wanted to torture himself, he could relive the taste of those lips; it wouldn’t be the first time. If he wanted to check himself into a mental ward, he could work his memory down each delicious curve and dip of her body.

  He’d done that a time or two, as well.

  Hannah nodded at something the officer said, and walked toward Jack again, her breasts bouncing gently under her sweater. He suddenly burned with an unexpected need for her.

  “I’m getting a ride back to my house, Jack. Officer Latimer asked if you need a lift somewhere.”

  He glanced toward the other end of the lot and his Harley. Thanks to Ella and Simon, he had it back. “No, thanks.”

  “Okay. Well, I just want to say goodbye. I’m so glad you’re okay. Take care of yourself and try to let the past go. You deserve to be happy now.” She put her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to plant a brief kiss on his left cheek. Her cloud of hair smelled like fresh air.

  He caught her hands before she could fly away. “Why won’t you tell me what you meant about being watched?”

  “Because it was just my imagination,” she said as he reluctantly released her.

  “Did you tell the police about it?”

  “Yes,” she said, but she looked down as she said it, her hand rising to brush at her cheek. He didn’t believe her. Why wouldn’t she tell the police something like that?

  “Someone blew up your car, cariño,” he said softly. “Maybe you should take it seriously.”

  “The police assure me the bomb wasn’t meant to hurt me. There’s been a rash of these things around town,” she added, meeting his gaze once again. “They think it was a small bomb on a timer attached to the muffler. Even if I’d been driving the car, I wouldn’t have been hurt. The car will need to go to the shop, but they can probably make it good as new. End of story.”

  “Not the end.”

  Her hand landed on his arm and she squeezed gently. “Yes. The end. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but maybe it’s best this way. Good luck finding what you’re looking for. I have to go. Officer Latimer is waving. Goodbye, Jack.”

  “Wait,” he said, but she cast him an apologetic smile before walking briskly to the police car. He watched the vehicle leave the parking lot.

  He stood there a moment as the tow truck and the fire truck left, as the few remaining bystanders wandered back to their own lives. Three things occurred to him. One: Hannah was afraid. He knew what fear looked like, what it smelled like, how it sounded. He didn’t think she was afraid of him. So, what was she frightened of?

  Two: She did not want him to know where she lived. Why?

  Three: She seemed to think that by not inviting him, he would stay away.

  THE HOUSE SHE NOW SHARED with her grandmother was less than a mile from the ocean, tucked into a small neighborhood on a wooded street. As always, coming home calmed something deep in Hannah’s soul. Especially tonight when she felt as though she’d dodged a bullet named Jack.

  Hannah’s grandmother, Mimi Marks, was a comfortable woman of seventy-three who wore her long gray hair in braids, was partial to denim overalls and big plastic clog-like shoes in bright colors. Back in the day, she’d helped her husband build this little house. On Friday nights, it was a sure thing she and a small pack of other women could be found drinking beer and playing poker at one or another of their homes.

  She met Hannah at the door and held her at arm’s length. She was wearing a knee-length Astroturf-green cardigan with orange and brown stripes near the hem. She was as earthy as Hannah’s recently remarried mother was snooty and a million times easier to get along with. In fact, Hannah’s grandparents had more or less raised Hannah.

  “Tell me the truth,” Mimi insisted. “Are you really okay?”

  “I really am. Like I told you on the phone, I wasn’t even in the car.”

  “Who would pull a stunt like that?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “I’ve had a dozen calls from people all over Allota. They say the police claim it’s a pack of rowdy Fort Bragg kids.”

  The Allota grapevine was alive and well. “I gather it’s happened before. Is Aubrielle all right?”

  “Of course she is. I fed her the milk you expressed.” Mimi smiled and patted Hannah’s arm. “Go on, look at her, I know it’s killing you. Dinner will be potluck seeing as we don’t have anything from the store.”

  “We’ll take your car shopping tomorrow,” Hannah said as she quickly walked down the short hall, past Mimi’s room but not as far as her own bedroom and office, pausing at the door to the nursery.

  Painted pink the day the results of the ultrasound revealed the baby was a girl, the small room was frilly and fluttery and probably silly, but it never ceased to make Hannah smile. Her grandmother, who had wanted to paint it lime-green and canary-yellow, just shook her head.

  But it was the three-month-old baby in the crib that drew Hannah. She crossed the floor without bothering to make her steps quiet, hoping the baby would wake up, needing to see her, touch her, and heaven knows, nurse her.

  Aubrielle’s eyes were open. Hannah lifted the baby to her shoulder, where the infant made some very sweet sounds and Hannah’s heart felt as though it was going to burst.

  She glanced at the nursery door to make sure it was closed, and then she took a deep breath. Whispering into the warm little ear by her lips, she said, “I saw your daddy today.”

  There, she’d said it out loud for the first time. Jack Starling was Aubrielle’s father. One night of sex had created the most wonderful gift in the world.

  “I want you to know I will not allow him to mess things up for you, sweetheart, I promise that,” Hannah continued. “It’s you and me, we’re a family. I’m not going to risk a near stranger demanding half your destiny so don’t worry, it’s okay. It’s our secret.”

  They moved to the rocking chair where Hannah nursed her baby, tears burning behind her nose. She hated lying, she knew she was bad at it, she even knew Jack deserved the truth, but she could not, would not, risk Aubrielle’s safety. Jack was a bodyguard, a man’s man, and what little Hannah knew of his life had nothing to do with being a father. Take his current obsession. With little to go on but a hunch, he was running around accusing innocent people of terrible crimes. He’d entered the country without a passport. Maybe being stuck in the jungle for almost a year had fried his brain.

  She was avoiding thinking about David and Tierra Montañosa and the ambush at Costa del Rio, she knew that. For a second it occurred to her that David couldn’t have been involved—he’d died weeks before the trip—and a mountain of worry lifted from her shoulders. He hadn’t even been to Costa del Rio; he was the foundation pilot in the States. How could he be involved?

  Where had the money come from weeks before the ambush? Why had he told her to keep it a secret?

  And just like that she thought of the original gym bag David had left with her. Where was it? In her home office? No. She’d taken it to work, she remembered that. Then she’d transferred the cash into her briefcase. Was there another paper in the bag? She seemed to remember there was though she also recalled dismissing it. What had she done with the gym bag? Where was it? Had it gone with her to the locker or was it still in the bottom of the file cabinet in the locked drawer?

  It was no us
e, she couldn’t remember, but that was easily fixed; she could look.

  Closing her eyes, she found Jack’s image front and center, not David’s. Jack’s eyes. His mouth. When he called her cariño, her insides melted. She remembered their one night in vivid detail, images burned on her brain and enhanced by all that came afterward.

  As she rested her head against the wooden spindles of the chair, Hannah’s gaze drifted out the window to the slice of dark sky visible between the even darker branches. She’d positioned the chair just this way so that would be her view, but suddenly it seemed more oppressive than comforting. She couldn’t fight the feeling someone was looking in at them. The lights in the room seemed garish; she felt as though she was on a stage.

  This was melodramatic, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Who could possibly be out there? Maybe Jack was right, maybe she should have told the police about her feelings, but the thought of going through an investigation while Jack was around frightened her. She wanted him to leave California. If she was still spooked after he was gone, she’d talk to Officer Latimer. He’d seemed approachable.

  Aubrielle soon fell back asleep. Superaware of the window, Hannah adjusted her own clothing before carefully lifting the drowsy baby. She nuzzled Aubrielle’s soft, sweet skin before putting her back in her crib, then made sure the window was locked, the curtains closed tight. She turned off the light as she left the room and looked back. The little pink mushroom-shaped night-light illuminated very little but gave the cozy space a rosy hue. Aubrielle was safe. That’s all that mattered.

  While walking down the hall, Hannah heard a man’s deep voice and thought it was the television until her grandmother’s bright chirp responded. Still spooked from the events of the afternoon, she hurried into the living room. What now?